Archive of Our Own ^beta

Fuck.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Yata sprang out of bed instantly after getting an initial blurry view of the clock on his phone. It was seven forty-five. It was finals week.  It was seven forty-five and he had a final at eight. It was seven forty-five, he had a final at eight and school was twenty minutes away.

Yata rushed to his closet, muttering obscenities as he roughly threw on a sweatshirt over his tank and grabbed a hat to cover his grimy hair that he had neglected to wash due to his all night cramming session. Feeling disgusting but not having any time to waste, Yata quickly rinsed with mouthwash before practically jumping into his sneakers and barreling out the front door with his headphones, almost forgetting to lock it in the process. Satisfied, he took off down the street for several seconds before vaguely feeling like something was wrong. He had shoes on, he had his phone, he didn’t need his laptop, he…

He was running.

Why was he running?

His feet came to a screeching halt as he yelled a heavy, somewhat incoherent string of curses to the sky, because really things could not get worse, then turned sharply around back in the direction of his front door. Yanking it open, he grabbed his skateboard, locked the door again, and began his second rush down the street in the direction of his college.  Normally he might’ve been excited at how quickly and smoothly he was gliding down the streets, hell he might’ve been breaking his own record. He was painfully late though, and if he didn’t ace this final, he was royally screwed. The thought made him sweat even more because sure, it was one thing to try and fail, but it was another to not even get the chance. With a newer sense of urgency, Yata grabbed his phone to quickly switch on his work out playlist, turning up the sound to more than what was probably reasonable. He didn’t care about his hearing at the moment though, he just needed any extra push he could get.

Ignoring all the honking from cars and shouts of fellow pedestrians, Yata managed to safely get down his first few busy streets, and was now racing through the quiet residential area that he used as a shortcut. He had discovered it one day the previous semester while exploring the roads around his new apartment. It was sort of creepy in the morning, what with the light dust of fog and various children’s toys strewn about the front yards of cookie cutter homes. The route cut a good five to eight minutes out of the trek to his school though, so Yata managed to get used to it. Since no one was ever driving down the road when he was, he usually boarded straight down the street, and cutting out all the sidewalk obstacles helped with getting him to school faster as well.

Yata strode against the pavement almost painfully, noting that his watch now read seven fifty-two. Yata swore, although it came out sounding more like a pathetic plea. There was no way. Even going his fastest, he was still a good twelve minutes away. There was no chance his professor would let him in two minutes late either, given that Yata wasn’t exactly the best student in the class. Hope dwindling by the second, Yata’s pace slowed until he was barely rolling, finally coming to a stop in front of one of the community’s small intersections. Why did he have to fuck up so badly? Clenching his fists, Yata lowered his head, growing numb to the intense motivational music blasting in his ears. He figured that he might as well go back home, after all he had no shot at the test now. Maybe he could curl up for a few days and wallow in self-pity. Yeah, that’s probably what I’ll do.

Yata raised his head, pushing the lump in his throat down as best he could.

And that’s when he fell. Hard. Yata blanched, wind thoroughly being knocked out of him as he landed on the concrete. His eyesight spun out of focus as pain surged through the shoulder on which he had fallen. Despite his blurry vision and panicked senses, he still was able to somewhat grasp and reason about what had happened. No, he couldn’t have just tripped up at the pace he was going, he hadn’t even been moving! No, he had to have been hit by something. He could vaguely make out a black mass beside him, what he thought must’ve been a car. Willing his body to move somehow, Yata attempted to shake off the pain and hoped that the driver wouldn’t try to make a quick getaway. Cradling his head, Yata tried twisting slightly, only to immediately regret it. He winced at the sharp pain on his right side, most likely where the car had grazed. Yata tore off his headphones, the loud music threatening to give him a headache in the midst of his accident. His ears were met with a gentle purr coming from nearby, something unlike any car Yata had ever heard. Looking up from his scrunched position on the ground, his eyes met a reflective, pitch black helmet.

Oh. That’s definitely not a car.

