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Shuichi supposes he cannot say this without sounding like an asshole, bur riling Furuya-kun up is so much fun.
There is something about watching that carefully bright smile on hisーadmittedly not bad looking faceー cracks, and burns. It's a strange satisfaction to see the intentional beauty peeled off, just to reveal something that is purely true beneath.
Don't get him wrong, FuruyaーAmuro's smiles are pleasant, but he just prefers it when the soft spark in those blue eyes turns hard, like a barely frozen lake, always ready to break under right pressure, always ready to let whatever that has been bottling up out, flooding, screaming, wailing.
Akai has never been the type to poke, and probe, but Furuya is his special case.
He likes watching him break, likes being the one to rip all self-control from someone who wears it like a second skin. The knowledge that Akai is the only one who can makes Bourbon throws all his careful schemeーincluding himself off the window, and left only Furuya, raw, and seething with rage, just makes all of this more addicting. A perfect game that has his heart racing everytime they do it.
The challenge tastes good, but the reward is true delicacy. Akai just can't resist. Especially right now, when he has Furuya pinned against a wall, his throbbing pulse dances against Akai's lips, probably from anger, or something else. One of his hands claws at Akai's shoulder, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, but his other hand is flailing punches that had long lost their usual thought-through bite.
A memory of what they were fighting over is long gone, but Akai knows they'd still scream at each other about it in the morning when Furuya has less energy to spare, and less bottled up shit to throw out.
(When he said each other, he means Furuya yells, and Akai just listens, unless he was trying to get him angry.)
(He has been trying to get him angry)
"Fuck you," Furuya gasps out, his voiceーto his credit, doesn't even shake even as Akai kisses beneath his jawline, and drags it down pass the front of his throat, then press hard, once, at the curve where his neck, and shoulder connect, just a graze of teeth on tender skin, and Akai can feel the red-hot rage buzzing under it, he can tell Furuya is practically running on it.
He wants to watch him runs out.
"I think it's the other way around, Furuya-kun," his kisses gets intentionally softer, more chaste, almost innocent, just the right way to piss his lover off, "but yeah, I love you, too."
Furuya doesn't answer with words, he's too deep in the heat for that.
(Expected.)
A punch lands right on his face, Akai doesn't dodge it purely for aesthetic reasons. Dull pain throbs, and blooms, telling him the actual fun has just begun.
Violence has always been a part of Furuya's charm, after all.
They fight their way through the apartment, ripping at each other's clothes, trying to tear skins out with their teeth, flashing white in the dark. Furuya was completely silent as he battles like his life depends on it, like he were still Bourbon, and Akai were merely an enemy. Akai sees through that. He sees through the way his fists shake in a fraction of a second with something Bourbon has never had.
This is truly Furuya Rei, and Akai is helpless against him.
They ended up kissing on the floor, clothes scattered, and Furuya's eyes are still hard, even as his lips are bitten red, and his head falls back in a vulnerable arch.
He is still ready to pounce, still determinedーa damn killer at heart.
Akai wants to tell him many things.
You are gorgeous, but that is a little bit hollow of a compliment. Doesn't explain enough of what his eyes really see.
You deserve to be loved, but Furuya will just get all bitter at that. A self-depreciative bastard that he is. He will just close off, and Akai can't have that right now.
You are perfect.
He goes slow, kissing the words into Furuya's skin, and prays that they would sink into his heart. Furuya thrashes against it, he has always hate going slow, has always hate the tenderly love, and warm loving.
"I'm not your angel."
Furuya had sneered through his teeth, his voice managed to sound wet, and piping hot with anger in the same sentence, it was the first time Akai discovers this little thing he has for riling him up.
Somehow, when he's so angry he can't see straight, Furuya spills his guts.
All the petty jealousy, and tiny bits of miniscule insecurities that had build themselves up into a big chunk just pour out. He remembered Furuya shaking, and trembling, and crumbling, as anger forced his mouth open.
Akai likes his lover honest. Furuya hurts himself less that way.
Despite everyone's opinions, the one who keeps everything in his head in their relationship is not Akai. The one who has so much self-control it turns into self-destruction is not Akai.
Furuya is a professional person, very much so, and maybe just a bit too much, that sometimes he forgets saying what he feels is acceptable, as Furuya Rei, and not someone else.
The only time he can actually do that with no filter is when he's angry.
Akai didn't realize it was a problem until they had had a fight over Akemi, and of course, Scotch.
He don't remember what he had said anymore. Probably something along the line of you won't be her, in response to Furuyaーnoー Bourbon, saying, "You'll never be as good as Scotch." Which was also a response to something else, which was also a response to something else. Akai doesn't recall the detail (doesn't want to), but he remembers the first spark of fire being Furuya' words, that was fueled from seemingly nothing.
"I'm not your angel."
It was just a too-soft kiss in Furuya's bad day to make everything went to shit.
That was the first time Akai realized what a fucked up mess it is in his lover's head. Furuya was just waiting for an inevitable fall out, because the good die young, and this is "too good to be true".
Years spent as an NOC in the organization does a lot of damage on you, apparently. It ingrains the mindset I kill people. I deserve to rot in hell in way too damn deep.
It's not like Akai doesn't understand the feelings, but Furuya takes things a little bit to extreme. Perhaps it's because he is an actor, a very good one, so being dramatic is in his nature.
Akai likes watching Furuya forgets all his lines, he is obsessed with it.
They hurt each other a lot, it is a fact no one can deny, but that day was something else
They ended the argument nicely enough to still sleep in the same bed, even if there was an unusual two-inches gap between their bodies.
He remembers Furuya going to the bathroom in the middle of the night, their bed shifted enough to jolt Akai awake.
(Or maybe he's that hardwired to hisーwhatever Furuya is.)
He remembers doing nothing but staring at the plain concrete ceiling as a quiet sob raked through the air, muffled by the cheap glass door, yet it grazed on his ears as sharply as a knife.
He pretended to be asleep when Furuya came back. He knows the other well enough to realize that comforting him during his vulnerable moments won't do any good.
Furuya hates being fragile, hates being treated as such.
It's a defensive mechanism he can't seem to turn off, and Akai understands.
Showing vulnerability means death, especially in their line of work. That's why Akai just love riling Furuya up just for the breakdown. Then after that, in the morning, he will hold him like he's trying to squeeze all the sadness, and bitter despair out of his pores.
"Rei."
The name on his tongue tastes much sweeter than cold alcohol Akai had pretended it to be another kind of Bourbon for so long.
Furuya opens his eyes at that, Akai doesn't even realize when they has fell shut.
The light cracks across blue irises, leaving a somewhat fragile look within them.
"You're so damn terrible," Furuya babbles, and the fracture in his eyes widened. Despite not knowing what he's talking about, Akai kisses a corner of his mouth apologeticly.
"I know."
They are clawing each other's skins, and artificial mask, tearing the ugliest of their lies off with their teeth, a messy heat haze that burns so bad, yet it hurts so damn good. Akai is still acutely aware, when a drop of warm liquid drips on his shoulder, and slide right off, like it doesn't exist.
He wants to say I love you, wants to leave a mark on that soft, tan skin, just to give Furuya a reminder that this has happened, even if he doesn't want it. Even if he doesn't feel the same.
I love you.
Just like that tiny droplet of liquid melancholy, Akai might as well pretend his love doesn't exist, too.