Archive of Our Own ^beta

Rise, fall. Rise, fall. Rise, fall. Rise…

…Fufu. Adorable…

Tatsumi at once looked so angelic and yet so… real, as he slept. Like a painting that should be kept far away from prying eyes, and yet, here he was– mere inches away. Mayoi could reach out and touch him. He could graze his fingers against his cheek, the moles under his eyes, and the temptation is definitely there but he stops himself short. If he did that, all of this would be ruined. His sin would be found out and he would surely be condemned for it, shunned for the disgusting person he was, even if he can’t understand why he hasn’t been already.

Tatsumi was a light sleeper, that much was quickly obvious to him the night he and his unit first stayed together, and so being the vile person he was, his next target landed on Aira. It’s not as though he had any intentions to do anything to them, though the thoughts sometimes invaded his mind against any semblance of hatred he felt. He just… cared for them. That was it, even if someone like him had no place to glance at them with all his misgivings. 

A sigh.

He couldn’t control himself.

Unconsciously, of course, he’s found himself getting accustomed to the priest’s sleep patterns. It was mere coincidence that he would get closer and closer to him when possible, and that it happened to be a great test of the limits of the other’s sleep– And it was mere chance that he dropped down into the other’s dorm room and, ahh, who was he kidding himself, he had no right to act so deceptive (even to himself) but he was really just so worried– Earlier, during practice, his leg injury had started acting up, and it was just for a second but one thing led to another in Mayoi’s head– What if he was more hurt than he let on, what if he needed help and suddenly he was just–

Tatsumi shifts.

Mayoi lets out a yelp before quickly clasping his hands over his face.

Oh. Oh god. This is it.

…But he doesn’t move any further. Odd, his noise should have already woken him up if he was that close to it… Maybe he was safe…? He spends a few minutes staring at the other, hands trembling over his face but nothing more happens, and maybe, just maybe he’s made it out lucky  this time. the logical thing to do would be to leave while he still can, but… Just a few more minutes couldn’t hurt, right?

Mayoi finds himself after a few moments resting his cheek against the bed in front of him. Tatsumi’s face is turned just slightly towards his after the movements. Like this, it’s almost as if Mayoi could picture the scene as…domestic, sharing the same bed and seeing each other at their most vulnerable and somehow that’s the most disgusting thought he’s had so far. How horrible he is, fantasizing about such an selfish goal, when he knows that if he gets too close, the pastor’s light will extinguish him entirely.

In another life, maybe, one where he wasn’t born such a monster, he–

“...Mayoi-san…?”

…

“ H-Hiii…! T-Tatsumi-san, I-!”

Ahhh, no, he really did do it! Tatsumi was going to see him like this, invading his privacy and being a complete creep, and for a second as Tatsumi blearily opens his eyes there is a sense of panic in them but it fades when he seems to recognize it’s Mayoi he’s talking to and that’s not right, he should be even more revolted! …But he isn’t. Even though this is his room, even when he was sleeping so peacefully before being interrupted by this lowlife– even when Mayoi was doing something so obviously horrible– He softens seeing him. 

Instinctively, Mayoi hides his face, only peeking through the gaps between gloved fingers. “It– It’s not what it looks like, I– Well– I just–,” he stumbles, before burying his face in his hands. “Aaah– I-I’m so sorryyy! A horrible person like me doesn’t deserve to liveee…!”

And Tatsumi, only half awake, sits up a bit, resting his side on one arm as he stares at the other. Understandable he seems a bit confused, but nonetheless, calm. “Ah… It’s late, isn’t it? Good evening… Are you getting enough rest, Mayoi-san…?”

He smiles, and Mayoi wants to crawl back into the darkness he came from and never come back out. 

“Eeeeueue… I-I promise I wasn’t doing anything– nefarious, or, or– perverted!” He was definitely making this worse the more he talked, Tatsumi’s eyebrows raising a bit, and Mayoi feels the need to make panicked hand gestures in an attempt to remedy the situation. “Uuu… I-I was just worried about you! But– I-I should’ve never broken in–! I’m repulsive, I–”

“Mayoi-san.”

