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Tatsumi never minded the idea of being under the same roof as another man. Priests and his other christian brothers normally do so, after pledging their life to serve the Lord.
He's starting to think he minds, though. Just a little.
Every so often, Mayoi will climb through the vents and arrive in ALKALOID's shared bathroom without so much as greeting everyone else, and the others have learned to assume that sudden noises from the toilet, despite no one having entered through the door, are that of Mayoi entering the shower to wash off the grime and dust from the ceiling. Afterwards, his co worker will exit from the bathroom, hair dripping wet, and begin apologizing profusely for any inconveniences he may have caused.
It's bothersome. It's distracting.
Yet, he doesn't feel as bothered by this when it's Hiiro or Aira who appears from the bathroom. Perhaps it is because he's less shocked to see them, or perhaps it is because their hair isn't as long as Mayoi's.
Nevertheless, Mayoi is very distracting, just as he is onstage.
Tatsumi was nearing the last of his rosary's Holy Marys when the sound of the bathroom door opening caught his attention briefly. It opens slowly and meekly; a clear sign that the man behind it is neither Hiiro nor Aira. The old thing makes a rather loud creaking sound with how slow the door is being opened, and Tatsumi is ashamed to say that as soon as he laid eyes on Mayoi, he had forgotten which rosary bead his fingers had rested on.
Mayoi makes a startled sound when he notices Tatsumi turning to look at him, and he fidgets with his hair, laid loose from its typical braid, and weighed down by the shower water.
"Sorry, sorry! I distracted you from your prayers, didn't I? I should've known better!" The man proceeds to mumble something about being "a demon, keeping Tatsumi-san from his important holistic duties," but he quiets down when Tatsumi lowers his rosary into his lap and shakes his head.
"Not at all, Mayoi-san. The door is simply old, and it's nothing you're at fault for. Just give me a little bit, and I'll be done," he replies, and upon receiving a nod from the other, Tatsumi resumes his October prayers.
At least, he attempts to.
His mind continuously drifts towards Mayoi, sitting on the bunk under Hiiro's, twiddling his thumbs and petting the little plush bear that sits atop his pillow. God forgive him, it takes him longer than usual to finish his prayers.
Perhaps the problem is not Mayoi, but Tatsumi himself.
When he sets down his rosary with a sign of the cross, he opens his eyes to see Mayoi attempting to braid his hair again.
"Mayoi-san."
The man jumps at the call of his name. "Eek! Ah… Tatsumi-san…? Are you done with your prayers? I'm sorry, I wasn't paying attention," he says. "I was worried I was going to be burnt alive by your radiance…"
Tatsumi offers a warm smile. "Yes. I'm sorry for startling you, as well. Are you going to braid your hair while it's still wet?"
“Ah, um, yes,” Mayoi clarifies. His fingers hold tight to the separated portions of his unfinished braid, as if considering if he should stop, simply because Tatsumi inquired about it. “I know it’s rather distracting… It looks unruly, right? Like an octopus’s tentacles, or some other gross thing… You were staring, a bit, so…”
He was staring? Was it really so obvious?
Tatsumi feels the heat rush to his cheeks, but he shakes his head, both to ground himself, and to assure his friend (just friends?). “No, it’s nothing like that. I think your hair is very…” He trails off, looking for the right word to use. Beautiful?
No. Absolutely not.
“Your hair is perfectly fine,” he decides with a fist over his mouth. Mayoi looks up at him with eyes he feels he could only properly describe as belonging to a stray dog begging for more food.
“Y-you really think so?”
“Yes… and that’s why it’d be a shame if you attempted to braid it while it’s still so wet. It’ll get damaged that way.”
Mayoi’s fingers loosen around his hair as he considers Tatsumi’s statement. He makes no move to undo what he’s already started, but he does lower his hands, and Tatsumi’s eyes follow the movement of his hair slipping through his fingers, leaving his palm wet.
It’s distracting.
“Tatsumi-san?” Mayoi’s voice breaks him out of his trance.
“Yes?”
“Is there something wrong…? You’re staring… again.”
Tatsumi runs his hand over his Bible. It’s an unconscious motion, and it does nothing to help the thoughts running through the priest’s mind.
