Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He surveyed the Assembly, composed of all sorts of features, pointed directly at him. He hated drawing attention to himself; if he could dig a hole, he'd bury himself six feet underground. Some faces sparkled with curiosity, others whispered to their neighbors, while others clearly expressed their indifference.

First impressions were always decisive. From the very first seconds, others drew up a profile, constructing labels that could stick to the skin until the end. Physical appearance, clothing, attitudes, any distinguishing features... Everything was scrutinized under a magnifying glass.

Popularity didn't matter. He'd only be passing through the establishment anyway: no point in building relationships with anyone.

With disconcerting bad faith and a certain nonchalance, he introduced himself succinctly, stating his identity, his age and his educational background.

The murmurs in the classroom grew louder, glances punctuating conversations devoid of words. Without speaking, the messages were clear.

The first value judgments raced through their minds. He didn't give a damn what they thought of him. He wasn't here to make friends, anyway. He would hide away in oblivion, patiently face the passing days... Until he graduated, found a job, any job, and got the hell out of this town as quickly as possible.

Gaining independence would be his salvation.

For this, he had to take it upon himself.

One more year.

“I hope you'll give Akaza a warm welcome! I'm counting on you!” the professor chanted, a little too cheerful for his liking.

Beside his more than sinister demeanor, the authority figure, for his part, exuded sympathy, quite a contrast. The professor's name was Kyojuro Rengoku, a history teacher. In addition to his boisterous benevolence, his physical appearance brimmed with eccentricity. Golden locks, the tips of which were dulled by a scarlet red, cascaded over his shoulders, his eyes matching the color of his hair. His doe-like gaze burned with vivacity. A professor happy to carry out his duties. His unwavering good humor would not contaminate him. On the contrary, he remained closed like an oyster.

“Let’s see…” the teacher mused aloud, “Ah! You can sit by the window, next to Kokushibo!”

The young boy shrugged. His seat assignment wouldn't affect his plans.

That said, deep down, he validated Rengoku's choice. The student named Kokushibo was one of those who hadn't planned on the new kid's introduction. At first glance, he wasn't a party pooper.

Perfect, that took a thorn out of his side: he didn't want to be burdened with a friend who was too friendly.

Plus, he'll sit next to the window: a good excuse to turn his back on others.

He settled in quietly, laid out his school supplies, and took care to line up his colored markers. Anything went to gain precious seconds.

During the first two hours of class, he tried to focus on the teacher, to gather the information he deemed useful for his note-taking. When a student called out to the teacher, the young man admired the clear sky through the window. It was a delightful summer day, with mild temperatures. The view overlooked another wing of the building. Looking down, he could see a section of the playground, with a well-maintained park. Ideal for strolling during breaks. He was already considering settling down at the foot of a tree or on a bench, equipped with a book, to kill time. It was still better than staying cooped up in class.

Fortunately, his neighbor didn't say a single word to him. The new student glanced at him furtively from time to time: the man named Kokushibo was busy, but not concentrating on the lesson.

He would receive small pieces of paper, dissect them, and then annotate his responses before returning them to the sender. He would go to great lengths to communicate with another classmate without getting caught.

It was really futile.

This Kokushibo was much more voluble in writing. From the outside, he appeared cold and apathetic.

It doesn't matter. The new student shouldn't even waste time analyzing his surroundings.

The end of the first two hours of class was marked by a 15-minute break. The hustle and bustle disturbed his tranquility. Classmates left their seats to chat in a more relaxed atmosphere, far from the confines of the school system.

The newcomer looked up from his notes and was surprised to see Kokushibo missing. He had gone to join a group of three students in a corner of the classroom, consisting of two boys and a girl. The girl had long silver hair. Her raspy voice was as pleasant as chalk on a blackboard. The boy with the raven-black haircut was no exception: his well-controlled voice engaged the entire class in their conversation. Usually, it was the weakest dogs that barked the loudest.

He probably had to compensate for his lack of self-confidence by drawing all the attention to himself.

Pathetic.

The third student didn't raise the bar: he laughed out loud every 15 seconds and referred to gestures and hand movements as complements to words. The kind of theatrical personality he loathed. Too lively for his tastes, too much fuss about nothing at all.

He was putting on a show, drawing the spotlight onto his little person.

Akaza analyzed the character a little more: his long, pale blonde hair was captured in a perfectly executed braid. A doll-like face, free of any imperfections, enough to make girls green with envy.

His hairstyle and mannerisms were not typically associated with the male gender.

Behind his irritating features, the young boy had to emphasize the courage shown by this student, who did not seek to conform to stereotypes.

The only touch of maturity and decorum was provided by Kokushibo. How could such an impassive guy hang out with diametrically opposed people? It made no sense.

The brief recess came to an end with the ringing of the bell. Reluctantly, the students returned to their seats, without much hesitation.

The next two hours of class were devoted to economics, also taught by Rengoku.

Keeping up with the course was a little more difficult since he didn't have the required textbook. He would only get his supplies next week.

What a pain.

However, he witnessed an unexpected gesture from his apathetic neighbor: Kokushibo had placed the book in the middle of the bench to allow the new student to access the statements. The young man gave him barely audible thanks.

This simple kindness had made him uncomfortable. The feeling of being indebted almost gave him hives. He had no time to waste on such trivialities.

He was distracted by the professor's unexpected intervention: the latter had just thrown a small projectile, probably a piece of chalk. From his position, it was not possible to determine which student was targeted. But the jovial professor cleared up this mystery.

“You’re coming off break and you’re still chattering! You’re incorrigible, Douma!”

“You almost put out my eye, sir! I had the fright of my life, I'm traumatized!” the boy caught in the act was offended.

His repartee made the students, who were obviously already well accustomed to it, chuckle.

The new student raised his eyebrows: that suave, assured, almost sing-song voice belonged to this boy with the androgynous look.

“It doesn’t take much to traumatize you!” Kokushibo shouted irritably.

The commotion had spread like wildfire. To regain silence, the professor pounded on his desk with a ruler. Soon, calm and diligence reigned supreme again. With the incident over, the authority figure continued to deliver his lecture.

The boy, a little annoyed by these events, looked out the window.

He thought of an excuse to delay his return home. A home where he didn't belong. He couldn't bear to wander within those walls. He wasn't at home and he never would be. Graduating would guarantee access to a job. By landing a job, he could get the hell out of this disguised prison.

He didn't need their false compassion. They pretended to understand how he felt. Nonsense! How could they know?

He will not be able to hide behind excuses indefinitely to delay the inevitable.

The school environment, though horrifying to his taste, offered him precious moments of respite. At least he wasn't spending eight hours in that deceptively welcoming home.

Busy in the kitchen, he ate breakfast alone, savoring the sweet tranquility, punctuated only by the ticking of the wall clock. He deliberately set his alarm early to avoid running into his adoptive parents. The less he interacted with them, the better he felt.

He cleared the table and then went upstairs to get ready.

After taking a good shower and putting on his damned uniform, consisting of a white shirt, a yellow vest, classic brown trousers, all topped off with a filthy green tie, he gathered his school things.

He turned to stare at a picture frame, the sole decoration on the nightstand, that was particularly dear to him. It was a snapshot of him and his father, on their last Christmas Eve together, while his father was living life to the fullest, far from the miserable fate that awaited him in the shadows.

“Have a nice day, Dad,” he whispered.

Without wasting another second, he left this place of torture, much earlier than expected. He would kill time under the bus shelter, watching the passersby and vehicles go by.

Akaza had lost the manual for how to be a happy boy. Even though he knew his adoptive parents were in no way responsible for his situation, he couldn't help but resent them. He had preferred to play the indifference card instead of rebellion.

His entire beautiful world had collapsed a year ago… Akaza had grown up in a modest environment, alongside his father. He had no memory of his mother, who had died when he was still a newborn. His father had made every sacrifice to provide him with a secure environment and ensure he lacked nothing. He had held down two jobs for many years, but he had never complained.

Free time was devoted to his son. Akaza had always been very close to his father: they shared everything together and kept nothing from each other. At a very young age, Akaza was already a very mature boy, who didn't hesitate to lend a hand to his father, especially with household chores. When his father came home from work, he had nothing else to worry about. It often happened that Akaza stayed up late until his return so he could share the meal he had prepared with him. They had built up a solid teamwork.

Akaza was very diligent in class and his grades were more than satisfactory. He hung out with a few friends outside of school, but he didn't linger for long: keeping house took precedence over everything else, making sure his father was relieved. There was no time for a potential girlfriend either. Romantic relationships took a back seat.

The light rain had tapped against the windowpane, rousing the young man from an uneasy sleep. In the hallway, he was startled by a coughing fit coming from his father's room. By this time, he should have already been at work. Worried, he announced himself before entering the dark room: his father, feverish, was lying in bed.

The young boy was still unaware at that time that the illness from which his father suffered would turn the family unit upside down.

The doctor's visit had taken his father to the hospital for a battery of medical tests.

The result was clear: his father was consumed by terminal cancer. The fateful countdown had sounded, his days were numbered. Death was an inevitable step in everyone's journey, but it was simply impossible to think that it would come suddenly. His father had always been brimming with vitality, with no medical history, so why did the disease have to hit him hard?

Akaza had suspended his schooling to support his father during chemotherapy. His once healthy body had quickly deteriorated: the disease had taken root there. He was quickly ordered to be placed in a palliative care unit.

Akaza had perceived this hospitalization as a death sentence. His father was confined to a hospital bed, hooked up to various devices, drugged with medication. He had been a shadow of himself: emaciated, with dark circles under his eyes, and no hair, he had approached a cadaverous state.

Misfortunes rarely came alone: given his critical situation, social services recommended placing the young boy in an institution while they sought a foster family.

After 4 months, his father had lost the battle against the disease.

Akaza hadn't truly recovered from this tragic loss. He hadn't been able to finish his senior year of high school, too grief-stricken to return. Little by little, he had sunk into dark thoughts. Consumed by guilt, he had blamed himself: if his father had been able to slow down, perhaps he wouldn't have declared the illness. If his father hadn't worked so hard to provide for his son, he might still be alive today.

They would still be together.

Now he had been placed with a foster family in another prefecture. The school year had already started a month ago, and Akaza needed a change of scenery, to leave this place that so repelled him.

His adoptive parents had done their best to ensure a peaceful environment for him. Despite their best efforts, Akaza had held them in thrall. These people were usurpers, the ones who had torn him from his childhood home, where his father's memories and his own reigned. This home, the last imprint his father had left behind.

Akaza had lost everything. Living in a distant town, he had no bearings, forced to create a new circle of friends and attend a new high school. He had to start from scratch, except he was alone...

He will no longer be able to share his joys and sorrows with his father. All his plans had sunk into nothingness. He had planned to finish his studies as quickly as possible, get a job, and get the hell out of this house, but what to do afterward? Be alone? Get up, work, and pay his bills until he drops dead without flinching?

The bus stop was stormed by a pack of young children. The chatter swirling around him had burst his bubble of tranquility. Incessant chatter, loud bursts of laughter, the commotion made him feel nauseous. What right did they have to express their carelessness when Akaza had lost everything he held dearest? He couldn't help but feel an immeasurable hatred for them...

He boarded the bus that would take him to the school. Tomorrow, he wouldn't linger too long under the shelter; he would take the bus much earlier and kill time around the school before classes started. There was no way he was going to relive that chaotic crowd.

He entered the school grounds: should he isolate himself somewhere while waiting for the bell? Take a seat in class, rereading notes?

He opted for the second option, it was only 8am, classes started at 8:30am.

Pushing open the door, he bitterly regretted his choice: Kokushibo was already seated, next to this scatterbrained girl, accompanied by another boy with green hair and a more than frail figure. He hadn't seen him yesterday; he must have been in another class.

“Oh, but he’s the new kid!” she cried in a voice that would make your eardrums burst.

Kokushibo didn't pay him any attention, but the other boy was openly staring at him from head to toe.

“You didn't tell me there was a new one! What's your name?” he asked, as Akaza took a seat.

The young boy feigned indifference; he had no answer to him and taking part in the conversation was out of the question.

“Hey! I'm talking to you, runt!” the walking skeleton said impatiently.

He was not lacking in audacity to attack others given his atypical build.

“Gyutaro! Stop! He arrived yesterday, he must be shy. Give him time!”

Said Gyutaro gritted his teeth but didn't try to provoke further.

“Well, see you during the break.”

“See you later, big brother!”

So, they were siblings. Akaza would never have guessed it: the brother and sister had absolutely nothing in common. The girl must have taken great care of her appearance. Her well-proportioned, doll-like face contrasted with her brother's rickety body.

He didn't have time to continue reviewing his notes because the girl had leaned over his desk, invading his personal space.

“Hi, Akaza! How are you?”

He was on the verge of sending her packing: what right did she have to allow such familiarity? The lack of repartee didn't deter her from continuing her interrogation.

“Was this your first day? Why did you sign up a month late here?”

He looked up at her, frowning in displeasure. She had her elbows firmly planted on the desk, sparkling with curiosity.

“You have amazing eyelashes! I'm jealous! What's your secret?”

“Daki, you can see that you’re boring him with your questions,” Kokushibo intervened.

The girl—Daki puffed out her cheeks, far from pleased to have been picked up by the crimson-haired boy.

She acted like a capricious brat, who got on her high horse when she was refused something. A profile he loathed above all else. Ultimately, the brother and sister shared this in common.

“I'm just trying to be nice! Not like you!”

“Who dares to cause trouble without me?” said an unusually cheerful voice for the early morning.

Akaza focused on the newcomer: the tall blond man had just made a triumphant entrance, which confirmed his initial impressions. His ostentatious manner was getting on his nerves. Daki was a choirboy by comparison.

“Hello, my little Kokushibo! How are you?”

“Everything was fine before you arrived.”

“You're always so kind! It's nice to see!” he joked.

“Doumaaa~! Kokushibo has been mean to me!” Daki cried in his high-pitched voice.

Douma rebelled and pointed at Kokushibo.

“How dare you reproach this pretty creature? You have no heart, Kokushibo!”

Akaza was witnessing a parade of idiots. It was only the second day, and he was already about to lose his composure. Tomorrow, he wouldn't repeat the same mistake and would wait outside the classroom, in a deserted area. He wasn't out of the woods yet.

“Speaking of pretty creature…”

Douma had intruded into his little bubble of privacy, sitting impudently on the desk.

“Akaza, is that right?”

The pink-haired boy didn't even bother to retort. That said, a staring contest had just begun between the two boys. Which of them would falter first in the face of intimidation? Douma's ironic pout was a good indicator of how this confrontation would end. He wouldn't capitulate. It was predictable.

Akaza was adamant: he hated him.

That said, he was captivated against his will by the singularity of Douma's pupils. A sparkling rainbow adorned his eyes, the explosion of colors giving him a particular charm. His angelic face drove him mad.

“Get out of here…”

The rainbow-eyed boy raised an eyebrow, unsure if he'd understood his interlocutor correctly. Akaza made sure to repeat himself.

“I told you to get out!” he said more angrily.

Douma remained puzzled, before letting out an exaggerated laugh.

“Haha! You’re funny, Akaza!”

Akaza got his way, as Douma left the desk. Nevertheless, he continued his little teasing, which only amused him, without taking his eyes off the new student.

“What a wise choice to place you next to Kokushibo! We get two killjoys for the price of one!”

It was the turn of the boy with the red hair to take part in this futile conversation.

“Douma… If you say another word, I’ll rip your eyes out.”

Douma was not impressed by his threats: he blew him a provocative kiss before taking a seat next to his neighbor, who was just as annoying as he was.

Once calm had returned, Akaza was able to immerse himself in his notes. Gradually, the other students settled in, paying no attention to the newcomer. So much the better; her nerves had already been put to the test, and it would have been unfortunate to receive a warning in her report on the second day for excessive violence. These idiots weren't making things any easier for him.

The math teacher entered the classroom. A scarred, white-haired man who didn't look very comfortable. Indeed, you could hear the pinpricks.

The pink-haired boy's muscles relaxed. For two hours, he would enjoy a lull.

At least, that's what he thought until Kokushibo discreetly slipped him a piece of paper. He looked at him questioningly, the crimson-haired boy pointing, from cover, at the other end of the classroom. Should Akaza decipher the message?

It was completely absurd. He pretended to ignore it for a few seconds. His desire to know had taken over.

“Would you like to eat with us during lunch? After class, we'll hang out in town. You're welcome to join us if you feel like it! Your bad mood is ruining your pretty face: you should smile a little more!”

Even though there was no signature on the paper, Akaza knew exactly who the sender was. The bastard dared to piss him off in the middle of class with his cheap jokes! A vein popped out on his forehead, the result of a surge of emotional reaction.

You should smile a little more...

Akaza had no reason to smile anymore. And he wouldn't pretend to be, especially not that asshole Douma.

He tried to concentrate on the lesson, especially since it wouldn't be advisable to attract this teacher's attention. Unlike Rengoku, this one wasn't the joking type.

Another handwritten message pulled him out of his school routine. Douma was seriously starting to get on his nerves.

What a pain!

Akaza was a million miles from knowing that the school would also become a hostile environment. He wanted a little respite, was that too much to ask? It seemed so, since a third message had reached him.

Damn, he wouldn't let go!

Another crumpled piece cluttered his desk. Akaza frowned; this one stood out from the others because the message was obvious. Colored ink had been used, while Douma used a black pen. Taking a deep breath, he studied the torn piece.

“Until you answer him, he won’t stop…”

He bit his lip to contain his rage. Kokushibo had just confirmed his fears. He wasn't going to get rid of this burden so easily. What should he do? Tell him to fuck off once and for all? Settle their differences by force? Ignore him until he grew tired?

A flash of insight crossed his mind: wasn't hanging around town after school the perfect excuse to delay his return home? Sure, he wasn't keen on the idea of hanging out with this bunch of idiots, but he had to admit that this asshole Douma intrigued him a little. He'd been more than cold to him and was acting like they were fucking friends! Akaza scribbled in a corner, kneaded the paper, and gave it to Kokushibo, who took it upon himself to pass the note on to the recipient.

What was I getting myself into?

He didn't want to sympathize with anyone, so why had he let himself be drawn into this grotesque trap?

You should smile a little more.

This sentence had turned him inside out: without knowing it, this smooth talker had put his finger on a taboo subject.

Douma was quick to return to the charge.

“Great! I can’t wait to get to know you a little better because apart from your bad mood, you don’t communicate anything!”

He certainly had the nerve to provoke him from a distance! It wasn't too late to back out. But curiosity won out over his frustration. This guy's enthusiasm was abnormally excessive; there had to be something hidden! He would definitely hunt him down to find out. After all, it was the only thing he had to do to kill time. It would at least keep his mind occupied.

12:30 p.m.… The students' stomachs were rumbling, and the gentle bell had released them. The creaking of chairs, the general hubbub, and the gatherings were not to Akaza's liking: they were worse than a herd of animals deprived of their nutritional resources. He had reached the height of discomfort when this Douma sat his buttocks on the windowsill next to his desk.

“See, Akaza! I finally convinced you! I didn't have to push too hard!”

“Shut up, I can still change my mind,” the pink-haired boy replied fiercely.

Once again, the boy, full of joy, gave a light laugh. It was a safe bet that he was openly mocking him.

He focused on Kokushibo, changing targets.

“Kokushiboooo! Do you fancy a drink at that trendy bar on the main avenue, with Daki and Akaza?”

“Oh, what a great idea! But I would have loved to change my clothes! This uniform is outdated!” exclaimed Daki.

Douma winked at him.

“You still look amazing in that outfit! You make every piece of clothing you wear look amazing!”

“Stop flirting with my sister, you pervert!” a voice shouted from behind them.

Gyutaro had just intruded on their little group. Douma wasn't one to back down, even in the face of adversity.

“You're going to have to get used to it! Daki won't stay an innocent little girl forever, if you know what I mean…”

Gyutaro grabbed his tie fiercely, almost forehead to forehead.

“I forbid you to talk about her like that, especially not in front of me. Your pretty face is starting to make me sick!”

“Haha! I was just joking!” Douma justified himself with disconcerting bad faith. “We’re going out after class. Are you coming with us? Akaza will be there too!”

“Huh? Who’s Akaza?”

The scrawny boy followed Douma's insistent gaze. He wore a small, mocking glint, and pressed his hands against the desk in defiance of Akaza.

“That's your name, you little runt! Have you regained the power of speech?”

Up close, this guy was truly hideous: between his green hair, his sharp teeth, the birthmarks scattered across his face, and his skeletal bone structure, there was definitely nothing going for him. Unlike his sister, he hadn't been blessed by Mother Nature. To compensate for his unattractive appearance, he'd had to toughen his temper to earn respect. People could be very cruel to those they deemed weak or different. This stigma could have a serious impact on a person's psyche. Yet, Akaza had the distinct impression that this guy probably didn't pay much attention to other people's judgment.

Akaza preferred to respond with silence, he would not give him satisfaction.

“I already have a hard time putting up with you, Douma, but if I have to put up with Mr. Doe Eyes on top of that, it's not going to work.” He turned to address Kokushibo, “Make sure that annoying Douma doesn't touch a hair on my little sister's head.”

These allegations made Douma jump theatrically.

“Hey! I know how to behave! Then I’ll be a perfect brother-in-law!”

The horrific sight made the walking corpse shudder. He bowed to Kokushibo and embraced the apple of his eye.

“Have fun and don’t stay home too late.”

By trying to smother her too much, wouldn't he be harming his little sister? Obviously not, since she seemed to benefit from this excessive protection. She was placed on a pedestal. Akaza, too, felt he existed in his father's eyes.

Oh. Could it be a hint of jealousy about their close relationship?

He stiffened as hands crept over his shoulders, simulating a massage.

What the hell…?

“So, shall we go eat? I’m starting to get hungry!” Douma crooned.

Besides being arrogant and shameless, he allowed himself to be tactile! What was this guy?! Where did he come from?

“But damn it, get your hands off me!” Akaza protested, rebelling.

Fortunately, Douma had spared him a scene that could have ended badly. Akaza was a hot-blooded person, ready to explode at the slightest annoyance.

The long-haired boy complied with his demands.

“But what a bad temper! I'm starting to like you! I'm sure we'll end up being the best of friends!”

Him? Become his best friend? In his dreams! Who would be so twisted as to bring this lunatic into their life? Was he looking for a reaction? To make him lose his temper? Akaza wouldn't last long before punching him in the face!

In truth, he didn't know which would be the worse choice between seeing Douma or his adoptive parents.

In the end, staying home wasn't as insurmountable as he thought.

Why had he accepted his fucking offer? He stood there like a pedant, listening to Daki and Douma's antics. Kokushibo seemed to be suffering too, which comforted the pink-haired boy: he wasn't alone in this ordeal.

Akaza questioned the legitimacy of this friendship. During the conversation, Douma had complained that Kokushibo hadn't responded to his last text message. So the scraps of paper from yesterday had come from Douma... and the apathetic boy was playing along, which suggested they liked each other a little.

Between Kokushibo, who was as kind as a prison door, and Douma, who was an extravagant jerk, one could not say that they had any common interests. Yet, Kokushibo was sitting at the same table, absorbing the mockery of the other two.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Akaza-kun?”

The sip of his juice hitched in his throat, making him cough. Damn it, why had he blurted out such nonsense in the middle of the conversation?

Akaza channeled himself.

“Yeah, that's your mom.”

His repartee had elicited a quiet laugh from Kokushibo. Ah, this was the first time this guy had displayed a new expression, which had given the illusion that he wasn't an emotionless robot.

“Haha! You're so funny, Akaza! But my mother is a tight-lipped woman, I advise you to go elsewhere!” Douma replied cheerfully.

Akaza desperately tried to provoke him, to provoke him into a black rage. Anything to erase that abominable smile, to offend him even a little. Was he even capable of feeling anything other than heightened joy? Every sane individual went through several emotional phases: permanent absolute happiness did not exist.

“And you, Douma, it’s been a while since we’ve seen you with a girl!” the young girl wondered.

“Ah, Daki-chan, if I had to introduce you to each of my conquests, you wouldn’t be able to cope!”

“Hm,” Kokushibo thought no less.

Douma gave his quiet friend a knowing nudge.

“Kokushibo! I could lend you one of my girls! Maybe you'd be less bitter if you got your balls off a little more, haha!”

“Douma! Watch your language! There’s a girl at your table!” Daki reprimanded him.

“I'm forgetting my manners! Well... You still haven't answered me, Akaza!”

Ah, he was back at it again. Obviously, he wasn't the type to let go of his victims. It seemed like he enjoyed making others uncomfortable.

“No,” the pink-haired boy finally capitulated.

Wonder sparkled brightly in those colorful eyes.

“Oh, such a pretty boy like you, how sad! I can give you some advice if you want! For starters, be a little less grumpy, you'll see, it will help!”

“I didn't ask your opinion.”

Unsurprisingly, Akaza was unable to make Douma falter. What was his Achilles' heel? What did he need to attack to make him swallow his unwavering good humor?

“What I said to Kokushibo also applies to you, Akaza-kun… If you need a girl to calm your frustration, don't hesitate! Friends are there to help each other!”

That Douma was incorrigible! It made you wonder how he'd survived until now? Hadn't anyone beaten him up yet?

The word friend sounded terribly wrong when he said it.

Akaza rolled his eyes and took another sip of his drink, signaling that the matter was closed. Douma removed a ballpoint pen from his jacket pocket and scribbled notes on the napkin, which he handed to the new student. The new student, suspicious, peeled it from a distance. Spotting a visible series of numbers, Akaza studied it more carefully. He understood what he was seeing, but his brain wiring simply refused to process this news.

The puzzlement on his face made Douma sit up straighter.

“That’s my phone number! So we can talk after class! We’ll ring each other for hours!” he enthused.

Completely taken aback, the boy with the majestic eyelashes froze on the spot. He didn't bother to hide his dazed expression: he was the one supposed to destabilize his opponent, not the other way around!

Anger rose in his nose.

He rushed to tear off that cursed piece of napkin.

“I don't give a shit about your number! You're annoying me! I hate you!”

A few customers relaxing on the terrace cast prying glances in their direction.

The new student left a note on the table, gathered his things like a fury and left the place without looking back.

“Akaza, wait!” Douma tried to reason with him.

It was too late: the boy's decision was final. He hurried back home.

He slammed the door, quickly took off his shoes, and headed down the stairwell, without saying hello to his adoptive parents. Once in his room, he tossed his bag into a corner; some supplies had been knocked out of the container by the impact.

Akaza threw himself onto the bed, his head buried in his pillow. Jaw clenched, muscles tense, the boy vented his rage as best he could. The explosive cocktail of emotions had given him a migraine.

He recalled this unusual scene over and over again. Why was he getting so worked up over such a small thing? He could have easily ignored Douma or told him to fuck off, but to get so angry like this? His reaction was out of proportion: all because Douma had managed to upset him and he himself was incapable of doing so?

Long, wet beads pulled him from his introspection: he was crying. He hadn't shed a tear since his father's death.

Why did such an insignificant event cause the unthinkable?

He wiped his face and sat on the edge of the bed. Inevitably, his gaze caught the family photo proudly displayed on the nightstand.

He and his father, on Christmas Eve, were smiling carefreely, far from imagining that death was lurking behind the door.

You should smile a little more.

He pulled the picture frame to his chest in a desperate attempt. He missed his father so much. He had sunk into loneliness; he no longer had anyone to confide in, no one to share pleasant moments with.

He was so withdrawn that no one ventured into hostile territory. He sought protection from the outside world.

He would rather be alone than lose another loved one. Refusing to open up to others was a matter of survival.

But he had to come across an individual who showed a form of exaggeration in joy.

This guy wasn't human: his charming smile, brimming with confidence, would haunt him for the evening.

Chapter Text

Akaza walked to school with leaden feet. He had spent the previous evening brooding, turning recent events over and over, without finding the slightest rational explanation to justify his behavior. Suffice to say, he hadn't been able to sleep a wink of sleep. Bags weighed down his amber eyes, and the tightness of his skin deprived him of any comfort. He had long hesitated not to show up for class today, but he quickly changed his mind: being absent on the third day after returning wouldn't have been very flattering to him. The students in yesterday's small group could have linked his non-participation to yesterday's altercation. The new student muttered under his breath: it would have been inconceivable for them to come to such a false conclusion.

He kicked a rock that was in his path: since when did he care what others thought of him?

Three-quarters of an hour early, he arrived at his destination. As he had planned yesterday, he had boarded an earlier bus to avoid the crowd of students milling around the bus shelter.

The school gates were closed. He sighed. Where could he go to kill time? After rereading his notes so much, he could have spit them out during a surprise test. Read a book lying at the bottom of his bag? His eyelids were far too heavy, and the lack of lighting wasn't conducive to that kind of activity.

Shrugging, he set out for a morning stroll through the nearby streets. At this hour, he encountered very few passersby. Most of the houses were still shrouded in darkness. The occasional roar of engines broke the heavy silence. The pavement slabs creaked beneath his shuffling feet.

He walked with his head down, as if he were wandering aimlessly. In fact, since his father's disappearance, he had truly questioned the legitimacy of his existence.

Becoming an orphan on the brink of adulthood and being placed in foster care was a major trauma, calling into question all of his life plans. What good would it do him to develop his resilience?

Was it his subconscious playing tricks on him? He reached the interjection that led to the bar where he had lost his temper. Inevitably, this emotionally charged street brought up the Douma incident.

You should smile a little more.

That phrase kept repeating itself. It had grafted itself onto his cells, becoming one with his old demons. Even if he wanted to, his body couldn't overcome the grief. Maintaining a carefree, laughing expression was no longer part of his vocabulary.

He was able to stop himself from feeling like a loser. In itself, Douma hadn't done anything wrong by giving him his phone number. Akaza must have misunderstood his intentions: he wouldn't give out such sensitive information with the intention of causing harm. The newcomer didn't see the point. Unless he was twisted. Drawing up a character profile, Douma didn't seem very well-adjusted.

It was difficult to discern the truth from the lies: was he playing a role or was it a genuine character trait?

The tall blond man tried to integrate him into his circle of friends, perhaps out of simple altruism. Akaza didn't seek contact: he avoided others like the plague.

His adoptive parents had also gone to great lengths to ensure he received the best possible welcome in his new environment. The pink-haired boy was aware of the effort they had put into the task, but there was nothing they could do: they had dared to replace his father. This role was rightfully his! Even though he was no longer with us, tolerating the parental authority of another was tantamount to high treason. The couple had finally abdicated, giving Akaza the time he needed to overcome his grief. They had assured him time and time again that if he expressed the need to talk, their door would always be wide open.

Nonsense.

They weren't concerned about his feelings; they were simply implementing a court ruling. They could keep their act of charity to themselves!

His unease was growing in the pit of his chest. Electric tingles were weakening his body. The feeling of guilt wasn't helping matters. He remained unsure about Douma. Would it be advisable to apologize? His behavior the day before had been outrageous. All because Douma wanted to be his friend and show him sympathy.

Disoriented, he turned back toward the school. The gates were now open. Automatically, he headed for the classroom. Surprising: the day before, he had forbidden himself to set foot in the classroom until five minutes before the bell rang.

He'd expected to be the first to enter the room, but someone had beaten him to it: Kokushibo was already at his post, his eyes fixed on the window. Today, his hair was styled in a sleek ponytail, a few strands of which fell over his shoulders. The crimson velvet, combined with the blazing passion, didn't truly reflect the character description. Kokushibo had only displayed emotional emptiness, unlike Douma. It was said that opposites attracted like magnets.

Kokushibo finally noticed, his piercing hazel eyes reflecting only an impenetrable abyss. A barrier forged from concrete.

Akaza took a deep breath and took his seat without making any waves, in a more than brief exchange of greetings.

The two boys stared straight ahead, tense. Akaza sighed nervously; the discomfort had plenty of time to set in before the other students showed up.

“Akaza… I understand that Douma can be stupid at times, but yesterday there was no need to get angry with him.”

The large amber eyes widened: hearing the sound of Kokushibo's voice was already unsettling enough, but receiving a reprimand from him was even more so. Normally, he would have told him to fuck off for less. Deep down, Akaza had the firm conviction that he had crossed the line. A very solid knot increased this excruciating sensation. He would have gladly spared himself the weight of this blame. He felt like a scolded child, who had no means of defense.

He withdrew into silence, distancing himself from Kokushibo's gaze. He had no accounts to render to him...

On the other hand, he was still wondering how to learn about the problem with Douma. Should he pretend nothing happened, let things slide (after all, they weren't friends and his opinion could go to hell), or should he ease his conscience a little? This drastic choice drained all his mental energy. He had other things to deal with than these trifles. Other people were a real pain, a source of trouble.

He was so absorbed in this flood of thoughts that he hadn't noticed the arrival of a major protagonist, and not the least: the personification of his obsession stood there before him, all sheepish. The rainbow eyes hinted at a gloomy weather, devoid of their sparkle. The doll-like face was deprived of its permanent smile.

Douma looked… pained. Akaza gaped. Could this idiot feel emotions? He was actually human after all.

The pink-haired boy would have rejoiced in his misfortune just yesterday, but the rueful pout brought him no satisfaction. Akaza had finally managed to shake him off. He had tried to cause him harm and had just won his cause. And yet, his chest was squeezing under the weight of guilt.

“Hello Akaza,” Douma greeted very briefly, without embellishment.

The colorful character of the day before was no longer present. With stiff lips and furrowed brows, Douma was unrecognizable.

“Kokushibo, can you leave us alone for a few minutes, please?”

The ponytailed student nodded, complying without a fuss.

The slamming of the door isolated the two boys and forced them to face their responsibilities.

Akaza was becoming increasingly nervous: the tapping of his feet on the floor, the tingling of his fingers, the ringing of his pulse in his ears. This state of vulnerability irritated him. He shouldn't have given in to Douma's insistence yesterday; he would have spared himself all this embarrassment.

“I wanted to apologize, Akaza. I didn't mean to hurt you. If you took my intention as an attack, know that it wasn't meant to be that way,” Douma said.

Akaza had just received a good slap in the face: the mea culpa of this doll-faced idiot was not appropriate under the circumstances! It was Akaza who had hurt Douma's feelings, it was incomprehensible!

And his hangdog face didn't help matters! Douma's posture was identical to that of a scolded child trying to make amends with his parents. Surprisingly, this reaction was even more unbearable than his stretched smile.

Caught off guard, Akaza had to improvise in a hurry.

“It's up to me to apologize. I didn't have to react like that. I'm not good at interacting with others.”

To support his point, the new student scribbled notes on a small piece of paper, which he handed to his interlocutor. Looking over the note, Douma smiled from ear to ear. The rainbow shone like a diamond reflected in the light; such brilliance could not leave anyone indifferent. Akaza was not swayed by this overly enthusiastic good humor. The incident was closed, and the blame he was being accused of no longer had any reason to persist. However, another perception plunged him into general stupor.

Did he realize what he had just done? Douma's excitement made him bitterly regret his actions.

All the limits he had imposed on himself were crumbling like a house of cards.

“Thank you, Akaza! I'll keep it safe! You know, I like you and I'd really like to be friends!”

Akaza would have avoided witnessing this load of bullshit. Douma would spout just as many insane things a second later. They had only known each other for three days, their only exchanges were tasteless jokes and childish provocation. How could Douma possibly like him, or worse, seek to sympathize with him?

This guy was an enigma, which only made him more interested. What secrets did Douma hold?

The porcelain face lit up, its owner slipped into the hallway, calling his comrade.

Kokushibo didn't even have time to step through the door before Douma rushed at him like a hyperactive child.

“You'll never guess what just happened! Akaza and I made peace, and he even gave me his number!”

The main person concerned hid the traces of his discomfort by looking out the window. Facing the idiot's euphoria was beyond his strength, and he didn't want to receive any comments from Kokushibo.

To his relief, the other students appeared one after the other. Daki's arrival preoccupied Douma, who no longer paid him any attention. Akaza cracked his knuckles: his respite would be short-lived, it was inevitable.

What had possessed him to act so recklessly? His feelings of guilt had made him do the unthinkable.

He was playing on his laptop, anything to kill time before bed. There was no way he was hanging around downstairs; his adoptive parents weren't in bed yet and were busy with their own business. The last thing he wanted was to interact with them.

He already had another troublemaker to deal with...

Douma…

As expected, he bombarded him with untimely messages. In his writing, he also employed theatrical mannerisms. Even when the guy was participating in a monologue, he persisted in bombarding him with messages.

Akaza had ignored the vibrations of his phone until now. Curiosity had finally overcome his irritation. It was another means of distraction. Anything was good to avoid a face-to-face with his parents.

He read the banal messages, without much interest. Messages of decorum. The new student had expected something more eccentric, what a disappointment. Should he be polite in return? Passing on his phone number and not answering him would have been nonsensical.

“Good evening, Douma. Sorry, I've been busy until now.”

Why was he justifying himself? He didn't have to give him a detailed report on his schedule. The long-haired boy's reaction was immediate.

“Oh, Akaza! I’m so happy to hear from you! I thought you were still mad at me!”

How did this fuel Douma's anxieties? They didn't know each other! Akaza barely answered him during breaks. It wasn't as if they had forged a strong bond.

“No, I just don’t like talking.” Akaza clarified.

With you.

Since his father's death, the boy had retreated into a state of deep silence. He had lost all interest in communicating with others. Previously, he was known for his altruism toward others. A kind person, who devoted himself without complaint. Helping others without asking for anything in return. Seeing smiles adorn faces was his greatest reward.

And now he ran away from them as if they were common lepers. Being unpleasant deterred people from approaching him.

But not Douma. He was like chewing gum stuck to his shoe. A real vampire leech.

“You should! Talking makes you feel better! Maybe it would help you deal with your bad mood.”

Was he making fun of him? Akaza stood his ground, ready to pounce if he felt cornered.

“You know, I was so happy you gave me your phone number! It means a lot to me! The thought of you being angry with me was getting to me…”

How ? How could that impact his moods?

“Why? We don’t even know each other,” Akaza tried to understand his interlocutor.

“I really like you, Akaza! I want to be friends! I can't wait to see a smile on your pretty face and I'll do anything to make that happen!”

You should smile a little more.

What was this nonsense? Why did it matter so much to Douma? He should learn to mind his own business; it would save him a lot of trouble. To that extent, it wasn't an outburst of generosity. Douma's intentions were unclear. There was no way to determine what he was thinking.

Akaza cut their discussion short, pretending he was going to bed. Douma naturally wished him a good night and expressed his eagerness to see him in class tomorrow.

Douma's enthusiasm left him perplexed. Unraveling this mystery might well keep him on tenterhooks until the end of school.

What had he gotten himself into?

It was the same old story every time. Everything was set like clockwork. Akaza felt trapped in a time loop: tirelessly, he repeated the same gestures, whispered the same demands, and each time, Douma overstepped the boundaries.

In addition to being artificial, Douma was tactile. Akaza loathed these friendly gestures.

At each break, the tall blond man crept up behind him, massaging his shoulder blades. He leaned against his shoulder and sometimes hugged him, pressing his chest against his back. Akaza constantly balked, calling him to order. His murderous eyes were persuasive, and Douma apologized lightly. He seemed to have a short memory, as he kept making the same mistakes at the next break. It was unbearable.

The most absurd thing about this story: he was practically the only victim. Kokushibo was also affected, but much more discreetly. As soon as Akaza entered his field of vision, Douma forgot everything else.

