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The ritual of nobility is one with which Yuuichirou Hyakuya has long been acquainted. He has been a victim of polite small talk, abysmally mild music, and suffocating clothing since his youth. He has endured countless of these trivial celebrations in his past and the number he must continue to endure stretches outward to infinity.
It is for this precise reason that Yuu knows to locate the first bottle of alcohol he can find and nurse it until the evening disappears into a cloud of hazy recollection.
The bottle in his hand is half gone already—a finely aged, imported sherry he snagged from a passing waiter—and a warm feeling settles comfortably behind his ribcage. It is enough to distract him from the insufferable nagging of his father telling him to make a good impression on his guests and the never-ending onslaught of murmured congratulations.
Across the room, speaking to his father’s business associate, a tall gentleman sips a glass of champagne. Their eyes meet from over the rim of his champagne glass. Violet eyes glint in the candlelight. Yuu can feel the uncomfortable bind of the engagement ring wrapped snugly around his finger. He lifts the bottle back to his lips.
Guren Ichinose isn’t Yuu’s first choice in partner. He isn’t the third, fourth, or fifth either. In fact, if he were to arrange his preferences amongst suitors in a neat and tidy list, Guren would place somewhere near the bottom, perhaps only a few spaces higher than the Lord Bathory creep who tried to feel him up at the last dismal gathering of nobility. Though, Yuu has enough sense to know that Guren is better than him, at least in terms of decorum.
However, Guren knows exactly all the right ways to drive Yuu to the breaking point of his patience.
His fate was never in his own hands. His impending marriage to Guren was set in stone before he could even walk, and no amount of pleading will make it stop now. Marriage into the illustrious Ichinose clan is all that Yuu’s father has expected of him his whole life. He steals another sip.
A few feet to Guren’s left, Yuu spots another familiar figure, though Mikaela Tepes’ image sparks something far from repulsion. With the same urgency he hurtles himself into inebriation, Yuu makes a beeline in his direction. He reaches out and grabs ahold of a gold and silver embroidered waistcoat.
“Mika, you have to save me from boredom.”
Mika, who has always shown more restraint in his character, chokes on a sip of champagne; it is more than likely his only drink of the evening. He turns, apologizing to the bewildered Baroness he was previously entertaining, and levels Yuu with an exasperated glare. It is familiar as well and does nothing more than kick up butterflies in the base of Yuu’s stomach.
“Yuu-chan,” Mika murmurs. He shuffles them off to a corner near the servant entrance to the kitchen. Yuu doesn’t miss the way Mika passes cautious glances at Yuu’s betrothed across the room. “You have to be careful about who’s listening. Bored at your own engagement party, I swear...how much is left in that bottle?”
Yuu smiles, the first genuine expression he has mustered this evening, and sloshes the bottle near Mika’s face. “Enough to share. Come on.”
Exasperation is replaced with fond skepticism. “You want to sneak out of your own party?”
“Oh, please,” Yuu says. “This party is a farce of my father’s making and you know it.”
Yuu catches the arm of a servant exiting the kitchen, tray of hors d’oeuvres balanced carefully on the silver platter in her hands. The glass bowls shake disconcertingly as she grinds to a halt.
“Akane,” Yuu whispers. “You gotta cover for me.”
Akane’s eyes are wide with fear until she hears Yuu’s voice. She leans closer and tilts her head. “Cover for you?”
“Yeah! If anyone asks where I went, just say that I felt ill and went to lie down in my chambers.”
Akane eyes the bottle of alcohol warily. “Are you planning on drinking until you’re ill?”
Mika shakes his head and smiles at Akane. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything too needlessly reckless.”
Akane looks between the two of them, something like understanding shining in her eyes, and nods, lips quirked. She readjusts the tray and draws a steady breath.
“I’ll do it. Now go before you are caught up in another bout of delightful banter.”
Yuu nearly wretches. “Don’t have to tell me twice. Thank you, Akane.” He kisses her on the cheek briefly and proceeds to pull Mika by the wrist through the swinging kitchen door.