“I’ve always wanted to touch your hair.”
God has abandoned him.
Mayoi startled at his words, hands going back to the unfinished braid. It hangs over his shoulder and creates a damp spot on his shirt. “T-touch my hair…?! Eek! You shouldn’t! You’ll only dirty your hands by doing so—”
Tatsumi furrows his brows. Of course Mayoi would be averse to the idea. He isn't fond of people touching him, right? The producer had mentioned he got upset when she pulled on his hair (for a reason Tatsumi had tuned out, too focused on trying to comprehend how he felt about learning that piece of information). Repent, Tatsumi, for the mistake you’ve made. “You’ve just washed it, haven’t you…? But, um, regardless; I apologize for saying such a thing. You’ve no obligation to allow me to do so. I’ll respect your boundaries.”
After a tense beat of silence, Mayoi mumbles something Tatsumi doesn’t quite catch.
“Pardon?”
“I don’t mind…” Mayoi repeats, running his fingers through wet purple locks to straighten it out of its braid, “as long as you don’t, either.”
Tatsumi’s eyes go wide. He has permission to touch him, does he? He… wasn’t expecting that, genuinely. Considering the fact that he was the one to bring up the topic and express his desires, he should take up the chance to do something he may never be able to do again. On the other hand, isn’t that edging too close to being more than friends…?
Is that what he wants?
Beyond his thoughts, through his silence, Mayoi continues to ramble on. “Of course, you can stop if you realize that you don’t like it! I completely understand if you’d rather not stay near me for too long…” he explains nervously, and though Tatsumi had tuned out his self depreciation, Mayoi’s move to start nibbling on his finger catches his attention.
God is willing to forgive sinners so long as they repent, isn’t he?
Mayoi makes a sound between a shocked scream and a whimper when Tatsumi makes his way down his bunk without a word. He probably should have responded. He feels like he loses all sense of reason, with Mayoi. He’s sure it's the temptation. It sure feels like something else, though. Something more innocent.
With careful steps, he approaches Mayoi’s bed, and he offers a smile he can only hope doesn’t betray his dripping enthusiasm. “Being near you is never a problem. Do you mind if I sit here?”
Mayoi makes a small whimper and shuffles to make space behind him for Tatsumi to sit, and he even goes as far as picking up his plush bear to move it to his lap. “Not at all… Please, make yourself comfortable…”
Tatsumi gingerly sits down on Mayoi’s bed. He tries his best to be gentle when he pulls Mayoi’s hair from over his shoulder into his hands, but he doesn’t miss the way he flinches at the contact.
Maybe this was a bad idea after all.
He runs his fingers through dark wet locks and works out the knots that remained prior to the shower. Tatsumi does his best to keep his fingers far from Mayoi’s scalp, but maybe it’s a sensitive spot for him, because he jumps in his seat with every little movement, and his grip on his plushie grows tight. This was definitely a bad idea.
Tatsumi pulls his hands away from Mayoi’s hair and lets his gaze linger on the water droplets that remained as proof that the moment ever happened. He wipes them against his pants with a sigh. Let there be no traces. In the moment he moves, Mayoi nervously turns to look at him.
“Tatsumi-san?”
“I’m sorry, Mayoi-san. I shouldn’t have suggested this.” As if on cue, Mayoi’s face contorts, and Tatsumi watches the way his mole moves with the tremble of his lip. He’s quick to continue, if only to save Mayoi the trouble of his own intrusive thoughts. “It was arrogant of me to think that I could simply fulfill my own desires without worrying about the way they affect you. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Despite his words, Mayoi still looks deeply troubled. “I— I’m not uncomfortable!” he says, and in a softer voice, he continues; “it was really quite nice… unfamiliar, but nice… B-but! If you don’t want to do this anymore I understand! I’ll leave…!”
“No, you have no reason to leave. I’m the one in your bed, right now. I’m sorry again for invading your personal space—”
“This…!” Mayoi starts, holding out a hand to try and hold down Tatsumi, but all he does is allow it to hover over the priest's arm; close enough to brush against his shirt, but not quite touching. “This is… not a lie. I mean, I wasn’t lying! It really was a nice feeling… You don’t have to stop. If you don’t want to… unless you do. I want it, but you don’t have to.”