“You're always stuck to Akaza!” Daki complained.

Ah… So it wasn't a figment of his imagination.

“Oh, are you jealous? Don't worry, I can share…” Douma said, giving Akaza a knowing nudge, who rolled his eyes at his implication.

The girl rebelled, her voice loud enough to shatter crystal.

“What? What are you going to imagine?”

With his index finger pointed at her, Douma ventured into a dangerous game.

“Everyone knows you have a crush on Akaza!”

Please, that was all it took! At that precise moment, Akaza would have preferred to be buried six feet underground to avoid this embarrassment.

“That's wrong! Kokushibo, do something!”

The crimson-haired boy must have felt the same way as his amber-eyed neighbor.

“Stop bothering Daki. Why do you always have to bring it back?”

Douma laughed out loud.

“Haha! I was just kidding! It was just for fun!”

“It only amuses you,” Kokushibo announced coldly.

The tall blond man jumped on Akaza's neck.

“I'm sure Akaza is receptive to my humor! Right, Akaza-kun?”

The new student quickly got rid of this unwanted hug.

“I already told you not to touch me! When will you understand?” he said impatiently.

“Oops, sorry Akaza! I got carried away!”

It was always the same excuse, the same words, the same intonation. Douma didn't believe a word of it since he was already planning to ignore this order.

Fortunately, the small group didn't dwell on the subject. They dined peacefully on a bench in this green space within the school. It was clear that Akaza had been adopted by his classmates. Although he wasn't talkative, the others seemed to enjoy his company.

The first month of school was coming to an end. Finally, Akaza was beginning to acclimate to his new surroundings. It wasn't exactly a blissful time for him, but at least the current circumstances were bearable. At least, at school. At home, it was a completely different story.

His adoptive parents tried to open a dialogue with him. Akaza cut short every single exchange. It was beyond his strength. Building family ties tore at his heartstrings: under no circumstances did he want to tarnish his father's image.

When he shied away from his responsibilities, other demons awaited him in his room: Douma's intrusive messages.

The new student had considered blocking his number time and time again. When he was about to take the plunge, his inner voice would speak up. After all, Douma wasn't doing anything wrong. But his flirtatious smile bothered him. His physical closeness, his compliments, his light tone of voice. That face free of any imperfections. His questionable teasing.

His entire being was unsettling him. And yet, a tiny part of himself was drawn to him like a magnet. He couldn't explain it: Douma aroused a particular attraction in him. The tall blond man's obsession fed his ego daily. Despite his explosive and distant personality, Douma was clinging to him, as if he were the prism of his eyes.

Akaza no longer had this sense of existence since his father's death. Left to his own devices, he could no longer count on anyone. He was even convinced that his own disappearance would not alarm anyone. He had become invisible.

But the curves of the rainbow lifted him onto a pedestal. He was adored, revered, as if he carried the voice of God. Akaza hadn't felt that way for so long.

It was only natural that Akaza had gotten into the habit of waiting for his messages. He never made the first move because of his misplaced pride. True to his post, around 8 p.m., Douma invited himself into Akaza's intimate space.

Rather random topics kept them on their toes. Akaza had found himself enjoying this new hobby, something he had until recently been reluctant to do. And each time, the tall blond man intruded more and more, taking a slippery path. Since Akaza had let his guard down, Douma allowed himself some liberties without running the risk of being reprimanded.

“What do you think of Daki?”

Akaza was fiddling with his phone while lying on the bed. He was poring over the series of letters displayed on the small screen. Why was Douma interested in his opinion?

“What kind of answer do you expect?” the pink-haired boy replied, albeit defensively.

He could easily imagine Douma's smirk as he wrote his answers.

“Damn it, Akaza! You always have to get things out of you! I wanted to know if you liked Daki?”

The thin pink eyebrows furrowed: what was he trying to do? Had Daki whispered something in his ear and Douma was acting as a go-between, so he'd gone off to gather information from the person concerned? It was just like the two of them: Daki and Douma shared the same bench, so it was easy to talk to each other.

Akaza should have cut it short but he was carried away by the heat of the moment.

“She is pretty.” he wrote succinctly.

There was no way Douma was going to repeat anything compromising to him, which would risk causing confusion. While the girl's appearance was certainly pleasing to the eye, her mannered, narcissistic personality was downright irritable.

“You’re incorrigible! You’re leaving me no choice: I’m going to get straight to the point! Would you like to bang her, yes or no?”

Akaza almost choked on a gasp of surprise. Bang her? What did he mean by that? Was Douma referring to what he thought? Was Akaza misunderstanding Douma's plans? The doll-faced boy always made grandiloquent speeches, exaggerating every feature to create a scenario worthy of a play.

The amber-eyed boy used subtlety to confirm his initial hypothesis.

“I don't have feelings for her.”

Douma offered him the Holy Grail on a silver platter, without hesitation.

“You can have fun without having feelings, you know…”

There we are. He was fixed. He would have loved to erase this information from his memory. He should have switched to another subject while he still had the chance.

Douma returned to deliver the final blow.

“Besides, I'm sure there's a way! She's got a crush on you, it's obvious!”

The new student stiffened, his impulsive nature returning at a gallop.

“You're completely crazy! Stop bothering me about this!”

As usual, his interlocutor didn't take his threat seriously. Each of his interventions was delivered with a certain lightness, as if the tall blond man didn't care about anything.

“If you change your mind, don’t hesitate! Friends are there for that too!”

The word "friend" in his mouth aroused suspicion. Should Akaza believe him? Nothing was certain. Douma was moving his pawns forward as if he were a master strategist on a battlefield. Human lives were at stake, but he didn't care; he was pulling the strings to amuse himself, regardless of the potential collateral damage.

Akaza wasn't in the mood to play this sordid little game. With a lame excuse, he ended their digital conversation.

Until next time.

While Akaza's character wasn't unanimously appreciated by his classmates, his physical performance impressed many. During player selection, the team captains fought over him. Even Gyutaro, who didn't particularly care for him, put aside his grudges to join forces with Akaza. On the field, the new student excelled, in any discipline. The pink-haired boy was in search of competition. Sports were an excellent way to let off steam, to clear his head. Only surpassing oneself mattered. A compelling need to improve. Each victory brought him complete satisfaction, and competing against worthy opponents strengthened his mental balance. What more could one ask for? Nothing could tarnish this little breath of fresh air.

Well, almost...

Douma's exuberance marred this moment of relaxation. As usual, the tall blond boy was shouting himself hoarse to the captains to join the same team as Akaza's. His whims had a way of irritating the other students. Here too, he managed to get his way: everyone he encountered bowed to his requests. Douma knew how to be convincing: manipulation was his weapon of choice.

His physical prowess was quite acceptable, and he took competitions seriously, which was quite unusual. Douma rarely teased Akaza during sports sessions; on the contrary, the silky-haired boy provided him with assistance. Douma didn't seek to show off himself. Each of his interventions was dedicated to Akaza's personal success. This was unusual behavior, given his inflated ego.

Akaza never bothered to thank him. Besides, he hadn't asked for anything, and he could handle himself just fine. Teamwork made perfect sense when each player played a key role. Douma, for his part, only had eyes for this new student.

While his conduct wasn't too problematic on the pitch, in the locker room, it wasn't the same. Douma was screaming his heart out and was seriously lacking in finesse.

That was an understatement.

He made some rather shocking remarks about appearances. He was the first to notice trivial physical characteristics and make a big deal out of them, provoking mockery.

Douma always excused himself by saying he was just “joking.” It was systematic.

Akaza, for his part, was entitled to a little special treatment. Being in Douma's good shoes, wasn't that transcendent?

He would have preferred criticism. He was completely unprepared for that.

The tall blond man seemed amazed as soon as his eyes fixed on Akaza. In the locker room, this supposed admiration turned into a nightmare.

A shower of compliments on his looks rained down on him. Discomfort quickly overcame the young boy. Akaza had tried to implement avoidance strategies, but Douma was like a parasite attached to its host. He was never far away; he appeared out of nowhere, that damned smile hanging on his lips.

One day he had significantly crossed the line.

After the match, Akaza and his teammates celebrated their resounding victory in the locker room. A good atmosphere was in the air. The amber-eyed boy would have almost been swept away by the collective euphoria if it hadn't been for this incident.

Dressed only in his black boxer shorts, he rummaged through his locker to retrieve his civilian clothes. It was at this precise moment that Douma committed the irreparable.

Laughing heartily at one or other opportunity (a little thing brightened up a day), the tall blond man showed his jubilation by landing a firm slap on Akaza's buttocks. The sharp, short sound had attracted more than one person's attention: laughter rose here and there, enjoying the spectacle.

There was only one whose face had frozen.

Akaza slammed Douma against the metal locker door, holding his collar tightly.

“If you touch me again, I’ll beat your ass, do you understand?!” barked the new student.

His eyes reeked of rage, a vein on his forehead was about to burst.

Determining the urgency of the situation, Kokushibo separated the two boys, with unwavering composure.

“Move out of the way, Akaza!” the crimson-haired boy scolded him.

Kokushibo's accusing eyes froze Akaza's blood, as he realized the consequences of his actions.

Without a word, he quickly got dressed and took his things to quickly leave the place.

The return home was going to be eventful.

As if in déjà vu, Akaza swung his bag, which hit the leg of his desk. The boy threw himself onto the bed, burying his head against the pillow. He fought back a scream, a sharp pain squeezing his chest.

He was in pain. What had become of him? A violent boy who flew into a rage over such a small thing? What would his father think of him? With the emergence of these memories, tears blurred his vision.

He felt so pathetic. Idiot. He didn't raise his hand to people. He had gone off the rails, over something superfluous.

The other students weren't making fun of him, they were probably just sharing Douma's enthusiasm.

His phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He wiped his face with the back of his hand to read the message.

“I'm deeply sorry, Akaza… I didn't mean to hurt you… I was just joking. I didn't mean to disrespect you in any way…”

Speaking of the devil...

Another apology message, which had the same configuration.

I was just kidding… I didn't mean to hurt you.

He wouldn't get off so easily this time! Even though Akaza bitterly regretted this excess, Douma had to take everyone's space into consideration. He had to get it into his head once and for all that he couldn't do everything to others without any repercussions.

The small device emitted continuous sounds.

“I don’t want us to be angry and lose your friendship…”

The bombastic Douma had resurfaced, with his excessive attitudes. Reading him, one would think they were the two best friends in the world.

His reaction was stupid.

“I don't want to lose you, Akaza… You mean a lot to me. I'm willing to apologize until you forgive me…”

A lump formed in his throat. Was the tall blond man getting his way by instilling pity? Akaza sighed, lost in the scattered flow of emotions.

“I am nothing without you. The thought of seeing you in the morning gives me the strength to get out of bed. You are important to me. I wouldn't be able to bear it if you were to cut me out of your life…”

His throat tightened as he read this short text, filled with symbolism. Without knowing it, Douma had just touched a nerve. He was therefore worth something in someone's eyes. Since his father's disappearance, he had doubted the legitimacy of his own existence. After all, if he himself were to succumb, no one would mourn him.

Douma would do it.

Or not, Akaza had no way to verify the veracity of his statements.

“Do you mean what you say?” he finally wrote.

What an insane question! Of course, Douma would corroborate his words, adding tons more.

“Of course, Akaza… I like talking to you. I'd also like to listen to you. I'll wait as long as it takes.”

To be able to listen to him? What was he getting at? Was he implying that he would willingly lend a listening ear? Was he even capable of thinking of anyone other than himself?

And yet, his little ploy had paid off.

“I'm sorry I'm acting like this. I've been feeling uneasy since my father died. I get angry very easily.”

Akaza would slap himself listening to this. It was inconceivable for him to share his fragility with his adoptive parents, and now he was confiding in someone like Douma. With this information, no one knew what he was capable of. Akaza didn't want this to spread throughout the school.

“Oh, Akaza… I'm sorry to hear that. That explains a lot…”

The new student immediately regretted his confessions.

“I doubt your dad wants to see you unhappy. You two must have been very close… He lives on through you. Cherish your memories, he will always be there to support you! It's normal to feel devastated after losing a loved one. Knowing you, I'm convinced you'll overcome this ordeal. I have full confidence in you! And from where he is, I'm pretty sure your dad must be proud of you!”

Who would have thought it? A smooth talker like him playing the advisor. However, Akaza drank in every word. He had finally let his guard down completely. Once again, Douma had pulled off a masterstroke, with little effort.

Akaza clutched his chest, squeezing the fabric of his shirt between his cramped fingers. The bleeding from his bruised heart was easing.

The wound, albeit superficially healed, had allowed Akaza to open up a little more to Douma. The two classmates held an informal and light conversation.

They created social bonds.

The new student would never have suspected that he would be interacting with a guy as annoying as Douma.

The school year was going to go by faster than he thought.

Chapter Text

This time, he boarded an already crowded bus. He mingled with the teeming morning crowd, devoid of any irritation.

His delay had been fully planned.

Yesterday, he had stayed up late, too engaged in digital conversations with Douma. The fight against sleep had proved tedious, but his intoxication with knowledge had helped him stay awake. Akaza wasn't the only one to talk about himself. Douma had brought up a few elements that punctuated his daily life. He had naturally addressed the catastrophic cohabitation with his own parents; he either locked himself in his room or lingered outside, without even glancing at the time; he too was constantly developing avoidance strategies.

A pang in his heart had revealed itself, plunging Akaza into a state of melancholy. Akaza knew all too well what Douma had described. Without knowing it, the two were facing the same problem. The new student seemed calmed upon reading these messages: he wasn't alone in experiencing constant tension at home. Akaza had retorted that he himself had been placed in foster care against his will and that, as a result, he harbored bitterness toward his adoptive parents, and that the loneliness saddened him.

He didn't expect to receive an answer that would shock him.

“You feel alone, yet you are causing this situation yourself.”

Douma was being clumsy. But he was right about everything. He had a perfect grasp of the character. Akaza discouraged others from getting close to him. He would have given anything to go into exile on a deserted island, far from civilization. He no longer wanted to invest in any kind of relationship. The people he knew would eventually disappear, like his father. He couldn't bear to be abandoned again.

He might as well sabotage any social interaction himself. Why not take his own life? After all, nothing was holding him back anymore. No one would miss him. Douma's last intervention had brought out dark thoughts. He had taken a good slap in the face, bringing him back to this sad reality. Why was Akaza struggling to breathe? He might as well end his ordeal without further delay. He could finally hold his father in his arms again.

“But don’t worry! You’re not alone anymore! You’ll see, I’ll be able to make you smile!”

The suicidal thoughts had diminished, leaving a faint glimmer of hope.

He was no longer alone…he was a million miles from imagining that the guy who had horrified him from the first day of class would be the one to take in his distress. Appearances could be deceiving.

He woke up with a light heart. It had been ages since he'd gotten his mind off things.

With a more than serene step, he had just crossed the threshold of the classroom door. Given his late arrival, several students were already busy at their desks. Daki smiled from ear to ear when he arrived, Kokushibo, true to himself, imperturbable, and Douma's face sparkled with mischief.

“We were worried, Akaza! You usually arrive before us!” Daki pointed out.

The new student shrugged. For the first time since joining this class, he made his way around the audience, kissing each of his classmates on the cheek as a morning greeting. Daki, stunned by this unexpected contact, brushed her cheek as if to absorb the indelible mark left by Akaza. A crimson tint betrayed her discomfort. Kokushibo responded favorably. He didn't let anything show, but the newcomer's demeanor was surprising, considering yesterday's chaos in the locker room.

Akaza was about to do the same to Douma, but the latter had another idea. The tall blond hugged him tightly, their respective chests caressing during the embrace. Akaza's muscles tensed, the boy unaccustomed to physical proximity with others. Naturally, his first instinct would have been to pull away from him and lecture him, but he immediately changed his mind. It was his way of showing his euphoria. He was expressing this constant need to touch. Drawing on his reserves, Akaza clumsily patted his upper back. A poor imitation. He felt so stupid. But Douma's jubilation had greatly alleviated this preconception.

“I missed you so much, my little Akaza! I was worried sick! Why did you arrive so late?”

Akaza didn't have time to formulate a suitable repartee before Daki made her piercing voice resonate.

“Douma! Stop sticking to Akaza!”

The tall blond man, who never missed an opportunity to get noticed, confronted her shamelessly.

“You're just jealous because I'm the only one Akaza cuddles!” he hummed, somewhat provocative.

The young girl took a step back, helpless in the face of this observation. Her only defense was to deny it outright.

“That's not true! You're talking nonsense! I hate you, Douma!”

A triumphant smirk formed on the corner of his mouth. Douma was ready to draw his secret weapon.

“That’s not what you were saying in bed the other night!”

The pill didn't seem to go down well. Humor or not, Daki had taken offense.

“You’re such a big idiot!”, she shouted.

She turned on her heel and left the classroom without asking for more.

“She must have gone to cry at her beloved big brother’s house!” added Douma, proud of his response.

As for Akaza, he couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the kid. Douma had gone too far by humiliating her like that. He was probably going to justify it by claiming it was humorous. There was nothing funny about it. That said, this information hadn't fallen on deaf ears: had they ever actually slept together? It wasn't that unlikely. In that case, why were the two getting into disagreements? Unless they'd broken up and held grudges against each other. In that case, why had Douma asked Akaza what he thought of Daki?

“You always go too far, Douma,” Kokushibo remarked.

Akaza shared his opinion. Douma's predictability was no longer a secret.

“Oh, come on! It was just a joke! There was nothing bad about it!”

“Ultimately, I shouldn't have separated you yesterday. A good beating would have put you back in order.”

The tall blond man stuck his tongue out at him.

"Now you're the one being mean, Kokushibo! What's wrong with you? Was it Yoriichi who put you in a bad mood this morning?"

The listless boy's icy gaze flashed. Seeing Kokushibo so displeased was unsettling.

“I advise you to shut up… I won’t be as lenient as Akaza…”

The porcelain-skinned boy blinked, taking in the impact of these threats. He knew he'd crossed the line. Unlike him, Kokushibo held a very strong grudge. Douma had learned that the hard way.

The atmosphere at the table was rather tense. Daki was furious, constantly sending dark looks at the person in question.

“Are you going to be mad at me for much longer, princess?”

Douma placed his hand on hers, hoping to defuse the situation. The girl reacted immediately, pushing away the clumsy attempt.

“Until the end of my life if necessary!”

Her neighbor tangled his fingers through her neat silver hair, twisting a few strands.

“Ohhhh! Who am I going to talk to in class if my neighbor pulls a face?”

“You should have thought about it before, idiot!”

“But you know that thinking is not my strong point! I apologize if I hurt your feelings, my sweetheart!”

Akaza sighed nervously. He would have gladly done without witnessing this embarrassing scene. Still, seeing Douma in such a mess was somewhat enjoyable.

So he was clumsy with everyone. Akaza had taken his approaches as a personal attack, but he was wrong: it was part of Douma's personality, to tease all his comrades.

A pang of bitterness washed over him: he thought he was the only one to benefit from this preferential treatment.

He shook his head: what had he just thought?

“To make it up to you, I’ll lend you Akaza for a hug. The ultimate proof of my love for you, my dear!”

At the mention of his first name, Akaza almost fell off his chair: he was so absorbed in his thoughts that he had lost track of their conversation.

Douma gave him a knowing wink. At that moment, Akaza suppressed a murderous urge: how could he allow himself to involve him in their argument? And yet, Douma's insistence ensured its effects. If Akaza played along, Daki would finally move on and their pathetic quarrel would end, sparing them the awkwardness.

This last thought convinced him: he left his seat, walked around the table, and opened his arms wide, a silent invitation to the girl. Dazed, she opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure of what to do next.

She finally capitulated, going along with the gesture, which Douma had instigated. Akaza put his pride in the dungeon. No point in getting into a fight with Douma.

The vanilla scent tickling his nostrils was very pleasant. Thinking about it, it was the first time a girl had snuggled into his arms. During his adolescence, he hadn't really been able to experience a romantic relationship due to lack of time. Even at a young age, he had been assigned to manage daily life in his father's absence. Since his death, Akaza had definitively given up on the commitment of an intimate relationship. He felt that being in a relationship represented a heavy burden. He didn't want to waste his energy on that.

Noticing Douma's mocking expression, Akaza shook off the unwanted embrace and returned to his seat. He'd have no trouble waiting, that fool!

“Well, Douma, I see you continue to shine with your evil genius,” Kokushibo breathed.

What did he mean by that? In any case, the main person concerned laughed.

Had Douma planned this ambush or had he just improvised it? One thing was certain: this guy was capable of anything.

The ritual had taken place late in the evening. Glued to his phone, Akaza waited for the first message, which was slow to arrive. The desire burned in his fingers, but his damned pride held him back. Why did he need to talk to him so badly?

Patience was a virtue, and the young boy would not be disappointed with the journey.

“Hi, Akaza-kun! I hope your evening is going well? By the way, I didn't get a chance to thank you! You saved my ass!”

Ah... It was a good thing he brought up this thorny subject himself.

“Next time, don’t drag me into your bullshit! Own up when you do shit!”

“That's not very nice of you to say that to me, Akaza!”

That idiot had guts, he had to admit. Or was he just not aware of what he was saying?

The tall blond man didn't stop there. It's as if he always managed to look good, no matter the circumstances!

“And I’m sure you enjoyed holding Daki!”

The pink-haired boy detected a hint of annoyance, which made him snap.

“What nonsense are you talking about now?”

Douma's response was challenging.

“I bet you got a hell of a hard-on when she brushed against you!”

This was the second time he'd alluded to that, and he didn't like it at all! Jokes below the belt didn't go over well.

“I told you to stop bothering me about this! This is all your fault too!”

“You're the one who got up, I had nothing to do with it!” Douma exonerated himself, denying any responsibility.

He always turned everything to his advantage! A character who exuded irritation. At times, Akaza fantasized about suffocating him so he would put him on standby for 5 minutes!

“But thank you for your sacrifice ;) I will repay you for that! You are a true friend!”

Akaza was cradled in cotton wool, as light as a feather floating in the wind. Words of such banality jostled him. Deep down, he doubted Douma's sincerity.

He texts you every day. You brighten his day the moment you enter his field of vision. He's made you feel confident enough to confide in him.

Douma simply hadn't learned the rules of community etiquette. Had they even been instilled in him during his youth? He represented a true paradox, an enigma in his own right. The amber-eyed boy had forbidden himself to take an interest in others; these people were merely passing through his life.

The secrets Douma held enchanted him. It was imperative that he lift the veil hidden behind that overly pronounced smile.

How could he do this? Isolate himself with him? He hadn't yet had the opportunity to be alone with him. Was that reasonable?

One wondered if Douma had invaded his mind. Such thought transmission was no accident.

“Would you like to come with me to Kokushibo on Saturday? We could spend more time together!”

Amber eyes widened. Him, going out on the weekend to visit someone? Supporting Douma on weekends as well as during the week? Spending time with him outside of school?

A major dilemma appeared before him.

Isn't that what you wanted? See this weirdo from a different angle?

His adoptive parents hadn't planned anything either, which meant they were going to stick around. This final argument convinced him.

The neighborhood where Kokushibo lived didn't match Akaza's image of it. It was an upscale suburb, composed of imposing, chic buildings that reflected the high standard of living of the owners. The boy felt out of place, like a lost outcast. But Douma's unwavering good humor somewhat dispelled his preconceptions. Indeed, he was the only one noticed, making everyone forget everything else.

They met at the bus stop not far from the school. Douma had lavished praise on his attire. Akaza wasn't wearing anything extravagant. But seeing him dressed in anything other than his school uniform had thrilled him. Douma, on the other hand, looked more radiant than ever, with his hair down, shining bright enough to rip out your retinas. A lover of good taste, Douma took care of his appearance, and the clothes he had skillfully selected flattered him. In comparison, Akaza felt outdated. The new student wasn't a trendsetter, placing little importance on his image.

Kokushibo wore the same stoic expression, even at home. So it wasn't school that was making him bitter, which made Akaza question the legitimacy of the friendship he and Douma had formed. They were opposites on many levels. How had a quiet, inexpressive boy bonded with someone like Douma?

“Hello, my little Kokushibo! How are you?”

Kokushibo rolled his eyes, clearly not thrilled by the already well-imbued eccentricity.

“Don’t you ever rest? You tire me out.”

“Come on, Kokushibo! You need some joy! Is Yoriichi here?”

Yoriichi… This name had already been uttered from Douma's mouth, which had greatly irritated Kokushibo.

“He must be hanging around the house somewhere.”

The doll-faced boy was ecstatic at this revelation.

“Great! Two for the price of one! You’ll see, Akaza! It’s night and day!”

The interior of the sumptuous home reflected the neighborhood. Large, airy spaces, refined and meticulously designed, with furnishings that fit the style, but sparingly. Was Kokushibo's apathy actually disdain for the lower castes? Akaza didn't think so: the ponytailed boy showed no condescension. He had never alluded to his luxurious lifestyle, nor looked down on people.

By joining Kokushibo's inner circle, perhaps the pink-haired boy would be able to gain valuable information about Douma.

They had retreated to the living room, which opened onto an open kitchen, interspersed with a central island. Tense, the new student didn't take much part in their conversation. It was just trivial matters: classes, a bit of gossip, nothing significant.

He was alerted by an unfamiliar voice, yet one that sounded somewhat similar. Turning to his owner, Akaza looked dazed: Kokushibo's doppelganger had just appeared. It took him a few long seconds to make the connection.

So Kokushibo had a twin brother. Strangely, he had never mentioned his existence.

Yoriichi seemed calm and discreet at first, but he was already much more friendly than his brother.

“You're still so handsome, Yoriichi!” Douma exclaimed.

“And you, a smooth talker!” joked this mysterious twin.

He spotted Akaza.

“Ah, a new face! It’s always nice! Nice to meet you!”

Having two carbon copies in his field of vision was somewhat disconcerting, especially since the two brothers didn't agree on similar moods. One was as cold as a glacier, the other demonstrated a kind of conviviality. Yoriichi seemed more comfortable in a community.

“You have amazing eyelashes! So, Douma, aren’t you too worried about being dethroned? You’ve got some competition, you might lose your status as the most handsome boy in the class!”

Douma stuck his tongue out at him, not at all offended by this little joke.

“As Akaza is my friend, I will forgive him everything!”

“Consider yourself lucky, Akaza! Douma must really love you if he's giving up that title!”

Akaza hid the diffuse redness on his cheeks and neck as best he could, his body feeling suddenly warm. This Yoriichi hadn't just said this information jokingly. A third person close to him had come to support his assumptions. The daily messages, his tactile approach, the sharing of experiences, and now, Yoriichi's allegation. It was all coming together and taking shape. Douma wanted to earn his friendship at all costs.

The small group chatted happily, without any fuss. Only Kokushibo had withdrawn. He listened actively but didn't take part in the conversation. Within his own home, he seemed even more solitary. Douma also focused a little more on the twin, who was less reserved.

“How are classes going, Yoriichi?” the boy with rainbow eyes asked.

“I finally got used to it. The system is completely different. There’s a lot of material to absorb, but I’m sticking with it…”

The mischievous eyes shone brightly.

“And what are the girls like? They must be hot! And much more experienced, eh?”

Yoriichi took his remark lightly.

“You’re not losing your bearings, are you! Listen, I’m not going to lie to you that finding a girlfriend isn’t one of my priorities.”

Douma faked sobs. He was left wanting more and wouldn't get any more juicy information.

The same was true for Akaza: this visit to Kokushibo hadn't allowed for much insight into his character. That being said, Douma's flamboyant personality followed him even outside the school walls.

“Kokushibo looked angry, didn't he?”

Back home, his conversations with the colorful braggart had resumed in earnest. They had barely parted ways, and Akaza had latched onto an excuse to ensure the continuity of their exchanges. Against all odds, he was beginning to take a liking to this new pastime. Occupying his mind allowed him a certain calm, more conducive to falling asleep.

“You're a good observer! Indeed, he was a little more silent because Yoriichi was there. Their relationship isn't great, unfortunately, and it's quite tense between them, at least from Kokushibo's point of view. Yoriichi doesn't have a problem with him in particular.”

Oh… Douma was close enough to Kokushibo to be kept in on his secret. This guy certainly showed some ingenuity and skill when it came to prying into other people's private lives. Had he performed the same trick with Kokushibo as he had with him?

Akaza felt somewhat embarrassed to have been given details about Kokushibo's life, in a roundabout way. Family matters were none of his business. Then there was another question: Did Douma share their discussions with Kokushibo? Akaza would feel so betrayed. He was in no mood to face reality.

“If you really want to know, Yoriichi has already entered a top university. The guy is so smart he skipped his final year of high school. As you can see, their parents are from the social elite, and personal success is an integral part of their values. Even if Kokushibo won't admit it, I'm sure he's jealous of his brother. He's consumed by this inferiority complex. I have to say, his father swears by Yoriichi. In his place, it would drive me mad.”

Akaza stood his ground and did not fail to point this out to him.

“I'm not supposed to know all this about him.”

Of course, his interlocutor did not let himself be put off by the seriousness of the situation.

“Oh, Akaza! This stays between us! I'm sure you'll be able to hold your tongue!”

Unlike you…

The new student was torn by a growing surge of intense emotions, forming a destructive tidal wave. His heart aching, he suppressed a sob: it was a safe bet that Douma had rehearsed his darkest secrets. Granted, he hadn't made any promises, but it went without saying that their conversations shouldn't be leaked.

Although... was Douma even aware of these implicit rules? Nothing was clear with him.

This aspect gave him all his charm. A creature with an angelic appearance and dubious morals, who bordered on the forbidden.

Since meeting him, he had to admit that his life had become a little exciting.

“Before starting the new lesson, I wanted to go back over our little school trip that I told you about at the very beginning of the year.”

A general ovation erupted in the classroom. Rengoku clapped his hands to inspire calm. It was no use, the euphoria wouldn't subside; the excited students were causing chaos. A real cacophony.

“Young people, there’s still time for me to cancel our little getaway if you don’t get your act together.”

The threat had its effect. The commotion vanished as if by magic.

Akaza would have preferred to bury himself six feet underground: what was this all about? A school trip? Since he'd registered a month late, he hadn't heard about this little surprise. He could have done without it. To top it all off, his neighbor slipped him a small piece of paper. Without unfolding it, he already knew the sender's identity.

“It's going to be great, Akaza-kun! We're going to have a lot of fun there!”

The lingering doubt vanished immediately: wouldn't this be an excellent opportunity to strengthen their friendship? To get to know him better? Who knows what Douma could concoct to spice up the stay?

The history teacher was not stingy with details: bus journeys, a visit to a large museum focused on anthropology, highlighting vanished civilizations that left behind mysterious remains, and above all, what interested the students, the place where they would spend the night. When the figure holding authority punctuated his speech with an essay assignment upon their return, he received general indignation.

“Come on! I’m sure you’ll have a lot of fun working on this work!”

Protest, jeer at their speaker. The students pulled no punches. The teacher wasn't disturbed by this disgruntled crowd. He called for silence and began his lesson as if nothing had happened. The boy with the majestic eyelashes admired the landscape through the window, thoughtful. Inevitably, fear built its nest in the hollow of his chest. He had never participated in extracurricular activities that required moving out. After all, this type of event came at a certain cost, and Akaza didn't want to burden his father with his savings at the time: every expense was meticulously calculated.

His adoptive parents wouldn't disagree with his humble opinion. But to get their approval, he first had to open himself up to dialogue. What a pain. He avoided them like the plague. Sooner or later, the avoidance strategy would no longer work.

A subtle nudge pulled him from his introspective journey. Another piece of paper had just landed on the bench. Douma clearly couldn't contain himself, even in class. A real chatterbox who wouldn't sit still in his chair.

“I can’t wait to take this trip with you!”

Well, he was clearly showing his enchantment. Douma in all its glory.

Akaza scribbled back.

"Me too."

Was this a form of politeness towards him, or did he really mean it? Was his curiosity getting the better of his own desires? The frivolity nestling in the heart of his chest was a strong indicator to answer this question.

As strange as it may seem, the relationship he had with Douma had had a notable effect on the tension within his family. Much less defensive, Akaza now participated in meals with his parents. While he certainly didn't show them the love expected of a child, he tolerated their presence, which was already a big step forward for him. The foster family could finally hear the sound of his voice and have a little dialogue with this broken boy.

Akaza had finally changed his mind about planning this school trip. Normally, he would have already declined to participate. The current circumstances were different: his father was no longer with us, and his choices would no longer have any impact on the family home. His father wouldn't have to deprive himself or work overtime to offer this trip to his son.

His adoptive family agreed without thinking.

It was predictable, but Akaza couldn't help but be overcome by a terrible feeling. Was he disrespecting his father? Was the pink-haired boy entitled to happiness when his father had worked himself to death because of him?

I doubt your father wants to see you unhappy.

Douma's words echoed, as comforting as his father's hugs.

For once, that idiot probably wasn't wrong. His father probably wouldn't have approved of his way of thinking. His son's happiness mattered more than anything, even if it meant making sacrifices.

Akaza had to live for him, to honor his memory and his hard work.

Confident in his convictions, he packed his things for this school trip. His suitcase was already all packed, even though this short trip was scheduled for two months. He was impatient; not only was he very interested in this school subject (Rengoku was gifted at transporting his students and making his lessons captivating), but he was also able to spend quality time with his friends.

At this thought, Akaza's lips curled into an expression he'd left on the floor for a while: a genuine, purely natural smile. If Douma had been with him, he would have been blown away.

In the end, his life wasn't as bad as he thought.

The landscape flew by. What nature had to offer couldn't be fully appreciated. The bus moved at a brisk pace. Fortunately, he didn't get motion sickness. The earphones covering his ears played random music. It made the time pass.

He hadn't anticipated spending this journey alone. True, the seat next to him was occupied, but by a student who wasn't in his class, too busy chatting with the classmates sitting in front of him.

He expected Douma to rush to sit next to him. The latter had preferred Kokushibo's company. They positioned themselves toward the back of the bus, not far from Daki and Gyutaro. His pride hurt, Akaza separated from the group, determined to fuel this rift between them.

Akaza thought he could talk to Douma for several hours. At least, to regain their closeness.

Indeed, without really understanding why, Douma had become distant over the past few weeks. Fewer handwritten notes were passed around during classes, less exuberance was shown towards him as soon as he walked through the door. Text messages in the evenings were also becoming increasingly rare.

Akaza hadn't grasped this sudden change in his behavior. Nothing particularly special had happened between them, no disagreement, no conflict... It was as if he had become invisible to his eyes. The amber-eyed boy had wondered at length, rummaging through his memories: perhaps he had unknowingly offended him? Douma's frankness would have weighed in the balance; if he had been hurt, he would have made sure to let him know, adding a touch of exaggeration of his own. However, he had remained silent on the matter.

Akaza had to face the facts: he probably wasn't interested in him anymore. Douma probably didn't benefit from this friendship anymore and was busy with other things.

All those hours spent on confessions were just a load of hot air. Douma had played him.

Perhaps his confidences were the subject of mockery among the small group of friends. Akaza blamed himself for having been fooled so easily.

He had given him all the weapons to use against him.

Resentment had taken over from the pain. Rekindled, Akaza had withdrawn into himself, eliminating any possibility of dialogue.

He had secretly hoped that Douma would move in with him, perhaps this was all just an unfortunate misunderstanding.

But the distance between them only comforted the unthinkable.

Deeply hurt, he regretted ever having set foot on that bus. And to think he was looking forward to this trip.

It was all too good to be true.

Akaza deserved no clemency: he was destined to live in solitude for the rest of his days.

Upon their arrival in the small tourist town, the students were escorted to a cozy little hotel. It didn't exude luxury, but the decor and staff contributed to a friendly atmosphere, which was the opposite of Akaza's thoughts. He fumed in his corner, casting furtive glances at the object of his torment. True to form, Douma stood out from the others, letting out overplayed laughter. He was so insufferable. Just the sight of him made him vomit. The pink-haired boy should have known: behind that charming smile hid a ruthless being, lurking in the shadows to better pounce on his prey.

The first action of the fiery-maned professor was to assign rooms.

Akaza nearly fell over when he learned who his roommate would be during the stay. It seemed like fate was playing a trick on him.

At this announcement, Akaza shared a brief visual exchange with Douma. The latter offered him one of his most beautiful winks, worthy of a Hollywood star. The curves of the rainbow lit up more than ever.

Akaza couldn't help but blush stupidly at this display of affection. That bastard loved to play with people's feelings. He could go fuck himself.

Akaza was appalled by his own stupidity. After dropping off their belongings, the students were invited to the hotel restaurant for a well-deserved meal after the few hours of driving. As if nothing had happened, Douma took him with him, despite his protests. He was trapped at the same table as his usual classmates. A strange sense of déjà vu awakened painful memories in him.

After dinner, the students walked around the city, the group led by the teachers, towards the first museum.

Fortunately, the exhibition left little room for rumination. Akaza listened attentively to the guide's and teacher's comments, unperturbed by the unruly students, who spent their time whispering and giggling discreetly. They could go to hell: Akaza didn't pay them any attention.

The end of the guided tour was not a good omen.

The dreaded moment arrived: the reunion with Douma, in a narrow room with no escape.

As if fate wasn't against him enough, the room only had a double bed. That was all it took...

Before this sudden estrangement, Akaza would have derived a certain satisfaction from this situation: what more could one ask for to get to know each other better? Now, he wanted to draw a line under this so-called friendship. Their bond had been constructed from scratch: Akaza had only served as the victim of a macabre joke, to laugh at his expense. A pawn he manipulated as he saw fit.

Under the palpable animosity, Akaza isolated himself by putting on his headphones. A good way to prevent any attempt at dialogue. He let Douma go about his business, not caring about his presence.

He could go fuck himself.

This was without counting on the perseverance of the young boy with silky hair, who tapped him on the shoulder, trying to make contact.

Annoyed, Akaza took off his earbuds and looked up at the jerk standing next to him. His hangdog expression infuriated him.

“What do you want?!” he asked, very angry.

Douma seemed puzzled by this aggressive attitude.

“Why are you angry with me?”

His heart began to race, pounding against his ribcage. How dare he brazenly make fun of him? He held back from leaping down his throat.

"Fuck off !"

The pink-haired boy closed the subject by putting his headphones back on. Douma didn't hear it that way and quickly snatched them away.

This time, Akaza abruptly stood up from the bed, confronting him; they were barely a few inches apart. Douma was taller than him, but that didn't faze him at all. 

“I advise you not to provoke me too much, otherwise I’ll beat your ass!”

The rainbow darkens.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Akaza shoved him. The tall blond man took a few steps back but didn't respond.

“I saw right through you! You took me for a fool! It must have really amused you to make fun of me all this time!”

Douma looked at him in complete incomprehension. He clung to his role without bending.

“I… I don’t understand, Akaza…”

Amber eyes dulled, caught in a spiral of rage.

“You made friends with me just to humiliate me! I… I thought you were being sincere with me, but I was too stupid to believe you!”

Behind the hatred lay a heartbreaking pain. He had grown attached to this colorful personality. He felt listened to and understood. Important. He wasn't considered trash in his eyes. He was wrong.

“I'm being honest with you, Akaza. I love you very much, you mean a lot to me, and you know it! I... I thought you needed some space. It's... it's stupid, but I felt like I was suffocating you. I'm very clumsy with people. I'm trying to pull myself together and make an effort. I see I messed up, I'm sorry...”