That shuts his rambling right up, and as he tries not to think about how nice his name sounds coming from the other’s half asleep mouth, Tatsumi sits fully up on his knees with a kind smile. Soft, gentle, like wrapping yourself in a blanket, kind in a way that should never be directed towards him.

“All is forgiven. Would you like to talk about what’s troubling you, maybe?” Shifting a bit, he pats the space next to him. “...I can’t imagine it’s too comfortable to kneel on the floor like that.”

He’s no match for him.

Which is how Mayoi finds himself kneeling alongside Tatsumi, in his room, in his bed, as if he wasn’t some intruder and somehow belonged there. He feels particularly dirty, wrong– He shifts uncomfortably as the realization of how out of place he is creeps up on him. And yet Tatsumi sits, composed, and he looks over to Mayoi, and he places one hand over his and Mayoi jolts.

“...You can confide in me, Mayoi-san. Nothing you say will leave here.”

How could he just confide in him when his thoughts were so sinful? How could he just tell the other about the horrible thoughts he has for him, about how someone as unholy as him wishes to snuggle up to him, cover himself in him, be with him? How he wishes to wrap himself in the other’s light without being blinded? Surely he’d be hated, cast away by the first people who have ever shown him kindness.

He worries the leather of his gloves between thumb and palm.

“...I-I was worried about you,” he starts, voice shaking, “if you got injured or…!” And he curses himself because it’s a lie, again, because he knows he wants so much more than to just check on him. If his intentions were pure, if he was honest, he wouldn’t still be thinking about the other’s face as he slept.

Despite this, Tatsumi’s eyes are filled with no suspicion. Only surprise, truly– He blinks at the other’s words, hand shifting a bit and Mayoi can feel it against his gloves and he needs to stay focused. It’s hard. He’s already staring too much at Tatsumi’s lips when his mouth opens to talk. 

“...Worried?” And a small laugh comes from him, not mocking more so than amused. “I assure you, Mayoi-san, I’m perfectly fine.”

And of course he was. Mayoi knew that. He knew the other was capable enough at protecting himself that he didn’t need anyone else. And yet, he felt incapable of stopping the desire to care for the other, to keep himself, to...

“...Mayoi-san? You look a bit tense.”

(And now he was getting lost in his own head and he was wasting the other’s time and…!!!)

A swallow. “...O…Of course… I’m so sorry--! I just don’t want anything happening to you, s-so I just wanted to check up on you but– Aah, someone like me with such horrible thoughts should just–!” The words come spilling out one after another with no control. He’s never been good at that, and he’d already accepted such a weakness would be his downfall.

Tatsumi stares, though, and there’s nothing at all to indicate he’s disgusted with the other. There’s a curious glint in his eyes as he takes his other hand around Mayoi’s and leans forwards.

The kind looks he gives will be his real undoing.

“...You can elaborate if you wish. I promise, neither God nor I will judge.”

He shouldn’t, of course. He’s already dug his own grave deep enough, and somehow Tatsumi hasn’t started burying him for it. If he takes one more step he could fall out of his reach for good. And to Mayoi’s credit, he tries, he hesitates and glances away. But Tatsumi’s gaze, earnest and so blindingly genuine, is hard to simply deny.

“...I-I want to protect you,” he starts, and as he does he’s already folding in on himself in shame. A fiend, incapable of stopping the toxins that drip from his mouth with each word. “Aaahh… I wanna keep you all to myself– L-Locked away so nothing could get you except me–! So Tatsumi-san can be preserved–” Mayoi takes a shallow breath. It’s hard for his hands to shake when Tatsumi seems to be holding them even tighter, so his arms tremble instead. 