Yata stared at the gleaming black bike above him. Its engine was still revving, as if the driver didn’t think hitting someone was enough reason to stop. Yata was momentarily stunned, despite his fucked up vision, he could see that the bike was beautiful. He also had to admit, although begrudgingly, it was fucking cool. The bike was almost all black apart from two vibrant cobalt blue streaks towards the back, giving it just the right amount of uniqueness. Yata looked away from the vehicle only to discover that the bike looked practically identical to its rider, whom was wearing all dark clothing other than some purple wristbands. The biker’s jet-black ripped jeans emphasized the length and lissome nature of his legs, and Yata vaguely noted that yikes this guy was probably tall. Yata glared, slightly envious, before moving his gaze back up to the helmet. It was somewhat cocked to the side in a questioning manner, as if Yata had stopped him for some reason, and that was enough to piss Yata off immensely. He jumped to his feet, view going hazy for several moments from the sudden jolt of movement. He turned his head away to shake off the feeling, even more pissed now that his onslaught had been stalled. Growling, he turned back to face the driver.

“Hey asshole! Did anyone ever tell you to watch where you’re gooooh shit—“

Yata froze, and really, how could he not?

Icy blue eyes were now fixed on him, eyebrows raised. Yata had expected to unleash his tirade at an emotionless black shell, or at least the unimportant face underneath it. Not…not…this. The biker’s face was slender, his cheekbones perfectly pronounced with styled brunet locks framing it faultlessly. His hair was moderately tousled due to the helmet, but somehow it only added to his overall attractiveness. Slender, gloved fingers rose to adjust the askew glasses on his face before pushing back his bangs in what Yata thought to be an unnecessarily slow manner.

Yata was then painfully aware of the grimy hair tucked under his beanie and his haphazard outfit. Not to mention that the bags under his eyes probably could’ve been a brand.

Motherfucker.

“Y-you…”

Yata’s voice died again, the only sound audible being the steady purr of the motorcycle. The biker’s eyes squinted, looking somewhat weirded out as he warily reached for his key and cut the ignition.

“Can I help you?” The stranger’s irritated tone cut through the morning silence like a knife, sending an unwelcome shudder through Yata’s body. What the fuck?

Misaki shook his head, momentarily forgetting the stinging he felt on his side.

“Hmph, you don’t exactly sound like you wanna help me you jerk face,” Yata muttered, pushing himself up in an attempt to look more intimidating. He was met with a snort. Well, that worked.

“Well yeah, I have more important things to deal with.” The stranger glanced at his watch, clicking his tongue as his foot began to tap anxiously on the asphalt. “How long is this going to take exactly?”

Un-fucking-believable.

“You…you realize that you fucking hit me right? I could’ve died you bastard!”

“Then maybe next time you shouldn’t be standing right around a street corner like a complete idiot. What, did you forget how to move or something?” The biker donned a smirk at that, and the expression had Yata torn between punching the guy or melting into a puddle.

Yata groaned to himself, bringing his hands to his face. He so didn’t need this right now, and being attracted to the guy that almost killed him wasn’t doing anything to boost Yata’s faith in himself.

“Look, I—just never mind okay? Today’s been shitty enough and it’s only eight in the damn morning!” Yata dropped to the ground, cradling his head in his hands. He flushed lightly at his actions, but was far too exhausted to correct himself. Great, now this guy’s gonna think I’m a baby too.

Glancing up, Yata found himself eye level with the lanyard hanging off the biker’s waist. Furrowing his brow and momentarily forgetting his own internal struggle, Yata slowly began to process what the familiar insignia on it meant.

“H-hey, you go to my school,” Yata said, raising his head back to meet the annoyed gaze above him. Blue eyes widened a fraction, looking down at the key chain hanging off him. He raised an eyebrow cautiously at Yata, as if he could sense some kind of impending doom from the realization.

“And…?”

Seriously?

“Nothing!” Yata raised his hands defensively, then moved one to rub at the back of his neck. “It’s just…I’ve never seen you around and it’s like…well, you know! How could I have never seen you around?” Yata laughed, a light blush beginning to adorn his cheeks.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The stranger drawled, tone still one of disinterest. He crossed his arms, glaring accusingly.

“Well, it’s just that…” You’re hot as fuck. “Not a lot of people have motorcycles at school. That’s all.” Yata shrunk away, trying to hide his now prominent blush.

“Oh. I guess.”

Yata looked off to the sides, trying desperately to find something to focus on other than that disinterested, and unfairly beautiful, face. Dragging his eyes back to the lanyard, Yata noticed something else attached to the university’s keychain. Beside it was a key inscribed with the words ‘Scepter 4,’ and a school ID.

Scepter 4? That sounds lame.

Focusing on the ID instead, Yata squinted as he tried to make out the characters.