Akaza just stood there, his eyes wide open.

“You hardly ever texted me anymore. You barely spoke to me in class…” Akaza decreed.

The tall blond boy looked sorry.

“I haven't been feeling very well these past few weeks… It wasn't about you… I'm sincerely sorry if I hurt your feelings. It wasn't my intention.”

It was as if Akaza had been hit by a tsunami: was Douma having fun concocting scenarios to exonerate himself, playing the good guy to get off easy, as he usually did? Yet, the tearful, pained rainbow didn't lead. Douma seemed to be advancing the truth. It was Akaza's turn to feel pathetic. Douma, too, remained a human being, with varying feelings. Behind that forced smile, there might have been real distress.

The pink-haired boy had thought he was the center of the world, capricious like a naughty child because he was no longer the center of attention.

Douma didn't hold it against him, as he wrapped his arms around the boy. He had sorely missed that close embrace. Akaza snuggled against his saving chest, his heart devoid of resentment.

“I'm sorry, Douma… I acted like an idiot…”

Playful lips pressed against his forehead. Douma held no ill will toward him.

“We have lots of things to tell each other!” he said happily.

He enjoyed the benefits of a shower after this emotional rollercoaster. The two boys had retreated to bed, chatting about everything and nothing. These banal conversations did him a world of good. When his father wasn't working, he spent his free time with his child. The two chatted carefree. What good old days. He rediscovered that lost serenity in Douma's company.

He climbed out of the shower stall and grabbed a large bath towel. Busy, he jumped when the door burst open. The boy hadn't thought to lock the door, as he'd told him he was going to take a shower.

Caught in the act, he instinctively covered his genitals with the towel.

“Douma! At least knock on the door before you come in like that!”

A wry smile from the person he is talking to.

“Sorry, urgent need!”

Akaza muttered to himself, not appreciating the intrusion. He grabbed his pajamas and left the bathroom, taking care to lock the door behind him.

What a clumsy guy!

This time, the Douma, disconnected from social conventions, had resurfaced. Akaza had narrowly avoided a diplomatic incident.

He wiped the few beads of water dripping from his body before hastily dressing.

Douma poked his head out, informing him that he was going to take a shower too.

“I'll leave it open, Akaza-kun, just in case!”

The pink-haired boy gave him a disapproving look. At least he had the decency to respect other people's privacy.

It was already late. With this surge of emotions, sleep wasn't about to come.

He turned off the lamp on his bedside table, leaving Douma's on.

He put on his headphones and lost himself in listening to some music, hoping that he would quickly fall asleep.

His strategy paid off. Putting down his headphones, he was surprised to find the bathroom door still closed. Douma was taking an awfully long time to shower.

The hairdryer's motor roared to life. It was no wonder his hair was drenched in a sumptuous shine, given the time he spent on it.

He was finally alerted by the continuous blowing of the device stopping. The door creaked slightly, and Akaza took advantage of the slightly dim light to briefly unstick his eyelids. Douma appeared, clad only in his underwear. For no apparent reason, the pink-haired boy felt horribly embarrassed at the thought of Douma arriving practically naked. This feeling grew stronger when the long-haired boy climbed into bed.

“Akaza?” he whispered.

"Hmm ?"

“Do you mind if I leave the light on?”

What a strange request. Was Douma afraid of the dark? This school trip was definitely a good opportunity to gather information about Douma.

"As you wish."

Douma offered barely audible thanks.

“Good night, Akaza-kun!”

“Good night to you too.”

This day could have ended on this good note. It should have ended normally.

But normality and Douma in the same sentence could not coexist.

As he was almost lost in his dreams, quiet moans from beside him alarmed him. Thinking that Douma might be suffering, Akaza woke up in a panic.

He was completely unprepared for what awaited him. Douma hadn't noticed the puzzled look on his face. His eyelids were closed, his lips bitten sensually.

Akaza's heart was about to break. Without considering the consequences, he lifted the blanket.

The busy hand in his underwear left no doubt as to the activity to which Douma was engaged.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Akaza fumed.

Douma blinked, not even fazed by being caught in the act.

“Uh… I make myself feel good.”, he announced quietly, as if it sounded obvious.

Akaza gave him a horrified look.

“Are you kidding me?!”

The pink-haired boy got out of bed, not wanting to stay near him for a single second longer.

“Why are you reacting like this?” Douma ventured.

And he dared to ask him that? Wasn't he right in the head?

“Damn it, Douma! Don’t jerk off next to me!”

“Oh? I had to ask your permission first?”

This was too much! This idiot was completely out of touch with reality.

“You're sick, I swear! Don't come near me anymore!”

Akaza isolated himself in the bathroom, locking it tightly. It was simply surreal: he struggled to comprehend the horrific scene he had just witnessed. It was impossible to silence the timid moans that were playing over and over in his mind, and to ignore the hand at work.

“Akaza, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…”

With the door blocking the way, the amber-eyed boy was safe. But the plaintive voice shook the thin walls.

“I apologize… I didn’t know it would make you react so much…”

What did he expect? For Akaza to explode with joy during his little solitary pleasure?

Despite the magnitude of the disaster, Akaza pulled himself together: after all, this incident was the ultimate proof that Douma had no idea about social conventions. An invisible handicap that could cause problems living in a community. It explained a lot of his questionable behavior. Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and found himself face to face with this psychopath.

“Where the hell were you raised?” Akaza asked casually.

The height of it all: Douma was leaning into the matter, taking it at face value.

“Uh… with my parents, in the city of…”

“Okay! No need to answer me,” interrupted the new student, still confused.

Akaza finally left the small room that separated him from this unpredictable beast.

"You don't masturbate like that, next to people, it's not done," Akaza emphasized, crestfallen at the idea of having this conversation with another boy his age.

“Oh? I didn’t know that.”

The new student opened his mouth and closed it again: what could he possibly add to that?

“Go wash your hands and be quiet, okay?”

The tall blond nodded. Akaza sighed, settling back into bed on his left side to avoid any eye contact with this alien. How could he get back to sleep after that? He thought he was living a waking nightmare. He was forced to admit that this wasn't a figment of his imagination. At least Douma didn't make it any harder: he followed his friend's advice and climbed under the covers.

Akaza swallowed in pain, going over these obscene images over and over again. Why did they affect him so much? It was insane!

He wasn't out of the woods yet when Douma's hot breath brushed his neck. What the hell was he doing?!

Akaza rolled to his side.

“I told you to be quiet!”

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t mad at me…”

“I'm not, so for heaven's sake, go to sleep!” he begged.

He shifted his position, presenting his back to him. He blinked nervously. He could have spared himself the trouble. What a hassle! What did he expect to get into with such a specimen?

He wondered about his relationships with his other classmates: did he act the same way with Kokushibo? With Daki?

He quickly recalled every word he had ever said about them. It was a tedious task to develop his profile accurately. One thing was certain: Douma was no ordinary boy. This aspect had prompted Akaza to take an interest in his case.

Damn, their reunion at school was going to be awkward.

Akaza jumped when a deft hand slipped under his t-shirt, caressing his lower trapezius muscles.

“W-what are you…”

“Shhh… I want to make it up to you.”

“I told you I didn't blame you…” he protested.

“I insist, Akaza…”

The boy capitulated: he wouldn't overcome Douma's stubbornness, ready to do anything to achieve his goals. If it would help him regain his composure, he wouldn't be asked twice.

Then again, it wasn't so unpleasant to enjoy a massage. Douma's hand radiated such warmth, nimble fingers that relaxed the tension in his muscles. He wasn't usually very fond of physical contact. Douma's touch had that special touch: it offered a voluptuousness, an explosion of the senses. Against all expectations, the caresses on his back had beneficial priorities. His breathing slowed, his eyelids fluttered: he was fighting sleep. Finally, he succumbed to the muscle relaxation.

His sense of bliss was unfortunately short-lived. His breath caught when that same hand moved over his lower back, intruding into a forbidden area.

Sensual caresses were placed on his buttocks, his generous curves did not escape these curious fingers.

His heart tightened in his throat: why wasn't he fighting back? Douma had no right to cross that line, no matter how lacking in social conventions he was. Akaza had just reprimanded him about it just a few minutes ago.

A fierce grip on his buttocks finally made him react.

“Stop, Douma…”

His pulse raced as the sinful hand vehemently squeezed his buttock, refusing to release its prime grip. The nails dug into his flesh with every pinch.

“I told you to stop!” Akaza raised his voice.

Douma gave in, much to his relief. Akaza restrained himself from screaming. His mind desperately tried to block out this mishap, but without much success.

His entire body froze as a tugging sensation began in an unusual area. The pinching progressed to a painful pressure.

After a few blinks, his brain connections were established.

Something had entered him and it took him a few endless seconds to determine that it was Douma's finger.

Akaza refused to accept this infamous reality, he must be delusional, nothing else could justify what was happening.

The phalanges slid without the slightest ounce of remorse, exploring this intimate place.

The boy's trembling lips parted soundlessly as his anal walls were forcibly stretched. 

Akaza didn't struggle, he was so shocked. The constant stiffening and flexing of his finger forced a painful groan from him.

“It hurts me…”, he just blurted out this enormous nonsense instead of reacting.

However, Douma took his remark into consideration as he changed the angle of penetration.

The boy felt a jolt as the finger felt a particular area. It felt good, in a way, but it made the experience even more excruciating.

Douma pounded against that spot again and again. Akaza squeezed the fabric of his shirt with all his might, trying not to make any vile sounds. An intoxicating heat developed in his lower abdomen, unbidden.

It took Akaza a while to realize that the pain in his crotch was, among other things, just an erection rubbing against his underwear.

Guilt took over everything else: how could he get a hard-on when he was going through unspeakable things?

He clenched his thighs, hoping to ease his arousal, but nothing worked. On the contrary, the hungry finger mimed pressing back and forth, continually hitting that intimate area. The poor boy put up some resistance as he shifted, but Douma's interpretations prompted him to modify the pressure, bending and unbending the first few knuckles against his opening.

Akaza let out a low moan, carried by a shattering wave of pleasure. His anus no longer emitted any pain: every nerve ending deployed electric shocks that made him stiffen.

A suffocating sensation swelled in his lower abdomen, seeming to tear him in two. The anal caresses that persisted in hammering his asshole worsened the advance of this destructive heat.

His whole body began to tremble like a leaf, too exposed to this avalanche of teeming stimuli.

Yet another anal pounding triggered a confined explosion, the instant relaxation of all his muscles feeling incredible. He loosened his thighs, struggling in vain against uncontrolled tremors.

The stain in his underwear was unmistakable: he had just experienced a powerful orgasm, simply from the stimulation of his anus. As soon as the aftermath of this pleasure subsided, Akaza sank into self-loathing. How could he have gotten off like this?

He no longer even had the strength to face Douma.

Akaza was about to faint when Douma pressed himself against his back. The tall blond man showed his ambiguous affection by nibbling at his shoulder. With this proximity, Akaza felt pressure against his buttocks. He realized with horror that Douma's erection was rubbing against him.

“Did you like it, Akaza-kun?” he asked with his usual innocence.

Had he just asked him that question, in his delicate voice? A silent tear rolled down his cheek. He fought to keep himself together. The bastard was getting on his nerves since he'd gone so far as to hug him like nothing had happened.

“You mean so much to me, Akaza… I can never thank God enough for giving me the chance to cross your path… I feel good with you…”

The pink-haired boy listened to this statement, which sounded like an affront. What he had forbidden himself to do happened: he desperately clutched his chest, screaming in agony.

Surprised, Douma turned him onto his back, the mischievous rainbow that captured this flood of tears.

“W-what's wrong with you, Akaza? Are you in pain ?”

The new student blinked away the abundant tears by rubbing his eyes. The sight of his doll-like face disgusted him.

"Get lost…"

"Huh ?"

His casual attitude had shattered what little self-esteem he had.

“Get out of here, you bitch!” he yelled.

His threat fell flat as a fresh surge of tears overwhelmed him. He covered his face with his hands, refusing to expose his weakness to this wolf disguised as a lamb's carcass.

Akaza could not enjoy a moment of respite: Douma had pulled up his t-shirt, revealing the two pink buds.

“I have to make you feel good… that’s what friends are for!”

The new student gasped in surprise as a small, wet organ swirled around his left nipple. The erectile tip aligned itself between Douma's teeth, who took malicious pleasure in tugging at it. The poor boy was unable to store this eruption of new sensations. Why was his body responding so well without rebelling? The pernicious tongue sucked greedily on this defenseless pink bud, then swirled briskly over the pointed tip of his nipple. Akaza clutched a lock of blond hair to temper this new onslaught of spasms.

Akaza should have escaped the clutches of this sly predator as quickly as possible, but he was rooted to the spot, searching for this forbidden desire. His body wanted more. It craved this friction, this degradation. Was Akaza so illegible that he deserved this punishment? Hadn't life already given him its share of miseries?

He was keen to discover another side of Douma's personality: he was not disappointed with the trip.

The release of his nipple signaled the continuation of the festivities. Indeed, Douma covered his abdomen with wild kisses, descended to his navel, and ventured into the critical area.

Akaza felt sick at the release of his fully erect member. The hot breath against his cock made him see stars. He drew on his last reserves.

“Please, Douma, don’t do this…”

It was laughable to beg him while his throbbing cock twitched with impatience. His sex, eager for friction, was aching like hell. He had this burning need to relieve it.

He didn't know whether to rejoice, but Douma put an end to the endless wait. The first lick brought a guttural cry from deep within him.

Akaza mechanically rolled his hips, searching for stimuli. His prayers were answered: Douma paid particular attention to his glans, tickling every surface available to him. The wet organ tentatively inserted itself into the slit of his urethra, taking the opportunity to collect the viscous liquid released.

He didn't stop there: covering the glans with abundant saliva and making sucking movements, he created a ring with his fingers to jerk off the tip of this imploring cock.

Akaza arched his back, sinking further into the mattress.

He lacked the words to describe this tornado of sensations. Unable to change the course of events, he let himself go, abandoning all lucidity. All he wanted was that explosion of flavors in his crotch.

It felt so good to get sucked, especially since Douma knew how to do it well with his tongue.

Distressed fingers ran through the clean, fragrant hair, a silent invitation to continue his work. Douma responded favorably, as he began sucking the entire length, gulping down every bit of flesh.

The pink-haired boy was slowly losing the battle. The succession of sensual laments left no doubt: the blowjob Douma was offering him was simply exquisite. Waves of shivers ran through his bare skin.

His heart rate accelerated so much that his breathing intensified.

The boy lost himself in disjointed vocalizations. He was terribly hot; it was a safe bet that a rash had spread across his face.

His stiff rod in that talented mouth was stirring him up.

“Douma… I’m going…”

He felt like he was on the verge of implosion, ready to release all the pressure at any moment.

His entire muscles tensed. Douma didn't give him the slightest respite, determined to give him this supreme pleasure.

Akaza pulled with all his might on his scalp, his brain releasing endorphins as he ejaculated for the second time in a row. Bodily sensations were sharply amplified during his orgasm, making every sucking motion painful. Douma relished every last drop of this precious nectar.

Fortunately, he stopped torturing his exhausted victim by letting go.

Akaza found himself feeling so heavy. He had just had two intense orgasms that had knocked him out. He didn't know where he got the strength to fall asleep after what had just happened.

No longer having the mental strength to fight, Akaza's eyelids condemned him to darkness until the next day.

Chapter Text

It couldn't be said that he had enjoyed a very restful sleep. That was an understatement: the last time he had been insomnia dated back to his father's death.

Akaza clung to the sink, watching his reflection: his unearthed face was frightening to see. The irregular flow of a drop of water felt like hammer blows hammering his skull. The tight lump in his throat wasn't helping either.

Tears naturally welled up: he gave himself a hard slap to pull himself together.

The creaking of the bed brought back painful memories. Akaza could have locked himself in that bathroom, but he knew that sooner or later, he would have to face this torturer.

His eyes filled with hatred. He cracked his knuckles, ready for battle. That son of a bitch wasn't going to get away with this!

Whether he was an unintentional breach of morality or not, what Douma did yesterday was intolerable.

Akaza burst into the room. Douma, with his hair scattered beneath him, his large, sparkling eyes, could have been mistaken for an angel fallen from the heavens. An angel who hid vices.

Douma's beauty was unparalleled. In his speeches, he seemed to be chasing women. Akaza would never have suspected his bisexuality. The pink-haired boy's eyes widened: what about him? He had come when Douma had fingered him. He had also spilled into his captivating mouth. He should never have pulled his foot while another boy was tripping on him.

Akaza didn't want to dwell on this revealing element, it was beyond his strength!

“Hello Akaza! Did you sleep well?”

In a flash, Akaza had imagined beating him up and covering the walls of that hotel room with his own blood. His casual question, delivered so naturally. This guy was a dangerous madman on the loose, there was no doubt about it. Had he perpetrated similar acts against other people before him?

All his fury remained trapped. The words were waiting to be regurgitated, but he was simply unable to express them. Yet he was so angry. Angry and pathetic. Humiliated and guilty for having derived pleasure from these sexual activities he hadn't agreed to. He refused to admit that he had been the victim of rape, but yet, it was the most accurate term.

Without deigning to answer him (especially since silence was the best form of contempt), he slammed the door behind him, wandering down the hotel corridor. Already dressed, he had no reason to linger in the room.

He checked the time on his phone: it was only 6:20 a.m. A little early to be heading to the dining room for breakfast. He'd lost his appetite anyway.

Without any particular goal, he wandered like the living dead inside the hotel. He had thought of strolling through the nearby streets to clear his head. Arriving at the reception desk, he recognized a recognizable figure, sitting in a leather chair, busy watching the regional news projected on a suspended television.

“Can I sit next to you?” Akaza asked.

Crimson eyes, devoid of any emotion, stared at him coldly.

“You do what you want, you don't need to ask me.”

Douma's revelations had changed his perception of the character. Kokushibo must have been hiding a certain amount of suffering behind this nonchalant apathy. There was nothing worse than living in another's shadow, feeling inexistent despite all unimaginable efforts. Even though he still had his parents, Kokushibo must have felt extremely lonely. Unfortunately, Akaza had obtained this information in a roundabout way, so there was no way he could discuss the subject.

"You're up early," Akaza pointed out.

“I could say the same thing. What’s happening to you?”

Kokushibo counterattacked without wavering. He probably found Akaza strange this morning.

“I couldn't sleep anymore.”

It was a half-truth. Keeping his distance from Douma was all that mattered.

"Same for me."

Akaza nervously tapped his thighs. Conversing face-to-face with this wax statue was a real challenge. While he was as closed as an oyster, Kokushibo was breaking all records.

The latter immersed himself in the television news. What if Akaza was using him to investigate Douma? After all, they were friends and they saw each other outside of school.

“Tell me, Kokushibo… How long have you known Douma?”

The pink-haired boy was venturing into dangerous territory.

“Hm… 4 years I would say,” he retorted briefly, without leaving the screen.

Well, his posture wasn't conducive to conversation, but he answered questions, so that was something.

“Uh… don’t you think he’s… special?”

The term was clumsy, but he couldn't use the adjective he had in mind as such. A sexual deviant.

Kokushibo finally averted his field of vision.

“I thought you knew that from day one. It's obvious that Douma is special. He's not a bad guy, but he can't help but do stupid things. Rules are an abstract concept to him. He doesn't always realize the harm he can do.”

Kokushibo had just painted his spitting image.

“Believe it or not, he's already made countless advances. If you'd known him at the very beginning, you probably would have killed him by now. I was on the verge of crossing the line several times.”

These revelations didn't lessen the anger he felt toward him. He wished he hadn't taken the detour. Did Kokushibo know about his dubious little practices? About his attraction to other boys? Had the two friends already lost themselves in a sexual experience?

“He talks about you a lot. When you're mad at him, it breaks his heart.”

Was he talking about him? Why would he bring him up during his exchanges with Kokushibo? And he didn't mind forcing disgusting things on people?

“I'm not making excuses for him, but he doesn't have a very easy life. He's a lost boy who tries to fit in with everyone else.”

Wasn't his life easy? What did he mean by that? If he took Kokushibo's information into consideration, it would mean that Douma hadn't lied to him. To justify his estrangement, he had mentioned a feeling of unease that had been deep-rooted for several weeks. What could it be? What could make a boy brimming with confidence falter?

“And you, Akaza? Why are you so attached to him?”

Akaza's blood ran cold. That innocent sentence had twisted his guts. Trapped, he decomposed in absolute silence. He had understood his question perfectly. He himself was desperately searching for a rational explanation.

This sometimes frivolous, sometimes haughty personality was a thorn in his side. A being who disturbed and got on his nerves. That exaggerated smile, his ostentatious manners... Akaza had waged a battle against him: which of the two would shake his opponent?

Douma had won the game hands down: he had managed to make the demon come out of him.

This guy was, sadly, fascinating. Douma worshipped him like a deity. He was perpetually seeking Akaza's attention.

The pink-haired boy occupied a central place in his life. He felt so important… He lived through Douma's eyes.

There was no way he was going to reveal his entire secret garden to Kokushibo.

“What do you mean by that?” he tried to stall.

“You tolerate his presence even though you don't seem to appreciate him. You crave this social connection between you. A real paradox.”

Indeed, Akaza had long questioned the basis of their relationship. Before last night's incident, could he claim they were engaged in a friendship? Akaza patiently waited for his messages; Douma had lent him a listening ear when he wasn't well. The boy was touched by the distance that had grown between them.

Kokushibo was right: Akaza demanded this proximity.

“Ah! That’s where you were hiding!” a voice called out, a little too excitedly.

The sound sent shivers down his spine. Douma had made a dramatic entrance, like a comedian entering the stage. He bowed to Kokushibo and took his place beside his object of desire.

“We were just talking about you,” Kokushibo said.

“Oh? You were talking about how handsome I am?”

“More like how annoying you can be,” he corrected.

The tall blond man's lips curled into a vulgar grimace.

Akaza flinched when Douma's hand rested on his thigh. The slightest physical contact made him feel nauseous. Unfortunately, for some obscure reason, he didn't rebel. He had spent the first few days scolding Douma when he intruded too much on his innermost being. Why had he suddenly become as harmless as a lamb?

“I wondered where you went, Akaza-kun! Don't just leave like that without telling me!”

Shut up, shut up!

The adrenaline rush was heating up his mind. Akaza felt on the verge of breaking down; he could explode at any minute. Containing himself was becoming a near-impossible mission.

“Well… It’s time for breakfast. We have a long day ahead of us, let’s get our strength back,” Kokushibo said.

Douma patted the fleshy thigh for a brief moment, then stood up from the seat, at the listless boy's heel.

Akaza stood there for an indeterminate amount of time. The emotional fallout gave him a splitting headache. His incomparably heavy legs were regaining some of their coordination. He stood up, holding onto the furniture.

It was as if he were dragging a ball and chain around his ankle. Every step toward the restaurant was tantamount to a death sentence. Breathing the same air as Douma was a source of upheaval. He would have given anything to escape this hell. Unfortunately, there were still two nights left. What if he asked his teacher to change rooms?

This didn't stop Douma from chasing him. He felt hunted, treated like common cattle.

Akaza had no choice but to confront him.

“Well then, Akaza, you have to sleep at night! You really look awful!” exclaimed Gyutaro.

To receive a remark from a hideous bag of bones was the crowning achievement of absurdity. He would not stoop to retorting. It was better to respond to fools with silence.

“You have to understand: with Douma around, I doubt I’ll be able to sleep either.”

The small group welcomed Kokushibo's retort. Gyutaro, who never missed an opportunity to gain the upper hand over his rival, reacted expressly.

“Oh! I understand better! You were too busy doing faggot stuff.”

His heartbeat rumbled in his chest, to the point where his vital organ could have burst out. This intense state of stress unsettled Akaza, who remained silent. This was quite unusual when he was being targeted.

“What are you talking about, Gyutaro? I spent the evening with your sister yesterday and it was phenomenal!” Douma said happily.

This remark triggered a black anger in the scorned brother.

“Shut your fucking mouth, Douma! If you touch a hair of Daki’s, I’ll make you pay!”

“Haha! You take everything literally, you’re funny!”

The rickety boy, his appetite gone, left the table, not forgetting to throw lightning bolts in Douma's direction, who remained unperturbed.

Daki stood up in turn.

“You always have to bring it back, Douma!”

“He started it!” the silky-haired boy justified himself.

Unconvinced by this argument, the young girl rushed to join her big brother.

“We don't need them anyway! They have no sense of humor!”

You, on the other hand, are disturbed. Sick in your head.

“Is it too much to ask to go through a normal day, without arguments?” Kokushibo’s voice was filled with weariness.

Douma shrugged: since he didn't feel responsible, he continued with his breakfast as if nothing had happened.

Akaza, meanwhile, was dissecting Gyutaro's comment.

You were too busy doing faggot stuff.

Without knowing it, he had hit the nail on the head. They had indeed engaged in sexual activity the day before. Akaza still hadn't realized that another boy had placed his hands on his body. He wasn't attracted to boys and had never considered any kind of homosexual connection. In that case, why had he come twice? It had felt so good that he had collapsed from exhaustion after those orgasms.

Akaza was so disgusted with himself: his body had committed high treason by tolerating the unacceptable.

He wasn't gay, he didn't express any desire for someone of the same sex. It was inconceivable!

He hoped the school trip to the museum would dispel all his stray ideas.

All his hopes were shattered: not only did his attention wander at the slightest opportunity, but his brain connections led him to the same alarming observation: Douma's talented mouth on his penis. The hot breath that had propelled him into another universe, generous lips designed to grant pleasure. The young boy tried to pull himself together, but he inevitably ended up giving in under the weight of his urges. Containing an erection was a real obstacle course.

It was simply inconceivable to have a hard-on during the historical tour. So, he clung to the guides' explanations about the works on display, but inevitably, his gaze caught the sight of this handsome Adonis. Douma, a mystical creature who had arrived from another planet. How had this guy, who had entered his life by chance, caused so much upheaval? Since when had it gone so wrong? Akaza rewound the thread of events and was appalled to discover the truth: all the signs were there, before his eyes. Douma's enterprising attitudes, his incessant messages, this admiration that was turning into obsession. Douma was constantly playing with the limits, and through his interventions, he was only testing the waters with Akaza.

A subtle way of analyzing his victim's reactions. Douma was far from stupid: he had planned everything from the beginning.

The question at hand was to determine the true intention behind his actions. Was he aware of them, were his perceptions skewed by his emotional disconnect, or was he a master manipulator?

His morning reaction, his cheerful question about the quality of his night's sleep without taking into account the events of the previous day, Kokushibo's clarifications... there was still room for doubt.

Douma surrounded himself with mysteries, as much as the vanished civilizations that were the central subject of the school trip. This guy would belong in a museum dedicated to absurdity. A cabinet of curiosities crammed with rare, new, and singular things. He would rightfully earn his place there.

Akaza stood back from the group, capturing the waves of the sublime hair with every movement, all with grace. He had gotten himself into a hell of a mess.

Every minute that passed increased his panic: he dreaded the evening reunion, confined in this small, cramped room, sharing the same bed.

After visiting the museum, the small group had wanted to take it for a short stroll around the city before enjoying a good meal at a restaurant. Akaza had claimed a splitting headache, avoiding this risky outing.

He had saved precious time: he had used it to determine his plan of attack.

At the table, he had remained silent, which wasn't too unusual. He listened to everyone's conversations, without paying much attention to the details. However, he was able to spot a few peculiar glances coming from Douma. The latter was desperate to make eye contact. Surprisingly, Douma wasn't monopolizing the conversation; he was far too busy winking seductively. Akaza cleared his throat in embarrassment; he was probably imagining things, too corrupted by some form of paranoia.

With a knot in his stomach, he went back to the room after the meal, Douma having arrived a few minutes before him.

He was lying in bed, checking his phone, seemingly oblivious to his presence. Now the bastard was ignoring him. Fine, if he wanted to play along in this sordid game...

Akaza was ready to vent, to let out all the hatred that weighed on his heart.

With a heated mind, he intends to spit his venom.

So close to the goal, his lips remained sealed. It wasn't that complicated; he'd already confronted him many times; all he had to do was let out the words that were on the tip of his tongue. The ones that crushed his chest. And there he was, standing there like an idiot, his beak nailed shut.

Since when was he a wimp?

Swallowing what little pride he had left, he slammed the bedroom door. Wandering down the corridor, he wasn't sure where to go.

Anywhere would do, as long as he was fleeing the plague.

Vaguely remembering a few things, he headed upstairs.

He knocked on the door.

After an interminable wait, a figure appeared, with a questioning expression. This student was no stranger to him, as they attended the same class, but they weren't used to interacting much. This guy had an oversized ego. During gym sessions, he tried to compete against Akaza.

“Ah, if I expected that… Kokushibo, there’s someone for you!” sneered the overconfident boy.

Akaza was in no mood to take up his cynical remarks anyway.

Kokushibo's usually stoic figure displayed a certain recitativeness.

“What are you doing here, Akaza?”

The latter did not mince his words.

“I was wondering if I could stay here for a bit. I need a change of scenery.”

“Ohhh! Is Douma giving you a hard time?” retorted the other student.

“Kaigaku, put it on hold,” the ponytailed boy retorted.

Kaigaku curled his lips, annoyed by this unexpected intervention.

Kokushibo, for his part, did not seem hostile to the project.

“Come in, Akaza.”

Kokushibo was still dressed in his civilian clothes, his hair firmly in place despite the day's activities. The new student had expected a refusal from him. Appearances could be deceiving. Despite his icy posture, Kokushibo was not a heartless being.

“What's going on, Akaza? Did you have a fight with Douma?”

Akaza couldn't stand to hear that name floating through the air anymore. At that moment, he wished he were struck by global amnesia. If only he could erase those angelic features from his memory...

He didn't have an adequate answer up his sleeve. He improvised.

“No, I would like to clear my head and with him around, it’s impossible,” he remained in a daze.

“You’ve been acting strange since yesterday.”

His tone was more of a statement than a question. They weren't particularly close, but Kokushibo had detected an anomaly perfectly. 

The amber-eyed boy shrugged, not really wanting to dwell on the subject. After all, the crimson-eyed student was relatively close to Douma. Who knew what could be going on between them? Being the subject of mockery or gossip didn't appeal to him.

Fortunately, Kokushibo wasn't desperate to get information out of him. He was just as taciturn as he was, which was comforting.

On the other hand, Kaigaku didn't much appreciate a rival visiting his territory. He would spout a load of nonsense, half-absorbed by Kokushibo's thoughts. He looked weary. Perhaps out of courtesy, he didn't interrupt him.

Akaza sat comfortably on a small sofa next to the radiator, isolated in his own little bubble. Inside, a safe haven beckoned him, far from his dark thoughts.

As he gradually decompressed, the vibration in his pocket shattered this quiet space. Unlocking his phone, a waiting message taunted him, from a well-known sender.

“Where are you, Akaza? I'm worried you won't come back.”

A long shudder ripped through every vertebra of his spine. His heart in knots, he stared at the message, not knowing what to do with it.

Douma was a pain, and he wasn't going to get rid of him like that. There was nothing stopping him from blocking his number at first, but his reasoning was failing him. It was as if his body was no longer responding to anything; it was filtering out all brain commands.

After 10 minutes, another message flooded his inbox. Akaza didn't bother to scan it.

He wanted to delay the inevitable confrontation. Every second saved was precious to him.

Kaigaku had finally gone to shower. Once alone, Kokushibo had been a little more considerate.

“I sense you’re worried, Akaza.”

Would this be an approach conducive to confidences? Akaza didn't know if he could trust him.

“I'm not feeling good, but it will pass.”

“If you want to talk about it, know that I am here to listen to you.”

Oh... Could the sinister-looking character be a benevolent person? This trip definitely brought to light some unexpected personality traits.

“I assume Douma is telling you about me and what I may have told him.”

The prospect had sent him into a tizzy when Douma revealed intimate details about Kokushibo's life. Akaza felt guilty about possessing crucial information from him.

“Douma does talk to me about you, indeed. He praises you whenever he can. He likes you very much.”

Akaza tightened the fabric of his pants, embarrassed. He could have done without that clarification. It only added to his embarrassment.

“Listen, Kokushibo… I… I'm sorry, but I heard about things that don't concern me about you.”

Apathy gave way to astonishment.

“What then?”

Akaza bit his tongue.

“About your family problems…” he finally admitted.

Even though he was not the cause of the fault, he was ready to face his  wrath for this intrusion.

“I see… Douma can't help but shut up.”

Without denouncing anyone, Kokushibo was able to determine the author of this leak.

“I am terribly sorry…”

“Don't be ridiculous, Akaza. Douma trusts you and knows you won't spread the word. To be perfectly honest, it's not much of a secret. I don't mind you knowing. I have a lot of respect for you.”

Kokushibo therefore held him in high esteem, for reasons that were unclear to him. Nevertheless, if he was telling the truth, he could count on a powerful ally.

A knock on the front door surprised Kokushibo.

“Definitely…” he whispered as he went to open the door to this new visitor.

Akaza melted with the arrival of this newcomer. He sank into the sofa, suddenly feeling heaviness in his limbs.

“Ah, so this is where you were, Akaza-kun…”

Kokushibo was a million miles away from imagining the palpable tension between the two protagonists.

“We were talking with Akaza,” he added.

“Oh really, and what about?”

“About everything and nothing.”

The answer didn't seem to suit this Adonis too much, but he would be happy with it.

“Akaza-kun, it's already late. We should leave Kokushibo alone for a bit.”

“Oh, since when do you care about that?” Kokushibo retorted, a slight smirk etched across his face.

Akaza would have given anything to make himself invisible. Unfortunately, the psychopath wasn't entirely wrong: he couldn't hide in Kokushibo's room forever. With leaden feet, he gave a weak bow to Kokushibo and followed Douma down the hallway. He could feel the floor giving way with every step. He didn't know by what miracle he was still standing.

The anguish grew with every meter he traveled. This room had become his tomb.

In a deafening silence, the two young people had taken refuge in this execution prison, sheltered from potential witnesses.

Akaza immediately hid in the bathroom, making sure to lock it. Painfully, he undressed and climbed into the shower stall. His forehead pressed against the glass, the jet of water massaged his back. He derived no pleasure from this moment of relaxation.

His haunted object lingered behind this barrier: nightfall had doomed his hopes. Soon, he would no longer be able to escape the clutches of his predator. Even if he wanted to flee the scene, it was a safe bet that Douma would pursue him, as he had just done.

He was hunted like a beast.

He soaped his arms, taking an interminable amount of time. Saving time at all costs. Every fold of his skin was carefully cleaned. He also applied himself to his intimate hygiene. This area he had explored the day before, without his consent.

Yet he'd gotten a kick out of it. He'd even found himself projecting the scene during the museum tour. A pang of bitterness washed over him: he was just as disturbed as Douma.

His reasoning was biased by this thirst for sex.

It was pathetic.

Behavior dictated by hormones.

What a weakness.

The observation was all the more appalling when he realized that he was insisting a little too much on cleaning his genitals.

As if he were anticipating a contact who would venture into this forbidden zone.

With apparent self-loathing, he extricated himself from the shower stall, dried his demanding skin, and brushed his teeth. Dressed in baggy beige pants and a black T-shirt, he was only steps away from confronting his tormentor.

Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door.

Douma waited patiently on the small sofa, his phone absent. Crossed legs, the doll-faced boy watched intently for Akaza's arrival.

Douma held the gaze with his piercing colored eyes, which caused a shiver to run down the pink-haired boy's spine.

“Why didn’t you reply to my messages?” he asked.

Akaza sat down, his back against the headboard. He stared straight ahead, lost.

“What were you doing at Kokushibo?”

He had the nerve to interrogate him. Fuck him.

Douma wasn't known for giving up so easily. He sat up and stood beside the bed.

“You've been avoiding me all day. Are you mad at me?”

Tension rose in his gut. Akaza stopped himself from screaming.

Douma did not give up.

“What were you doing at Kokushibo?” he repeated, his voice hardening.

He made it a matter of state.

In the absence of a reply, he continued his monologue.

“I don't like it when you go see another boy. Do you prefer Kokushibo to me?”

Oh? Was Douma showing obvious signs of jealousy? This unhealthy interest in him was beginning to worry him.

“I missed you, Akaza. Do you… Do you think it would be possible to spend a little more time together?”

His nails dug into his skin, desperately trying to calm himself down. His nerves were on edge. Everything he held in his heart was a filthy magma of heightened emotions.

“Fuck you,” he growled.

Douma seemed terrified by the virulence of his little Akaza.

“I don’t understand, Akaza… Why are you so angry?”

This was the last straw, he jumped out of bed and confronted this unbalanced man.

“You dare ask me that? You're just a sick bastard! I hate you! I can't wait for this trip to end so I can cut off all contact with you! You're so lucky: in other circumstances, I would have beaten you to death!”

Just as in yesterday's confrontation, Douma absorbed this torrent of hatred without flinching. Only consternation adorned his face, free of all imperfections.

“Oh… I didn't do that properly yesterday so…” he decreed, pained.

Akaza took a step back. What the hell did he mean by that?

“W-what?” the pink-haired boy gasped.

A hint of disappointment emanated from this feverish rainbow.

“I thought you liked it yesterday, but apparently I was wrong… I'm sorry I didn't do well.”

Akaza suppressed a nervous laugh. He wasn't sure he'd fully understood Douma's implications.

“To ease your annoyance, I can suck you right now if you want. I promise to try harder.”

His final intervention swept away any doubt. His speech caused Akaza to react violently.

“Are you kidding me?! I don't want you to touch me, okay? You disgust me! I didn't want that yesterday!”

Douma rebelled against these accusations, which he considered slanderous.

“What? What are you talking about, Akaza? You didn't ask me to stop!” he justified himself.

Akaza gasped, his heart clenching in his chest. His legs, as fragile as twigs, barely supported him.

Douma delivered the final blow.

“You came, too. I tasted the delicious taste of your cum!”

The word spoken from that seemingly innocent mouth made him blush with shame. What Douma had just pointed out perfectly reflected his fears. Indeed, he hadn't struggled. He had endured the touching without flinching. He had had two orgasms that had destabilized him.

Wasn't there some truth in it?

His legs gave way after a fierce struggle. He sat like a dead weight on the bed. Douma immediately ran over.

“Are you feeling well, Akaza? Would you like a glass of water?”

Everything was completely absurd: Douma's affability, his rambling speech, Akaza's lack of reaction...

The pink-haired boy was swimming in a nightmare.

The pallor of his face worried Douma, who helped his friend lie on his back. Drained of all life essence, Akaza stared stubbornly at the ceiling. Tears welled up in his nose, but he simply couldn't cry.

An additional weight hovered over the mattress. Concerned for his friend's well-being, Douma watched him closely.

“Are you going to be okay, Akaza?”

“Yes,” the new student replied, without embellishment, in a flat voice.

It was a knee-jerk response, one that would give him a moment's respite. Unfortunately, with Douma, nothing would go as planned.

He settled onto his side, stroking a few fine pink strands. Akaza remained motionless, unperturbed by this new approach. He was far too consumed by his own unwanted thoughts. He analyzed every fragment of Douma's words. He was no longer sure of anything: had he suffered an attack yesterday, or had he just wanted one? His body had responded so well to sexual delicacies… He hadn't clearly expressed his opposition. He had projected the scene countless times. Just now, he had performed a private hygiene with the greatest care. He had fled the problem by taking refuge at Kokushibo's.