“...Y…You’re pure… S-So pure… and bright… I-I don’t want anything dirty to tarnish you b-but– Ahh– I’m horrible… Irredeemable for having such obscene desires…”

His voice fades to a whisper before being snuffed out. The room is silent for a few seconds, or maybe minutes, or hours, and the silence grates against his skin like a blade. Tatsumi hates him. He’s going to ridicule him, now, look at him in revulsion or even worse fear. (Tatsumi looks afraid so, so rarely, but he hates it all the same.) Maybe he would shove him to the floor, maybe he would call someone to keep Mayoi away for good for speaking such revolting fantasies into the air..

However long it takes, still as a statue, he convinces himself to look up in between strands of dark hair fallen down.

Tatsumi’s face isn’t one of rejection.

He isn’t sure how to describe it. But he’s wide-eyed, face a bit flushed (though maybe it was a trick of the lighting). His grip on Mayoi’s hand is firm, just barely restrained enough to not be uncomfortable. He glances down as if nervous.

“...And… you think these sorts of things– often?”

He’s still touching him. He doesn’t think he’s dirty enough to pull back.

A weak nod. A pause.

For a time too long for Mayoi’s weak heart, Tatsumi stays silent. When he speaks up again, he flinches at his voice in instinct but the words are far from the ridicule and contempt he expected.

“...If, perhaps, you had a chance to…” trailing off as if considering every word, “indulge in these thoughts, if just for a night…”

Mayoi’s mouth goes dry.

No matter how much the idol denies it, Tatsumi is a saint. That’s the only possible reason that he doesn’t question where Mayoi got the ropes in his hands from, why he was filled with such anticipation that they trembled around them.

He made sure to grab ones that wouldn’t chafe or burn too badly against the other’s skin, though most of his body was covered up to begin with. Still, it was a mere flicker in the face of the illuminating kindness the other was showing him thus far.

Maybe it was all a trick, Mayoi reasons– Maybe all of this was simply a cruel, cruel plan to mock him, to get proof of him in the act of something borderline criminal. Maybe Tatsumi would be so disgusted with him actually accepting his offer that he would turn the tables and use those ropes to hold him back and in retrospect he really needs to stop with this line of thought before his mind goes to even worse places but Tatsumi calls out his name, gently, and Mayoi wants to melt.

He’s picture perfect, almost distressingly so. He sits on the edge of his bed, a leg crossed over the other. His hands are folded in his lap, and he looks up at Mayoi, expectant but so, so patient. 

“Mayoi-san…” He takes in a breath, a bit shallow for his frame. “...Whenever you’d like to start, I’m ready.”

“...O-Of course– Tatsumi-san.”

He needs to control himself.

Mayoi kneels in front of him to begin with, and the realization that he’ll have to touch Tatsumi makes his fingers twitch around the bindings. Still, he looks up at him helplessly, glancing down, and after a moment Tatsumi gets the message and uncrosses his legs. A small exhale escapes him, and with a warmth to his voice that could smolder he reminds Mayoi that there’s nothing to be afraid of. That they’re unitmates, friends, even, and Mayoi is free to touch wherever he needs to for this to continue. Again, his hands tense.

Before he can spiral into overthinking, he takes one of the other’s ankles in a hand and grasps the rope with the other. Shifting his legs properly into place, he begins to wrap it around his legs, securing them together. He tries not to let his thoughts run out of control. Like this, Tatsumi would be practically useless if trying to get away, right? Or do much of anything on his own– He would need to rely on Mayoi to move with even just the first simple ties. It would only be for the night, he reminds himself, and for even thinking of such possessive things he knows how vile he is. 

Tatsumi must know as well, of course. With his injury, he would know better than most the fear of being immobile, losing ability in one of the most vital parts of a human’s body. But he wasn’t fighting against it. He wasn’t having second doubts. He looks down at Mayoi and runs his thumb slowly over his knuckles, hands clasped together. He’s letting this happen.

(Why?)

