Chapter Text
What’s good, Mahito was just Kenjaku’s type.
Kenjaku was bad, but that was what Mahito liked.
Mahito was crazy, he was toxic—but so was Kenjaku.
Stitches all on Mahito’s chest, on his arms, on his legs, on his face, all on his skin—those stitches as he undressed, those homochromatic eyes.
Mahito liked the pain, liked the way Kenjaku kissed him on his neck.
Mahito told him he couldn’t hurt him, his heart had nothing there.
But Kenjaku saw the way Mahito looked at him, pretending it was just sex.
Mahito was crazy, he was toxic, but baby, so was Kenjaku.
Kenjaku was a motherfucking star. You only saw him when it was dark. A black hole in his heart.
Don’t fall in love.
Don’t fall in love.
Don’t fall in love.
That went for Mahito and Kenjaku, both.
They could fake it for the night. They didn’t have to think about it, keep it locked in their minds, with their feelings to the side.
Keep pretending they didn’t miss each other, yeah,
it was just a lie.
Mahito told him he couldn’t hurt him, his heart had nothing there.
But Kenjaku saw the way Mahito looked at him, pretending it was just sex.
Mahito was crazy, he was toxic, but so was Kenjaku.
Kenjaku was a motherfucking star. You only saw him when it was dark. A black hole in his heart.
Don’t fall in love.
Don’t fall in love.
Don’t fall in love.
That went for Mahito and Kenjaku, both.
But Kenjaku had thousands of years to master not falling in love, while Mahito hadn’t even had a decade.
Of course Kenjaku would win, being so much older as he was.
So why did it feel, swallowing Mahito down and ingesting his technique, that he had lost something, somehow, despite everything?
It wasn’t like he was missing the way Mahito liked the pain and the way he kissed him on his neck, wasn’t like he was missing the way Mahito liked the way he was a motherfucking star and only shone in the dark. Wasn’t like he missed the way Mahito’s heart had nothing left, and so had loved him only because of the black hole in his heart, and they’d only loved each other promising themselves they’d never fall in love.
It was all just a comedy, this tragedy, because their hearts had nothing left.
They could fake it for the night, they could tell each other they couldn’t hurt them, looking at each other pretending it was just sex.
They were just motherfucking stars, only visible when it was dark, black holes in their hearts.
And so they never fell in love, and never realized what they had until it left.
Mahito was crazy, and he was toxic,
but so was Kenjaku.
But nobody would ever realize he was a star until it was dark,
and then it would be too late, because he’d have swallowed them like the black hole he was.
Mahito was just his type, he was crazy, he was toxic, stitches all over his chest,
but that was why Kenjaku swallowed him whole, swallowed him completely, like a motherfucking star, turned to a black hole in the dark, swallowing all the light that dared to shine.
And Mahito dared, and he shined, he shined, he shined, was crazy and was toxic, exactly like Kenjaku liked.
And so Kenjaku swallowed him whole, his heart a motherfucking star, only shining when it was dark, a motherfucking black hole,
all bad just like Mahito liked, kissing him on his neck, pretending like it was just sex while reducing him to dust.
He kept acting like he didn’t miss Mahito,
yeah, Mahito had been nothing at all.
Kenjaku didn’t fall in love, any more than Mahito did.
Everything they’d had with each other was just built on lies built on the lies they let themselves act as if they believed what the other said and did.