He hadn't even been able to raise a cry of protest.

He had to face the facts.

His anger had been like a triple lock.

Douma, being a sneaky snake, took advantage of the young man's passivity. His warm hand settled under his t-shirt, massaging the curves of his pecs with fine precision. Akaza couldn't help but let out a small sigh of relief when the deft fingers brushed against his nipples.

Simple physical attentions had released such warmth that ran through his body. His heart pounded like a madman against his chest. It wasn't in pain. On the contrary, a suffocating sensation swelled in the pit of his lower abdomen.

Akaza realized that his nipples were a very sensitive area for him. It was confusing to explore his sexuality in that context, with someone he wasn't in love with, especially with another man.

If he clung to Douma's words, all he had to do was tell him to stop. At that precise moment, Akaza didn't want to waste the adrenaline rush. His body, having been under considerable stress, needed to relax.

Douma quickly lifted his shirt, exposing the two hardened little buds, hungry for caresses. The porcelain-skinned boy fulfilled their expectations as he caught the left nipple between his teeth, applying lascivious licks. The wet little organ swirled around the stiff tip.

A long river of shivers ran down his skin, delighted by this special treatment.

Akaza narrowed his eyes, to better concentrate on the sensations he was experiencing.

He let out a short cry when Douma's hand ventured into his pajama pants. Without any protest, his manhood was receiving agonizingly slow caresses.

Out of pure reflex, Akaza spread his legs to give him more space.

Drool flowed freely down his chest. The salivary beads rolled down his pecs before splashing onto the bed.

Douma alternated between pinching, nibbling, and sucking. No matter what trick was used, the pink-haired boy's reaction was immediate.

Blood rushed to his genitals. In no time, his penis was hardening between Douma's devilish fingers.

The caresses on both his nipple and his cock stopped abruptly. Douma spat into his palm and went back to work.

Saliva didn't provide optimal lubrication, but it did the trick.

The caresses turned into more urgent back-and-forth movements.

Akaza sighed lasciviously, conquered by the handjob Douma was offering him.

His feet rubbed against the sheet and the timid swaying of his pelvis betrayed him.

It felt so good to be touched and have his nipple licked at the same time. Akaza was on the verge of begging him to fuck him right then and there.

He had no sexual experience to his credit. He hadn't expected to experience carnal pleasure for the first time on this school trip, let alone in the company of this asshole.

His raging hormones were no longer responding to anything. Akaza already felt on the edge of the precipice: he could come at any moment.

“Get on all fours, my little Akaza. I promise to make up for yesterday.”

His cock throbbed beneath his deft fingers. A simple sentence had aroused him.

Without thinking, he adopted the requested position. His t-shirt already high enough, Douma allowed himself to pull his pants and boxer shorts down to his knees, revealing the desired area.

Akaza felt extremely vulnerable with his private parts fully exposed. His anus was certainly being dissected by Douma's perverted eyes.

The discomfort was quickly swept away by pulsations in his sex.

He was breathing heavily, his fingers reaching for the pillowcase, the first item within reach.

He wanted to be fucked so badly. Behind this overwhelming excitement was a feeling of excruciating dread.

Giving up his virginity was symbolic. It wasn't something he took lightly. He would have liked to have his first sexual encounter in a more appropriate context.

Besides, how could he endure the act?

They had neither condoms nor lubricant on hand.

The day before, he'd been aching with one finger inside him. How could he handle penetration with a penis? It was simply impossible to fit a cock in his ass.

Unless he completely relaxed. Given the way Douma was handling things and his initiative, he probably wasn't new to this. He would probably guide him.

But how could he relax when he was about to lose his virginity?

His heart began to pump frantically as Douma spread his buttocks.

He held his breath, anticipating a sharp pain that was slow to manifest.

“You really have a magnificent asshole, one of the most beautiful I have ever seen…”

The amber-eyed boy didn't have time to digest this information.

He gasped in surprise, desperate to escape, but hands held his buttocks firmly in place.

Something wet tickled his anus.

Akaza realized with horror that Douma was using his tongue in this cursed place.

A tongue had no place in a dirty area.

Douma's hot breath against his ass, the filthy salivating noises... Akaza tried to ignore them.

He must not have taken pleasure in such a disgusting practice.

“Douma… Stop…” he drew on his last resources to protest.

The doll-faced boy complied without causing a fuss. Akaza was recovering some of his faculties, getting his thoughts back in order.

The truce was short-lived: Douma stretched his anal walls.

Akaza let out a cry of surprise when he detected discomfort in his orifice. Not as acute as yesterday's.

Douma's tongue had inserted itself inside him.

Akaza almost collapsed, his breathing was so labored.

The tip of his tongue amused himself by miming back and forth movements against his opening. Akaza should have rebelled. He should have fought back so much, but he was as if paralyzed. Not by fear, but by vice.

Indeed, the tongue ventured into inaccessible areas, exploring every nook and cranny of his anatomy.

Douma pulled out, spat profusely against his ass, and went back to work. This time, he nibbled around his anus, distributing generous licks but avoiding the climax.

Akaza bit his lip; Douma was deliberately playing on his nerves. The ecstasy was already deep within him, but it wasn't enough. His hot breath against that intimate area was driving him crazy.

He wanted more.

“Douma…”

His broken voice surprised him. His pride was now a distant memory. There he was, on all fours, with a mouth at his ass, begging.

It was pathetic.

“Please… Use your tongue…”

An exorbitant request. Irrational. A request that had no place here.

His entire body began to tremble as Douma placed well-calibrated oral caresses on his anus. The stimulation of the external walls was divine.

Damn, he had no idea how erogenous this area could be. Anal nerve endings sent electric pulses throughout his body with every flick of his tongue.

Douma circled, dropped kisses, and traced carefully calculated vertical lines. He took particular care not to miss any surface.

Akaza was in a trance: his aching erection was painful. An intoxicating heat tore at his lower abdomen. This practice gave him more sustained pleasure than the blowjob the day before.

Was it the taste for the forbidden? The fact that he had been fighting his demons all day?

In any case, he would not soon forget these heightened sensations.

Akaza let go of all control and let himself go. He relaxed all his muscles and concentrated on anal caressing.

It was only natural that he showed signs of pleasure. Long sighs accompanied the salivating noises, then more sustained moans were added. The snowball effect: the more he moaned, the more Douma's tongue worked.

Akaza was unrecognizable. He acted like a shameless whore, willing to give up his dignity to obtain this supreme pleasure.

Douma did not help him put things into perspective.

“Hmm… I love eating your ass, Akaza… I could eat it all day…”

Couldn't that asshole shut up?! That confession sounded like a slap in the face!

The futile efforts to regain control were far from enough. The sinful tongue set to work tirelessly, like a faithful soldier.

Akaza couldn't take it anymore. The impending explosion was making him delirious.

“Douma… Please… fuck me…”

He couldn't believe how excited he was talking nonsense. He'd actually found himself wanting sex right away.

The silky-haired boy responded favorably, but not in the way Akaza had expected.

The tip of his tongue tickled his insides with disconcerting assiduity. Douma folded and unfolded the wet organ, moving it back and forth.

Akaza accompanied him, swinging his pelvis in perfect symbiosis.

The excitement was in full swing when the new student realized that Douma was fucking him with his tongue.

The back-and-forth motions felt amazing, and Akaza wondered what a moving cock felt like. Since his tongue was limited, it couldn't reach that small area that had sent him into seventh heaven yesterday. What would it be like when a cock was fully inserted? Would he be torn? Would it hurt, without tasting the pleasure?

No... people enjoyed making love. If it was difficult, they wouldn't be in a perpetual quest for sex.

His imagination projected torrid scenes, in which he saw himself being fucked savagely.

Akaza let out sensual, unabashed laments.

“It feels good…” he murmured.

Douma responded specifically to every one of his comments. Akaza had to admit that sexually, he was far from selfish. Douma thought only of his partner's pleasure.

“Fuck me, Douma…”

The barriers that had been erected crumbled one after the other. At that precise moment, Akaza no longer felt the grief caused by the loss of his father. The dark thoughts had been eradicated; his unhappiness no longer had any reason to exist.

All he could think about was releasing all the pressure. Enjoying the benefits Douma offered. That taboo yet delicious pleasure.

Waves of shivers covered his skin, his body wracked with uncontrolled tremors. Reflexively, he contracted his sphincter muscles, crushing Douma's tongue in the process.

“Fuck… I’m going to cum…”

Indeed, the signs of absolute enjoyment were flashing breathlessly.

Under a final anal caress, Akaza ejaculated, with a desperate cry.

The orgasm was so powerful that he collapsed on the spot, head first into the pillow.

This explosion of sensations had relieved him of an enormous weight.

Douma gently stroked his hair.

“I'm going to brush my teeth and then take a shower. If you go to sleep before me, I wish you a pleasant night, my little Akaza…”

Then he added.

“I missed you a lot. I hope we can spend more time together.”

He slipped into the bathroom, no more, no less.

After the orgasm wore off, guilt settled in his mind. This new sexual experience had just shattered everything he had ever believed.

He had desecrated the sheets with his seed. He had enjoyed having his ass eaten by another man.

Was he really homosexual?

He no longer had the strength for introspection.

Exhausted, and with a feeling of déjà vu, he was caught up in Morpheus, engulfed by darkness.

Chapter Text

The students, from all sides, gorged themselves on succulent dishes early in the morning. Breakfast was a convivial moment during which classmates reunited after a night's sleep.

This was the final day of their museum visits. The students would spend one last night there, have breakfast before hitting the road again. Then, they would be able to enjoy a well-deserved, timely weekend break.

From Monday, life would return to normal.

Well, almost...

It was with dismay that Akaza realized the extent of the disaster: nothing would ever be the same again with what had happened during that school trip.

The return to school life was already shaping up to be chaotic: how did he plan to handle his relationship with Douma after their successive sexual encounters? Douma's behavior was so unpredictable that it was impossible for him to anticipate his reactions.

Akaza was terrified that Douma would spread the word about these recent events. After all, he was so out of touch with reality that he would be capable of repeating everything as if it were nothing. In his opinion, this must not represent anything important. Just another banality.

The pink-haired boy was stuck... dependent on Douma's propriety. Basically, he was up to his neck in deep shit.

“Kokushibo! Check out that girl over there! She's got some great tits, don't you think?” Douma whispered.

Kokushibo rolled his eyes, already annoyed by his friend's early morning attitude. He purposely ignored this completely inappropriate remark.

This morning, there were only three of them sitting around the table. Gyutaro, still visibly upset by Douma's tasteless joke, had decided to go his own way. Daki had naturally taken his brother's side.

Douma didn't seem to care about them. On the contrary, other trivial concerns captivated him.

“You're no fun, Kokushibo! It's time you found yourself a girlfriend! And you, Akaza? What do you think? Don't you want to bury your head between those enormous breasts?”

Akaza's expression must have caused general hilarity. His eyes wide open, his jaw almost hanging open, had he just understood what Douma had just said?

This idiot was serious... which added to the absurdity of the situation.

“I'm sure you want to! I know you're a naughty little rascal…”, the tall blond added with a meaningful wink.

Not exploding in the middle of the packed room was a real feat: Akaza was restraining himself from jumping down his throat. How dare he make fun of him with such marked insolence? He knew him, he was going to make another excuse for a light-hearted joke that had no intention of causing harm. Akaza couldn't help but be touched by this nonchalance. By toying with him like this, he was clearly disrespecting him. For someone who claimed to want to be his friend, his approach wasn't the most judicious.

Akaza looked down, picking at his plate. With his stomach in knots, making a decent living was beyond his means.

The two long-haired boys chatted among themselves. The new student didn't feel like fully participating. He was eager to lock himself in his room at home and hope he could wipe the slate clean of this trip.

A certain animation brought him out of his torpor.

“Kokushibo! Why do you keep looking at Akaza?” Douma exclaimed cheerfully.

The apathetic boy made him see it, deliberately remaining silent. To taunt him, he plunged his icy eyes into the gold-filled irises.

While it started out as a friendly little tease, it had taken a slightly darker turn.

“Kokushibo… I’m serious, what are you playing at?”

Douma's tone was not friendly. His smooth, seductive, and light voice had given way to a gloomy, even menacing timbre.

Surprised by this sudden change and feeling attacked, Kokushibo reacted impulsively.

“Oh, will you relax right now, Douma! Do I have to ask your permission to look at Akaza?”

Akaza watched in amazement as the surreal scene unfolded before his eyes. He realized with horror that he was at the heart of their disagreement.

“Yesterday morning, I found you two together, and he came to join you a little later in the evening. And now you can't stop looking at him! What are you waiting for to ask him to come up to your room, huh?”

Akaza gasped at Douma's violence. He was on the verge of drooling like a rabid dog. He fully expected Kokushibo to rage. Especially since his insinuation was more than explicit.

The crimson-haired boy placed his hand on Douma's thigh.

“Hey… We’re not going to fight about this… It’s okay, Douma…”

Was Kokushibo tempering the crisis?

His strategy paid off: the darkened rainbow softened.

“I'm sure you laugh at me when my back is turned…” Douma lamented.

His friend patted him on the shoulder.

“What are you going to imagine? It's working too hard in your little sparrow brain, you need to rest a little.”

The tall blond man didn't give up.

“What were you talking about then?”

Noticing Kokushibo's discomfort, Akaza bursts into this mind-boggling conversation.

“I got up early yesterday and happened to run into Kokushibo in the lobby. And in the evening, I wasn't feeling too well, so I went to see him to clear my head.”

The new student did not receive the expected reaction: there was something like a little water trembling in this usually sparkling rainbow.

“Come on, Douma, let's talk alone,” Kokushibo escorted him. “We're sorry, Akaza, we have to leave you. I'll see you a little later.”

Frozen as a statue, Akaza was hallucinating as these last sequences unfolded. Douma's pathological jealousy, his aversion to Kokushibo, his deeply chagrined pout... His misplaced paranoia.

He was the first to ridicule others at the slightest opportunity. He had always shown self-deprecation: besides, Akaza hadn't even managed to wring a hint of rebellion from him. In the face of insults and clear insinuations, Douma maintained his good humor and was not short of bloody repartee. In a split second, Akaza had finally achieved what he had coveted from the very first day: to make him swallow his exaggerated, charming smile. To bring out other emotions on those delicate features.

And yet, he didn't get any satisfaction from it. Douma looked like he was in real pain. Akaza should be happy about that; after all, the tall blond man had been playing with his feelings from the start. Akaza could act like a jerk, the idiot deserved it, but he didn't have the heart to laugh at his misfortune.

Who was this guy? Where did he come from? Why was Akaza so tolerant of him?

This school trip would have been a real goldmine in terms of unexpected twists and turns.

When Akaza entered the room, he hadn't expected to come face to face with Douma, who was as closed as an oyster. Frowning, clenched jaw and fists, there was no doubt about it, this Adonis with the imperturbable smile was plunged into a black rage. The conversation with Kokushibo was bound to be stormy.

Unless… his anger was directed at someone else in particular.

“Why did you go to get cheered up with Kokushibo?”

Ah... it wasn't just a figment of his imagination. Akaza would have thought it was a bad joke: Douma was clearly having a jealous fit.

“I thought we were friends, Akaza! You should have confided in me in the first place!”

It was the height of irony: being reprimanded by a guy who knew nothing about community etiquette. Akaza didn't let anyone walk all over him: he couldn't stand being told what to do. And Douma wasn't going to make him bend.

“What the hell am I getting involved in! You’re really cheeky to criticize me!”

He couldn't believe he was arguing with him over such a trivial topic. The height of immaturity. He didn't have time to waste dealing with someone who wasn't in his right mind.

“It hurts me that you prefer to console yourself in Kokushibo’s arms…” Douma said, more angry than ever.

His blood boiled. Being impulsive by nature, Akaza stirred up the conflict without thinking.

“And you? Don’t you think you hurt my feelings with your stupid remark earlier?”

The rainbow-eyed boy seemed to be searching through his memories. When he realized what Akaza was referring to, his pouty expression brightened even more.

“That was a joke! You're too touchy! Go join Gyutaro then if you have no sense of humor!”

Good heavens! How had no one ripped his head off yet? His survival was a miracle! Akaza saw red.

“You know what, Douma? Fuck you! And go check yourself into a mental institution!”

His repartee hit the mark: dull complexion, drooping eyelids, sagging face... telltale signs of sadness.

His beaten-dog look had always been horrifying!

“Why are you getting angry with me, Akaza? I don’t understand… Just yesterday, I made you come, I don’t know what more you want…”

Oh no, please... Anything but that... Akaza bitterly regretted having brought it up. Shame twisted his gut. The weight on his stomach revived those pleasant moments he had once spent under Douma's delicious mouth. In the space of an instant, that trivial argument had swept them away.

Douma knew exactly how to play the game: pretending to be the victim in order to shift the blame onto the other person. A well-honed manipulation technique. And Akaza was too stupid not to fall for this blatant trap.

“You liked it, yesterday, didn’t you?”

The pink-haired boy avoided his gaze out of modesty. There was no way he could face the truth. He felt so humiliated, embarrassed to confirm that he'd gotten off while Douma ate his ass.

“Reassure me, Akaza-kun, did you like it?” Douma persisted.

Akaza stared at the ground, fidgeting in place.

“Yes…” he admitted nervously.

Douma's relief was almost immediate. His features softened, as if the argument had never happened.

“If you want, I can jerk you off or suck you off. Or do you want me to stimulate your ass with my tongue? I'll do whatever you ask. I want you to feel good. I don't like it when we're angry.”

The ground could have given way beneath his feet. How could Douma blurt out such filthy remarks without batting an eyelid? He was asking him this as if he were talking about the weather!

The mere mention of these obscene terms sent an electric shock through his genitals: the blood pulsed rapidly, which made his penis swell.

Shit, he sounded like a prepubescent teenager getting hard just by grasping the implications of those crude words. Luckily, the voice of reason prevailed over his sexual urges.

“Douma, listen, I… I don’t want you to touch me anymore, okay? This shouldn’t have happened…”

This bastard had succeeded in his plan: Akaza felt horribly bad... Destabilized by Douma's insidious proposals.

The tall blond man returned to the charge.

“You'd rather do it with Kokushibo, wouldn't you?”

The new student restrained himself from letting out a nervous laugh.

“What? What are you talking about? I've never done anything with him!”

Why the hell did he keep answering him? Why reason with a guy who was completely off the mark?

“So why did you go to his room yesterday?”

“But damn it! I didn't want to stay in the same room as you after what happened! I…”

He took a deep breath.

“I want everything to go back to the way it was… Please… I'm not mad at you, but please, I don't want you to do… those things to me anymore, okay?”

“You just told me you liked it…” Douma protested.

What a pain... How do you get out of this mess?

“That’s not the point, Douma. It’s not done, you understand?”

The tall blond man carefully analyzed each syllable. He seemed to be thinking deeply about the question and putting his mind to it.

“I'm your friend and I want you to feel good,” he said regretfully.

“Exactly, if you want me to feel good, never do that again…”

“Okay. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry…”

Akaza released all the oxygen stored in his lungs, a relief for him to have reached this agreement, after fierce negotiation.

“So you don’t prefer Kokushibo to me?”

Damn, Akaza's entourage kept shouting about the young man's stubbornness, but Douma defended himself very well.

“No… I don’t prefer Kokushibo to you, are you happy?”

Douma threw himself happily into his arms, squeezing him against his chest in a feverish embrace. A common display of affection before this school trip. Akaza felt light, freed from this sexual ambiguity.

“I'm so happy, Akaza! You have no idea how much! I don't want to lose you, I love you so much!”

The bombastic Douma was back, always over the top. That was how Akaza liked him.

What? What had just crossed his mind? He'd beat himself up for even thinking that!

The tall blond man broke off their embrace. His scowl dissipated, Douma was bouncing around like a restless child. He had a serious problem managing his emotions. If only that were all…

“Let’s go, Akaza! We’re going to have fun!” he urged him out of the room, leading him straight to new adventures.

At least his more childish mood refocused him on actions typical of true friends. Akaza didn't know what to expect, but he had managed to channel the storm... for now.

The day had passed without a hitch. Less defensive, Akaza hung out with his usual small group of friends. Although Gyutaro hadn't quite digested Douma's insinuation, he had mingled with them. Furthermore, Daki was glued to Douma's heels, letting out high-pitched screams at the slightest opportunity: his princess-like manner could get on his nerves. The big brother didn't appreciate the proximity between the apple of his eye and this boor with multi-colored eyes. As for Akaza, he kept a certain distance from Kokushibo.

It was absurd, but he would save himself a great deal of trouble if he didn't inflame Douma's jealousy. He didn't want to answer to His Majesty.

On the other hand, Douma was having a field day: he showered his friends with his delicate physical attentions. Even Kokushibo had been treated to it despite their morning disagreement.

Usually, the tall blond man reserved these affectionate gestures for Akaza.

The pink-haired boy had finally accomplished his goal: to focus Douma on another victim. He thought he would gain supreme bliss from it. There was reason to rejoice: he was no longer burdened by the tall blond man. Freed from his immature behavior, his stupid jokes, and his misplaced jealousy.

Akaza was facing a feeling he hadn't planned for.

The emptiness… He felt incomplete, apart…

Invisible…

As it was before the start of the school year.

It would be amazing to see how much positive change Douma had brought about in him. After all, the new student was idolized by that handsome Adonis. Only Akaza received preferential treatment.

Seeing Douma so friendly towards others left a bitter taste in his mouth. He tried not to show it. He absolutely mustn't arouse the slightest suspicion.

Even yesterday, he had been dreading this reunion with this unpredictable individual, determined to sever the ties that united them. Today, he showed a certain impatience to find him alone, to regain some balance in their friendly relationship.

Loneliness was wearing him down, and Douma's spontaneity provided him with a breath of fresh air: a way like any other to escape his chaotic daily life.

What nonsense... Why did this have to happen to him? What were the odds of running into an atypical guy like Douma? Life had a funny sense of humor: what had he done to deserve such a shitty existence?

“Are you okay, Akaza?”

Kokushibo's concern was commendable, but Akaza didn't want to dwell on the matter too much, especially since their discussion could be misinterpreted by Douma.

“Yes, thank you for asking,” he replied succinctly.

The boy with the ponytail wasn't born yesterday.

“I'm sorry about earlier, I didn't mean to involve you in our story…”

Akaza showed his indifference with a shrug.

“Does he often lose his temper like this?” the new student asked.

Kokushibo replied almost instantly.

“Not with such intensity… I must say I was surprised myself… He cares about you a lot. That's what he told me earlier. He's very afraid of losing your friendship.”

The tightness in his chest that had been lingering since their school trip had magically vanished. Were his doubts unfounded? If Douma was upset by the situation, why was he feigning ignorance? Or was it a defense mechanism?

The mystery surrounding this unusual boy deepened. Each new day brought its share of surprises.

Akaza had quickly finished the evening meal. He hadn't expected Douma to join him within minutes. He was in great spirits at the table, laughing heartily at each of his classmates' interventions, so it's safe to say he was clearly very busy. His sudden presence therefore seemed suspicious.

Behind closed doors, the pink-haired boy remained on his guard: with Douma around, anything was possible, even the unthinkable.

“You hardly opened your mouth today, Akaza…”

Good heavens... did Akaza have to give him a report all the time? He hated feeling like he was being watched like this and having to justify himself every time.

“Listen, Douma, I just want to rest. I don’t want to go on for a thousand years.”

“I'm just worried. You're not a talkative person.”

“I never have been, I tell you,” he replied.

This time, it was the absolute truth. The death of his father had plunged him into a profound silence, which had contributed to his social exclusion.

“It's not like usual… It seems like you're really angry with me… I'm sure that with Kokushibo, you'd be able to confide more easily.”

Seriously... Was Douma planning to send him a jab every time he felt offended?

“We’re not going to go back over that! I hate repeating myself!”

Douma nervously played with a lock of hair, twisting it around his fingers, without making eye contact. As if he were dodging a head-on confrontation, which was relatively odd given his temperament.

“Do you like me, Akaza?”

He was making a big deal out of it. The pink-haired boy puffed out his cheeks. Douma was pissed off to end with that question when he'd made one blunder after another.

“When you're not annoying, yes.”

This precision did not please the tall blond man, who clearly showed a certain anxiety.

“Am I important to you? I mean, do you care about me?”

What was he getting at? He was asking himself existential questions about things that had no place being there. Akaza was extremely uncomfortable revealing his emotions. Modest by nature, putting these notions into words was a difficult task. In front of Douma, it was even more so: every word he used could be used against him or be misunderstood.

Akaza knew the character he was dealing with. Vigilance was required.

Nevertheless, he could not help but mentally construct a rational explanation.

Indeed, how did he feel about Douma? How did he position himself in this special relationship? He wasn't, in principle, very comfortable with the concept of friendship, and Douma complicated matters with his unusual characteristics. As if that wasn't already confusing enough.

Akaza felt a certain attachment, he couldn't deny it. But caring for him?

The tall blond man occupied a colossal place in his life, he had to admit. This idiot brought a little grain of madness that spiced up this gloomy life. Time and again, Akaza held the cards to dissolve this so-called friendship, but he had never done so. He didn't stay angry with Douma for long when the latter crossed the line. The pink-haired boy's sullen attitude was warmly received by this handsome Adonis. His fragility, his explosiveness, his friendly carelessness... Douma didn't worry about it: he welcomed this whole, slightly defective personality with open arms.

Not to mention the physical contact… Akaza would never have allowed someone he held in low esteem into his secret garden. The new student still refused to believe he had engaged in this kind of activity with him.

Yet, we'll have to face it. These kinds of things were not trivial.

The wet, colored eyes were urgent. Akaza put an end to this unbearable wait.

“Uh… Yes…”

A cry of hope from Douma.

“Yes?” he repeated, not convinced he had heard correctly.

A dancing flame lit up this faded rainbow.

A faint hint of crimson crept across Akaza's cheeks. Without looking at his interlocutor, he corroborated his words.

“Yes… you mean a lot to me…” he muttered under his breath.

A pair of arms imprisoned him. Douma had obviously lunged at him, capturing him in a hug from which he could not escape.

The hug was so tight that Akaza could have gasped for breath. The idiot harbored such strength within him…

The height of embarrassment: rivers of tears streamed down Douma's reddened cheeks.

“I'm so happy, Akaza! I've never been so happy in my entire life! You're my best friend, I love you so much!”

Did this idiot realize the impact of these words? No... He just blurted out whatever came to mind without understanding their meaning. This spontaneity made him endearing, Akaza had to admit.

Nevertheless, enduring this source of embarrassment was at his wit's end. He awkwardly patted his upper back and made it clear to his comrade to break the hug.

The face, usually struck by perfection, was a real mess with this tsunami of tears.

“Um… I’m going to go wash up, then I’m going to sleep, okay?”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Douma retorted without batting an eyelid.

What for ? Akaza narrowly avoided making a monumental blunder. That was without counting on Douma, who always let slip the wrong word.

“I can rub your back if you want!”

His enthusiasm was frightening. It was a safe bet that he wouldn't just soap him. The projection of these obscene images awakened his sexual urges.

Akaza cleared his throat, and immediately recovered.

“No, I can wash myself. Don't forget what I told you this morning: I don't want you touching me like that anymore.”

His hackles stood on end every time he launched into a delirious conversation. He never thought he'd say such a thing in his life! It must have been commonplace for Douma's entourage; it made you wonder how he'd been raised.

His lips curled in a dejected pout were the culmination of the nonsense.

“Oh, I just wanted to please you…”

Akaza didn't respond; there was no point in reasoning with someone detached from reality. All he had to do was set the boundaries indefinitely: that was the price he had to pay for this friendship.

He was careful with Douma nearby. He made sure to close the bathroom door and not forget any of his things. He didn't linger.

Dressed, he climbed into bed without making a fuss. This passage carried a high risk: Douma could strike at any moment. Fortunately, he entered the bathroom in turn. His personal hygiene would monopolize him for several minutes. A precious time during which Akaza could relax his vigilance, but under no circumstances would he allow himself to close his eyes. During his sleep, he was at his most vulnerable, and the tall blond had been able to pull off a masterstroke.

The opening of the door signaled the end of the respite. Douma quickly slipped under the covers. A delicious scent of shower gel emanated from him.

“Akaza?”

Oh no, that's not possible... What was he going to ask next?

“Hm?”

“Do you mind if I turn my bedside lamp back on?”

A feeling of déjà vu... Akaza had forgotten this detail. The day before, he had collapsed like a dead weight and hadn't noticed the constant lighting in the room.

Akaza lay on his side, his back to his comrade. Was it wise to adopt the same position as the first day, before this slip-up?

“You can turn on the light if you want. I'm just asking you to be quiet…” he reminded him.

“Don't worry, I won't jerk off next to you anymore without your permission.”

Akaza bit his tongue: should he be thanking him so much for this thoughtful gesture? This was insane… He shouldn't even be surprised at this point… 

At least that idiot was actually making an effort...

The boy with the majestic eyelashes plunged into darkness. Starting tomorrow, life would return to normal... This unfortunate incident would be behind him; he only had a few months to endure before moving on.

Akaza stiffened as slender arms wrapped around his chest. It was so predictable it was ridiculous.

“Douma! I told you to leave me alone!”

No inappropriate gesture on his part: Douma buried his nose in the crook of his neck, pressed his chest against his back. He had snuggled up to him. Inhaling his scent had a calming effect.

Why did Douma have this effect on him?

“Good night, Akaza… Thank you for being part of my life…”

Crestfallen, the pink-haired boy stared at a random spot on the wall. Aside from his father, no one else had shown him this much affection. Uninhibited, Douma let out things that ordinary mortals repressed. He wasn't afraid to expose himself to the light of day, to externalize what was on his mind. He was unfiltered, like a child.

Akaza relaxed, no matter how close they were. They shared a friendly hug, which was unconventional between boys, but he didn't mind. It pleased Douma, and it didn't bother him too much.

The handsome Adonis's breathing slowed, a sign of imminent sleep. Considering all danger averted, Akaza accompanied him in his dreams.

Tomorrow would herald a renewal.

The journey home had gone smoothly. On the bus, Douma had rushed to join Akaza on the back seat and spent the time yelling at other classmates. A real cacophony! It was impossible for Akaza to have enjoyed the tranquil scenery. Kokushibo had warned him to keep quiet. You can't change your nature. It had never been so true. Those long hours had set the tone: the incorrigible Douma was back. Akaza was convinced that this incident was behind them. It was just a blunder he had committed; he hadn't hurt anyone. He probably wasn't the only boy in the world to have experienced sexual intercourse with a friend. Any justification, even unfounded, was welcome to reassure himself. He defended this heterocentric vision. Having come didn't necessarily mean he was gay.

His adoptive parents had waited for him eagerly, and the little family had resumed their daily routines. Akaza had put on a brave face, pretending that everything had gone perfectly: there was no question of broaching this sensitive subject with them. They didn't need to know. Then, it was behind him.

That was what he thought, but many questions raced through his mind, remaining unanswered. He wouldn't have refused a listening ear or possible advice. An outside opinion would have been beneficial, but we didn't talk about that kind of thing. He had to preserve his honor at your cost.

However, it weighed heavily on his heart.

The next day, Sunday, the excruciating sensation hadn't subsided. Locked away in his room, his haven of peace, headphones in, he tried to clear his mind. Focus his attention on something else. He failed miserably.

All his thoughts were focused on this boy who had arrived straight from another dimension. The new student was somewhat disappointed not to have heard from him since their return. After all, they had gotten into the habit of writing to each other at the end of the evening. Too proud to make the first move, Akaza brooded in his bed.

This new aspect of Douma had greatly disconcerted him during this trip: the discovery of his pathological jealousy, the emergence of his sexual inclinations, this susceptibility that appeared out of nowhere. The tall blond man was an enigma in his own right: was he even aware of the consequences of his actions? He made some connections between the recent events of the trip and incidents at school.

Douma had already crossed the line by slapping his butt in the locker room. He had contributed to Akaza's personal victories during gym sessions. The incessant teasing of Daki and the ambiguities surrounding him. Was Douma trying to provoke a reaction from his friend?

Would he have allowed himself to cross the line with Akaza if he hadn't detected flaws? Even Kokushibo had emphasized his attachment to Douma and that the latter regularly spoke of him.

It was incomprehensible. Akaza was looking for consistency, but nothing was when it came to Douma.

One thing was certain: he had caused serious upheaval in Akaza's psyche.

He took off his headphones and looked up at the ceiling. The hug he'd shared with Douma on their last night had released a powerful sense of well-being. He'd felt safe… More than that: he'd felt unconditionally loved.

That simple warm touch had awakened pleasant memories of his childhood, a distant time when carefree living reigned supreme. 

His father used to hug him and shower him with praise. Everything Douma did. But he added a little personal touch.

Douma's delicate attentions hadn't left him unmoved. If he hadn't listened to his voice of reason, he might very well have succumbed to his tempting propositions. And there was reason to: he'd offered him a pleasurable fingering and blowjob. He'd eaten his ass raw, which had led to intense orgasms. When he wasn't talking nonsense, he was putting his tongue to better use.

He felt so relaxed, in a flash he had released all his frustration.

It wouldn't have been wrong to relive that explosion of sensations. To shiver with pleasure as that tongue traced every inch of his skin, carefully studying his anatomy. He would never have suspected the existence of such nerve endings. Those capable of propelling him to seventh heaven.

The pink-haired boy stirred in his bed, disturbed by a sudden rise in his body temperature.

He wasn't naive: excitement was rising to his head.

Indeed, the growing bulge in the crotch of his pajamas didn't lie.

He had resisted until now, fighting fiercely against his urges.

He had lost the battle: lasciviously, he plunged his hand into his pants, caressing himself gently at first. The mere touch was enough to send shivers down his spine.

He hadn't really engaged in solitary pleasure since his father's death. Pain had taken over until now; the rest was superfluous.

This reconnection with himself silenced his feelings of helplessness and guilt. He had always felt responsible for his father's death. He had worked himself to exhaustion to provide for his family. The disease had taken advantage of a moment of weakness to build its nest. This disease had taken his father away from him and plunged him into deep loneliness.

He spat into his palm and set to work more vigorously, taking care to polish his glans thoroughly.

He closed his eyes, putting himself in the optimal frame of mind to concoct erotic scenarios. Inevitably, he visualized Douma between his thighs, teasing his member with his wanton tongue. That small, moist organ that marked his territory, designed to give pleasure. Douma had made it his mission to relieve his friend. For once, Akaza appreciated his generosity. In bed, Douma was concerned only with Akaza's pleasure. In everyday life, this fool sought at all costs to shine in the spotlight, belittling others in the process. It was as if he were a different person in moments of carnal desire.

The back-and-forth movements on his penis offered delicious relief, but they were not enough to fully satisfy him.

His heart began to race when the thought crossed his mind. Torn by this dilemma, he stopped masturbating. His thirst for sex was beyond comprehension.

He lowered his pants and anchored his feet in the mattress. His trembling left hand moved under his buttocks, searching for the crucial area.

His lips parted as the pad of his finger played with his opening. He teased the outer membrane, caressing his hole. His breathing quickened with the first few thrusts. The simple act of touching this spot gave him incredible pleasure.

Carried away by excitement, he resumed his interrupted thrusts, exploring his innermost being. The double stimulation was making him lose his mind, consumed by this burning desire.

It didn't take long for his finger to slip into that cavity. He didn't venture very far into his entrails, merely providing a sensory massage to the tissues at his disposal.

This had amply satisfied his sexual appetite. With enthusiasm, he concentrated on jerking off and fingering himself in perfect coordination.

That bastard had literally transformed him. He cursed him, this newcomer to his life. The one who had introduced him to this world of debauchery.

Douma wasn't really responsible. The fault lay with Akaza, and him alone. He was the one who had let it happen, who had allowed this magnificent creature to intrude on his private life.

Akaza had to face reality: he had gotten off on those sexual encounters. At that precise moment, he had imagined himself being fucked by Douma.

What would it be like to receive a cock in this forbidden place? Would it make him cum too? Would he scream with pleasure?

As for Douma, what approach would he use to satisfy his little Akaza? Would he be devoted to making him succumb, to making him taste this forbidden fruit? Would he fuck him savagely, under a shower of sweet nothings?

Akaza ejaculated painfully, staining his abdomen. His trembling body continued to empty itself, until it became completely still. The stars that had obstructed his vision faded into nothingness. His breathing calmed a little, and he regained control.

He wiped away the traces of his misdeeds with a handkerchief and got out of bed to thoroughly clean his hands in the bathroom.

All sexual frustration dissipated, he armed himself with his phone. Swallowing his damned pride, he composed the first letters of his message. He didn't know what to write about, but he felt the need to hear from him. There had been radio silence between them since their return.

Douma was being less intrusive, he should be happy about that, right?

“Hello Douma, how are you? You haven't given me any news.”

Would Douma interpret his message as a reproach? Secretly, Akaza hoped to elicit an apology from him for leaving him in the dark once again.

What was he playing at? Was his head no longer spinning?

Douma's reaction was immediate, but the new student hadn't expected to read such a message.

“Hi, my little Akaza! I'm glad to hear from you! I'm fine! I just got home, I spent the afternoon with Daki. And you, how are you?”

Akaza saw red: Douma was calmly telling him that he had shared a special moment with this scatterbrain? He had made a scene of jealousy because Akaza had retired to Kokushibo's room and this asshole dared to do activities with someone else?

The sky was falling! Fury gripped every cell, crushing all reasoning power.

What had they both done? Had he offered her determined licks too? Did she deserve special treatment by welcoming his blood-engorged penis?

Akaza was furious.

Deeply hurt, he cut their conversation short.

He suppressed the urge to throw his phone against the wall.

This guy was taking the piss: he was blowing hot and cold. He must have gotten a kick out of driving people crazy. Akaza wouldn't be one of his victims! He could go fuck himself!

His body was under considerable stress. The tightness in his ribcage forced him to lie down in bed. He hadn't experienced episodes in a while: the anxiety attack was looming, without being able to change the course of events. Helpless, he let the unpleasant onset of these symptoms overwhelm him. As he hyperventilated, he placed a hand on his chest and forced himself to take deep breaths. The alert vibrations of his heart were causing him excruciating pain. His chest could have given way under their incessant pounding.

The person who caused the crisis would also have been the one who could have calmed it. A true paradox.

His arms, carrying an unsuspected strength, would have offered him a comfortable cocoon in which he could have taken refuge. He had felt so good, snuggled up against him. Douma had decided otherwise, depriving him of this spiritual shelter.

Why did life continue to be so cruel to him? What had he done to deserve this punishment? Wasn't his father's disappearance enough? Did life also have to strip him of every moment of respite? Didn't he have the right to taste happiness?

Still very upset from the day before, he had waited until the last minute to board the bus.

When he arrived, all his classmates were already settled in. Akaza didn't show his annoyance. He walked around the assembly and greeted his friends one by one. As usual, Douma was smiling from ear to ear and was about to hug him as a morning greeting. Akaza stood in the way by pushing him away by the shoulders, simply exchanging a simple kiss as he had done for everyone else. Consternation covered that pretty face, surprised by this sudden rejection.

Akaza sat down next to Kokushibo and participated in the conversation as if nothing was wrong, under the incredulous rainbow eyes. Douma, who was used to being noticed, remained in the background.

“Is everything okay, Akaza-kun?” he inquired.