The rope loops around itself, normally dexterous hands trembling, supported only by habit. Secure. Fastened in place. He can’t move, now, only small shifts of his legs against each other– Though Mayoi considers maybe making it a bit more certain, binding his knees together as well but– Ah… It’d be useless in the end. He doesn’t intend to run, and the reminder of that forces Mayoi to steady himself with an inhale. He tugs on the restraints, pulling them just that bit tighter. Tatsumi only tenses for a moment.

He hadn’t thought this far, in truth. He hadn’t mentally prepared himself for the sight of the other’s face after debasing him in such a way. For a few minutes Mayoi’s touch lingers, the thin fabric of the other’s pant legs the only barrier between true contact. Tatsumi is quiet when he finally looks up from his spot on the floor, but his face is flushed beautifully, soft hesitance playing on his features. It’s a sight Mayoi knows isn’t for him, one he could never possibly be meant to see. But it’s for him, only him right now– and he needs to keep going.

Almost mechanical in his movements, Mayoi’s hands reach for the other bundle of rope. He feels Tatsumi’s eyes on him the entire time. The other’s hands are still held in his lap, obedient, following an order never spoken and Mayoi wonders what they feel like, to hold them himself instead of having the other simply reach for him. He wonders what sort of face Tatsumi would make if he dragged his thumb over every inch and every line. He wonders if he would allow it, or if he’d make that same pretty nervous expression he’d been seeing tonight.

When he finally does take one of his hands, the reality of it almost halts him entirely. Tatsumi’s hand is limp, malleable in Mayoi’s, surely to aid him in his intentions and not be too much of a pain to work with. They’re a bit larger than his own, almost imperceptible, and his fingers aren’t as slender. There’s a warmth that permeates even through the material of his gloves.

But it’s not enough. Of course it’s not enough.

Tatsumi blinks in surprise with how quickly he’s let go off, shift in expression caught in just a moment and trailing down to watch as Mayoi’s shaky fingers remove his gloves. “S-So I can work better,” he mumbles under his breath, fully aware of how terrible of an excuse it is. But he takes Tatsumi’s hand regardless, he dirties it with his own filth and he almost reels with guilt. Apologies are met with gentle shushing. It’s okay, Tatsumi assures, he doesn’t mind. He never has. Mayoi can never reason why. But his hand is warm in his, and he can feel the subtle callouses of it, a product of a life of exertion, and he lets his own fingers run over his palm. Tatsumi shivers, so small it could be missed if he were any further. The reality of his reaction is so much better than any thought he conjured even just a minute ago– Tatsumi always impressed him like that, didn’t he? Subconscious, he bites his lip.

He can control himself. Of course he can. As hard as it is, he can stop himself from interlacing his fingers with the other’s. He can stop himself from bringing that warmth up to his undeserving face, cradling himself in it. As much as he wants to. As much as it hurts.

He shifts his hold to Tatsumi's wrists. He takes the rope, and he begins again.

Binding his hands together is a different experience than simply kneeling in front of him. Mayoi sits beside him and leans over, and Tatsumi is so close, so distractingly close. Mayoi’s left arm brushes against Tatsumi’s right constantly. It’s not as if this was their first time being in contact, of course, the saint before him seemed to have no shame in touching such a dirty creature in front of everyone– But here it feels almost electrically charged. Tatsumi’s fingers twitch, but his gaze on the work being done to him remains constant. At times his eyes shift up to watch Mayoi’s face, and Mayoi dares not look, but the feeling always lingers for just a beat or two too long.

The room is silent except for the sound of rope chafing against itself, and eventually even that comes to a halt. The final knot is tied, though he finds himself giving it a tug to check if it’s tight enough. 

(It won’t matter, of course.)

“...I… Is it comfortable…?”

It takes a moment for Tatsumi to register his voice, seemingly lost in thought– But when he answers, the smile he gives is fond. His eyes crinkle up just a bit.

“...Yes, of course.”

He looks almost ethereal like this, in Mayoi’s eyes. Of course, he had always been pretty, that much was obvious at a glance-- but there was something about him right now, sitting so proper, still for him, about his slightly messed hair, about the life in his eyes visible even in the dark room. The dark rope contrasted well with his light clothes and pale skin. Mayoi traces the sight with his eyes before he can stop himself.