The servants’ staircase winds a path to the upper floors, and the party is nothing more than a distant hum by the time Yuu is corralling Mika into his chambers and flinging the door shut, locking it behind them both. Mika has barely smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt before Yuu is shoving the bottle in his hands; he proceeds to flop down onto his bed face first, groaning miserably into the bedsheets.
“Quite the reaction,” Mika chides. Yuu hears the telltale slosh of liquid as Mika allows himself a taste of wine. “Typically people are happy on the night of their official engagement.”
Yuu scoffs. He flops over onto his back, fingers scrabbling to pull the collar of his shirt loose, slipping the cravat free from about his neck. When he can at last breathe clearly, he sighs.
“There is nothing joyous about this occasion.”
Grabby hands make for the bottle. Mika rolls his eyes but obliges, settling down onto the bed beside Yuu and tilting the bottle in his direction. Yuu sits up to take a sip and leans his head onto his fist. When the engagement ring bites his cheek, Yuu decides to abandon all pretenses and wither miserably into Mika’s lap. Careful hands take the bottle out of his grip and pat his head in mock sympathy.
“There, there,” Mika coos sarcastically. “You will live. For all his annoyance, Guren will make a fine husband, not to mention the title that goes along with him. Imagine my position. My mother is actually considering marrying me off to Ferid of all people.” Yuu can feel the shudder than racks Mika’s frame.
Yuu readjusts, lays down and guides Mika to mirror him until they are side by side, looking at each other from across mere inches of space.
“That’s just the thing,” Yuu says. “I don’t want a fine husband. I don’t want a title. I want to be with someone I truly desire.”
Yuu’s fingers walk the distance between them until they find the back of Mika’s arm. They climb upward and rest lightly on the swell of his bicep. Mika doesn’t acknowledge the touch, but his pupils dilate.
“Someone who I can laugh with,” Yuu continues. “Someone who understands who I am.” His hand finds its way to Mika's shoulder, thumb caressing the nape of his neck. It is warm.
Mika bites his lip.
They have been here many times before, alone, contemplative, looking at each other in hopes that one of them will have the courage to act boldly. It is a tension Yuu thought would dissipate after adolescence, but seeing Mika now, the blue smolders of his eyes as his lashes lower, prove that time has only had the opposite effect.
They have been here many times before, but never has Yuu felt so close to finally taking the plunge.
Mika releases his lip from between his teeth, now red and shining, and leans into the gentle caress of Yuu’s fingers against his skin. He raises his hand to do something—whether to push Yuu away or to make his own move, Yuu can’t be sure—but settles for fisting the base of Yuu’s shirt in an unsteady grasp.
It isn’t a rejection. The distance between them is shrinking.
“Yuu-chan.” Mika takes a shuddering breath. His eyes are glassy, irises nearly eclipsed. “You’re getting married. This is your engagement party. We mustn’t.”
Yuu’s fingers glide along the back of Mika’s neck, goosebumps rising in their wake. He leans in close and whispers, “Mustn’t we?”
When Yuu’s hand is pressed firmly against the small of Mika’s back, he closes the distance entirely. A quiet gasp is all Mika can muster before he yanks Yuu closer, uncertainty abandoned.
Kissing Mika, Yuu decides immediately and without a shred of doubt, is far more intoxicating than anything else in which he has ever indulged.
Mika’s half-hearted protests are replaced by eager lips and hands desperately seeking out more contact beyond the barrier of clothing. Yuu follows his lead, shaking fingers prying buttons free and tugging fine silks aside. Mika successfully removes Yuu’s jacket, but skin to skin contact is still far from their reach.
Beyond the mind-numbing euphoria of Mika’s lips against his, Yuu curses the cruel tyrant that dictated exactly how many layers were required to properly attend an evening party.
Blind and fumbling, Mika and Yuu undress each other until only underclothes remain. Yuu parts Mika’s shirt, running his palm along the hard lines of his chest. Mika has to break away from Yuu to momentarily regain his breath.
“Yuu-chan,” he murmurs. He tilts his head away, but Yuu is relentless. He mouths along the exposed column of Mika’s throat. “God, Yuu-chan, j-just slow down a moment. What the hell are we doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m deflowering you.” Yuu pauses his shameless groping and pulls back, raising an eyebrow. “Unless you have some secret lover I’m unaware of.”