“Yes, why wouldn’t that work?” Akaza teased, his voice confident.

Akaza wasn't the kind of boy who would hurt others for the sheer pleasure of it, but he was too blinded by anger to adapt rational behavior.

The fiery-maned professor burst into the room, putting an end to the persistent commotion. Reluctantly, Douma returned to his seat.

Akaza did his best to concentrate in class; he could explode at any moment. He discreetly cracked his knuckles. His anger wouldn't subside, especially since the idiot shared the same bench as Daki. He could continue chatting quietly with her.

A small piece of paper that landed on his desk caught his attention. He took care to unfold it away from the professor's sharp gaze.

“Are you mad at me, Akaza?”

Akaza couldn't suppress a sadistic smile. At least this guy wasn't as stupid as he thought.

He could be perceptive.

Akaza remained deliberately vague, giving him something to think about.

“No,” he wrote succinctly.

Kokushibo passed on the message, which was soon received by its recipient.

The system of interposed messages was well in operation.

“I find you distant with me. You even refused my hug earlier.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I don’t understand what I did to you.”

Akaza deliberately left him in the dark by offering no answer. For once, he had the upper hand over this bastard, and he intended to make the most of every second of it. Surprisingly, Douma didn't add any more superfluous notes. Had he learned his lesson? It was still too early to jump to conclusions.

Akaza was unaware that so much perfidy lay dormant within him. At dinnertime, the small group had huddled around a bench in the park. The weather was ideal for spending time outdoors. Douma remained strangely silent, which alerted Kokushibo.

“Well, handsome, have you lost your tongue?” he said with a half smile.

Douma shrugged, unwilling to continue the conversation.

“Haha, that’s a vacation for us!” exclaimed Daki.

Akaza, who was at her side, examined his neighbor scrupulously.

“Hey, Daki… Did you cut your hair a little?” Akaza ventured.

His analysis hit the mark. The young girl failed to hide her enthusiasm. A few tints spiced up her cheeks.

“Oh, did you notice?” she said with a hint of embarrassment.

“It suits you well. You look very pretty with that new haircut.”

The girl couldn't sit still: Akaza's compliments were few and far between. The girl's obvious petulance softened Kokushibo's features, as he enjoyed a midday meal without any tragic hitches.

Douma watched helplessly as this scene unfolded. His jaw clenched, he did not stir up another scandal. So Akaza delivered the final blow.

“You changed your perfume too, right?”

The girl was about to faint: it was the first time the pink-haired boy had deigned to notice her. His flattery was worth its weight in gold.

“Yes… Gyutaro gave it to me…”

“He chose well. I'll go ask him for advice because one of these days, I'd like to buy you one too.”

The happiness of some was the unhappiness of others. Dejected, Douma ate without enthusiasm.

“Well, if I expected that…” Kokushibo pointed out.

The ponytailed boy was stunned by Douma's relentless composure: he would rebel and bare his teeth whenever anyone got too close to Akaza. In fact, both Akaza and Douma were acting strangely today. Was this the calm before the storm?

Akaza was rather proud of having targeted a weakness in Douma. Seeing him so distraught at the table had been enjoyable: it would teach him how to play people. His anger a little more subdued, he attended class diligently, until a disruptive element appeared on his desk. He unfolded the small piece of paper.

“Can we talk after class?”

Oh... So Douma was launching a counterattack. Talk to hear what? His vulgar excuses and his usual spiel about not wanting to hurt his feelings? Akaza had had more than enough of this childish nonsense.

"Fuck you."

No need to use a grandiloquent speech. At least he was setting the tone. Here too, Douma didn't bombard him with untimely messages. The noose was tightening: the two boys were tied in this fierce battle. Who would make the other give in first?

The final bell rang, heralding sweet deliverance for the students. Akaza quietly gathered his things, more serene than ever. He wished Kokushibo a safe journey home, and Kokushibo did the same.

Before getting back on the bus, Akaza took a detour to the deserted restroom, until the door opened silently. He paid no attention to this newcomer… until the latter pushed him into the first available stall.

Amber eyes met a burning rainbow of boldness.

What right did Douma have to force the conversation? Akaza intended to set him straight to make himself understood, even if it meant resorting to violence.

But he didn't have the opportunity to reply: Douma stilled his cheeks with his delicate hands.

Akaza's eyes widened, his breath caught as warm, generous lips pressed against his. The frantic beating of his heart gave him a headache, still disorientated.

Douma was kissing him. The most appalling thing about it all was that Akaza didn't push him away. Taking advantage of this obvious weakness, Douma insidiously invited himself into his mouth, the tip of his sinful tongue intertwining with his own. Informally, Akaza consented to the kiss since he responded favorably.

He must have looked ridiculous, given that he hadn't kissed anyone yet, severely lacking in experience in the matter. Naturally, he allowed Douma to take the lead. The latter didn't need to be asked twice. With a violent clash, their teeth clashed. It was as if the tall blond man was trying to devour him. His tongue pushed deeper into his mouth, amid a shower of explicit noises.

Douma sucked on his lower lip, nibbling it sensually, enough to raise the temperature. All this was futile since Akaza was already quite aroused.

He felt like he had butterflies in his stomach. He had never felt anything like that before.

The doll-faced boy resumed his salivating waltz, in a well-orchestrated choreography.

Where the hell had he learned to do all this? In a way, Akaza refused to know: imagining Douma in the arms of another, doing such things, was beyond his strength.

Douma stared at him with a mischievous glare, enough to send an electric shock running down his spine. Without breaking eye contact, the handsome Adonis undid the belt of his uniform and freed his pleading member, already fully erect by force of circumstance.

Douma placed one last kiss before kneeling on the floor stained with all kinds of fluids.

His mind too clouded by this irresistible desire for sex, the amber-eyed boy struggled to assimilate that they were about to indulge in this kind of practice in this infamous place, in full view of everyone. He drew on his last coherent will to lock the door.

The first lick on his tip made him flinch. The simple touch brought back torrid memories from that famous school trip, the one that had upset the balance of their relationship.

The tongue moved with excruciating slowness. Akaza gritted his teeth: Douma was only teasing him, he knew his wait would be rewarded. Indeed, the blond boy attacked a testicle, gently sucking it. While he played with his family jewels, he happily caressed his penis.

It was sweet torture to be sucked without making a single sound. To endure the avalanche of stimuli, the pink-haired boy clung to the silky hair with all his might, as if his life depended on it.

Douma moved on to the main course, swallowing his cock greedily. A delicious ache lodged in his lower abdomen, seduced by his partner's prowess. Damn, Douma was gifted with his tongue, without a shadow of a doubt.

With extraordinary docility, he bent over backwards to satisfy his friend.

This blowjob, which had come out of nowhere, was worth far more than his solitary pleasures. Douma offered him a unique moment of relaxation, and Akaza let himself be carried away by this sensory tidal wave. His blood boiled, like a volcano in full eruption. The pain increased as Douma practiced sustained oral thrusts.

His delicious lips slid along his shaft, overlooking the well-swollen veins.

Akaza could not contain the emergence of lascivious lamentations. Nevertheless, they remained reserved; he could not afford to betray their clandestine activity.

Douma was thrusting down on his stiff cock with every oral movement, until he was pumping in and out of him in quick succession. Akaza bit his lip as his cock pressed against the back of his throat. The tightness around his glans was phenomenal; there were no other words to describe what he was feeling. Most impressively, Douma maintained a frenetic pace, unperturbed by the tingling in the back of his throat.

“Holy shit…” he muttered under his breath, in complete transcendence.

The pink-haired boy wasn't out of the woods yet: Douma used the excess drool to give a manic handjob, while his tongue swirled around his glans.

Akaza saw stars with the exposure to this overstimulation.

“Please… Please stop…” he complained.

He didn't want this surge of pleasure to end under any circumstances.

Douma continued his relentless masturbatory actions, while sucking the tip of his cock.

The fiery explosion in his lower abdomen made him lose his footing. He fiercely grabbed at his now disheveled hair.

Douma did not give him the slightest respite, determined to make his partner capitulate.

Akaza lost the battle, expelling a good amount of semen, which landed directly on the wanton tongue. Douma kept up a good rhythm on his aching sex, due to the heightened sensitivity caused by the orgasm.

"Shit…"

Douma sought to reap the full fruits of his hard work. His tongue swirled around the head, stealing every last drop of that delicious nectar. He stopped moving when Akaza's trembling body recovered from his sweet release. He had finished emptying his balls.

Douma placed a brief kiss on the glans before straightening up.

Akaza's gaze was vacant, a little groggy from the power of his orgasm. He was slowly regaining control of his breathing.

He was terribly exhausted. Douma's warm hand on his cheek brought him back to reality.

“Aren’t you mad at me anymore?” he asked, with disturbing innocence.

"Nope…"

And Akaza was too stupid not to play along. That said, all his anger had magically vanished.

Douma bared his long canines. He fled into the hollow of his neck.

“I don't like it when we're angry, Akaza-kun… It breaks my heart! I don't want to lose your friendship! So please, don't reject me like that again… I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings…”

Douma was a complete jerk. It was in his genetic blueprint. Akaza had acted like the worst kind of scum, and he was the one apologizing to him.

The boy suppressed a sob: he disgusted himself for having deliberately caused Douma harm, in a fit of misplaced jealousy.

This new episode reignited this heated debate with himself. He could no longer deny it, he could no longer do without this smiling, uninhibited idiot.

Chapter Text

Deft fingers skimmed over the sensitive area. The trembling of his limbs accompanied the discreet sighs, which bounced off the walls. The surfaces confined within his underwear garnered indecent attention, during this activity so beloved by adolescents at the beginnings of their sexuality.

Akaza had neglected this intimate exploration: he had other major concerns to deal with.

The young boy had found himself absentmindedly caressing himself as soon as he got home from school. He barely greeted his parents and withdrew to his room. Alone... prey to obscene thoughts that tortured his mind.

He had just gotten a blowjob in the toilet, and his body was immediately begging for more. This explosion of delight had left him wanting more...

He pumped his erect member generously. However, he didn't really get any satisfaction from it. It was no substitute for the thin, polished lips around his glans. Douma's dedication to fellatio was commendable, as if his mouth had been crafted to pleasure his partner.

Naturally, the projection of this stifling scene spiced up his little solitary game. Imagining Douma caressing him made his wank seem more exciting.

The fabric of his top twisted between his fingers, his lower lip biting heavily in excitement.

Akaza kept wondering how he got himself into this shitty situation...

He had planned everything meticulously: pass his senior year, get the first job he could find, get out of that fucking house and move somewhere else, and patiently wait for his final hour. Making friends wasn't part of his initial plan. And forming this type of relationship was even less so. He hadn't planned on engaging in sexual activities and developing unusual chemistry with someone during his studies at all.

This palpable sexual tension was a real source of embarrassment as Akaza couldn't position himself.

He would never have suspected his bisexuality, which had resurfaced out of nowhere. He had already felt desire for a girl. A naked female body did not leave him indifferent.

He hadn't expected another boy to have such an effect on him. Douma's touch, his breath against his skin, his warm lips, his unfailing generosity, all stirred his libidinous desires.

Douma was a beautiful boy, Akaza would be hypocritical to pretend otherwise, but to falter under his piercing gaze... This idiot who had landed in his life had turned his head.

He had introduced him to the pleasures of the flesh without Akaza asking for it. And there he was, in that bed, jerking off while thinking about him.

What a mess... what a fucking mess!

Was this a Machiavellian plan orchestrated by Douma from the start? Had his unconventional side been created to better draw him into his nets? Had getting close to him, playing the role of confidant, been a contrived plan?

It was hard to say: according to Kokushibo, Douma had adopted these deviant behaviors from their first meeting. The pink-haired boy was suspicious: had Douma attempted an explicit rapprochement with Kokushibo? With another classmate? What about Daki? The tall blond man constantly dropped salacious innuendos, which had the knack of upsetting the young girl. Was there any truth to it? After all, they spent time together outside of class. Nothing was out of the question with Douma.

It's possible that some of his classmates were already aware of what was going on between the two boys. Akaza's pride wouldn't tolerate it...

How had he come to this, to sink so low? His efforts to block out recent events were futile: his body craved the meticulous care Douma offered. In his eyes, he felt alive. Desired. Envied.

The doll-faced boy had displayed episodes of pathological jealousy. His dejected, stupid pout that lamented at the slightest annoyance from Akaza. That jerk who constantly harped on about how losing his friendship would be inconceivable to him! Indeed, he proclaimed at every turn that he wasn't trying to hurt his friend. He would never tolerate Akaza's anger directed at him.

To do this, he had devised an effective strategy...

Akaza felt terrible about having fallen into this grotesque trap: his hormones were playing tricks on him and he was letting himself be fooled by the pernicious tricks employed by Douma.

What was overwhelming about this story: Akaza wanted this contact. Losing himself in his arms had become a necessity. The amber-eyed boy expressed this need to be destroyed by this beautiful Adonis. To succumb, to taste this forbidden sin, to swim in pleasure. To reach unparalleled heights. When he was at the height of pleasure, his grim reality no longer existed. The pain, his loneliness, his silent anger… Everything was reduced to dust.

In these pleasant moments with Douma, Akaza forgot his wounded condition. He identified himself as being alive…

It was priceless.

Akaza groaned at his abdomen as he came. It was sorely lacking in intensity, but he would have to make do for now. He had no other choice anyway.

Lying in that bed, soiled by his own seed, he stared at the ceiling, without any real motivation. Nothing made sense anymore.

Disgust and shame weighed heavily on his chest. He could no longer deny it: he was just a faggot, patiently waiting to have his ass destroyed. This burning desire consumed him to the core.

Making such a request burned his nerves. It had been eating away at him since the end of the school trip, and this unfortunate incident in the bathroom had added fuel to the fire.

He mustered what little strength he had left to drag himself out of bed and clean his hands. He resumed his original position, holding the phone. A new dialog window had just unlocked…

All that remained was to compose this series of letters, which, placed in the right order, would deliver him from the evil that inhabited him. His numb fingers refused to perform this simple task. Akaza was therefore a coward, incapable of seeing things through to the end.

He jumped at the vibration of his phone, which notified him of a new message. The sender displayed chilled his blood.

He swallowed hard, unlocking Douma's text.

It was as if this guy could read his thoughts. Douma was from another planet: anything was possible with him. It wouldn't even surprise him if Douma was able to fathom people's most shameful thoughts.

“Good evening Akaza, I wanted to make sure you weren't angry with me.”

Damn, did he ever listen to people? No matter how much Akaza comforted him, Douma kept coming back for more. Was he feeling irrational fear, or was this just another set-up?

“I already told you no.”

Akaza expected a bombastic speech about anguish over the loss of their friendship, with all the usual nonsense that followed.

“Oh, good… I don’t like it when we argue. I prefer to hear you moan…”

With a single sentence, Douma sent Akaza into physiological panic. This handsome Adonis had more than one trick up his sleeve. Without giving him the slightest chance to counterattack, the tall blond bombarded him with messages.

“I love the taste of your cum, it's so delicious… I could drink gallons of it. I could suck you until I empty your balls slowly.”

Taken aback, Akaza was as if petrified by this cloud of obscene terms.

“And your asshole… I don’t have the words to describe how wonderful it is. I’m salivating just thinking about it. I’ve never eaten an ass as succulent as yours.”

Akaza couldn't hold back any longer: his body overflowing with sexual excitement, he wrapped his hand around his oozing manhood, still quite stiff after having pleasured himself a few minutes earlier.

“You turn me on terribly, Akaza… I want you all for myself.”

Just for him… The message was crystal clear. Douma was finally determined to pull out all the stops.

“If I don’t want to see you smile, I’m ready to do anything to admire your pretty face twisting with pleasure…”

Akaza made determined back-and-forth movements on his insatiable sex.

“I want to bite you, cover your neck in purple hickeys, hold your nipples between my teeth, gnaw on the inside of your thighs, lick your underarms, suck your toes and then end with the best part…”

This sultry statement made his head spin. No one could resist it. Who would remain unmoved by such a message filled with sexual content?

“I want to suck you, lick your balls… I want to finger you until you beg me to fuck you… Eat your ass until you can’t take it anymore… I’ll jerk you off until your cock spits out every last drop…”

Damn, Akaza wouldn't last long. How could someone with the appearance of an angel use such debauchery-laced terms?

Douma still had the final blow in store for him. Akaza was stunned as he read the rest of the reading, announced by the incessant notifications.

“I want to see you ride me, see you bounce on my cock and admire your pretty tear-soaked eyelashes. I want to hear you scream with pleasure when I invite myself into your ass. I will fuck you so deep that you will never suffer from constipation again in your life… I will fuck you so hard to the point where you will no longer be able to control your sphincters. Your ass will be so destroyed that you will shit yourself without understanding what is happening.”

He should have been offended by the content of his remarks, some of which bordered on repugnance. He wasn't. On the contrary, he could have cum just by reading these sexts.

“I know you told me not to do this kind of thing to you anymore, but I can't help it. I want you so badly…”

Oh yes, he vaguely remembered saying something like that to him. A poor attempt to escape his old demons. Now, Akaza could no longer deny this carnal attraction.

“I hope you're not mad at me…”

He had just broken the torrid atmosphere he had created. Douma seemed to care a little about Akaza's feelings. He wasn't deliberately trying to provoke her anger, from what he could tell.

The new student was trapped in a vicious cycle, forced to repeat the same things over and over again. At times, he felt like he was dealing with a child.

“No, I'm not mad at you.”

The excitement subsided, the pink-haired boy controlled himself, trying to brush off what he had just read. It was a waste of time.

“You are my friend, I want you to feel good. I will do anything for you.”

He was giving him a big opening. Such a wonderful opportunity was presented to him on a silver platter.

“I really liked what you did to me earlier…” Akaza wrote succinctly.

Douma was quick to express his enthusiasm.

“I'm glad you liked it! I love sucking you off, I can swallow your cum between classes if you want.”

Akaza smirked triumphantly. After all, Douma was as malleable as clay. The master manipulator was himself being controlled like a common puppet. Douma was out of touch, out of touch with reality, overreacting inappropriately to the situation.

Could he be mentally disturbed? No sane person would behave like this.

It would be immoral for Akaza to abuse this state of weakness.

“Tell me, Akaza… what did you like about it earlier?”

Oh… Douma's perversity oozed forth like a sly snake. Akaza's cheeks flushed with shame and excitement. Their little game wasn't doomed yet. Feeling a little uncomfortable with this practice that was so foreign to him, he composed whatever came to mind, without dwelling too much on the ins and outs.

“I loved it when you sucked my cock while jerking me off. It felt so good.”

He was revealing his darkest secrets to the devil himself. The one who had lured him into the depraved abyss.

A sordid angel who dragged him down with him.

“Your cock tastes delicious, you're so sexy when you cum.”

Douma was straightforward when it came to showering him with praise.

Akaza wanted so badly to jump in, but his damned self-esteem was a huge obstacle.

Ridiculous when you thought about it: the tall blond man had already opened a gaping hole. All Akaza had to do was squeeze through.

“Douma, can I ask you a question?”

“Of course, Akaza-kun.”

His heart was pounding; he would never have even considered making such a request of another boy in his life. He felt so stupid.

“I want to make love to you. Do you think that would be possible?”

This request sounded like a favor. It was getting more and more absurd. He would bury himself six feet under in the face of this feeling of shame. He was so stupid.

“Oh, I’m so glad you asked! With great pleasure! We can do it tomorrow in the toilets if you want?”

And Douma, who didn't help the situation at all! The two were a pair: neither was there to catch the other.

Having his first sexual encounter in a public toilet didn't particularly excite him. Offering one's virginity was a crucial step in one's life, and the young boy was hoping for a more conducive setting in which to give himself to his partner. He made sure to let the tall blond man know this.

“I prefer to do this elsewhere…”

At least Douma hadn't gotten rid of him in a hurry.

“Oh, no problem. At your place maybe?”

Akaza felt sick: invite Douma into his home? And to engage in a sexual act? Out of the question! There was no way he was bringing the rainbow-eyed boy into his living environment. He had never brought anyone home before, and he wanted to avoid at all costs having his adoptive parents question him about his friendships. Besides, knowing Douma, he would be capable of blurting out absurdities to his parents. Akaza couldn't take any risks.

There weren't many alternatives left...

“Do you think it would be possible at your place?” Akaza ventured.

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. This suggestion was as irrational as the previous one.

Unless…Wasn't this a great opportunity to discover this alien's living environment? Just thinking about it made his palms sweat. After all, Akaza had always shown great interest in the mysteries surrounding the tall blond man.

“That can be done, Akaza! Would you like to come with me tomorrow after class?”

The new student sank into his mattress: the flood of information was difficult to digest. Torn between excitement and fear, he didn't know how to approach future events.

“We can quickly stop by a pharmacy and buy some condoms before going to your place…” suggested Akaza, who was still keeping his head down, concerned about his own safety.

Douma's response had only added to the many secrets he harbored.

“Don't worry, Akaza-kun! I have everything we need at home! Besides, there's little chance I'll get you pregnant... ;)”

Akaza held his phone, the message displayed in front of him. He read it, but he felt like he didn't understand a single word. He analyzed each word, trying to make sense of it.

Douma had it all. Between his sexual skills, his obscene messages, and this revelation, there was no longer any doubt: this handsome Adonis was no novice in this field. Akaza suppressed a pang of jealousy: imagining Douma in the middle of sexual intercourse with someone else was unbearable for him. Someone else had been able to benefit from his talent and his sweet words. Douma had set his sights on a third person at least once. This realization made him cringe.

The second part of his sentence was just as scandalous: apparently, Douma was using it as protection to avoid pregnancy, not for sexually transmitted diseases. This suggested he'd already slept with a girl. Akaza cracked his knuckles: a bad habit for venting a burst of anger. The doubt hovering over Daki had just grown. This scatterbrained little girl had certainly already tasted Douma's delicious lips, which drove him mad with rage.

He was this close to calling off this naughty little game between them, telling him to fuck off and ordering him to go fuck himself!

And then you would forgive him after he gave you a good blowjob...

Akaza's explosive temper was unjustified: Douma had every right to have had sexual partners before him. His attitude was irrational.

This asshole hadn't finished arousing suspicion.

“I'm sorry, Akaza, but I may have jumped the gun too fast… I didn't ask you what you wanted?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want me to fuck you or would you prefer the other way around? I don’t mind either way, I’ll comply with your wishes…”

But damn! Every single one of his interventions drove him crazy! What did he mean by that? That he'd already fucked girls and guys? In that case, why did he make a jealous scene with Kokushibo?

He had been wrong to give him this moral lesson! Douma was the first to go frolic elsewhere as soon as an opportunity presented itself.

Akaza couldn't contain his rage. Impulsive, he cut their exchange short.

“You know what, Douma? Fuck you! Don't talk to me again!”

Akaza could no longer bear this leaden weight: this moral burden was exhausting him.

He turned off his phone, cutting off all contact with this being who was making him lose his mind.

He had gotten a blowjob from him a few hours earlier, he had jerked off thinking about him and they had just had a hot conversation.

The pink-haired boy didn't understand why he was so upset. It wasn't a matter of pride, it was much deeper than that. A feeling of emptiness...

Akaza was a real disaster in his relationships with others: the loss of his father had ruined him. He had developed an emotional dependency and to avoid suffering, he avoided social interactions. He paid the price with Douma. He was very attached to him. The slightest mistake the tall blond man could make would make him lose his temper, and since Douma was a real social disaster... Akaza was definitely not spoiled.

Poor Douma, who was already in the west, probably didn't understand Akaza's outbursts, which arose right in the middle of their conversation.

The pink-haired boy sighed.

These two had found each other. Two socially handicapped people, what irony.

He was actually beginning to believe that life had a funny sense of humor.

He couldn't escape his sad fate. Every day, he had no choice but to confront his personified obsession. The night brought counsel, and indeed, when he woke up, Akaza was no longer consumed by anger. When he unlocked his phone, he hadn't discovered a mountain of messages from Douma. The latter was certainly beginning to know Akaza, and he must have been aware that during the crisis, it was impossible to reason with him. Besides, Douma had his tactics for making amends...

Akaza shuddered with pleasure at this projection.

Upon entering the classroom, the usual small group was already going about their business. Noticing Daki pressed against Douma, Akaza felt a tension rise in his body. Nevertheless, that didn't stop him from doling out his morning kisses. As he almost always did, he ended the round with the tall blond boy.

Disregarding the conclusion of their exchange the day before, Douma released his chest, ready to embrace him. Feeling more at peace this morning, Akaza gladly accepted his hug.

Akaza was worse than a woman with his changing moods, but the boy with rainbow eyes didn't seem to hold it against him.

“Boys, how about we go for a drink after school later?” Daki suggested, leaning over Kokushibo and Akaza’s bench.

The apathetic boy nodded.

The new student remained in the background, as an observer.

“Sorry, sweetie, but I have other plans today. But I promise, next time I'll be there!” Douma exclaimed happily.

The flirtatious wink sent in the pink-haired boy's direction was crystal clear. A pulse shot through his genitals: Douma preferred spending time with him rather than the girl.

“What do you mean? What are you planning to do?” the younger sister said indignantly.

Douma only smiled, remaining in the dark.

“Whatever!” Daki growled.

Then she softened her voice.

“And you, Akaza-kun? Would you like to come with us?” Her emerald eyes shone brightly. Her lips curled into a charming smile that would have won over more than one.

For his part, Douma waited patiently for his little Akaza's response.

All eyes were on him, he didn't appreciate being at the heart of the matter.

“Uh… Unfortunately, I have to go home early today…” he lied.

The girl's large, sparkling eyes darkened.

“Oh… okay…” she said with a hint of disappointment.

“It's okay, we'll go out as a threesome. Next time, we'll all be together,” Kokushibo reassured her.

Akaza didn't have to answer to this prig, but he couldn't help but feel bad about lying to her. However, it didn't seem to affect Douma too much, even though he shared a strong bond with the young girl.

The arrival of their teacher signaled the end of the festivities. Akaza took his seat, his thoughts in disarray.

As soon as the lesson began, the young boy was disturbed by a small piece of paper being discreetly placed on his desk by his neighbor. Douma didn't know how to stay still.

He unfolded the small, crumpled sheet of paper.

“I'm sorry about yesterday, I didn't mean to make you angry…”

It was a safe bet that Douma was unaware of the adrenaline rush that had led Akaza to cut him off. He apologized to him without knowing what he had done.

What a strange character...

“I'm the one who's sorry... I'm getting carried away for nothing…” admitted the boy with amber eyes.

His mea culpa had somewhat defused the situation. Without seeing it from his vantage point, he was convinced that Douma was displaying one of those smiles that would knock you off your feet. The kind that tended to win his heart of stone.

“It's okay, my little Akaza! I can't wait to see you again later! In the meantime, would you like me to suck you off in the toilet?”

Akaza clenched his thighs to compress a budding erection. The doll-faced boy was beyond help. The idea was tantalizing, but he wanted to save himself for their intimate encounter.

He declined his offer, thanking him all the same.

Concentrating in class knowing what awaited him in a few hours was a real challenge. Just thinking about it made him break out in a cold sweat. His first time wasn't something he took lightly... The more hours ticked by on the small clock, the less sure he was that he wanted to take this step.

He couldn't say he was in love with Douma; that would be an exaggeration. Sure, the tall blond man occupied a prominent place in his life, but to claim he'd fallen in love... There was that little spark, that carnal attraction that captivated him. But in his opinion, it wasn't love.

Then, going through with it with him would be a true affirmation of his bisexuality, something he was far from comfortable with. He wouldn't have dreamed of sharing his first sexual experience with another boy. It was inconceivable...

But he couldn't ignore the physiological signs when Douma touched him. Akaza expressed desire and arousal, he couldn't deny it.

Another aspect that made him hesitate was this disconnect with reality. Did Akaza really want to have his first sexual encounter with someone who was mentally disturbed? Douma wouldn't hurt him, but what would happen afterward? Would he denounce their lovemaking to the first person he met? Perhaps blackmail him? The tall blond man already suffered from morbid jealousy; how would he react if Akaza had the misfortune to talk to someone else?

Was it healthy to comfort Douma in his paranoid delusions?

At the lunch table, the new student scrutinized all of Douma's behaviors. The latter didn't seem perturbed by the activity they would be engaging in in less than a few hours. He let out exaggerated laughter, while cracking tasteless jokes. In short, he was adopting more or less usual attitudes. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Back in class, Akaza could still turn back: all he had to do was send him a small piece of paper on which he would write his withdrawal. Just like in the hotel room, Akaza felt paralyzed, his words stuck in his throat.

The voice of reason cried out for caution. But it was overthrown by his sexual urges.

He wanted to be crushed under his own weight, with a cock moving inside him. He had jerked off many times while visualizing intercourse. So close, he couldn't let himself go.

At the final bell, his heartbeat thumped in his temples, his body suddenly filled with a surge of stress. His wobbly legs barely kept him upright. The small group of friends gathered outside the classroom. As planned, Gyutaro had joined his sister and Kokushibo, all three of them heading out for an outdoor activity.

“Goodbye, friends! See you tomorrow!” sang Douma.

With the exception of the rickety boy, he received a favorable reaction from his two other companions.

Here we are, Akaza thought. He was only a few steps away from giving up his innocence.

Since he met this boy, he had already made a pact with the devil.

Douma led the dance, very playful and carefree, the complete opposite of his partner.

They boarded the bus, heading back to Douma's house. During the ride, the tall blond man had been particularly talkative, loudly informing his how happy he was to invite him into his home.

The tension rose a notch when they got off at a stop. Akaza raised his eyebrows; he was vaguely familiar with the area. Which didn't please him.

Douma guided his partner for about a hundred meters, before arriving in a middle-class residential area.

So that was where he lived. Just like Kokushibo, he seemed to enjoy a comfortable lifestyle.

The large building was reached via a gravel path surrounded by perfectly trimmed rose bushes. The roller shutters were closed. On a sunny afternoon, their closure was curious. Perhaps a way to prevent the heat from seeping inside.

Douma invited him to come through the door.

Akaza couldn't explain it, but this place gave him goosebumps: the omnipresent darkness, the tense atmosphere, the old-fashioned decor, and the absolute silence had a lot to do with it. He felt like he'd stepped back in time. The interior didn't match the bright facade and the flowering shrubs.

A few small candles lit the room. Why on earth use candles when all you could do was let in natural light?

At that precise moment, the new student bitterly regretted his decision.

“Would you like something to drink, Akaza-kun?”

At least he could count on his cheerful, angelic face, which contrasted with where he lived.

“Uh, yes, I would like a glass of water.”

The boy with the flawless face gave him a tender smile before leading him further into the gloomy dwelling. The walls were decorated with portraits of men dressed in solemn uniforms, sporting golden symbols on their collars. Could they be men of faith? Douma had never made any allusion to religious beliefs. It didn't suit the character.

And with what he was about to do, Akaza had to assume that no religion tolerated his actions.

The kitchen was also lit by antique candlesticks topped with a single candle. This might have contributed to a warm atmosphere, but Akaza couldn't bring himself to not feel terribly oppressed. There was no rational reason: this place made him uncomfortable.

“Why don’t you open the shutters directly or flip the switches?” Akaza asked, as Douma poured water into a glass for him.

“Father doesn’t like daylight very much,” he replied calmly.

“And turn on the power?” the pink-haired boy added.

“Father prefers candles,” he was very vague about it, “Why? Don’t you like them?”

“It’s special…” Akaza replied, sipping his drink.

The tall blond man gently touched his hand.

“Anyway, I’m very happy to spend time with you…”

A half-smile, sprinkled with embarrassment, from the boy with amber eyes.

“Me too…” he whispered, barely audible.

At least Douma was spreading a little joy in this gloomy abode.

“Come on, Akaza-kun! Follow me! I’ll take you to my room!”

The dreaded moment had arrived. His labored swallowing, his heart pumping at a rapid pace, could have ripped his ribcage free. In hindsight, he was no longer sure of anything... there was still time to turn back. Douma's passion left him no escape. Akaza rode this energetic surge. Trapped and hand in hand, the tall blond man dragged him down the stairwell, then into the sleeping area.

The bedroom was like everything else: the dyes were drawn, plunging the room into darkness. Only a bedside lamp provided very discreet lighting. What caught his eye was the Gothic four-poster bed, with hand-carved engravings, camouflaged by long, satiny black curtains. He was swimming in time travel.

This bed offered a wide range of naughty activities: it could easily support hours of sultry lovemaking. Although a shiver of excitement ran up his spine, a pang of anger rose in his nose: this bed had certainly already witnessed Douma's sexual prowess. The image of him in the arms of another person, whispering very dirty words to her, tore at his heart. Akaza had no desire to add to his list of conquests: was he just another trophy?

According to Douma, Akaza held a privileged position. His possessiveness towards him would have no reason to exist otherwise. Douma had marked his territory and he would bite anyone who got too close to his little Akaza. The tall blond man didn't show much interest in others, except for his circle of very close friends.

Akaza stood there, sheepish. Damn, he must have looked so ridiculous! It horrified him to have his vulnerability out in the open.

Wasn't giving one's body tantamount to opening oneself to another? Offering one's virginity resulted from absolute trust in the other. Was Douma trustworthy? In any case, he was trustworthy enough for Akaza to find himself in his room. He was in the process of lowering his weapons, all the defenses he had erected falling like dominoes, under Douma's sharp eye.

He naturally took the lead, guiding his partner to sit on the edge of the bed. The hypnotic, scrutinizing colored eyes made him uncomfortable: he felt like prey, trapped in the beast's lair.

Douma dipped this ocean of colors into his golden pupils.

“Have I ever told you that I think you look amazing? Your beauty is breathtaking…”

His statements were corny, but the shower of compliments flattered him. A little less defensive, his stiff shoulders relaxed.

“I bet you have to say that to anyone…” he said, hoping to get a reaction.

Douma's determination gave him goosebumps.

“Think again, Akaza… You’re wrong on every count.”

His thin, exquisitely warm lips pressed against his in a chaste kiss, like two middle schoolers sharing a summer romance. This pure contact heightened Akaza's senses, and he sought to deepen the kiss. The small, moist organ infiltrated his partner's oral cavity, and he grasped the message. In a passionate embrace, the two boys lost themselves in this suffocating spiral. Nothing else mattered around them; they had created this impenetrable barrier for themselves.

The underlying nervousness dissipated as the seconds ticked by: the brain signals emitted were promoting the rise of excitement.

The new student couldn't hold back any longer, eager for action. His compressed penis was begging for friction.

Akaza made this clear to Douma.

“Douma…”, he whispered in his partner’s ear, between two kisses, “please, fuck me…”

At least his intentions were clear. He chuckled inwardly at the thought of himself making such an absurd request. For someone who professed his heterosexuality, he was driven by opposing impulses. Right now, he wanted Douma to slam him into that huge bed. To hell with his pride!

The tall blond man smiled charmingly. He raised the temperature by untying his tie and removing the top of his school uniform. The exposure of his bare torso caused Akaza's heart to race and butterflies to swarm in his stomach. He felt terribly embarrassed to feel this way around another boy. He couldn't deny it anymore: Douma had an effect on him.

The doll-faced boy pushed him into the mattress. Straddling him, his delicate hands pressed against his shoulders, Douma crushed him with his predatory gaze. Desire inhabited that burning rainbow.

“Akaza-kun… I’m going to devour you slowly… I’m going to taste every bit of your flesh. I’m going to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to get enough of my cock…”

To reinforce his own, he brought his burning lips to the skin of his neck. This poor part of his body witnessed the savagery that this angelic-looking being could display: slightly pointed teeth grabbed bits of flesh, nibbling at them with gusto. Akaza gritted his teeth a little because Douma was sorely lacking in delicacy. That said, his burning neck did nothing to hinder the rising excitement.

After the devious bites, the neck was subjected to sustained sucking. Douma hadn't been lying when he outlined his plan of attack. He wanted to leave his mark there to mark his territory, to prove to the entire world that this prey was his sole property. Akaza would definitely end up with hickeys scattered around this area, leaving no doubt as to his activity. Damn it, it was crucial to cover these marks well. Justifying their presence to his comrades would be the height of shame.

As Douma struggled with the jugular, a pernicious hand found its way into the crook of his pants. He happily massaged his privates through his school uniform. Instinctively, Akaza opened his thighs to let him maneuver as he pleased.

He could blame Douma on many counts, but in no case could he accuse him of being selfish: in bed, the handsome Adonis bent over backwards to satisfy his partner.

Douma freed his victim, just long enough to untie the superfluous tie and shirt. The rainbow shimmered at the sight of that tantalizing chest. Mouth watering, the tall blond undid Akaza's pants, rolling them down until they were stripped of that paltry piece of fabric. The pink-haired boy attentively followed his partner's every move with slight apprehension. His astonishment was complete when Douma removed his socks and scrupulously analyzed his feet.

Why was he staring at them like that?

The response was fully constructed: Douma brought his toes to his mouth, rolling his tongue while sucking them greedily. The porcelain-skinned boy didn't break the gaze: the rainbow was plunging into this golden ocean. An ocean somewhat bewildered by this practice. Indeed, Akaza wasn't showing much enthusiasm, to say the least. He was almost disgusted by it, but Douma's voracity swept this feeling away.

The tall blond man was having a great time: he let out sensual complaints while sucking his feet.

This guy was definitely weird to the core, but should Akaza be surprised?

He released the toes and gave the arch of his foot an agonizingly slow lick. The tickle irritated Akaza.

“But damn it, stop that!”

Douma smiled, not at all offended by this remark.

“Sorry,” he said amusedly.

He still held his partner's right leg firmly. After the toes, Douma set his sights on the back of the knee. Here again, he amused himself by nibbling at this area. Akaza wasn't receptive to it: he was more interested in Douma's gluttony. It was as if he wanted to taste every single part of his body.

His cells began to boil as the teeth slid down his inner thighs. The bulge in his underwear became more apparent. The kisses placed on his groin made Akaza stiffen, anticipating his future actions. Indeed, Douma was deliberately playing with the elastic. The snap against his skin made his heart race. Fidgeting with impatience, the pink-haired boy could only submit to his friend's wishes.

Douma wielded considerable power.

“Tell me, Akaza… What would make you happy? For me to suck your cock?”

To be persuasive, he pulled the underwear aside enough to free his erection. Akaza let out a moan at the mere possibility.

Douma ran his finger over his manhood.

“Hmm… Your cock is already spitting out some good juice… Are you excited, Akaza-kun?”

He spread the precum over the head with his thumb. Akaza arched his back slightly. His tight throat prevented him from forming a coherent sentence. He simply nodded.

“Or do you want me to finger you? You liked it the first time…”

This time, the pad of his thumb gently caressed his opening. Blood was pumping rapidly into his sex. At this rate, Akaza could come under Douma's naughty words.

“Or… I can eat your ass… What do you think?”

Damn... Akaza wanted all three... He couldn't decide. Excitement was pounding in his head, almost giving him a splitting headache.

Douma rolled away the last bulwark of fabric. He held the briefs like a trophy. He stuck them under his nostrils and took a deep breath. Akaza felt shame creeping up his insides, but Douma made no attempt to humiliate him with his predatory eyes.

“Damn, Akaza… Your smell is so exquisite… It makes me want to jerk off…”

The tall blond man started on his pants, revealing his long, slender legs. Kneeling down, he slipped his hand into his own underwear. He inhaled the soaked trophy deeply, miming masturbatory acts.