This was his doing. Mayoi was the only one to see him like this. A sight all for himself, perfect to the letter, one he wished he could capture and never let go, never let pass. If only he could keep this. The other’s breathtaking image, maintained, never to lose its luster.

But…

(Tatsumi must have caught him staring– For he gives a curious tilt of the head.)

“Eee…! I’m so sorry– I interrupted your sleep, didn’t I…?” Mayoi whines as he frantically puts his gloves back on. “I-I can leave you alone, if you like–” Because no way would he want him to remain here, not when he put him in this state. This was just fulfillment for the sake of getting him off his back, right? Pity even? He suddenly felt so small once brought out of the trance of work.

Tatsumi smiles at him, he grins just slightly, laughs quietly, Mayoi wants to keep this sight to himself forever but that would be far too much. Though a bit unsteady from his lack of mobility, he leans forwards, closing the gap between him and Mayoi just that smallest bit more. There’s an amusement in his eyes, but it doesn’t feel mocking. 

“I want to stay with you,” he begins, and almost ends if it weren’t for him watching Mayoi’s brain almost short circuit, “you wanted to take care of me, remember? And I can hardly do much on my own like this…”

Ah, of course, how rude was he to offer care to his unitmate and then run away? A tentative nod, a small utterance of agreement just loud enough for him to hear. They were close, distractingly, almost intoxicatingly so– Mayoi could count each strand of hair if he focused, he could obsess over every little blemish if he got too carried away.

“...Are you sure this is alright… T-Tatsumi-san?”

A beat, maybe two. He wonders how he got into this situation, because Tatsumi is drawing even closer to him. He can feel the other’s warm breath against his skin now, and he tries and fails not to shudder. He wonders if this is it, if his sinful existence is finally going to be snuffed out because he feels like he’s going to explode, or maybe just have a heart attack.

Tatsumi is a bit unbalanced now. He wonders how someone so pure could be in front of him, just within reach, without him being burned alive.

…

“...Yes,” Tatsumi says with a sigh, letting his head drop into the crook of Mayoi’s neck. “...I feel almost… relieved. Pleased.”

Relieved, because of Mayoi. Because of his own depraved desires being put into action.

It feels like sacrilege, but he wonders if maybe Tatsumi really isn’t so innocent. He wonders if maybe devil and angel are not so different, when they can both take comfort in these twisted acts. He can’t let his mind run wild, or else he’ll start to lose control in all other areas– But the implications of the other’s words are just within reach. How much more would he be okay with, if this was how he felt? How much more of Mayoi could be shown to him before he backs away?

“...Mayoi-san?”

Despite the inquiry, Tatsumi doesn’t move away from his shoulder. Mayoi doesn’t make him, of course, trying not to relish in the physical contact, but he hums in question back, afraid to break the quiet.

“...I do have to rest for tonight. Can I ask for your help in getting back into bed…?”

Of course– He’s here to take care of the other, tend to his every need in return for him staying. Even without this symbiosis they’ve found themself in, Mayoi would have always been overjoyed to care for him at the drop of a pin– But he would never have asked for that, not unless forced like he is right now. Mayoi knew that. For as wrong as all this was, something about hearing the other finally ask for assistance thrilled him.

“...Fufu… O-Of course,Tatsumi-san…!” Mayoi answers back, eagerness dripping from his voice, and quickly (though a bit sheepish) he takes an arm underneath Tatsumi’s knees, one steady at his upper back. The other seems to relax into the touch quickly, in turn reassuring Mayoi. That he was fine with this, that he accepted this– That Tatsumi even enjoyed this as much as he had, though that possibility still feels far out of reach.