The flush already painting Mika’s face pink spreads to the bridge of his nose. He chuckles, weak hand shoved against the center of Yuu’s chest. He shakes his head.
“You dolt. Are you sure you aren’t drunk?”
Yuu lowers his eyelashes, leans in close enough that the mirth on Mika’s face retreats to make way for desire.
“I’m not,” Yuu says. He runs his knuckles down the side of Mika’s face. “And thank God for it. I don’t want to miss a single moment of this.”
Mika’s next exhale shudders past his lips. He surges forward, pulls Yuu in with hands clasped around his neck, and steers himself to lie pressed beneath Yuu’s weight. Every part of their bodies is aligned, so much so that Yuu feels as though they have already become one. However, Mika’s frantic tugging to pull his shirt off his shoulders reminds him that they still have a whole night ahead of them.
The bottle of sherry on the nightstand sits untouched, long forgotten.
The early morning rays of sunshine pour through the open curtains, warming the exposed skin of Yuu’s back and leaving him to squint against the glare. He turns his head, buries his face into his pillow, and blocks out the morning. He may not have gotten drunk last night, but the pounding in his head is a fair reminder that he was nearly there.
The rapid knocking on his bedroom door is much harder to ignore.
“Master Yuuichirou?” a voice calls. “Are you awake? Your father has requested you.”
Quiet shuffling in the hall and another series of knocks tell Yuu that this servant will be far less polite than the sunlight to just let Yuu have a few more moments of rest. He groans and stretches his limbs, a procession of daily responsibilities marching through his head. He stretches, and his foot connects with another warm body lying only a few inches to his left.
Recollection pours into Yuu all at once.
“Shit,” Yuu hisses. He reaches over and shakes his bedmate. “Mika! Mika, wake up!”
Knock knock. “Master Yuuichirou? May I come in?”
“One moment!” Yuu calls. Mika has finally stirred to wakefulness beside him. “I-I’m not decent!”
Mika only takes a few more seconds of delirious blinking to remember their precarious situation and stumbles out of bed, scrabbling to find his clothes amidst the mess of trousers and waistcoats scattered the night prior. Yuu runs to the armoire, finds sleeping attire that will look the least suspicious, and grapples to put them on.
The sound of glass breaking has Yuu spinning in place, heart in his throat. Mika looks at the ground, face pale as the shirt worn loose about his shoulders; he must have bumped into the nightstand in his haste to kick on his trousers. The bottle of sherry lies in pieces on the floor.
The doorknob jiggles—still locked from last night. “Sir?!? Is everything alright?”
Mika grimaces and mouths “sorry” as he pulls buttons into place. His neck is littered with the evidence of Yuu’s lavishments. For once, Yuu is grateful for high collars.
“I’m fine!” Yuu shouts. “J-just another moment!”
Yuu pushes Mika toward the window, throwing it open. No one is in the garden below, but that could change at any moment. Mika sighs, tucks his shoes beneath his arm, and allows Yuu to direct him.
“Is this our lives now?” Mika wonders as he swings his leg over the window sill. He curses softly when he loses his footing, knuckles white as he holds onto the ledge for balance. “Late night meetings and me sneaking out of your bedroom when no one is looking?”
Yuu tilts his chin up, thumb brushing along the curve of his cheekbone.
“I love you,” he says.
Mika scoffs. He shakes his head. “How is it you always know exactly what to say to keep me trapped within your schemes?”
Yuu kisses him. Mika lets him.
When Mika has successfully landed in the lush grass below with no broken bones, Yuu rises from the window. He smooths down his nightshirt and pulls fingers through the unruly mess of his hair. His engagement ring catches painfully in the process.
Stepping around the broken glass, Yuu approaches the door and unlocks it. Several servants file in, their concern for his well being and the shattered bottle only momentary as they prepare him for the day. Yuu’s father is not a man that likes to be kept waiting, after all.
They have much to discuss, wedding plans to prepare, and, most importantly, more gatherings to organize. And though the guestlist for each event changes periodically, the Tepes household is always welcome.
Yuu smiles to himself. He can hardly wait.