Akaza looked at him, dismayed. Douma was taking things literally. He was having a field day sniffing that piece of fabric.

He took a last whiff of that virile scent, reluctantly tossed away his reward. He climbed on top of his partner, placing his hands on either side of Akaza's face. The rainbow burned with pleasure. Akaza felt at his mercy, which increased his arousal.

“You complete me so much… You don’t know how much I cherish God for putting you in my path…”

Shit, that idiot didn't know when to keep his mouth shut! That kind of sentence could send him over the edge. Akaza refused to let their relationship take any other direction. It was simply unthinkable... Douma was just a complete asshole, completely out of touch with reality.

Despite everything, you obediently agreed to come to his house with a very specific idea.

Douma leaned forward a little closer, his playful lock of hair tickling Akaza's nose.

“So, my little Akaza… Have you made your choice?”

His sensual tone sent shivers down his spine. He swallowed, his labored breathing not helping him maintain any semblance of control.

Douma didn't rush him: his eyelids closed, he wore an innocent smile. Too innocent for Akaza's taste.

The tall blond man got out of bed. Too destabilized by the course of events, Akaza had believed that his indecision had upset Douma, who would have therefore put an end to their debauched little escapade.

It wasn't so. Douma sat back down in bed, equipped with a small bottle. He poured the viscous liquid onto his fingers.

The wet brush against his opening caused Akaza to gasp. He bit his lip; Douma was planning to finger him. His cock was throbbing in anticipation.

The tall blond teased his anus and spread the intimate gel there. Damn, just the friction against the external anal wall made him come. Akaza clutched the expensive blankets, imagining his partner inserting himself inside him. The fear of pain remained, but he was convinced Douma could make it bearable. It killed him to admit it, but the tall blond was definitely more experienced than him.

He tensed as the first knuckle entered that nerve zone. Douma played with bending and unbending the tip of his finger against his entrance. Without going deep inside, an explosion of sensations occurred in his ass. Nothing like the first time in the hotel room. He was much more relaxed, which made the experience even more incredible.

Akaza sank into the soft mattress. His troubles with the lewd comments weren't over yet.

“Hm… Your asshole is so tight around my finger… it’s like you want to suck it…”

The pink-haired boy twitched when the finger ventured into his anal passage. Once again, Douma wiggled his knuckles, before producing a series of back-and-forth movements. Akaza was on fire, captivated by this attention. He was already on the verge of begging Douma: he was ready to ask Douma to stop these foreplay phases and get down to the heart of the action. Akaza had to be patient: Douma was taking the time to prepare him well. And the little game was bearing fruit.

Akaza jumped up: the experienced finger located the prostate and Douma hastened to massage this little ball of nerve.

The new student closed his eyes, biting his lips to block out any guilty sounds. He failed miserably, as Douma wasn't giving him a moment's respite. He was far too adept at making his partner succumb. The plaintive moans pushed the tall blond to work with fervor. In fact, the insertion of a second finger was the next step.

Douma watched his beautiful catch twitch beneath his merciless touch. The endless waiting and accumulated sexual frustration had heightened Akaza's arousal: here he was, being fingered and moaning like a slut in heat.

The sweet torture was only just beginning: with his fingers still busy, Douma's mouth captured the reddened glans left unattended until now.

Akaza threw his head back against the pillow, relishing the double stimulation. His generous tongue swirled over the oozing tip.

The amber-eyed boy curled his toes, trapped in a whirlwind of stimuli. A pressure in his lower abdomen tugged at him, torn between burning desire and unbearable pain. Pleasure took over: Douma greedily sucked the entire length and pumped his cock frantically.

The fingers brushing against his prostate and the back-and-forth oral thrusts propelled Akaza to seventh heaven. To cope with this overload of sensations, he fiercely grabbed the silky hair. Douma saw no problem since he maintained the same pace.

Akaza wished he could freeze time, and thus enjoy every ripple of stimulation unleashed in his body. This intimate moment would not last forever...

To enjoy himself now would be to wait for Douma's next tease. Then, he was certain, Akaza would no longer be able to do without the ministrations of this atypical individual.

And damn it, Douma wasn't doing anything to help matters. The active fingers dislodged themselves, but Akaza's ass didn't stay empty for long.

Indeed, the tongue that was hard at work on his penis slid towards his orifice. The tip of the wet organ made circular movements against his opening. Taking advantage of the abundant saliva, Douma played at slowly rolling back the foreskin before tackling a proper handjob.

Another explosive cocktail erupted in his guts: the combination of masturbation and rimming was equally tantalizing. After all, Douma had complied with all three suggestions.

Akaza moaned loudly, not giving a second thought to the fact that they might not be alone in the large mansion and that they might be caught in the middle of clandestine activity. He couldn't see himself meeting Douma's parents under these circumstances, but no sane person would resist this sensory euphoria for long.

Akaza leaned on his spare elbow, straightening slightly to get a better view of the bubbling spectacle. Seeing Douma in action sharpened his senses. The experienced hand jerked him off vigorously while the tongue teased the external nerve endings of his anus.

The pink-haired boy rolled his eyes as the wet, adventurous organ penetrated the orifice. Douma wasted no time in fucking his ass with his tongue, miming urgent thrusts. The salivating sounds accompanied the young boy's sensual moans.

Akaza couldn't take it anymore. Even though he didn't want this to end, he was losing the battle. With the gradual rise of pre-orgasmic signs, he clenched his thighs uncontrollably and pulled a little harder on the pale blonde hair.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…” Akaza swore, unsure how to handle this tsunami of stimuli.

The pleasant sensation crept into his lower abdomen, which he recognized immediately. He rolled his eyes, trapped in this vicious cycle. He didn't want to come so soon, not now when it felt so good. Douma's recklessness was a significant obstacle, and Akaza was well aware that he wouldn't be up to the task.

With a scream that would make the walls shake, Akaza released himself into Douma's hand, which was pumping at a more moderate pace. The pink-haired boy was overcome with muscle spasms before his body was completely relieved. At least, that's what he thought: he jumped when the tall blond ran his tongue along his entire length, searching for the delicious nectar. He focused on the sensitive head and then licked his cum-stained fingers. Douma took supreme pleasure in collecting every last drop. After cleaning his hand, he tidied up his long, messy locks.

He turned his full attention to his still breathless partner.

“Did you like it, Akaza-kun?”

“It was… amazing… Thank you so much…”

His authenticity made him chuckle happily. The pink-haired boy's dilated, tired pupils watched Douma. The latter wasted no time: he finally removed the underwear that was hampering him.

Akaza felt a pang of panic at the generous anatomy. Stress had taken over him when Douma applied a generous amount of lubricant along his entire length. Seeing him approaching dangerously, Akaza's blood boiled.

“Wait, Douma… I…”

He closed his thighs and bent his knees, blocking access to that orifice.

The message was clear to the tall blond man.

“Oh… okay, Akaza… If you don't want to do it anymore, I'll respect your decision.”

Since when did Douma care about this? Then he was completely off topic!

“No, that's not it… I want to but… but I'm scared…” he admitted, ashamed.

“Ah, okay. Do you want me to turn on the light?”

It wasn't possible to be so out of it. Akaza sighed nervously. Revealing such things would be tantamount to exposing his vulnerability. And he didn't like that. The idiot was already unpredictable enough on his own.

“Nothing to do with it… Actually, uh… I've never had sex…”, the pink-haired boy was on the lookout for a reaction from Douma, ready to bite if he made the slightest remark to him, “You better not make fun of me!”

Douma showed him one of his most beautiful smiles: the rainbow was leading a dance of plenitude.

For a brief moment he collected himself, hands clasped, muttering something incomprehensible.

“Oh, Akaza… I can never thank heaven enough for this magnificent gift you have given me…”

His childish smile widened a little more.

“So you've never done anything with Kokushibo, I'm reassured!”

But damn it, why was this topic coming up again?! And on top of that, Douma had dared to doubt his sincerity!

“What?! I already told you no! Stop bothering me with this! You're seriously starting to get on my nerves!”

“Haha, sorry! I couldn't help it!” he said in his sing-song voice.

He grabbed Akaza's knees and pushed them apart.

“Don't worry, Akaza-kun, I'll take it easy…”

He pressed his thumbs against his nipples, rolling them over the erect tip. Akaza's annoyance had miraculously vanished: Douma knew how to get off easy. With his index finger and thumb, he pinched and pulled at the pink nipples, which made the new student react.

“Hmm… Stop that!”

Douma giggled, pinched harder and rolled his fingers over the sensitive little area.

Akaza flattened his head.

“S-stop…” he begged in a sensual tone.

“Well, Akaza-kun, you're very receptive… Tell me, is all this new to you? Has anyone touched your nipples like this?”

“Noooo~”

“Has no one sucked you off before?”

Akaza squirmed under the rough teasing on his chest.

“No…” he managed to reply.

Douma did not stop there.

“And you, have you ever sucked another guy?”

“Fuck, no…”

The tall blond man absorbed this valuable information. He fiercely grabbed his pecs.

“And have you ever touched a girl?”

Akaza was more than fed up with being interrogated.

“I've never done anything with anyone, and before you, I'd never kissed anyone! Stop boring me with your questions!”

Douma crushed the hardened buds like a madman.

“If I understand correctly, I’m the first one to touch you like this… You’re so kind to me, Akaza! I’m very honored! I’ll give my all to please you…”

The handsome Adonis abandoned the stimulation of his breasts. The revelations and moans of his little Akaza had made him hard as a rock. He applied a fresh coat of lubricant and spread it over the quivering opening. His penis in hand, he brought it to the orifice.

The touch against his anus made Akaza react.

“W-wait! Put on a condom first!”

Douma smirked.

“We don't need it, we're both boys!”

By the time Akaza digested this information, Douma had already inserted the tip of the glans. The pink-haired boy let out a cry of surprise at the sudden stretching of his anal walls. Fortunately, Douma had the decency to give him time to acclimate.

“Hmm… just the tip of it makes me feel so good…” cooed the doll-faced boy.

He let himself go against the contracted opening, without venturing further.

“Can you feel me, Akaza?”

Shit, he could feel him too well, the tip of his cock was already crushing his insides. Nothing like fingers and tongue. He could never handle intercourse.

“It hurts me…”

“Oh… You’re too rigid, that’s why. Do like me, breathe slowly and it’ll be fine…”

Getting advice from a deranged individual was the height of nonsense. Regardless, Akaza had no choice but to follow his advice. He took deep breaths of air, trying to relax as much as possible.

Who would have thought this fool was right? With every breath in and out, the stiff cock gained a few precious millimeters.

Akaza's lips formed a silent "o" as he passed through the ring of flesh. He ground his teeth and braced himself against the coverlets. The pain was simply excruciating. The intrusion caused significant discomfort: his first instinct was to expel as if he were having a bowel movement, but this only made him feel more uncomfortable.

“Fuck… That hurts!”

Douma looked sorry; his warm hand gently caressed his cheek.

“You’re too tense… Relax, you’ll see, it will only do you good later.”

The tall blond grabbed his bottle of lube and coated his cock with more.

Akaza gasped as the icy liquid hit his own penis. A slight respite in the pain came at the first brush against his member. Douma was jerking him off vigorously, hoping to ease the discomfort.

Akaza wasn't immune to the maneuver. Naturally, the stimulation of his penis sent electric shocks throughout his body. His sphincter muscles were less defensive, widening to give him more space.

Douma delivered the first thrust. Akaza let out a plaintive cry. The masturbatory caresses softened the pain threshold. The tall blond man gave a second thrust, then a third.

His partner panted beneath him, taking deep breaths. He was still tightly wrapped around him, but Akaza seemed to be resisting the pain.

Douma busied himself with jerking off while Akaza relaxed.

He took the opportunity to pour a generous amount of intimate gel onto his moving penis. The lubrication made the passage easier.

After a good ten thrusts, Akaza had settled in a little more. His fluffy eyelashes fluttered in a seductive dance.

The tall blond man abandoned his cock and grabbed his waist, giving a particularly deep thrust, which elicited a lascivious moan from his partner. Considering that all danger was past, the rainbow-eyed boy began to pound that tasty ass with relentless vigor. Akaza's asshole was so tight around his cock, it was enough to send him soaring in a wave of pleasure. While he couldn't see him smile, his face twisted with pleasure was just as appetizing.

Akaza wrapped his legs around his partner's waist, transported into an unprecedented euphoria. He squeezed him with all his might, which didn't prevent Douma from hindering his progress. The latter clung to the plump flesh of his buttocks and raised them slightly, which drastically altered the angle of penetration. Indeed, the thrusts became deeper, reaching areas as yet unexplored.

Akaza let out a loud moan as a fiery explosion consumed him. With each thrust, the same strategic point was hit, creating a tidal wave of intense sensations. It was even more exquisite than with his fingers… the pink-haired boy reveled in the slightest stimulus. There was no way he would regret being in this bed, enduring Douma's thrusts, at that moment. He no longer thought of anything; only the attainment of pleasure was his concern.

Without really understanding the sequence, Douma abruptly turned him onto his stomach and began to fuck him hard. The new position made him moan, strong hands crushed his shoulder blades, while his ass was destroyed by rigorous thrusts. He was being crushed by Douma's full weight, who was exerting good pressure on his upper back. This compressed his ribcage a little, but Akaza was swimming in pleasure enough to care. His head buried in the pillow camouflaged his cries, useful for avoiding betraying the activity in progress. That was without counting on the creaking of the bed with each back and forth. With the intensity of the thrusts, his skull hit the headboard.

The surrounding noise didn't seem to distract or worry Douma. Besides, he contributed to the noise pollution with his own moans. He hadn't stopped there. Akaza cried out in pain as his head was detached by his scalp. Douma's voracious grip caused discomfort in his neck.

“I want to hear your pretty voice, Akaza… I want to hear you scream when I fuck your ass…”

He punctuated his sentence with a brutal thrust. Akaza lay beneath his athletic body, immobilized like a disjointed puppet. He was in a state of turmoil at this aspect of submission, something he never suspected he would enjoy. As his ass was being pounded, Akaza struggled to stay lucid. Instead, he was nothing but mental carrion: drool dripped from the corners of his mouth as he desperately clutched the covers.

Douma quickened his pace, bumping against his prostate with each thrust. At this rate, the amber-eyed boy wouldn't last long.

“D-Douma… please slow down…”

Against all odds, the grip on his scalp loosened. The thrusts also stopped, and in an improbable sequence, Akaza was lifted from the bed: his feet anchored to the floor, and his torso was pressed against the mattress. His brain connections made the connection.

“W-wait, Douma!”

Delicate yet incredibly strong hands gripped his waist, and without changing the course of events, Douma began to pump with lust. While he had shown restraint at the beginning of their sexual encounter, he had just unleashed the bestial side that lay dormant within him.

The bed no longer creaked but the slapping of his balls against his ass bounced off the walls, soon accompanied by the moans of the two boys.

Akaza sank into the mattress during the urgent thrusts. He was swimming in bliss: he was being fucked with such savagery, his ass would definitely be sore the next day, but that didn't matter. He was looking to be demolished even more: he began to rock his hips, while matching Douma's movements. His ass slapped against Douma's skin, a delicious caress.

Akaza was so hot, the dampness of his back made him break out in a cold sweat. He wasn't out of the woods when Douma's teeth grazed his collarbone. They weren't nibbles, but bites. The point lodged in the flesh, and Douma exerted considerable pressure. The pink-haired boy gritted his teeth to take it, but his pain tolerance had its limits.

“Douma, you’re hurting me…”

The tall blond man took his remark into account, licked the wound, and then moved on to his shoulder. He had bitten him, but with less ferocity. He attacked several areas around his neck, without faltering in the precision of his thrusts.

The handsome Adonis finally grew tired and crushed his sweaty chest against his partner's back.

“You’re nothing but mine, Akaza… Your little ass belongs to me… I forbid you from opening your legs for anyone else…”

The amber-eyed boy rolled his eyes, squealing high-pitchedly, his prostate perfectly stimulated and Douma's possessiveness contributing to his arousal.

“You like it, huh? You were so bitter because you wanted a good fuck! All you had to do was ask me, you little bitch!”

Ordinarily, Akaza would have jumped at his throat for this blatant disrespect. The words used, so demeaning, in these circumstances fueled desire. The words had an effect on him, and he couldn't stop himself from moaning.

He felt so close, he didn't want to come, he wanted more.

“Hmm… your asshole is tightening around my cock… Have you reached your limit, Akaza-kun?”

Douma chattered with his unbearable laughter. He landed several slaps on his buttocks, which unsettled Akaza. Shit, was that having an effect on him too? Since when had he been such a shameless slut?

“You know what I like, Akaza?”

His lips brushed the hollow of his ear. The warm breath sent a wave of shivers through him.

“I love having sex with men… Do you know why?”

Akaza let out a few screams with the continuous pounding of the prostate.

“Because I can safely fill you with my sperm, you will not get pregnant…”

The new student's eyes widened, unwilling to dwell on his revelations. Not now, not while he was reaching the peak of pleasure.

Instinctively, he clung to the covers and tensed all his muscles.

“D-Douma, I’m close…”

“I know, baby… Just let it go…”

Tears crept up in the corners of his eyes. Why was he suddenly thinking this? When he was about to let go?

A firework exploded in his lower abdomen, a suffocating sensation he had not yet experienced.

Under a knot of calculated back-and-forth thrusts, Akaza let out a cry, ejaculating painfully. He crashed against the mattress, with a splitting headache, exhausted from the effort.

“You’re so sexy when you cum, Akaza…” Douma cooed as he continued his thrusts.

Akaza felt uncomfortable as his ass had become very sensitive. He was experiencing uncontrolled post-orgasmic muscle spasms.

He could feel Douma's cock swelling inside.

“I hope you're ready, darling…”

The rainbow-eyed boy quickened his pace, bumping into his buttocks with every thrust. Akaza tried to wriggle free, the tingling of sensitivity in his ass aching so much, but his waist was firmly immobilized.

“D-Douma, please slow down… I can’t take it anymore…”

His grievances would remain in vain. Ruthless, Douma struck at the same strategic point.

At the sound of a guttural moan, Akaza felt a surge of heat deep within him. He realized afterward that the warm, viscous liquid was none other than Douma's semen. 

He had just ejaculated inside him, unprotected. While the sensation was initially seductive, a ball of anxiety formed in the pit of his chest after the release of endorphins and the return to reality.

Douma delivered a few slower and slower thrusts until he was completely empty. The withdrawal of his cock caused a filthy noise and Akaza felt the liquid flow from his stretched hole. He contracted his sphincter muscles to prevent any intestinal gas from escaping, but all he wanted was to expel all that sperm.

Douma stroked his upper back and placed a kiss on the back of his head.

“Are you okay, Akaza-kun?” he asked, very friendly.

Akaza suppressed the urge to punch him in the face.

“Yes, I’m fine,” he replied curtly.

This did not dampen Douma's good mood.

“Wait, I’ll get you a wet towel to clean you up!” he announced cheerfully.

And he slipped away, leaving Akaza prey to dark thoughts. Deep down, he was convinced he had disappointed his father. He saw himself as the worst kind of shit. He wiped away his tears with the back of his hand.

He wanted to go home, to his real home, to his father's side.

He finally sat up. He'd soiled the edge of the bed, and he felt sticky with the excess sweat and liquid sloshing around in his insides. He sniffed, his gaze lost, until he noticed the open drawer of the nightstand.

He saw some garish pink packaging, visible despite the dim light. Curious, he approached it.

His heart pounded at the disconcerting sight: dozens and dozens of condoms piled up in the drawer. It was impossible to determine the exact number.

He should have stopped there, but a morbid curiosity prompted him to open the second drawer. It contained a large number of bottles of lubricant.

His pupils quivered with rage... He wasn't born yesterday: he was just another trophy on his list of conquests... That bastard was bound to get laid at the slightest opportunity.

He wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible!

“Here, baby, I’m here!”

Douma stared at Akaza, who was standing in front of his nightstand, unsteady and unusually pale.

“I brought you a small basin and a towel! I can run you a bath if you like!”

“What’s this?” Akaza muttered, without looking at him.

“Uhhh… They’re condoms,” he replied normally, as if it were obvious.

Akaza stood in front of him, ready to fight.

“Why do you have so many? You're just a son of a bitch! You dare to reproach me when you fuck everything that comes!”

There was no longer any doubt about it: between his dubious comments and his sexual experience, it was undeniable that Douma had accumulated conquests, both among women and men.

“Oh, don't get angry, Akaza! It's not the same! You're special to me and you mean a lot to me, unlike my guests.”

Akaza took a step back, not sure he had understood correctly.

“W-what do you mean?”

Douma just smiled stupidly like he always did.

“Oh, I know! Do you want to eat at home? I'd like to introduce you to my parents; they'll love you! Father is finishing a ceremony and he'll be available!”

Akaza stared at him blankly, not really understanding this crazy sequence of events. He wanted to get out of there. That was his dominant thought.

He should have trusted that first impression.

In the end, he hadn't been opposed to a bath. The spacious bathroom, with its impressive bathtub, was like everything else. The candles had provided a setting conducive to romance. But Akaza hadn't had the heart for it. Douma had soaped him gently, lightly brushing over the bites he'd left. Akaza had gritted his teeth as the soap ran over the wounds. Douma had apologized profusely.

The subject hadn't come up again. Akaza had kept it in the back of his mind.

The idiot had offered him a pair of his new underwear. He couldn't help but ask if he could keep his used briefs. The pink-haired boy had rebelled, hurling an insult at him, much to Douma's dismay, who was happy to keep the souvenir.

Finally dressed in his school uniform, he accompanied Douma who guided him to the dining room.

Oddly enough, this room was even more gloomy than the others. The long table, the antique furniture, and especially those filthy portraits had something to do with it. The boy with the pink hair was being crushed by those emotionless faces gave him goosebumps.

He wasn't out of the woods yet when a woman dressed in a long dress appeared. Her black hair, tied back and falling over his shoulder, shone beautifully in the candlelight. She exuded a certain presence, but her fixed smile sent shivers down his spine.

“Oh, hello Mother! This is Akaza, who is a classmate of mine. I invited him home to spend some time together and asked him to stay for dinner with us.”

“Pleased to meet you, Madam.”

The woman nodded but didn't reply. She sat down at the table in silence, that creepy smile plastered on her lips. Akaza glanced at his neighbor, who also wore a charming smile.

Damn, they were all crazy in that family!

If he could just run away from here...

The heavy silence made him nervous.

“Erm… Thank you for your hospitality, Madam,” Akaza ventured.

All things considered, his adoptive parents weren't so bad...

Douma's mother nodded, her eyes closed in that damned smile. It was as if she were wearing a mask. Next to her, Douma seemed more human than her.

The family reunion would prove disastrous.

“Oh… A new face, that’s nice to see!” a sing-song voice called out.

A man wearing a black crown had just appeared. He placed his accessory on a nearby piece of furniture, clearly intended for storage.

“He is a classmate of our little boy.”

This woman had finally spoken her first words.

By deduction, he assumed that it was Douma's father.

“Hello, sir. My name is Akaza, and I’m pleased to meet you.”

Nonsense. A family of weirdos. In a flash, he had figured out the origin of Douma's personality. With parents like that, it was inevitable.

“You are a very polite boy, Akaza,” said the owner of the place, taking a seat beside his wife.

“How did your ceremony go, Father?”

“Wonderfully, as always. Thank God.”

Douma took Akaza to task.

“Father regularly presides over ceremonies. He devotes a lot of his time to others. He guides them toward the light,” he explained.

Akaza wondered where he'd just landed. What could he say to that? Well done for what you're doing?

He just smiled politely, like an idiot.

“You have majestic eyelashes, Akaza. Breathtakingly beautiful. A magnificent gift from God. Douma has inherited the angels too, with his unique eyes and the color of his hair.”

Douma seemed to sparkle under his father's praise.

“Do you worship God properly for this physical peculiarity, Akaza?” the sinister man asked.

“Uh… actually… I’m not religious at all.”

The deafening silence made him regret having dared to desecrate such words in their home. An act they must have considered blasphemous, even heretical. Akaza had nothing against religious beliefs, but here, their attitudes were smacking of sectarian tendencies.

“Oh, that's too bad, Akaza. You should reconsider your lack of faith. I can help lead you to God's path, if you wish.”

“That's kind of you, but it's not necessary.”

“I insist, my boy.”

Cold sweats ran down his spine. He had a madman in front of him.

He wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. Fortunately, Douma softened the macabre atmosphere of the place.

“There’s no need to force him, Father. The divine voice will reach him when he’s ready to receive it.”

His remark made his father smile.

“You're right, my boy. By the way, tomorrow I'll ask you to take care of some followers. Some of them need comforting.”

“With joy, Father! I will make them happy for a moment.”

Akaza looked at the tall blond like a curious beast.

“Perfect, I’ll be there too.”

“You're welcome, Father, as always! It's a shame because you missed an uplifting performance I just had with Akaza. You can watch us making love any time you want. I'm sure Akaza won't mind. Right, Akaza-kun?”

Time stood still, like a freeze frame. His heart raced like never before. Pain nailed him to his chair. All the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. The end result made him vomit.

He didn't know how, but he found the strength to get up.

“Please excuse me, but I really don't feel well. I'm going home.”

Were they even going to let him go unharmed? The father sat still. He didn't move, he didn't move, he didn't move. Get out, get out of here. The mother was still grinning like an idiot. Crazy, they were all crazy. Completely crazy, disgusting. His heart was pumping too fast. He mustn't faint, not here. Especially not here. For the second time in his life, he was asking God for help. The first time, he was of no use since the disease had taken his father. Please, make them let me go.

“Oh, too bad, Akaza. It doesn't matter, you'll come back next time. I will accompany you to the door!” cried Douma.

His stiff legs finally responded to his brain's commands. Akaza retrieved his bag.

As he was about to leave the dining room, he held his breath when he was called out by the owner of the place.

“Goodbye, Akaza. It was nice meeting you. You're welcome here.”

Rotten, crazy, a real lunatic. Fuck you. You and your wife.

The daylight had never seemed so beautiful. The air filtered through his nostrils. He was outside. Free. Alive. For God's sake, he was alive, unharmed. No, not his mind. It was broken. He looked at Douma, with his innocent smile. Tears welled up in his nose. He had grown close to this boy, he had formed a strong bond with him. He couldn't live without him anymore. He had just lost his virginity to him.

“Will you send me a message when you get home? You're very pale, you're worrying me, Akaza-kun. I can walk you home, I don't mind.”

He couldn't help it. Douma couldn't help it at all.

“Douma?”

His rainbow eyes widened, challenged by what they saw.

Tears streamed down his little Akaza's beautiful face.

“Please… Don’t come near me anymore… I don’t want to… I don’t want to see you anymore…”

“But Akaza! I don't understand what I did to you! I slept with you like you asked! You came! What did I do wrong? Tell me and I promise to be more careful next time! I'm deeply sorry if I hurt you! I didn't mean to hurt you!”

He didn't even know why he was apologizing to him. Douma couldn't help it. In this story, he was the first victim.

Akaza turned around without a word and headed back. Douma wasn't following suit.

Akaza knew what was going on in his head: Douma was giving him time to cool off before returning to the attack. But this time, everything will be different. For God's sake, everything will be different.

Chapter Text

One wondered by what miracle he had accomplished the feat of returning home. The return journey had been executed mechanically, in an empty shell. It was as if his mind had dissociated itself from his body.

On the bus, Akaza had deleted all his conversations with Douma and hastily blocked his phone number. These simple, futile actions wouldn't erase the indelible mark Douma had left on his life. He would cling to that tiny hope, but deep down, he knew that these efforts wouldn't be enough to move on.

Not after that.

When Akaza returned home, his adoptive parents had been waiting for him, worried that he wouldn't return after school. In the euphoria, the boy had completely forgotten to inform them that he was going to a friend's house. Another shattered shard at the mention of Douma.

Akaza didn't linger with his parents; he declined the meal prepared under a bell jar and slipped away to his room.

He put his bag down by the desk and hoisted himself into bed like a dead weight.

The minutes ticked by, his heart pounding in his skull. The migraine was nothing compared to the malaise eating away at him from within.

A feeling of despair had nestled deep within him. A state similar to the news of his father's death. For the second time in his life, Akaza had fallen into a state of worrying psychological distress.

The emotional pain was causing him to lose his footing. He was overwhelmed by a series of morbid images. He imagined throwing himself under the wheels of a bus or slitting his wrists. Anything to ruin himself and disappear.

He curled up in on himself, clutching the pillow with all his might against his torn chest. Trembling like a leaf, he flooded the tip of the pillow with an abundance of tears. He no longer had any control over the situation and, overwhelmed by this intense stress, he cracked under the pressure. He would not have imagined for a single second that he would sink into a new affliction, one that would pin him to the spot. He was in so much pain.

At that moment, he would have given anything he held dear to find comfort. Naturally, his thoughts turned to Douma, who had lent him a listening ear during long evenings.

Behind this extravagance lay a measure of empathy. Douma had provided him with moral support, and he had been able to use powerful words to make him react. In other words, the tall blond man had finally played his role as a friend to perfection.

This idyllic image shattered into a thousand pieces. It was highly likely that this benevolence was completely fabricated. Douma was pretending. He had probably always pretended, since day one. He didn't know what that entailed, he was simply foolishly replicating emotions to fit into the conventions expected by society.

He was mentally ill, nothing more, nothing less.

His heart sank with grief: anyone would have fallen into madness in this family context. Douma himself was a victim, and the most unfortunate thing about this story was that he was literally unaware of it.

He had grown up in a dysfunctional structure, and these abominable acts had been integrated into his upbringing. Furthermore, violence had been normalized there.

Akaza saw things a little more clearly: Douma wasn't particularly generous during sex. He distributed pleasure as he was asked. He made himself available to others, at his father's behest. A modern-day sex slave, exploited and sacrificed for some absurd deity.

The pink-haired boy felt nauseous, realizing the extent of the disaster.

He'd made love to this boy without protection, and Douma had ejaculated inside him. No one knew how many people Douma had slept with. Condoms in abundance meant he probably used them during sex, but apparently only to avoid any risk of pregnancy. Shit, could it be that he'd already gotten women pregnant? And what about men? Did Douma use protection?

The rising anxiety made him lose all sense of discernment. He rushed to the bathroom, undressed, and climbed into the shower stall. He soaped himself intensively, particularly in his intimate area. He applied soap to his finger, which he had inserted inside himself, hoping to combat the spread of a possible disease. He repeated this absurd and senseless gesture over and over again.

He wasn't naive: when he regained his senses, he wept silently, his forehead pressed against the wall. It was too late. Far too late. If Douma was carrying a disease, he had already infected him.

What to do, what to do, what to do?

Go to a pharmacy? Go to the doctor and explain the situation? Bring it up with his parents? Absolute humiliation.

The stress reached its peak when he searched the internet for information.

He pressed his knees to his chest, crying his eyes out. How had he gotten himself into this mess? He was up to his neck in the shit.

In this fog of despair, a figure appeared to him, a dazzling smile hanging on his lips. His executioner and his savior were one.

He missed Douma's voice, his stupid expressions, his clumsiness, his praise, his exuberance... His poor mocking jokes, his hangdog look, his extreme jealousy, his lame apologies... His hugs, his lips against his…

He looked so worried and disillusioned with Akaza, who was determined to give up on their friendship. That rueful expression was almost endearing.

The pink-haired boy had just lost his virginity, he had been treated like a prince during their intercourse and his body would have been asking for more if it hadn't been for this meeting with his parents.

He had trusted him enough to confide in him with such an important matter. Discovering the pleasures of the flesh with him had been a disturbing but pleasant experience.

Was Akaza even sure he'd heard Douma correctly? Hadn't he misinterpreted his sentence? No... There was no doubt about it: this family was adept at deviant practices. A fucking sect, nothing more, nothing less, with more than questionable morals.

You wanted to discover all the secrets of Douma, here you are.

No... Akaza didn't want this... Not like this... he was attached to this boy, undeniably, no matter what he might have said. It shouldn't have happened like this; from their first meeting, Akaza had wanted to rip his head off. It should have ended there: finish his year and conclude his school career. Draw a line under everyone who had crossed his path for a brief moment.

He had always been intrigued by this angelic-looking individual. An androgynous style, a boy who took care of his appearance, with a seductive tone of voice. A fucking arrogant man, who openly mocked others. A guy who didn't respect the privacy of others, who believed that everything was owed to him.

It shouldn't have happened this way.

He shrank even more, struck by this harsh reality.

Ironically, he missed Douma… Hearing his melodious voice might have soothed him. Akaza must not give in: how could he maintain a connection with him knowing what was going on in his own home?

Unfortunately, there weren't many solutions at hand, and Akaza was far too exhausted to consider the matter.

Facing the school environment the day after the incident was beyond his strength. Akaza wouldn't have been able to confront Douma, not after what he'd witnessed. He'd barely slept a wink all night, and abdominal pain and a headache had sabotaged any hope of a good night's sleep.

The suspicious presence of his shoes at the entrance and his jacket had alerted his adoptive mother, who had come upstairs to inspect. The bed still being occupied at this hour was unusual, given that her son was a very early riser. Indeed, Akaza's pale expression was worrying. He had declared that he must certainly be hatching something and that convalescence would be in order.

Akaza had failed to reveal the real reasons he was avoiding school. He needed to buy time. Think. Forget. Think of something else.

He kept looking at the family photo on his nightstand. If only his father were still alive... He had always given good advice. Caring, attentive, and wise, he would certainly have found the right words to comfort him.

There are no problems, only solutions. It was a code of life that his father had imposed on himself.

Easier said than done! How could Akaza put the facts into perspective? He had perfectly understood the insinuations of Douma's father, who was nothing more than a sexual predator who took advantage of the vulnerability of poor, misguided people. Douma was his first victim. Given his words and actions, it was highly likely that the boy was being exploited for sexual purposes to fuel this cursed cult! How could a father use his own offspring as a sacrifice and throw him into the lion's den? Had… Douma been tricked into having sexual relations with his own father, all validated by the mother of the family? At this thought, Akaza's stomach knotted. These speculations were well-founded, which increased his disgust.

Douma had integrated these abuses into his cognitive schema. No wonder he was off the mark. Respect for social conventions could not have been acquired given the upbringing he had received.

The boy with rainbow eyes devoted himself body and soul to satisfying his hosts' sexual urges. Akaza was unfortunately no exception. If he had known, he would never have allowed the Adonis to force his way into his private parts. What had happened at the hotel should never have happened. After all, Douma had crossed the line by forcing Akaza into a sexual act. He didn't want it, he was certain of it. His body may have reacted well, but he didn't want it. That should have already warned him: Douma was definitely not right.

And the other times, you didn't want to?

Akaza's heart sank: he had easily given in to the handsome Adonis's advances. His body was begging for more: he himself had suggested the act.

The urge to unblock his phone number and send him a message was constantly present. Alone in this bed, he felt incomplete. He laughed nervously, realizing that Douma's absence was weighing on him. For someone who wanted to rip his head off, it was quite comical to think about.

Did Akaza hate Douma as much as he claimed? Nothing was certain.

Send him a message to tell him what?

I miss you…

Absurd. Pathetic. How weak.

He couldn't live without a man as despicable as Douma. He had sunk so low. All because the tall blond man paid him so much attention. In his eyes, Akaza seemed like a god he worshipped.

Akaza felt alive, important, almost indispensable in someone else's eyes.

He bit his lip; he couldn't ignore yesterday's incident. It was far too serious... Was Douma's judgment flawed because of his beliefs?

The successive abuses would leave no one unscathed. Douma had no idea the scope of the words he used. He pleased others, period, what he was destined to do during his life, without question.

Friday… Akaza hadn't left his room. Since Wednesday, he hadn't even come downstairs to enjoy dinner. His mother brought it to him, but it was a lost cause: Akaza had lost his appetite and nausea was looming. His body had been under considerable stress for the past two days.

He had come to an obvious conclusion: he would no longer be able to return to class.

It was simply unthinkable. Seeing Douma every day would tear at his heart, especially since the tall blond man wouldn't be able to ignore him. He would throw himself at his neck, bursting with enthusiasm, loudly proclaiming that Akaza was his best friend. He would also promise to make him feel good between classes. Douma wouldn't be able to help himself. And Akaza was too weak to push him away.

He had to change schools; there was no other option. He had to draw a line under this shimmering, unpredictable rainbow. The one that was sucking him into a bubble of supreme pleasure.

A surge of anxiety washed over him: was he even capable of it?

With only a few months left before the end of his year, his project would be delayed again: could he tolerate another year of patience?

Anything would be more acceptable than seeing Douma again.

With a determined step, he had informed his adoptive parents. Without going into details, he had mentioned a general malaise, which was hindering his academic progress. Previously, he would never have deigned to reveal his feelings to them. The less they knew about him, the better he would be. Not anymore... He felt terribly alone. And the only person capable of giving him comfort was toxic.

His parents had acknowledged his suffering and offered him a compromise: two weeks of rest to give him time to think about the matter. They knew their child: Akaza was quite impulsive and took things too personally.

They knew nothing about him. They didn't even see that he was broken.

Giving up Douma was tantamount to a second emotional loss after his father.

Akaza didn't know if he would ever recover. His father's absence weighed heavily on him, the grieving process was far from over, and he had yet another to face.

He lacked mental strength. With this weakened psyche, devious thoughts circled like vultures.

He had spent the weekend in his room, cloistered in that bed, chained to dark thoughts. The images replayed in his head: the mother's fixed smile, the father's oppressive aura, Douma's carelessness as she ranted odious things, words no child should ever utter. This incest made him want to vomit! Especially since Douma was willing to drag Akaza into these abject practices.

His features dulled by questioning when Akaza had announced the break-off of all contact... The tall blond man suspected nothing... in his eyes, he had done nothing wrong to his friend, hence his astonishment at this sudden about-face.

Damn, he had no idea how angry Akaza was…

His body sweating, he threw back the blanket. The start of the week had become a familiar one; every day since the incident had been the same. Sooner or later, he would have to leave his den.

What for?

His adoptive parents were working, and he didn't particularly want to interact with them.

This new failure revived painful reflections. He no longer found any meaning in his existence. Survive and fight for what? What good would the completion of his projects do him? In any case, he was condemned to live the life of an outcast.

What's the point of fighting? He would be doing himself a great service by taking his own life.

On the other hand, he was convinced he would find his father again. Would he even be relieved to know that his son had taken his own life? Wouldn't Akaza disappoint him? After all, his father believed in him. In his final moments, the condemned man had repeated how proud he was of himself, proud to have had such a wonderful son.

He wiped away his silent tears. He was lost, torn by this indecision. As usual, he was unable to take a position.

He led such a pathetic life.

His phone buzzed loudly on his nightstand. He blinked, sniffed, and reached for his small device. He hadn't shared his new number… Who was trying to reach him? His parents?

“Hello Akaza, I'm sorry to bother you. Douma gave me your number. He told us you weren't feeling well on Wednesday, and you've been away since then, we're worried. I hope you're well. I took some notes for you.”

The message was signed by Kokushibo. That asshole Douma had been using an intermediary to contact him. His classmates had therefore expressed concern. Kokushibo had also taken responsibility for Akaza's academic delay.

A surge of warmth filled his aching heart. After all, people seemed to be concerned about his condition.

He pulled himself together: he didn't want to hear anything more about this high school. Kokushibo might have known about Douma's deviances and had probably played him. They could all go fuck themselves.