His declaration ends on a blunt, awkward note, and he pulls back his gloved hand, but he doesn’t move from his spot. Mayoi stayed silent after that, eyes refusing to meet Tatsumi’s own until the priest nodded his head and gave a familiar smile. “I’m glad, then. That this is something that we both want.”
He can feel the redness in his cheeks, and for a second, he considers sending his prayers to the Lord again.
Both parties who agree to sin can be held accountable for it. This is what Tatsumi knows in his heart, in his mind. There is always someone who started it, though, and Tatsumi was the one who offered up the option for their sins. He gave into temptation; Tatsumi is the one who needs to repent the most.
Which he will do, after he has sinned enough.
Tatsumi offers to dry Mayoi’s hair with a towel, and perhaps it is an unconscious action, but he can’t help but notice the way the other leans into his touch, shoulders shaking lightly, fingers wringing at each other, but his eyes are closed in trust.
In a split second decision, Tatsumi runs his hand against Mayoi’s forehead to brush away his fringe, and oh, was that a bad decision. A very, very bad decision.
Mayoi opens his eyes up at Tatsumi, head resting in the priest’s hands and damp hair sprawled out on the open towel, his mouth opened slightly in shock, and his cheeks flushed lightly.
He’s never wanted to kiss a man more than he does at this very moment.
Mayoi is very distracting, and loving him is a temptation Tatsumi has let himself fall prone to.
Tatsumi doesn’t register the moment his mind goes blank, nor does he register when he begins to lean down to press a kiss against his coworker’s brow. He smells like floral scented soap, like the bottle of conditioner he leaves on the bathroom ledge, like clean laundry. It’s ironic, for someone who tends to spend his time scuttling around in the ceilings.
The kiss he leaves is shorter than he wishes, but longer than intended. When he pulls back, Mayoi is looking up at him, face decidedly as red as his beloved grapes, spluttering incoherent noises at the sudden show of affection.
Tatsumi Kazehaya is sinning in the holy month of October, and he’s ashamed to say that he doesn’t regret it at all.
“Tatsumi-san?! You— erm…” Mayoi mumbles incoherent words under his breath, but he stops in the middle of his ramble when Tatsumi pulls away. He looks up at the other with a slight frown that almost looks disappointed, but he hides his face and begins to nibble on his gloved finger soon after.
“I’m sorry,” Tatsumi apologizes again, “was that wrong of me to do? I should have asked for your permission first.”
He’s both happy that he did it, and ashamed that he did. He isn’t sure which feeling is more dominant in his heart, though. He thinks it’s the latter. Probably.
“N-no… Tatsumi-san never does things that are wrong!” Mayoi explains, and he pulls his hand away from his mouth, perhaps having decided that his fingers are better used to hold his plushie tight to his chest than as a chew toy. “It was niiiiiiice….? I liked it… sorry if that’s weird. Sorry.”
Tatsumi chuckles; he just can’t help it. “It’s not weird, Mayoi-san. I initiated it, didn’t I?”
“Eek…! You’re right!” Mayoi splutters once more, hands wringing themselves on the sides of his bear plush. “I’m sorry…. I didn’t mean it like that, really!”
“There’s no need to worry, I was simply joking around. I’m not upset.” His eyes soften down at Mayoi, and it seems to calm him down, thankfully, because he attempts to give his own smile, crooked and awkward though it may be, and it leaves his sharp teeth on display.
Tatsumi lets his hands return to drying off Mayoi’s hair once the boy settled once more, and really, he’ll have to ask for God’s forgiveness again later, for he can’t help the number of sick, kind thoughts that go through his head and make his heart flutter. Mayoi leans into his touch, seeming as if he had forgotten entirely about his worries, and it relieves Tatsumi. He looks nice like this; comfortable, without the intrusive thoughts running rampant in his mind. Mayoi is distracting, even when he isn’t trying to be.
He forgets to ask for forgiveness that night, too caught up in the feeling that grips his heart; temptation is the color of purple in his hands.