“Fush…imi…Saru? Oh, Saruhiko! Fushimi Saruhiko, that’s you right?” Yata’s eyes shone triumphantly, grinning as he moved his head back up. Saruhiko looked, to say the least, as if he had just been slapped.

“Don’t just read other people’s IDs, it’s creepy.” Saruhiko glanced off to the side, eyes narrowed and a light flush fell across his face. “And yeah that’s me, why do you care?”

Ugh, that face.

“I don’t know…you seem cool,” Yata responded sheepishly, blush darkening as he received another icy blue glare. “B-but you also seem like a giant asshole so…this way I can try to avoid you.” Yata crossed his arms, smirking. Yeah right.

“At least I’m not the moron that stands in the middle of an intersection,” Saruhiko shot back, not missing a beat.

“W-well, you know wha—“

Ding!

Huh? Yata reached inside his sweater, fumbling for his phone. Saruhiko leaned back on his bike, clearly irked by the interruption. Yata slid his phone’s lock screen open, going to his messages.

Chitose: Yata, where the hell r u?

Chitose: Prof had wrong test. Postponed til 8:30.

Chitose: GET YOUR ASS HERE NOW.

“Oh fuck!” Yata shot up to his feet, fire inside him ignited once more. There was still a chance…he could make it, he had to! Looking down at his phone again, the time read eight fifteen. Smile widening, Yata jumped into the air, pumping his fist in celebration. Saruhiko leaned back even more, put off by the sudden unbridled enthusiasm as Yata’s eyes met his once again. Oh yeah, I forgot about hot biker Saruhiko.

Wait.

Hot biker Saruhiko!

“Hey!” Yata jolted towards Saruhiko instantly, unaware that he was practically shouting. “Do you think you could give me a ride? I’m like super late for an exam and I need to get to school ASAP.” Yata put his hands together, pleading.

Yata probably would’ve laughed at the look of disbelief across the biker’s face had he not been so desperate. Saruhiko’s eyes were wide as they glanced around quickly, maybe hoping that Yata was talking to a ghost and not him.

“Does it look like I have a spare helmet to you?” Saruhiko gestured to his helmet vaguely before moving to put it back on, trying to be on his way.

“Ugh, really?” Misaki sighed, checking his watch frantically once more. “Look, if I don’t get to this test, I’m dead anyways. I’m not saying give me your helmet, just give me the ride!”

Saruhiko paused, regarding Yata’s sweating, panicked face. Yata was rocking on his heels waiting for an answer, hoping for a yes. Every second he spent waiting was a second he could be spending skating towards school. He needed a yes. They’d be there in minutes on a bike, thus totally saving Yata’s grade. Pleasepleaseplease.

Saruhiko rolled his eyes overdramatically, clicking his tongue for the second time and Yata was still torn as to whether or not he found that super hot or super fucking annoying.

“Fine, hurry up,” Saruhiko grumbled, pushing his helmet back on and scooting forward on his bike. Yata just about jumped for joy.

“Thank you so much!” Yata hopped onto the back of the bike, taking a second to adjust his balance. He stuffed his skateboard awkwardly into the elastic bands on the side of the bike, praying that they held. He removed his sweatshirt, knowing that when he got to school he’d probably have to run. He placed it in front of him on the bike, shifting around again. He didn’t know exactly where to put his hands, but he figured putting them behind his back would be a bad idea. Yata blushed as he thought about his other option. The slender back in front of him was awful inviting, but Saruhiko didn’t exactly come off as someone who welcomed physical contact from strangers. Or anyone for that matter. Yata figured he was wasting time though, and at that point he had nothing to lose. He wrapped his arms around Saruhiko’s waist, pressing closely against his back. He received a somewhat startled grunt in return, but besides that there were no objections. Yata heaved a sigh of relief.

“I promise I’ll pay you back somehow, okay?” Yata breathed in deep as the motorcycle roared to life again. Saruhiko’s back muscles tensed slightly as he leaned forward on the bike, revving the engine.

“Mm, fine. But just to let you know…” Saruhiko turned his head, flipping the visor on his helmet so that Yata could see as the start of a devious smirk spread across his face.

Huh?

“I don’t go slow.”

And with that the bike shot down the street, effectively robbing Yata of his ability to breathe and see all in one go. Everything passed by in a blur, and all he could do was cling to Saruhiko as the biker’s shoulders shook in a laugh.