His first instinct was to delete the message and block his number.

Her trembling hands refused to comply. A fresh wave of tears streamed down his flushed cheeks, his chest tightening.

“Hello, Kokushibo. Would it be possible for you to come to my house? Please, I ask that you do not inform Douma or give him my address.”

What the hell was he playing at? Bringing a potential threat into his own home and running the considerable risk of escape? He was going off the rails, his sanity was crumbling. Was he really that broken? He would think so.

Why bring this individual into your walls?

To talk to him.

Talk to him about what? By the way, did you know that Douma was a real weirdo who lived in a family of sexual deviants?

Kokushibo had advised him to be gentle with Douma because he wasn't leading an easy life. Had he implied abuse at that point? When the tall blond man mentioned a malaise that had persisted for two weeks, was he referring to that?

No child can escape with an intact psyche.

Akaza swallowed: all the elements had been in front of him from the beginning, he simply refused to believe it...

The ringing of the doorbell unleashed a surge of anxiety. With a lump in his throat, Akaza unlocked the front door.

His parents wouldn't be back for another hour, which gave him plenty of wiggle room. Standing in the doorway, Kokushibo wore his traditional uniform and had let his long, flaming hair down.

Akaza didn't dare imagine Douma's reaction if he learned that Kokushibo had broken into his home.

Of the entire group of friends, Kokushibo was the one Akaza trusted the most. Besides, the apathetic boy had shown up alone and answered his distress call.

Noticing the sadly bewildered expression of his classmate, Kokushibo grasped the scale of the disaster.

"You really don't look well..." he defused.

Akaza gave him a condemned smile.

“Please come in… Thank you for coming quickly.”

Kokushibo remained silent, quite taken aback by his friend's general state.

The two comrades had taken refuge in Akaza's room. He had hesitated between baring his teeth, ready to attack, or lamenting. He chose the second option against his will. Pouring out his emotions against Kokushibo's chest was a good way to release the emotional overflow. These many hours dedicated to ruminations of all kinds had drained him, stripped him of his vital essence. Clumsily and taken aback, the crimson-haired boy patted his back, greatly destabilized by this blatant distress.

“Come on, come on, Akaza… Pull yourself together… What’s going on?”

Akaza bit his lip. How could he possibly answer that? The question was so simple.

“I… I’m not going back to class…”

“Oh really? And why?”

The astonishment that seemed genuine proved that Kokushibo knew nothing. Douma hadn't taken him into his confidence. Yet, he had given him his phone number, with a very specific idea in mind. Should Akaza be cautious?

Akaza couldn't help but get to the heart of the matter, bluntly.

“I don’t want to see Douma anymore.”

Kokushibo burst into uncontrollable nervous laughter. Collecting himself, he played down the situation.

“I understand! I sometimes want to kill him too! But don't get so worked up, you know him, he's stupid!”

Akaza scraped his nails against his trousers, his knuckles contracting to the point of causing sharp muscle pain.

“You… you don't understand, Kokushibo. I just don't want to see him anymore.”

Kokushibo drew on his recent memories. There had been no altercation between them the previous Wednesday. At least, not in class.

“Did something happen last week?”

Overcome with shame, the pink-haired boy lowered his head. A wave of cold sweat crept down his back, as if a cloak of ice had covered his shoulders.

“I lied to get out of going with you on that outing… I went to his house instead.”

The apathetic boy changed his usual impassiveness to a more than sorry expression.

“Oh, Akaza… You shouldn’t have done that…”

The new student shuddered: Kokushibo had just confirmed his doubts; he was well and truly aware of the dubious activities taking place in this family circle.

Before he could even reply, his comrade's tongue was loosened.

“I only went to his house once and I have very bad memories of it… I talked about it at length with Douma, who always assured me that everything was fine at his house… His parents are not clear… Everything suggests that they are mentally ill, with completely disjointed speeches. They are dangerous in my opinion. And Douma is in the middle of all this… I tried to talk to him but he confused me, trying to avoid the subject. I was never able to distinguish between fact and fiction. When I see his behavior and his very changeable moods, I am convinced that something is going on… and your reaction worries me even more. You go to his house and disappear from circulation. Then, you tell me you want to leave the school. What the hell happened there?”

Akaza, speechless, could not bring himself to reveal what he had witnessed. Oddly enough, he showed loyalty to Douma: the latter had not revealed to Kokushibo the dark secrets his family held. The pink-haired boy kept a low profile: it was inconceivable for him to betray Douma, despite recent events.

“Nothing special, it has nothing to do with it…”

He was a terrible liar. He had gotten himself into a mess by welcoming Kokushibo into his home.

Unconvinced, the apathetic boy returned to the charge.

“Why did you go to his house?”

It was beyond his strength: Akaza avoided eye contact, too embarrassed. He shifted nervously, cracking his knuckles. God, he felt so ridiculous undergoing this interrogation. No credible lie could be exploited, leaving Akaza in a crushing silence.

Kokushibo wasn't born yesterday: he had noticed strange behavior in his two classmates for several days. He was far from imagining what was really going on between them. Everything had become crystal clear. He should have noticed sooner.

“Okay… I understand better why Douma threw a fit at the table during the trip,” he remarked without judging.

This only worsened the already pronounced pigmentation on his face. Akaza's embarrassment was such that he would have preferred to crawl into a mouse hole. A feeling he could have done without.

Kokushibo patted his tense shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Listen, Akaza… I have a lot of respect for you and I have no business interfering in what doesn't concern me, but Douma is deeply affected by the situation. I care a lot about that idiot… He doesn't even know why you're angry with him. I'm asking a lot of you, but would it be possible for you to explain yourself to him? He at least deserves to know the reasons why you want to end your friendship.”

Arrange a face-to-face meeting with Douma to clarify the situation? In an ideal world, this would be the most appropriate approach, but in reality, Akaza lacked the strength to carry this burden. Delving into the heart of this rainbow that outlined the horizon would revive memories of diametrically opposed content.

Akaza didn't want it... The sooner he left this high school, the sooner he would forget this extraordinary being.

His inner voice kept echoing, making his whole body shiver. He knew he was doomed if he had the misfortune to ask that question. Akaza wasn't an asshole… He didn't deliberately seek to hurt others.

“How… How is Douma?”

His feverish, powerless timbre, before an authority figure.

Will he make it? When will he be able to go home? How long does he have left to live?

The childlike figure, innocently naive, who stood before the medical staff.

The same endless questions. The same defeatist speeches from doctors... The gradual deterioration of his dying father.

This conflict with Douma echoed the trauma still deeply rooted in his mind. Cutting ties with Douma would mean giving up on the only person who reminded him of his father. That lightness, feeling loved for who he was, was priceless.

Douma had accepted Akaza with his flaws and injuries. Kokushibo was the first to recognize that Douma's actions toward Akaza were excessive. The Adonis wasn't pretending.

Douma cared about him, that was undeniable.

And it was fucking mutual.

He who was so determined... now he was at an impasse. He had to arm himself with all his courage for the last time.

“Not very well, I'm not going to lie to you. He barely talks to us. He's very upset by your argument.”

Kokushibo's expressive eyes were the deciding factor. The crimson-haired boy was showing concern for the tall blond. Akaza had to take it upon himself. Face his old demons.

After this clarification, he would decide. In the meantime, he would sail into uncharted waters. This was his daily routine while visiting Douma, after all.

He'd never been so consumed by stress, not to mention the episode of his dying father. He still hadn't unblocked Douma's number, for fear of going back on his decision. The slightest misinterpreted word could have added fuel to the fire. He'd gotten ready in a hurry, paced his room before heading to school.

He could back out at any moment, but the desire for clarity overcame his resentment. He had made a promise to Kokushibo, and he intended to keep it. Then, he had to shamefully admit that seeing Douma again didn't leave him unmoved.

With a heavy heart and a lump in his throat, he slid open the door separating him from the classroom.

“Oh! There you are again, Akaza!!!” a shrill voice pierced his eardrums.

Daki, very excited by this unexpected arrival, stood up and threw himself into his arms.

Akaza didn't protest. He had a more urgent problem to deal with.

“I missed you! What happened to you? Why didn't you come to class anymore? Were you sick?” she bombarded him with questions.

The pink-haired boy gently pushed her away by the shoulders.

“Uh… Yes, but I’m better now,” he replied succinctly, “if you’ll excuse me…”

Indeed, another person caught his attention.

Douma sat casually in his seat, staring at the blackboard hanging in front of him. He barely flinched at the girl's outbursts. Akaza didn't back down so close to the goal.

Swallowing his pride and putting this abject incident aside, he ventured across from his desk.

The usually mischievous rainbow, covered in malice, was dull, almost lifeless, devoid of any sparkle. His face was drawn with obvious signs of fatigue. At least Douma had raised his head, but the sight of his little Akaza didn't bring back a smile, quite the opposite. The already stifling atmosphere had just grown heavier.

“Can… can we talk?” Akaza ventured.

A pair of incredulous eyes drowned in his gold-filled irises. Douma's posture remained rigid.

“No. I want you to leave me alone,” the tall blond man muttered under his breath.

What a farcical effect! Being snubbed by Douma was something he hadn't expected. Douma had been chasing him until now, and Akaza didn't like the role reversal. Nevertheless, he respected his decision. No need to rush him. He'd see about it during breaks.

Akaza returned to his quarters with Kokushibo, delighted to see him back in class.

After almost a week of absence, nothing had changed. The students were still as unruly and restless as ever until their teacher arrived. His attentive neighbor had taken notes for him during his absence and retrieved his course papers. Akaza welcomed this initiative.

He wasn't really focused on the lesson. He was looking for a way to establish a dialogue with this refractory Adonis. How to deal with Douma's sinister mood?

He must not have lingered long, as a piece of paper had landed on the desk. Would he risk unfolding it? What could he expect?

“Why did you block my number? You hurt my feelings so much. I thought we were friends. What you did was disgusting.”

Being repressed by Douma irritated him to no end, but Akaza restrained himself from reacting impulsively. He kept a low profile.

“I'm sorry I hurt your feelings. I needed time to think.”

This wasn't entirely false. Meeting his parents had shaken him up. It had required a long period of introspection.

“You needed time to snuggle up in Kokushibo’s arms, didn’t you?”

Damn, he was making a jealous scene again! Kokushibo had sworn he wouldn't tell Douma about his impromptu visit home.

“Nothing to do with it! Nothing ever happened with Kokushibo, you're imagining things!”

“Why did you ignore me then?”

Akaza clutched the crumpled piece of paper, devastated. Douma had no idea where the problem lay. Hell, he hadn't even realized why Akaza had walked away. It only added insult to injury: was it even possible to put the pieces back together?

“I'd rather discuss this in person. Could we have some time alone during the break?”

Radio silence from Douma. Akaza sighed: it wasn't a done deal yet, but he had managed to make a first approach.

The first two hours of class had gone smoothly. The two boys had refrained from exchanging any further words.

As the bell rang, announcing this break, Akaza gave Kokushibo a weak smile before standing up. He retreated to the desk occupied by the two colorful students.

“Akaza! Could I talk to you for two minutes?” Daki intervened.

This wasn't the time to deal with her... He hid his nervousness.

“Not now. But later today, it will be doable, okay?”

The girl nodded, seemingly disappointed by his distant attitude.

To avoid arousing suspicion (he had failed Daki, so he couldn't imagine calling out Douma in front of her), he slipped out of the classroom, hoping to be joined by the tall blond man.

The seconds seemed endless, the suspense came to an end with the appearance of Douma.

Perfect, he was already less defensive. Akaza took the lead by escorting him into an empty classroom.

Being alone with him made him break out in a cold sweat. He rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants. He wasn't used to being intimidated by someone else. After all, Akaza had an explosive temper.

“What do you want to talk about, Akaza?”

Douma opened the hostilities. Arms crossed, he seemed closed to discussion.

Akaza swirled his tongue seven times in his mouth before formulating a suitable response, without appearing aggressive. He couldn't afford to blame Douma for something he wasn't responsible for.

“I needed to take stock of myself after what happened…”

“I made love to you like you asked. I don't understand what I did wrong... you get angry at me for no reason,” Douma interrupted.

Holy shit, here we are.

His resigned air made him uncomfortable. How could he discuss such a serious subject with someone who didn't understand the consequences?

“It has nothing to do with that… I'm not mad at you… I'm mad at your parents.”

Douma raised an eyebrow, mouth wide open, not expecting this remark.

“My parents?” he wondered. “They didn’t do anything to you. On the contrary, Father likes you very much and would like to see you again.”

Of course…This twisted man was longing to capture new prey in his web. Another person to abuse.

Douma was only going to make his case worse.

“He finds you polite and very handsome. You're exactly the type of boy he likes.”

Akaza held back all the disgust that lay dormant within him as best he could. A time bomb on the verge of detonation.

Akaza could not remain impassive.

“Do you realize what you’re saying?! Your father is nothing but a disgusting pervert! You…”

The pink-haired boy paused.

“How many people have you slept with?”

“Huh? Why are you talking about this?”

“Tell me how much!”

Douma searched through his memories.

“I don't really know… But it doesn't matter, Akaza-kun! With you, it's magic! I can't live without you anymore…”

The tall blond man leaned forward to steal a light kiss, but Akaza brushed off his affectionate gesture.

“What your father is forcing you to do is not done. It's completely disgusting.”

“Ah, I understand! You don't want Father here while we make love? I didn't think it would make you so angry! I didn't know you were modest.”

This time, Akaza exploded.

“What the hell! Do you realize what you're saying?! You're so out of it! You live in a family of degenerates! A fucking cult! Psychopaths who force you to fuck with equally twisted people! They have no right to do this to you!”

Douma wasn't that taken aback. As if he wasn't taking things seriously.

“What are you talking about, Akaza? I don't feel obligated: I offer my body to each disciple, as a token of absolute gratitude to our Almighty divinity. One day, I will take on the role of Guide in my turn, to accompany each miserable soul towards eternal salvation.”

Akaza bit his lip. How could he reason with someone who had been enlisted from the start?

“Don’t worry, Akaza! I don’t feel anything for other people… You’re the one I love ! I don’t want us to fight anymore… I’ve been in so much pain these last few days. I’ve been imagining all sorts of things!”

He imprisoned his hands.

“With you, everything is different. I feel good with you! You are my best friend, you mean so much to me! Without you, I am nothing…”

Douma tightens his grip.

“When we made love, it was amazing… Fabulous! I’ve never felt so alive… Promise me you won’t get mad at me like that again… I was mad at you, I’m sorry… I thought I’d lost you forever…”

With a heavy heart, Akaza pressed his forehead against Douma's firm chest. The muffled sounds challenged the tall blond man. The mutterings became a little more audible.

“You said you wanted to see me smile, didn't you? So… please… Promise me you won't do that kind of thing again… I don't want anyone else laying a hand on you…”

The incessant sniffing caused Douma to pull away from his little Akaza. The boy he was particularly fond of was wracked with tears, which ruined his beautiful eyes. Seeing Akaza in this state made him react.

“Oh, Akaza… I don't like seeing you like this… Listen, if you're that jealous, I can stop having my guests over. I'll do anything for you, you know that. You're so important to me. I don't want to lose you.”

Douma hadn't really grasped Akaza's powerful implication, but his reaction had brought comfort. He would do anything for him; he didn't want to lose him. The weight of the words was so revealing. Receiving this unconditional love was a blessing.

“You're not mad at me anymore, are you?” Douma ventured.

Akaza didn't blame him. He regularly berated himself for letting his guard down, something he had refrained from doing. Others were nothing but embarrassment, for which Akaza had no time to waste. He was far too weak.

Pointless, stupid, pathetic feelings that would end up making him suffer sooner or later. He had already experienced this to his cost. Douma was no exception.

It couldn't be said that the problem had been solved. Akaza had vital information at his disposal: should he inform the teachers of the violence Douma was suffering? Alert the police? And then? What would happen? The pink-haired boy had never really tolerated being placed in foster care. Douma seemed unaffected by his situation, as if he had perfectly integrated it into his lifestyle. But was that a valid argument for leaving him in a deviant and abusive family structure? Akaza would risk creating more damage. If they were friends as they claimed, Akaza couldn't just stand by and do nothing. What to do? Perhaps ask Kokushibo for advice?

No, the crimson-haired boy wasn't aware of the heart of the matter. His reaction would be unpredictable, and Akaza's loyalty dissuaded him from revealing this secret without first informing Douma. 

He was completely lost. His leg trembled nervously as he cracked his knuckles, wracked by rising stress.

Another handwritten message came to disturb his thoughts. Was this the right time to read it?

“I'm so glad we had this chat. I missed you terribly…”

A glimmer of hope lit up his golden irises. This kind of message warmed his heart. They could have tasted true happiness if it hadn't been for his cursed parents.

Douma probably wouldn't have been the same if he'd grown up in a normal family. Would he have been so affectionate? So awkward with others and exuberant? Akaza had grown to love every one of his quirks. His unpredictability brought a lot of spice to their relationship. Good heavens, even her extreme jealousy gave him undeniable satisfaction. Her devotion to making him feel good...

He was really starting to believe that Douma had the ability to read his mind with the next piece of paper.

“I want to eat your ass. I love the taste of your cum, I can't get enough of it.”

Akaza took a deep breath and glanced out the window. He was facing what he feared most: in Douma's presence, his hormones no longer responded to anything, impairing all sense of discernment. By severing the ties, Akaza would be freed from this burden, he would no longer be seduced by temptation. Did he really want this? These last few days without the slightest contact had been incredibly painful.

He expressed this burning need to snuggle into his arms. That said, he couldn't magically forget the hostile family climate in Douma.

Why did it have to be so complicated? Akaza could have spared himself all the embarrassment.

The Adonis returned with another explicit message.

The pink-haired boy declined his offer for the time being, coming up with the first excuse that came to mind. Of course, he had to reassure the idiot, who had imagined all sorts of crazy scenarios.

You said you wanted to see me smile, didn't you? So... please... Promise me you won't do that kind of thing again...

He found it hard to believe that he had used such a low-level ploy to get a favorable reaction from Douma.

What nonsense. Nonsense. Pathetic.

The small group was about to sit down to eat. As he gathered his things, a raspy voice tickled his eardrums. The young girl was twirling a lock of hair around her fingers.

“Can I talk to you for a minute, Akaza?”

Damn it, he managed to get away with it the first time. He couldn't back out of her forever.

“Uh, yes,” he said regretfully.

“We’ll sit outside, will you join us after?” asked Kokushibo.

Daki nodded. Douma and Kokushibo set off, the tall blond man more cheerful than ever, happy to have his little Akaza back.

“I’m listening,” retorted the pink-haired boy.

The girl avoided his gaze, visibly uncomfortable.

“Can we talk one-on-one?”

Akaza nodded. The sooner this scatterbrain spoke to him, the sooner he would get on with his business.

The two students retreated into a neighboring, deserted classroom.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

Daki's already made-up complexion turned a more pigmented shade.

“I'm glad to see you again. I was starting to worry about your absence.” His modulated voice produced a more than pleasant sound, the opposite of his nasal vocal cords.

“Oh… I wasn’t feeling well… I rested.”

Why the hell had she brought him here for this?

This seemed important given his insistence.

“Actually… uh… I've been thinking about you a lot… You know, I really want to spend a little more time with you.”

Akaza sighed, unwilling to bother with such a trivial matter. He already had the Douma incident on his mind, which was more urgent to deal with than the snob's turmoil.

He was petrified, rooted to the spot when plump lips slicked with scented lip balm pressed against his. His eyes widened, his heart pounding, as he realized the meaning of these actions.

Daki had just kissed him. Why? Holy shit, why?

The kiss was far from unpleasant. Besides, he should feel honored to please a girl. Douma didn't extrapolate the emergence of the girl's feelings. Had he played matchmaker? That would be insane.

What was even worse: Akaza made a quick comparison between the kisses already exchanged. To his horror, he realized that Daki's was insipid, tasteless. It hadn't caused any physiological changes.

Without meaning to, Daki had just activated the last cog in the chain. He could no longer deny it, which increased his sense of dismay.

“Daki… I…”

The girl's eyes sparkled with passionate love.

“I am very flattered but I cannot…”

All the younger sister's euphoria had just collapsed like a house of cards.

“It’s absolutely not against you… It’s just that…”

He swallowed before spitting out the fateful words.

“I'm not attracted to girls, you understand?”

Daki blinked, once, twice, before grasping the implication of such a confession. She looked horrified, terribly embarrassed.

“Oh, Akaza... I didn't know... I'm sorry... If I had known, I would never have dared to…”

Daki nervously played with one of her white locks.

Akaza, however, took the trouble to take her in his arms, hoping to dissipate the discomfort.

“If this can stay between us, I would be very grateful. I don't fully accept it.”

“Oh, yes, definitely. I'm glad you told me… That said, can we still see each other after school?”

Akaza remembered that the girl had already arranged outings with Douma, just for a date. What could they have possibly done together, knowing that Daki was attracted to him? Had she tried to get information from Douma?

“No problem! Sorry I wasn't there last time.”

He didn't believe a word of it. While Daki, Kokushibo, and Gyutaro were out on the town, Akaza was enjoying himself with Douma.

Akaza was growing impatient. Busy near the restroom, he watched for every coming and going. He was relieved to see Douma's graceful figure, arriving like a valiant knight.

“I ran as fast as I could. I was surprised to see only Daki return. It worried me…”

While Daki had left to join the small group, Akaza had unblocked Douma's number in the meantime, discovering the avalanche of messages and missed calls. The new student had asked if the tall blond boy could meet him in the main hallway, near the restrooms. Douma had hastened to honor his presence.

Akaza's decomposed face did not reassure Douma.

“Are you okay, Akaza-kun? Are you sick?”

Akaza glanced around. Judging the coast clear, he invited Douma into the restroom. The latter didn't object, perplexed by his friend's strange actions.

Akaza seemed very nervous to his senses. He searched the nearby stalls before pulling him out by his tie. With a trembling hand, the pink-haired boy locked the cramped room, sealing them off from the rest of the world.

He released all the frustration he'd accumulated by literally throwing himself at Douma. Their teeth clashed in the search for dominance. Neither seemed willing to admit defeat. As their tongues intertwined, amidst a knot of wet noises, Douma slid into Akaza's pants, hovering over the small of his back before fiercely gripping his buttocks. This simple contact was enough to propel Akaza forward, his mind unable to control itself. This impromptu kiss shared against his will with Daki had unleashed his carnal attraction towards Douma: it was him and him alone that Akaza desired. He could no longer deny the facts.

During this time, the amber-eyed boy had forgotten the origin of their conflict. The deviant family environment that gravitated around him temporarily no longer existed. 

Akaza got down to business by unbuckling Douma's uniform. He himself was surprised by this burst of initiative that was usually reserved for the boy with rainbow eyes.

His boiling hormones drove him to kneel on the filthy ground. Akaza was driven by an indomitable will, a true caged lion.

With a few swift maneuvers, he freed Douma's penis. The sight of these masculine attributes sent a wave of thrills through him: the porcelain-skinned boy was a magnificent being, and his cock was no exception. Akaza was surprised that such thoughts crossed his mind. Without protest, he knew he had been spellbound from the moment he laid eyes on him.

He analyzed every bump of that intrepid, reddish glans, which was fidgeting at the thought of receiving special treatment.

Akaza was dying to taste it. His mouth was watering.

The pink-haired boy delivered the first lick against the urethra, exceedingly slow, as if to awaken his taste buds during the tasting of a refined dish. A prolonged exhalation from Douma had been the signal that had sharpened his senses.

Akaza worked hard at the reddish tip, swirling his tongue over every smooth surface. Douma had done him a world of good by doing this, and Akaza hoped to get him off too.

The pink-haired boy didn't express the slightest hint of disgust at the thought of receiving a penis in his mouth. On the contrary, the salty scent of the pre-cum whetted his appetite.

Akaza wanted more…

Piqued by a surge of curiosity, Akaza slid the length into his mouth, giving it a triumphant welcome. He pumped it back and forth, venturing a little further with each attempt.

Douma's low moans prompted him to continue. Akaza would never have suspected that he felt desire while performing fellatio. Indeed, his own compressed erection was hurting like hell, as he was so desperate for delicious friction.

A pressure against the back of his head made his eyes widen: Douma's oozing cock hit the back of his throat with full force. Naturally, and under the effect of surprise, he felt a terrible, loud heave. He caught his breath abruptly. He didn't have the leisure to be offended: Douma was using his head to impale himself in this narrow, damp corridor once again.

Akaza felt tears welling up in his eyes as he felt as if he were about to suffocate. Douma showed no delicacy: he was seeking a fiery wave of pleasure on his penis.

His plaintive moans shook the thin walls of the stall, and the accompanying sound of gag reflexes left no doubt about the activity underway, had anyone been unfortunate enough to enter the public restroom.

“Damn, Akaza… Your slutty mouth feels so good…”

His snide comment sent an electric pulse through his groin. Damn, being insulted while sucking him off made him hard beyond belief. This guy had dragged him into a world of debauchery.

Akaza quickened the pace of his oral movements, despite the stiffness in his jaw muscles. His throat was beginning to tingle from the strain.

Douma, however, had the decency to grant him brief moments of respite, letting him catch his breath, before attacking again.

Enmeshed in sexual euphoria, Akaza unbuttoned his own pants and cleared a space for his next move. He paused briefly, long strings of drool trickling down his chin. He moistened a finger and ran it into the sensitive area.

He sucked on that hard, wet cock again, while he playfully stroked his opening with the pad of his middle finger. The cursory brushing of the external nerve endings increased his sexual appetite, which prompted him to give himself body and soul to the fellatio.

Amused, Douma admired his best friend's fall.

“Well, Akaza… Do you like sucking me while you finger yourself? You’re a naughty boy… And boys like you get an exemplary punishment…”

To mark the occasion, Douma grabbed this active head and invited himself into its oral cavity, unleashing a series of rigorous thrusts.

Akaza choked every time his cock hit the back of his throat. Despite the painful discomfort, he pressed against his entrance and inserted his finger. He began to play with his burning orifice, massaging the mass of muscle.

The pink-haired boy let out muffled cries, breathing heavily through his nose. Douma watched these unmistakable signs of pleasure.

“Your mouth is so warm, so inviting, so pleasant to fuck. You take my dick without flinching…”

Akaza's entire body quivered with excitement. Without the slightest hesitation, his ring finger pierced the thin membrane in turn, the two fingers coordinating well-calibrated back-and-forth movements.

The new student couldn't hold back any longer: he was expressing the need to have Douma inside him, penetrating him with such vigor, as during their first sexual encounter. This mental projection tore from him a long, plaintive moan, which made the tall blond bow.

“I'm going to fill your mouth… I'm going to make it overflow with cum… Is that what you want?”

Akaza consented, sucking the entire length of his own accord, torturing his already sore throat. He was quickly intercepted by Douma, who stilled his head. A flurry of thrusts was assigned a frenetic rhythm.

The swollen penis took pride of place in his throat and Douma's sensual moans heralded the sweet release.

Akaza jumped as a warm, viscous liquid flowed down his throat. Douma's pelvis moved ever so slightly, eventually becoming completely still, just long enough to empty.

Akaza withdrew after recovering from his orgasm. His face was a mess, soaked with tears and profuse drool. The salty taste of seminal fluids disturbed his taste buds. Akaza rolled his Adam's apple, swallowing the results of his misdeeds.

Douma pulled him to his feet with distressing ease. The doll-faced boy gazed at his physically disordered little Akaza. The flow of saliva had even stained the top of his school uniform. His messy hair and watery eyes were the height of eroticism. The tall blond boy quickly brought Akaza's soiled fingers into his mouth, sucking them greedily, so as not to lose a single juicy drop from his ass.

“Hmm… I love your smell… and the exquisite taste of your pussy...”, Douma cooed, conquered.

Akaza regained his senses. He angrily forced his partner onto the toilet. In motionless silence, the pink-haired boy quickly removed his own shoes and pants, then climbed onto Douma's lap.

The semi-limp cock didn't stay that way for long as Akaza rolled his hips against it, hoping to elicit a favorable bodily reaction. The new student didn't stop there: he pressed his lips against Douma's in a rather abrupt attempt.

The tall blond man's delicate hands were groping Akaza's generous buttocks. He couldn't help but giggle at the enthusiasm his partner was displaying.

“Well then, Akaza… If I expected this… You really want it. What a good little slut you are…”

“Shut up…” replied the new student.

Akaza spat into his palm and made masturbatory movements on Douma's stiff member. When he judged it was sufficiently lubricated, the young boy positioned himself on his knees. Akaza used his hand wrapped around the prepared cock to brush against his orifice. The head of the cock teased his opening, which feverishly spread the anal walls. Akaza rolled his hips to better impale himself against this delicious anatomy.

He let out a sensual moan as he finally sat completely on Douma's cock, after a few repeated maneuvers.

This new position offered new perspectives: the hardened sex explored tactical zones and Akaza shuddered with pleasure.

Douma grabbed Akaza's sculpted hips and delivered his first thrusts. The pink-haired boy leaned on his shoulders, his nails digging through his school uniform. Akaza quickly found himself accompanying Douma in sexual acts, rocking his hips with each of the tall blond's energetic thrusts.

Akaza was enjoying an explosive cocktail of divine sensations: Douma was hitting his prostate perfectly. This position aimed at stimulating the small gland, the amber-eyed boy was swimming in nirvana.

His heart was pounding, panicked by overexposure to stimuli. Mechanically, he curled his toes, tensing his pelvic floor.

“Hmm… you’re so tight around my cock… I love it… It feels so good…”

Douma wasn't the only one enjoying himself: Akaza was panting with difficulty, holding himself back from screaming. His legs squeezed the sides of the tall blond man, who was enjoying the situation.

“You're so sexy, Akaza… I love seeing your beautiful face fall with pleasure…”

Douma pressed his lips against the exposed part of his neck. The tips of his teeth, lacking in finesse, grazed the delicate skin.

Akaza didn't hold it against him. He was stoned, in a hypnotic trance. After all, he had just lived through several nightmarish days, prey to morbid ruminations.

Nothing like it to release all that negative energy.

There he was, riding that sumptuous Adonis in the school bathroom. At that moment, he no longer cared about the gruesome scene he had witnessed during his visit to Douma's.

Only the quest for the climax of pleasure mattered.

A particularly well-aimed thrust tore a cry from him.

He couldn't keep his cool.

“Fuck me, Douma! Fuck me!” Akaza begged, close to tears.

He tensed his muscles even more, on the verge of an imminent explosion. Douma was hitting the same strategic point over and over again.

A suffocating ball formed in his lower abdomen, all his senses on alert. Every sensation was heightened in every scarred cell of his body.

Douma made his neck a single web, purple with hungry fangs.

Akaza saw the stars.

“Fuck, Douma… I-I’m going to cum…”

Merciless, the handsome Adonis hammered his harmless prostate, without any barrier of defense.

The frantic pace of the thrusts was beyond Akaza's control.

The pink-haired boy lost himself in an orgasm of unprecedented power. His muscles tensed at the painful ejaculation. His horribly sensitive orifice could not cope with Douma's persistent thrusts.

“Douma… Please, I can’t take it anymore…”

He was sinking, at the mercy of his emerging feelings.

He couldn't deny it anymore, he was much more attached to this guy than he let on. This pain in the ass who had barged into his life uninvited.

What a pain.

“Oh, where have you two been?” asked Gyutaro, seeing the two young boys take their seats next to them.

Akaza had washed his face and tidied up his outfit. As for Douma, he displayed a good mood that nothing and no one could tarnish. He was floating on a little cloud, which enhanced the landscape with his eyes, which were matched with unique shades of color.

“Akaza-kun and I had a lot to talk about after several days of absence!” Douma exclaimed, without elaborating.

Akaza watched Daki and Kokushibo's reaction: would either of them be suspicious of what had just happened? In any case, they didn't hint at it, and they didn't give each other any accusing looks. For the first time in a long time, the small group of friends had been able to enjoy a lunch break in a friendly atmosphere.

It couldn't be said that Akaza was fully focused on the afternoon classes after the appetizing fuck he'd just received. He stared out the window, tapping his fingers on the desk, then swept his gaze towards the desk by the door: from where he was, and with Daki blocking his way, he couldn't see that flaming hair. He sighed, disappointed. It was truly heartbreaking to be away from him, when only a few meters separated them.

Pensively, he questioned the exact nature of their relationship. He didn't like the ambiguity, and it was impossible for him to determine what Douma was thinking. Was he on the same wavelength as him? Were they just friends? Or something more? You don't sleep with your friends—at least, that was what Akaza believed.

Should he take the plunge or not? Would he take the risk? There would be no turning back if he did.

One thing was certain: they had to get to the bottom of this. Akaza couldn't bear to live in this constant uncertainty.

Both determined and afraid, he scribbled on a small piece of paper, which he passed to Kokushibo, who distributed it to another student before arriving at his destination.

The answer was quick to come. Taking a deep breath, the pink-haired boy unfolded the message and scanned it, his stomach in knots.

“Oh, Akaza! With pleasure! I’ll come by your place after class, thank you for your invitation, it means a lot to me, you have no idea how much!”

A small drawn heart embellished this innocent little text.

Akaza surprised himself increasingly every day: He was a million miles from imagining that he would open the door of his house to his sworn enemy, the one he had hated since the beginning of school. A hostile relationship between them, which had evolved at an exponential speed.

It seemed that Akaza had never really hated him.

Chapter Text

“Wow! Your place is so pretty!”

From the moment he crossed the threshold, Douma had been marveling at every knick-knack that crossed his field of vision. His enthusiasm was inappropriate: it wasn't as if he lived locked in a cellar, cut off from the outside world.

Unless... ?

At this thought, Akaza's heart sank: he couldn't rule out another form of abuse within Douma's home. His (almost) unfailing cheerfulness didn't fit with this hypothesis, but perhaps the tall blond man was capable of concealing his true emotions. Who knew what might be going through his mind? Analyzing an eccentric and atypical character like him proved difficult.

The pink-haired boy didn't quite share his overflowing enthusiasm, too preoccupied with the monumental mistake he'd just made: letting Douma into his home wasn't the brightest idea of ​​his life. Revealing his living space, letting him intrude even further into his private life—was that really wise? His attachment to the tall blond boy had reached the point of no return. After sharing so many special moments, Akaza would no longer be able to simply end their relationship.

Although it was horrifying to admit, he was far more attached to Douma than he'd realized. This uninvited jerk, who'd barged into his life, was making his days more lively. Every day spent with him brought its share of unpredictability. The pervasive blandness of his life was gone.

The new student questioned all his choices: he would never have suspected Douma's visit to his family home when they first met. On the contrary, Akaza had harbored a subtle resentment from their very first conversation. It had taken that idiot to show him any interest. What's more, he showered Akaza with praise. Douma had managed to make himself indispensable: by any means necessary, he insinuated himself into people's lives and into their orbit. The trap was closing. Impossible to resist once you'd fallen into his clutches.

There he was, strutting around his house, despite the horrific experience Akaza had with Douma's parents. That hadn't stopped him from giving him oral sex and having sex with him in the school toilets. And now, inviting him over. What a jerk, he really shouldn't have given him so much freedom.

“Aren’t your parents here?” Douma ventured.

Akaza looked surprised.

“Why are you asking the question?”

The tall blond man could not hide his enthusiasm.

“I would love to meet them!”

Akaza was hostile to the project, to say the least.

“No point…” he muttered, with a hint of bitterness.

His adoptive parents wouldn't be back for at least another hour, so Akaza wouldn't have to deal with their unwelcome presence. Without a word, he led his unexpected guest down the stairwell, further compromising the security of his sanctuary. The moment Douma entered his room, Akaza knew he had sealed his fate. There was no escape; it was irrevocable.

Douma didn't hesitate, settling in. He placed his schoolbag at the foot of the bed and gazed intently at a sacred object on the bedside table: the family photo frame. It showed his father, a bright smile on his face, alongside Akaza, who was about ten years old. One of their last pictures before that tragic event. A sacred family portrait.

Akaza quickly snatched it from his hands and hid the valuable item in the drawer. He simply refused to let Douma handle his most prized possession. The tall blond boy didn't seem affected by Akaza's reluctance. In fact, the pink-haired boy had been very withdrawn since their arrival. What was the point of inviting Douma under these circumstances? Akaza didn't quite understand this emotional upheaval.

“Your dad seemed very nice!” Douma said.

“Hm.”, Akaza cut him off.

This did not deter the handsome Adonis.

“I must say, you’re very kind too! You sulk a lot, but you make up for it with your generosity!”

What was this load of nonsense again? Only Douma would come up with such absurdities. 

“I’m not sulking. You’re getting on my nerves, it’s not the same thing,” he retorted, in an unfriendly tone, the opposite of the description given by Douma.

Undeterred by the remark, the rainbow-eyed boy smiled brightly and settled into bed, taking care to remove his shoes beforehand. He made himself comfortable without being invited. Once again, he lacked respect for social conventions.

Akaza didn't bother to reprimand him; it would have been like talking to a brick wall. Rules of etiquette were foreign to the tall blond man. Akaza didn't have the energy to waste on a battle he was already lost. Swallowing his irritation, he took off his shoes and sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the ocean of colors.

“I’m so glad you invited me, Akaza! You’re a truly amazing friend!”

Friend… That word sounded strangely false. Friends didn't sleep with each other. Did Douma only consider him a comrade?

The cracking of his fingers mingled with the gloomy atmosphere.

“Douma, can I ask you a question?”

“Yes, of course, Akaza-kun! Ask me whatever you want!”

Melancholy unfolded in his golden irises: a feverish stream of water, ready to burst. All that was needed was to present the subject on a silver platter, without any detours. Usually courageous, Akaza couldn't bring himself to confront this thorny issue.

“Have you… have you ever slept with Daki?”

Douma's hitherto unperturbed facade crumbled.

“Huh? Why are you asking me that?”

“Yes or no?” Akaza pressed him.

Douma crossed his legs in a tailor's position, visibly very focused.

A legitimate doubt lingered about the true nature of his relationship with the girl. After all, they organized outdoor activities together, shared the same school bench, and engaged in constant, unrestrained sexual teasing. With Daki's statements, Akaza was no longer sure what to think.

The young boy with the silky hair did not back down.

“There was a little flirting between us but nothing more. I'm too good-looking for her, I overshadow her, haha!” he laughed like a child, “on the other hand, you're more her type of guy!” he added.

Oh… Had he just ventured down that slippery path? Had Douma drawn this conclusion based on his observations or was it the result of confidences? Akaza had wondered at length about the nature of their exchanges.

That said, the pink-haired boy was trying to elicit a reaction from the other person. Had Daki's plan been whispered in his ear before she acted?

At least the two friends hadn't embarked on any kind of romance, just a flirtation, nothing serious. With his heart more at ease, Akaza was less defensive.

Without breaking eye contact, the new student dropped the bombshell.

“Actually… Daki kissed me before she joined you at the table…”

Had Douma's anger ravaged everything in its path? Akaza was watching for the slightest sign that would betray his displeasure.

“Oh really? She took advantage of the situation to act sneakily, the little minx!” he exclaimed, a half-smile playing on his lips, “Were you able to resist getting an erection?”