It’s a bit unsteady when he hauls Tatsumi into laying on his side, but eventually Mayoi gets him in what he hopes is a suitably comfortable position even with the bindings. He contemplates asking, confirming once again that he feels alright, but the other looks so peaceful that it would be wrong to disturb. He thinks Tatsumi looks best like this, decided while watching his chest rise and fall. When the other always worked so, so hard in spite of everything, when he gave himself up to others so selflessly– Mayoi thinks he’s best like this, vulnerable and unwound.

He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face, but it’s time to go– He would come back in the night, release Tatsumi as carefully as possible, and–

As soon as the bed creaks, Tatsumi turns his head, stopping Mayoi in his tracks.

“Stay with me,” he pleads softly. “You can stay with me for the night. It’s okay.”

He can feel his heart thrum against his chest.

“...Wiii… W-With you…?  Aaaa… You couldn’t possibly mean in– in– b-be eee…”  

His voice trails off. Of course not, just what was someone like him thinking? He would be perfectly fine sleeping in the floor, or even in one of the walls– He was acting disgusting, idiotic, he…

“Of course, Mayoi-san.”

Ah…!

He’s not sure for a few moments how he hadn’t fainted at the confirmation, but he’s still standing strong enough to scramble into bed beside the other. Every nerve is on end, electrified, lit ablaze. He’s in his bed, not just sitting on the edge, not just helping him into it. In it, himself, and he doesn’t know if he can survive. He stares up at the ceiling, hands determinedly at his sides. A few seconds pass, then a few minutes, and maybe he can do this, he can contain himself. Tatsumi’s voice cuts through the air.

“...If you want, Mayoi-san… You can come closer to me.” He speaks as if weighing each word on his tongue, careful and steady and hesitant.

“...Aa… Are you sure…?” He would love to envelop himself in him. Would love to reach out and touch him, hold him, bask in his presence. Right now it would be so easy to take advantage of the other’s offer, to string him along like some toy or doll. In theory he could trail his hands over the exposed skin left behind, appraise him like a work of art. But he can’t. He could never, in reality. The thoughts taste like acid to him. “...Someone like me c-could…”

“I’m sure.” His voice is warm enough to melt, slow and gentle like candle wax. “I wouldn't have let you do this if I didn’t trust you, would I?

“Right now… I know that you could do anything to me. And anything you did, I would be content with.” Mayoi can’t see his face, for better or for worse, but he can watch Tatsumi bury his cheek into the mattress and feel how the weight shifts. “...You’ve never done a single thing to displease me.” 

It all feels like a dream, some sort of sickly sweet delusion to his ears, but Mayoi can feel his fingertips against the bedsheets, hear the hum of the building’s wiring. He can see the other, feel his presence, and if he reaches out just a bit more he can touch him. And it would be okay. For some reason, completely incomprehensible to his brain, Tatsumi trusts him– This wretched monster who tarnishes everything he touches.

He’s weak. So, so weak, no matter how hard he tries. 

But this time, he allows himself to indulge. He turns onto his side and presses himself against Tatsumi, savoring the quick inhale the other takes at the contact. He’s warm to the touch, human and alive. When Mayoi wraps his arms around his waist, arms shaking a bit in fear, he doesn’t protest, but instead lifts his head to nuzzle into him as best he can from behind. 

He’s best like this, Mayoi decides once again, relaxed and pliant in his arms. All his, not because of force or fear or pity but because he simply wants to be. He knows it’s wrong, horribly sinful that someone as horrible as him is so clearly corrupting such a holy person, but how could anyone be expected to stop when Tatsumi looks at them with such kind eyes? When his voice is so soft, gentle as he reassures you, when his breathing evens out as he begins to fall asleep in your arms despite everything he knows you could do?

Is this what he wanted?

Him, with Mayoi’s sinful desires–

Is he happy with them?

When Mayoi buries his face in the crook of the other’s neck, takes in his scent, Tatsumi hums contentedly. When he holds him just a bit tighter to his chest, he melts into the touch. When Tatsumi starts to go limp with sleep, he knows that he’s safe, secure, that he no longer needs to worry.

How could this be wrong, when someone so perfect can be at ease?

He indulges.