Was it a provocation on his part? His foolish thought only fueled his internal conflict, which revolved around his sexual orientation. At the moment, Akaza was unable to define it precisely. One thing was certain: the kiss he'd shared with the young woman had brought him absolutely nothing. Worse still, he'd thrown himself into Douma's arms after the incident. His attraction to the tall blond man wasn't a figment of his imagination.

“To be perfectly honest, it didn’t do anything for me…”, he admitted, almost ashamedly.

“Haha! Poor Daki… She should have realized from the start that it was doomed to fail.”

“What do you mean by that?”

The bed creaked: the tall blond man crawled to the source of his passionate euphoria. A manicured finger teased his curled lips. The mischievousness that had taken hold of his angelic features boded ill.

“Let’s just say that girls… they’re not really your thing, are they?”

Those words, tossed into the air with such nonchalance, sprinkled with a hint of mockery. A vein bulged, a sharp line rippled across his forehead. Damn it, how had Douma managed to survive until now?

He has just touched on a point of truth, admit it.

The gold that colored his eyes lost its luster. A ball of anxiety nestled in the narrow passage of his throat. Indeed, a heterosexual boy wouldn't enjoy being sucked off by another guy. He wouldn't let another man eat his ass either. And he wouldn't beg for good sex in the bathroom.

The evidence, clear as spring water, with a distressing clarity, challenged him.

Douma was startled by his friend's distraught expression.

“Don’t be sad, Akaza-kun! You know… I prefer boys too…”

His lips, with their astonishing sensuality, rose to meet his. Douma playfully teased his lower lip, covering it with lascivious nibbles. This simple contact, his warm breath against his skin, and his scent awakened the dormant volcano. Akaza was swept away by a wave of heat that consumed his organs, particularly concentrated in his groin. Damn, such a superficial kiss was giving him an erection. Douma's confession did nothing to quell the rising temperature.

Douma was a keen observer, more so than he had imagined. The tall blond man had been able to detect flaws in Akaza that he hadn't even suspected existed. Were they so blatant that Douma had reached this conclusion?

Akaza finally understood the meaning of his pathological jealousy. Douma had thrown Akaza into Daki's arms after their childish lunchtime argument, and he hadn't even batted an eye when the girl kissed him. However… Would he take it so lightly if Akaza revealed that Kokushibo had come to his house alone? Knowing him, Douma would have frozen, before exploding with rage. Girls posed no threat whatsoever. Douma only showed his teeth when another boy got too close to his little Akaza. Another blow…

What was the justification for his outbursts of anger when confronted by a potential rival? Did Douma feel more than friendly feelings towards him?

Akaza needed to get to the bottom of it: it was imperative to shed light on this gray area.

“Tell me, Douma… Has anything ever happened between you and Kokushibo?”

Douma changed tactics: his sharp teeth scratched the thin skin of his neck. The frantic pulse of his heart was caught between his mischievous teeth. His burning hand slipped beneath his shirt, traversing his torso and beginning a thorough exploration. The caresses spread with glee. Was he trying to slip away by diverting Akaza's attention?

“Answer me,” urged the amber-eyed boy.

The sinful mouth, pressed against the neck, dispersed.

“No… Kokushibo is my friend,” he retorted.

There…Douma had just made a terrible mistake! Akaza seized this unexpected opportunity!

“I’m your friend too, aren’t I? That doesn’t stop us from having a good time, the two of us…”

The relevance of his comment plunged Douma into a full-blown existential crisis. The fiery rainbow, shattered by a self-questioning he hadn't anticipated, was shattered. His perplexity manifested in eyes rolled to the ceiling and lips curled outwards.

“Hmm… With you, it’s not the same…”, the tall blond man awkwardly justified himself.

If he thought he could get away with it so easily, he was sorely mistaken. His bared fangs were dying to taste another bite of that delectable neck. The pink-haired boy stopped them.

“It’s exactly the same thing! Whether it’s me or Kokushibo, what difference does it make?”

Douma's deliberate silence felt like a slap in the face: he likely had no plausible justification to offer. Akaza delivered the final blow.

"Do you love me ?"

“Of course I love you, Akaza!”

“I meant: do you really love me? Do you want us to be more than friends?”

Douma played with a lock of hair, looking bewildered. Akaza did his best to conceal his own discomfort: he didn't show it, but a cataclysmic wave of anxiety was crushing him. The situation was simply embarrassing. He stood there, patiently awaiting his guest's reply.

And what did he want in all of this? To get involved in a romance with Douma? That was completely absurd! His inner voice was screaming at him to run before it was too late. You've been in deep shit since the day you let him finger and suck you. Worse still, the next day, his hot tongue was exploring your hole. You threw a jealous fit when he chose to go out with Daki instead of texting you. You were the first to suggest sex to him, and despite the horrible things you'd witnessed, you invited him over. Admit it, you've fallen head over heels for this guy. He's been on your mind constantly since the start of the school year.

“I want you to feel good, I will do anything for you. Your desires will be mine…”

His unconventional personality fueled his way of thinking.

“But damn it, Douma! Learn to think for yourself! Your life must come before that of others, stop submitting to the whims of the first person who comes along! It doesn't work like that! You're annoying me!”

“I don’t understand why you’re getting angry, Akaza…”

“There are plenty of things you don’t understand, anyway.”

Exasperated by the way the tall blond man's personality had been shaped, Akaza desperately sought a way to make him lose his temper, even if it meant pushing him out of his comfort zone.

“How would you react if I told you that Kokushibo came to my house yesterday?”, a provocative glimmer flickered in that golden ocean.

The rainbow's brilliance faded. His doll-like face could no longer filter through a sky ravaged by storms. While his captivating smile often proved insincere, his anger was very real. Negative emotions overwhelmed him, spiraling out of control.

“You’re lying, Akaza… and I don’t like that…” grumbled the tall blond man.

Akaza, who had anticipated his suspicions, pulled his cell phone from his pocket and displayed the message he had sent to the recipient, whose phone number was not unfamiliar. Douma paled at this irrefutable proof waved under his nose: the first text sent by Kokushibo, Akaza's reply, the time and date of the exchange, his home address, and the explicit prohibition against leaking this crucial information.

Douma's pallor was alarming. In his eyes, the water trembled, the dam's foundations on the verge of collapse. His appalling lack of seriousness, so characteristic of his carefree, even childlike personality, was swept away by a tidal wave. There was no doubt: Douma was deeply affected by this news.

With his head down and his fists clenched on his thighs, Douma was on the verge of exploding with rage.

“Why did you invite him to your house? You… You let him touch you? Did he fuck you?” he asked, his voice quavering.

A broken, pathetic sound. Douma was now but a shadow of his former self. As Akaza had predicted, getting close to Kokushibo was far more damaging than the kiss he shared with Daki.

Akaza grasped the elegant hands of this fool, who made eye contact: no trace of the fury about to explode. The rainbow was flooded with copious tears. That mischievous, sparkling face, ravaged by grief. The pink-haired boy derived no satisfaction from this state of distress: Douma's suffering was deeply ingrained, ravaging his otherwise delicate features.

“No… Nothing happened. We didn’t have sex.”

Douma rubbed his eyes to wipe away the torrent of tears.

“Then why did you have him come to your house?”

“We talked about you. He told me you'd been unhappy since our last argument. He's the one who convinced me to go back to class.”

The tall blond man wouldn't budge, stuck on this heartbreaking confession.

“You could have talked about all this on the phone but you preferred to invite him to your house… I am very angry…”, he grumbled under his breath, like a sulking child.

Akaza was floating on cloud nine: the frustration that had permeated every cell of his being evaporated as if by magic. This grumpy, jealous fool was endearing. Touched by this scene of uninhibited, childlike jealousy, the weight of his guilt vanished. Douma wouldn't speak with words, but his reactions spoke volumes. An unbreakable bond united them.

Akaza swept away the doubts that held him back. The feeling of shame, which plunged him into a critical state, could not compete with his heart.

With a confident voice, the pink-haired boy launched the start of the festivities.

“I don’t give a damn about Kokushibo. It’s you I want. You’re the only one who can touch me…”

To emphasize his words, Akaza loosened his tie under Douma's scrutinizing, colored eyes. The buttons of his shirt popped open one by one, the oppressive fabric sliding down his shoulders. The bareness of his torso silenced Douma, who was busy dissecting that part of his body. His gaze burned with desire: that was all it took to make Akaza's body harden. The latter lay back, his every movement tracked by this wild beast.

Akaza played the seduction card.

“I don’t like it when you’re angry with me… To make it up to me, you can do whatever you want to me…”

The tall blond man struggled to put the words together. Akaza did too, to be honest: the role reversal was somewhat disconcerting but no less exciting. Offering themselves to each other, like a gift to be slowly unwrapped, provided a fertile ground for sexual play.

“Um… What would you like, Akaza-kun? Do you want me to suck you off? Or…”

“What I want doesn’t matter…” interrupted the new student, “You can do with me whatever you want. My body is yours…”

The reversal in the power dynamic seemed to unsettle Douma, who was probably not used to acting according to his own desires. Used as a sex object, ready to carry out his every request, was he even aware of his own needs?

“Uh… uh… anything I want? Really?”

A thrill of excitement slid down Akaza's spine; inevitably, a spellbound sigh escaped his lips. His stifled erection was excruciating, but he knew his patience would be rewarded. Vulnerable, at his partner's mercy. He shuddered at the manipulation of his feet. Douma meticulously removed his socks slowly, freeing every inch of skin from his feet.

The tall blond man examined his right foot with the greatest interest. Touching it, inhaling its scent, tasting it—the foot was being dissected by the rainbow in the throes of passion. The toe found refuge in that blazing mouth, ready to devour everything in its path.

The unfortunate toe was subjected to a shower of oral caresses. Akaza wasn't particularly fond of such delicate treats, but this part of the body seemed to enchant Douma. After all, he had already licked his feet during their first sexual encounter. He had also revealed his weaknesses during their sexting sessions.

The tongue traced vertical lines across the sole of his foot: the tickling elicited a forced laugh. Damn it, he really didn't like it, but he had committed to offering his body, whatever the cost. Thankfully, this brief salivary ordeal was over. Douma moved on to the main course: his fingers gripped the waistband of his little toy's pants. The checkered fabric revealed two shapely legs sculpted from marble. The tall blond couldn't help but marvel at the ample bulge, a firm smirk adorning his perfectly sculpted, youthful face.

Hungry fingers gripped the elastic of his underwear. The redness that appeared on Akaza's cheeks and the rise of his chest hastened the pernicious process.

The liberated sex produced involuntary spasms, in rhythm with the heartbeats. Douma moistened his lips: his little Akaza was terribly excited despite their romp in the toilet.

Before moving on to the main course, he brandished the sovereign trophy and brought it to his nostrils. This exquisite scent sent his nervous system reeling. The fragrance of his virility, which had already stained this scrap of fabric, caused a good amount of blood to rush to his genitals.

“Hey, Akaza-kun… I can do whatever I want, right?”

The pink-haired boy swallowed and nodded discreetly.

“In that case, can I keep your underwear as a souvenir?”

Douma was stamping his feet, like a child in a toy aisle. The first time, Akaza had been able to voice his opposition. He had promised to be docile… He couldn't back out; a promise was a promise.

“Yes, you can… But don’t steal my underwear every time we have sex… I won’t have any left otherwise,” he remarked pragmatically.

What was this load of nonsense he'd just spouted? Had his hormones fried his brain or something?

“Oh, awesome!!! Thank you so much for this gift, Akaza! I could jerk off while sniffing your delicious scent!”

Only Douma could express himself in this way without being torn by shame. His frankness on such sensitive subjects, as if it were nothing, was both fascinating and frightening.

The tall blond man stuffed his most precious possession into his bag, which was placed at the foot of the bed.

“Let’s see… Where should I start?” Douma mused aloud, which unsettled Akaza. “There are so many things I want to do! Uh…”

The pink-haired boy stiffened when the pad of his thumb caressed his anus. Akaza took deep breaths: his partner wasn't wasting any time.

“I wonder what the capacity of your pretty hole would be? Do you think it could support a fist?”

A fist?

"What ?!"

Douma was amused by the obvious panic.

“Haha! Don’t worry, I understand! You don’t have much experience, that’s normal… but you’ll see, with practice, it’ll come naturally! It’s really an explosion of sensations inside! In any case, it makes me orgasm every time!”

Akaza swallowed his anger; he would have refrained from such details. Douma was far more experienced than he'd imagined. Indulging in extreme practices wasn't the goal, far from it. Venturing into a relationship with Douma was tantamount to flirting with immorality. His family of misfits had introduced him to a world of debauchery, a world he didn't want to be a part of. Akaza was crazy about this guy. In hindsight, he'd be capable of doing anything he asked.

“I so want to stuff your ass with lots of things! Maybe I could ask some disciples to take care of you. We could fuck you together! With practice, you might even be able to handle double or triple penetration! You'd be so sexy with several dicks up your ass! Father would be honored to see that!”

“Douma! Shut up!!”

The tall blond man jumped at the powerful voice that shook the walls. His little Akaza's angry pout had brought him back down to earth. He didn't like it when his friend was angry with him. What had he said wrong? Perhaps Akaza was just very nervous? He shouldn't push his buttons. Even if Akaza had given him permission to act out his fantasies, he still had to respect his boundaries.

“Sorry, Akaza-kun… I got carried away… You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Akaza had covered his eyes with his hand. Damn, he'd gotten himself into a real mess! The family abuse Douma suffered was unimaginably violent; no one should have to endure such torture! The worst part of it all: Douma didn't see the slightest harm in it! He was willingly contributing to it! It was insane! No wonder… He'd grown up, he'd been raised in appalling conditions. For him, it was the norm! Akaza had to do something, but what?

The pink-haired boy was so lost in thought that he didn't notice Douma's movements. Douma grabbed his ankles and slid his body down sharply until his lower back was pressed against Douma's cross-legged frame. Akaza's feet dangled off the bed. He drew his knees up so his heels dug into the mattress, one on either side of Douma's waist. Knowing Douma was between his thighs sent a shiver down his spine; the closeness was a warning sign, but his lust overcame the warnings.

Douma waved a bottle of hand cream, which had been stored next to his side. Where had he taken it from, out of his bag, while he was brooding?

A generous amount of the perfumed fluid texture was applied sparingly to both hands, which were well coated with cream.

Akaza held his breath, completely panicked. Was he planning to fist him, as he had just mentioned?

No… The oily palms rested on his sides, near his navel, mimicking a massage. Akaza relaxed, his alert mind enjoying this moment of respite.

The tall blond man simply massaged his stomach and ribs, applying himself diligently to the task. In the still silence, a rainbow plunged into the heart of his golden irises. His confident, sensual smile as he massaged him was far from leaving him unmoved.

Akaza flinched slightly: thumbs rolled over his nipples, which hardened at this delicate treatment. The pink-haired boy took deep breaths and slowly exhaled all the accumulated oxygen. Damn, his nipples were such a sensitive area, and this bastard knew it. The tips of his pink nipples, caught between thumb and forefinger, were crushed and then pulled. Douma played with his buds like a cat with a mouse. Akaza's labored breathing betrayed his burgeoning pleasure. Douma pinched his nipples a little harder, until he elicited a muffled moan from his toy. His hands gripped his pecs, squeezing them to close the gap between his chest. He repeated this several times before turning his attention once again to his rock-hard nipples.

“Do you like it when I touch your breasts, Akaza?” cooed Douma, won over by his lively reactions.

“Gnn…”

The spiral of pleasure had already ensnared the pink-haired boy. It was only the beginning, and he'd already reached his breaking point. They'd made love a few hours earlier, and his body still craved more. Since when had he become an insatiable slut?

“You’re not going to get excited over so little, are you?”, taunted the handsome Adonis.

Shut your fucking mouth!If only Akaza could wipe that smirk off his face! In bed, Douma had him completely under control; that absolute power pinned him to the spot. It pissed him off so much, and yet, what a delight it was to be dominated by this boy. This constant ambivalence made him sick.

His trembling lips parted: those damned hands moved to his inner thighs, massaging that critical part of his body. In the process, his thumbs brushed against his testicles, and that simple touch sent shivers down his spine. His throbbing penis anticipated his next move. His genitals were being served up on a platter, placed on his pelvis. This area, rich with nerve endings, was now in the clutches of this predator: Akaza had walked right into the lion's den.

He questioned every life choice that had led him to the monster's lair. There he was, comfortably settled on his tormentor's lap, enduring his intoxicating touch. He wanted more… Much more…

It was as if Douma had this damn ability to read his mind. After applying another layer of cream to his hands, Douma went to work on his proudly erect cock, rubbing his thumbs against the reddened glans. The pink-haired boy bit his lip, captivated by this superficial caress. The mocking smile hadn't left Douma's lips as he watched every wave of pleasure that touched his toy.

His caresses were excruciatingly slow, a subtle form of punishment. Douma was deliberately playing with his nerves.

“We’re going to have some fun together, Akaza-kun… I forbid you to ejaculate without my permission… That’ll teach you to invite boys to your house…”

Oh… The tall blond man clearly hadn't gotten over this transgression, which he considered an act of high treason. Kokushibo had come to his house precisely to convince him to return to class, a gesture that was, all things considered, friendly towards Douma, but he didn't see it that way, blinded by his extreme jealousy.

The sinful hand curled around the glans, meticulously manipulating the foreskin to cover it. The agonizing slowness of his actions drove Akaza mad, causing him to squirm in search of pleasurable friction. Fortunately, Douma didn't hold it against him and simply chuckled foolishly. The pink-haired boy was too focused on the explosion of stimulation unfolding between his legs to respond. Trying to silence his provocations was the least of his concerns.

The pelvis shifted, hoping to elicit a reaction from his partner, but the latter ignored the informal pleas. On the contrary, he ceased his activities, much to Akaza's dismay.

“Stay calm, Akaza, or I’ll pack my things and leave you here…”

Would he be ready to carry out his threats? Could he leave the house and leave Akaza prey to his desires? The amber-eyed boy didn't want to play with fire: after all, this Adonis was capable of anything.

The new student nodded, muttering barely audible apologies.

The acts of masturbation took a new turn: forming a ring, Douma lingered, polishing his glans with precise, calculated, and remarkably nonchalant movements. Damn, it was unspeakable torture to be touched without moving. He gripped the sheets beneath him fiercely, hoping to endure this avalanche of stimulation.

The face ravaged by the painful pleasure of his little Akaza whetted his appetite. Douma let out an enchanted sigh, his own cock hardening in the hollow of his pants.

His own excitement led him to accelerate his back-and-forth movements. Akaza stared at the ceiling, haggard, like a lifeless doll.

The tall blond boy was swept away in a euphoric whirlwind. He was getting his kicks from jerking off his toy. Akaza was his alone; no one could take him without his permission. Akaza was fiercely opposed to the plan, but he would make a prime catch for his father. Father appreciated boys like him, and if Douma brought one home, he would be richly rewarded. Making his father proud was the best gift he could receive. Akaza had caught his eye; there was no doubt about it, since his father talked about him constantly. He so wanted to please him, but that would contradict Akaza's wishes. He also wanted to please Akaza. They were incompatible.

His friend's words came back to him: learn to think for yourself! Your life must come before that of others, stop submitting to the whims of the first person who comes along!

Stop submitting? Think about him? What did Douma really want? He didn't know. As long as he could spend time with Akaza, he would be happy.

Douma focused on his friend's beautiful face. With his eyelids closed and his nose tucked into his armpit, Akaza was swimming in pure bliss. His majestic, downy eyelashes were simply radiant. He preferred to see him like this than angry.

“D-Douma… I’m going…”

Taking this threat seriously, Douma stopped moving to release the pressure. Indeed, his penis was trembling nervously in the palm of his hand, pre-ejaculate flowing freely. The risk eliminated, the back-and-forth motion surged over his defenseless penis.

“Please… I need to cum…”

Akaza had already reached his limit, as the spaces between the peaks were getting smaller and smaller. He'd barely resumed masturbating when his friend started moaning lasciviously. It didn't matter; Douma knew how to be patient. He'd learned to be.

He paused his masturbation, waiting for the peak of pleasure to subside, then resumed. He alternated and proceeded in this manner. He felt Akaza tighten around him. His thighs closed around him, crushing his pelvis. A cascade of moans filled the walls of his room.

“Douma, please! I can’t take it anymore…”

Ruthless, he accelerated the pace, without granting Akaza's request.

His friend was in a pitiful state: discreet tears splattered against the mattress while a trickle of drool ran down his chin.

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have invited Kokushibo home!" cried the pink-haired boy, exhausting his last card.

“It’s too late, Akaza-kun…”, the tall blond man retorted coldly.

Damn it, he hadn't known Douma could hold such a grudge. Akaza was losing control: a volcano was erupting in his groin, unable to release its lava. He salivated over unattainable food when he was starving. He couldn't take it anymore, truly couldn't. Holding back his ejaculation was becoming painful. A suffocating, excruciating sensation tore at his genitals. An untamable fire. Within the pain rose a sensation he had never experienced before. Unconsciously, he moved his pelvis. He was in such a trance that he could no longer follow Douma's instructions. He had detected the interruption of the tall blond, but that didn't stop him from thrusting his hips to create friction. The handsome Adonis wasn't angry; on the contrary, the sight of his friend's face, ravaged by intense pleasure, excited him to the highest degree. He too moaned, carried away by the act of giving pleasure. He wished it could have lasted longer, but Akaza's moans and cries of all kinds had finally overwhelmed him.

He assisted his cock with such frenzy, for the sole purpose of making it ejaculate all the good juice.

He won't be disappointed by the trip.

Akaza gripped the cushion he'd left tucked away above his head with fierce determination. He was in so much pain, yet paradoxically, it gave him an indescribable sense of relief. He tensed every muscle, straining until he was hurting himself.

Something was going on. He didn't know what, and he didn't want to know. He just wanted it out.

Douma didn't falter, despite the cramp in his wrist. All his efforts would be rewarded. Watching his little Akaza's orgasm consume him was all he needed.

Rainbow eyes widened in surprise as Akaza expelled a good amount of translucent liquid, accompanied by a thunder of needy moans. Douma remained unfazed by this strange physiological reaction and continued to masturbate him through his climax. Another spurt splashed his hand and school shirt. The caresses on his penis gradually subsided until Akaza emptied himself. The moans faded into silence; only his friend's labored breathing broke the silence of the room, which had just witnessed an improbable scene. Giving Akaza time to recover, driven by his morbid curiosity, he brought his soiled fingers to his nostrils, analyzing the unfamiliar liquid. It wasn't semen. A faint odor of ammonia emanated from it. It didn't take him long to make the connection. What Akaza had released was urine. He had just ejaculated like a girl. He didn't know a boy was capable of that! It was so exciting! How had he done it? He wanted to be able to do that too! It would make his disciples so happy!

Akaza's heavy eyelids fluttered open; he felt so numb, overcome by extreme fatigue. He didn't know what had just happened, but Douma called out to him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Welcome among us, Akaza-kun! How are you feeling?”

“Sorry… I-I think I came without your permission…” he stammered, his body weak.

“Oh, you’re completely forgiven, Akaza! You just showed me something incredible!”

The pink-haired boy raised an eyebrow.

“W-what?...”

His smile stretched a little wider.

“You just squirt like a girl! That's so exciting! There's pee all over the bed! Even my shirt is stained! How did you do that? Teach me!”

"What ?!"

The new student couldn't believe a word of it! Another one of his dirty tricks to piss him off! He just can't help bothering him with his nonsense! He sat up, pushing himself up on his elbows, and discovered with horror the extent of the disaster. His abdomen was covered in a clear liquid: he scooped up a few drops and sniffed the smell. No doubt about it, it was definitely pee.

A lump of anxiety formed in his throat.

“Oh shit… shit, shit, shit…” he repeated into the void.

The ultimate humiliation of peeing himself while Douma was jerking him off! If that bastard had allowed him to cum, his body wouldn't have malfunctioned so badly. Douma took it more philosophically.

“It’s okay, Akaza-kun! You just cum, that’s cool, isn’t it?”

Cool… Was that his only fucking comeback?!

“I just peed myself… it’s absolutely disgusting!”

“Don’t see it that way! It’s the ultimate proof that you let yourself go! It felt good, didn’t it? And besides, we can just change the sheets, no one will be the wiser!”

The golden, tearful eyes stared at that fearless, carefree rainbow.

“Please… don’t tell anyone…”

Douma raised an eyebrow at first, then changed his mind, offering one of his most radiant smiles. His little Akaza needed reassurance.

“With me, your secret is safe!”

He was sincere. He won't repeat it to anyone except his father. This kind of information should please him.

The boy with the fuzzy eyelashes tried to sit up, which did not escape the notice of the handsome Adonis.

"What are you doing ?"

“I’d like to freshen up, I feel sticky and it disgusts me…”

The porcelain-skinned boy objected.

“Oh no, Akaza! Stay like that, you look magnificent!”

It was no use, that argument wasn't going to convince him to stay in his own piss.

“Akaza, you promised to please me… Please stay… It excites me to see you like this…”

The new student sighed… He'd used that infallible weapon against him. Douma wasn't trying to humiliate him, obviously. His eyes sparkled with wonder. This guy really had some bizarre fantasies, what the hell was going on in that goddamn family? No, it would cost him his sanity to get any further explanations. So he remained motionless, scrutinized by the large, colored eyes.

“That little touch of exoticism has made me hungry! I think I still have something in my bag! Don't move!”

Sure enough, Douma climbed up to retrieve his bag. Ah, so he was really serious then… what a strange fellow, the only one enjoying a snack while he was in the middle of having sex. Was that surprising? With him, nothing should surprise him anymore.

“Oh! I’m glad I didn’t eat it!” he exclaimed.

He'd pulled out a banana. A fucking banana. What, he was supposed to just stand there and watch him eat his snack?

But… A special glimmer ignited in this archipelago of colors. That look didn't bode well. Akaza didn't like it at all.

His doubts were confirmed when the tall blond boy spread his anal walls apart with his fingers. Panicked, the pink-haired boy made jerky movements.

“W-what the hell are you doing?”

“Shhh… Stay calm, everything will be alright.”

How could he remain calm with this twisted idea?

The tall blond boy peeled the end of the fruit and crossed the line into morality by inserting it into his anus. The amber-eyed boy held back a scream, his brain sending him every warning signal. How could such a thought have even crossed his mind? Douma was nothing but a pervert.

Akaza changed his mind: it wasn't his fault at all. He was only reproducing his family's unhealthy fantasies. That said, it didn't give him the right to imitate these abominable acts with him.

“Stop, Douma…”

The boy of dubious morals carefully removed the peel as the fruit progressed through the narrow canal. His toy wriggled.

“You won’t regret it, Akaza-kun, I promise…”

The whole fruit had lodged itself inside him. It was abject, disgusting, so depraved. Despite everything, his attachment to him remained intact. Was Akaza mentally strong enough to endure Douma's madness?

He did not have the opportunity to elaborate on his thoughts before he was abruptly pulled towards Douma.

His neck was crushed against Douma's knees. Douma grabbed his ankle.

Akaza was curled up, legs in the air, ready for a back roll, his rounded back straddling Douma's chest. In this position, his ass was perfectly level with his partner's face. The pink-haired boy clung desperately to Douma's pants: his warm breath against his opening aroused him, almost making him forget the intrusive object inside him.

The tall blond man nibbled at his bottom, captivated by this unassailable life. His little Akaza was in for even more surprises.

“Hmm… Akaza-kun… I’m going to ask you to push slowly…”

What ? Had he heard correctly? Was that his plan?

A calculated lick traced his hole. A wave of shivers washed over him. Damn, he'd just realized: he was going to eat his banana that was about to pop out of his ass… Completely insane, this guy wasn't in his right mind… But this realization didn't stop the new student from trembling with excitement. He wasn't right in the head either… As crazy as this guy with angelic beauty. Since when had Akaza been overflowing with such repugnant desires? Had he been infected by Douma, or had these darkest desires been dormant within him all this time?

Taking a deep breath, he expelled the fruit against Douma's sinful mouth, who was ready to reap the object of discord. The slightly crushed banana flesh awakened the young boy's taste buds.

Douma's lips were glued to that appetizing ass, his tongue swirling around his opening, patiently awaiting its taste. He retrieved the dislodged pieces one by one. He chewed this forbidden fruit with gusto, then plunged his tongue into his ass, which exuded an exquisite sweet flavor. He could simultaneously feel the contraction of his sphincter muscles and taste the flesh of some of the remaining pieces. Akaza moaned like a whore in heat, and the melodious sounds escaping his mouth made his own cock tremble, still trapped in those unnecessary pants.

He got down to business, mimicking urgent thrusts against his dripping opening. The tall blond felt his toy's fingers gripping his pants. He couldn't see his pretty face, but he could easily imagine his radiant features contorting with pleasure. In any case, the sustained moans were a good indicator.

The remaining flesh of the fruit squirted against his tongue; he didn't waste a single bite of this impromptu meal. After swallowing the entire fruit, Douma began to devour him : his tongue explored every nerve ending within reach. His free hand gripped his friend's fleshy thigh, digging his manicured nails into the tender flesh.

His little Akaza's heartbeat pulsed against his tongue and pulsated through his anus. Akaza's muscle spasms and general restlessness, along with his shameless, sensual moans, signaled the end of the fun. Douma wished it could have lasted longer. He loved eating his ass; he'd never tire of it. That sweet coating had added a little something extra. He would repeat the experience with his friend. Akaza wouldn't object, he was sure of it.

Akaza closed his thighs, his buttocks clenched more than ever.

One last lick elicited a decisive cry from him. The uncontrolled muscle spasms meant he had just cum. Douma took advantage of this overstimulation brought on by orgasm to thrust urgently back and forth against his hole. His toy tried to free himself to escape this onslaught of stimuli, without much success.

The bodily tremors finally subsided. Douma released his friend's legs. The latter repositioned himself in bed, completely drained of strength.

The tall blond man marveled at the erotic sight Akaza presented. A trickle of semen had landed on his chin, another in the hollow of his neck. In this position, his toy had ejaculated on himself—what an edifying spectacle! Akaza was covered in piss and semen; he was at the pinnacle of a truly valuable work of art. He was sexy, highly desirable.

He couldn't wait any longer: he finally pulled down his pants and underwear, brandishing his perfectly erect penis. It was a miracle he hadn't come on himself during those acts.

Akaza was exhausted from these successive orgasms, but he had assured him that he would do whatever he desired. He didn't hesitate: he grasped his friend's waist and delivered the first thrust.

The boy let out a muffled cry, clearly embarrassed by the pain. It didn't matter; it would eventually subside. He released his grip on his waist and finally clung to the headboard, thrusting powerfully back and forth. Akaza didn't seem to be adjusting to this intrusion. Douma ignored him. He wanted to release all the pent-up sexual tension he'd been holding in. Besides, Akaza had told him to think of himself instead of others, hadn't he? That's what he was doing. He was finally giving himself pleasure without worrying about what others thought. All his life, he'd always offered his body to others. No one had ever asked him if he liked it or if it hurt. Often, he was in pain, but he suffered in silence; that was what the divine voice carried by his father wanted. Akaza was the first to tell him to think of himself. He was truly an exceptional friend. He didn't want to lose him. He wanted to cherish him until his last breath. A true friend who had advised him to consider his own pleasure. So he thrust vigorously and deeply. Again and again.

“Douma, you’re hurting me…”, Akaza gestured.

Akaza was in pain… Douma had learned to suffer in silence, and Akaza would do the same. A fresh barrage of thrusts rained down on his aching anus.

“Please slow down!”

Slow down? Why should he slow down? Akaza had assured him he could do whatever he wanted! What an ungrateful whore! He couldn't stand Akaza lying to him! He'd already let Daki kiss him and brought Kokushibo over, and now this! His moans of pain were getting on his nerves! Why couldn't he suffer in silence?! His father liked obedient boys!

Driven by an unprecedented fury, he committed the irreparable, slapping Akaza violently across his cheek. The sound was like water lapping against the hull of a boat. The sound brought him back to reality: the sight of Akaza's swollen cheek made him bitterly regret his action. He hated it when these men hit him, so why had he just done the same thing to the most important person in his life?

Panicked, he pulled away roughly. Seeing a trickle of blood on his genitals, he imagined the worst. His brain screamed at him to react. He jumped out of bed, naked, and stormed out of his room. He finally found the bathroom, rummaged through the drawers for a washcloth. Quick, quick, quicker! He soaked it in water and ran back to the bedroom.

Akaza was sitting with his back against the headboard, his knees drawn up to his chest.

Douma sat down next to him. Akaza didn't get angry with him. He placed the damp washcloth against his swollen cheek.

“I am terribly sorry, Akaza! I don't know what came over me… I didn't mean to hit you, I am deeply sorry!”

Akaza finally made eye contact. In Douma's eyes, this lack of sparkle brought tears to his eyes. His ribcage constricted, he clutched his chest, the sounds trapped in his throat.

“I’m going to take a quick shower. Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as possible,” said Akaza, nonchalantly.

“Okay…” replied Douma.

The pink-haired boy got out of bed. The tall blond man gathered his clothes on the floor.

“Do you want a hand, Akaza?”

“No, thank you. I won’t be long.”

The slamming of the door left Douma reeling from his old demons. He tugged at his silky hair, the hair his parents had always praised. His parents used to brush it like they would a dog's. His hair disgusted him so much. Worse, his whole being was repulsive. He deserved to die alone.

The minutes seemed like an eternity. Akaza had said he wouldn't linger. Perhaps he'd sought refuge in Kokushibo's arms. No, his phone was still on the nightstand. This small piece of furniture caught his eye, especially the top drawer. He wiped his snot with the back of his hand and opened the sacred compartment.

The family photo was hidden away. Without thinking about the consequences, he took it out of its hiding place and climbed into bed.

He studied the family portrait carefully. His index finger traced Akaza's pleasing curves as a young teenager. Something magical separated this portrait from reality: Akaza wore a radiant smile. He seemed so happy. The tall blond man had never seen him smile like that. He had never seen him smile at all, for that matter. He would have given anything to see him happy. His father seemed like a genuinely kind person. He bore no physical resemblance to his son. And what about his mother? Why wasn't she with them in this picture? Akaza had never mentioned his mother. Why? Had she hurt him? Had she abandoned him, or... had she died before this photo was taken? Douma swallowed hard. Akaza must have suffered from this loneliness. He had expressed his distress in messages since his father's death.

The boy with rainbow eyes scanned the family photo, seeing it as a mirror. Father and son looked like they had been close. Their closeness, their familial embrace, was warm. His own father had never hugged him, never told him he loved him. He sometimes made love to his son. Was that proof of love? Douma didn't know. Or at least, he wasn't sure of anything anymore. Considering Akaza's outburst in class during the explanations, it didn't exactly look like love.

I'm angry with your parents.

Do you realize what you're saying?! Your father is nothing but a disgusting pervert!

What your father is forcing you to do is unacceptable. It's absolutely disgusting.

You live in a family of degenerates! A fucking cult! Psychopaths forcing you to sleep with equally twisted people! They have no right to do this to you!

Promise me you'll never do anything like that again… I don't want anyone touching you anymore…

What his father did was unacceptable? Why wouldn't it be? A repugnant pervert? No, he was guiding lost souls towards the light.

Psychopaths? No, they were good people, lost sheep adrift and without meaning.

The baby's cries made him feel nauseous. The family photo frame trembled beneath his sweaty palms. He didn't want this baby. He didn't want to hold it. This woman had asked him so kindly.

He inherited your hair, imbued with purity.

Do you want to hold him in your arms?

He looks so much like you…

Indeed, the child's hair was as white as snow. His cries were unbearable; they pierced his eardrums.

Look how handsome your son is…

A tear splattered against the glass of the photo frame.

A few days before the school trip, this woman had come to visit them, accompanied by the baby, now a child. Seeing that child again broke something inside him. This being of God, made of flesh and blood, present in the same room as him, had deeply wounded him.

For two weeks, he hadn't slept a wink. He had even drifted away from Akaza unintentionally; his friend had gotten angry with him about it in the hotel room.

He didn't like making love to women. They could get pregnant. He didn't like that. The first woman to tell him she was pregnant was in her thirties. A kind, gentle woman. Female members of the cult were only allowed to sleep with him and his father. His father hadn't made any advances toward this woman, which led to the assumption that he was the one who had get her pregnant. In truth, deep down, he was convinced she must have been with another man. He was eleven years old at the time. She hadn't been in touch since. Had she had an abortion or kept the baby? He didn't know. The women who became pregnant in the cult all ended up leaving. All except one.

This woman had given birth within the church premises, under his father’s supervision.

He was 13 years old when the baby was born. Doll-like features, silky hair. There was no doubt: the child was his. The emotional shock was so intense that he didn't eat for several days. He started pulling out his hair. He damaged it so badly that his father was forced to cut it. Right afterward, he beat him severely, unable to bear that this beauty bestowed by the gods should be defiled. After this tragic event, his father demanded that the woman and her child leave and insisted on the use of condoms.

Most were cooperative. Others manipulated the young boy to get what they wanted. Douma tried his best to avoid ejaculating. They weren't fond of sodomy, so he didn't have much choice but to restrain himself. If he had had the misfortune of fathering a female disciple, his father would have been angry with him. He didn't like it when he got angry. These women got angry too. And so did the men when he complained of pain.

When Akaza got angry with him, he felt like he was seeing their dismayed faces again. He wanted to make people happy.

The family photo frame was soaked with his tears. He was in such a daze that he didn't notice the extra weight on the bed.

Delicate fingers mingled with his unruly hair.

When Douma raised his eyes, swollen from the torrent of sobs, the boy who made him happy was standing in front of him.

“What did you do to your hair? Can I untangle it?”

The tall blond man nodded, not very pleased. Was Akaza going to groom him like a common dog too?

The pink-haired boy positioned himself behind him, carefully combing the long strands with his fingers.

“I’m jealous of your hair… It’s so soft and always smells good. But I don’t have the patience to take care of it that much. When I saw how much time you spent on it when we were in the hotel room… It demoralized me. You know me, I get carried away easily.”

His remark made the tall blond man chuckle briefly.

“You’re sulking a lot, especially…”

“I’m not sulking, you’re the one getting on my nerves…”

Douma bit his lip, asking the fateful question.

“Are you… Are you angry with me, Akaza?”

Akaza attacked another lock of hair.

“A little bit, you went through my drawer but I did the same thing at your place so I'll shut my mouth.”

“For earlier… When I slapped you and when I…”

Akaza interrupted him.

“No, I’m not angry.”

“Akaza?”

"Hmm ?"

Do you love me ?

Of course I love you, Akaza!

I meant to say: do you really love me? Are we more than friends?

Douma turned around, clinging to that glimmer of life, returned from the dead. Akaza's swollen cheek caused him so much pain.

He took his hands.

“You are the most important person in my life. Without you, I am nothing. Since I met you, I knew it… You are my best friend… but I think you are so much more than that… I love you, Akaza…”

Douma couldn't help but burst into tears again: not for the same reasons.

His little Akaza had a radiant smile, almost like the one in the photograph.

“My parents shouldn’t be too long now… Would you like to stay for dinner with us?”

“Yes, that would please me…” hiccupped the boy with rainbow eyes.

He buried his head in the crook of his neck, inhaling the pleasant scent of the shower gel.

“I don’t want to go back home, Akaza…”

Akaza took him in his arms. Had Douma just realized the horror of his home? One thing was certain: Akaza had sworn to protect him. He hadn't been able to save his father from the illness. It wasn't too late to help Douma.

Akaza was a man of his word.