--

Saruhiko pulled into the loading zone in front of the science buildings smoothly. Yata, despite his daze, jumped off the bike before it had even come to a complete stop, starting to lightly jog towards his class. His fingers still felt sort of numb from how tight he had been clutching Saruhiko’s jacket, but he ignored it. Saruhiko reached out, grabbing Yata’s wrist quickly. Turning around, Yata caught Saruhiko pulling off his helmet with his other hand.

Yata shot him a questioning look, tugging impatiently.

“Hey…what’s your name?” Saruhiko’s eyes narrowed, and Yata wondered vaguely if he should tell him. Saruhiko was still a complete stranger at the end of the day. It was only fair though he guessed, after all he knew Saruhiko’s.

“Yata.”

Another tongue click. Fucking hell.

“Your full name idiot. You know mine already, and I didn’t appreciate you snooping.”

Ughhhh, I wasn’t snooping. Yata groaned aloud, he hated his name, but as the seconds continued to tick away, he realized the grip on his wrist wouldn’t be released until he gave in.

“Yata…Misaki.” Yata mumbled the last part quietly before quickly wrenching his hand away from the slackened grip as heat threatened to break out across his face.

“Sorry, I have to go! B-but thanks again!” Yata turned away for a final time, getting ready to run. “See you around, okay?!” Not bothering to wait for a response, he broke off into a sprint.

He was sweating profusely by the time he reached the entrance to the exam, but he made it just before the door was locked. His professor regarded him disapprovingly, reluctantly letting Yata inside. Yata almost cried. He found his assigned seat—the only one empty, and looked around until he locked eyes with Chitose. His friend shot him a thumbs up, and Yata smiled brightly as his professor started passing out the tests.

--

Yata slumped down into his seat at the dining commons, stress flooding out of him now that the exam was over. He stretched happily as his friends all joined around him, being careful not to bump anyone walking behind him. Chitose plopped down across from him along with everyone, slamming his head down.

“Ugh, that test was awful. There’s no way I passed,” Chitose muttered as Dewa patted his back half-heartedly.

Yata smiled apologetically. He was relieved though, he felt confident about the test, all those nights of cramming had come through for him in the end.

“Should’ve thought about that before you decided to go to that party last night,” Eric chided, voice muffled as he devoured a sandwich. “You’d think a fourth year would know better.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Chitose grumbled. “That girl was worth it.”

“I hope she’s still worth it when you’re retaking the class as a fifth year,” Dewa added. Chitose only groaned in response. Bandou and Eric snorted at his despair, throwing in a few more ‘I told you so’s’ as Dewa shook his head. They paused instantly out of nowhere though, focus shifting to somewhere beside Yata. His brows furrowed, confused because really, his friends were seldom quiet.

“Wha—“

“Misaki.”

Yata almost spit out his drink, turning abruptly to see the familiar disinterested stare from that morning.

“W-what the fuck did you just call me?!” Yata gaped at Saruhiko, quickly giving him the once over. Damn, he is tall.

The only answer Yata got was his sweater being thrown into his face and his skateboard being dropped to the floor. He sputtered, shooting a glare at the black-clad motorcyclist.

“You left these on my bike. You should be more careful, Misaki.” A light smirk lit up Saruhiko’s features, and Yata eyes briefly glazed over. Briefly.

“Fuck you! Don’t call me that, Saru.” Misaki donned a smirk of his own as the corners of Saruhiko’s mouth turned back down. He clicked his tongue, regarding Yata’s friends lightly. They were all looking between him and Yata intensely, completely confused by the events unfolding in front of them. Yata glanced at them too, all of a sudden aware of their eyes on him. Wait…not just their eyes. Yata looked around, finally noticing a few groups of people nearby staring at Saruhiko and whispering amongst themselves.

What the hell is going on?

Looking back to Saruhiko, Yata found himself blushing as the biker pushed his bangs back. Yata breathed in sharply, glancing off to the side. Saruhiko shifted his feet awkwardly, perhaps finally aware of all the attention he was getting.

“Later,” Saruhiko stated, turning towards the exit stiffly. Yata’s head shot up, and before he could even really comprehend what he was doing, his wrist was clutching the back of Saruhiko’s jacket.

“W-wait!”

Saruhiko halted, regarding Yata cautiously. “What?”

Yata hadn’t really thought about that. “U-uh…well, I’ll see you around right?”

Saruhiko rolled his eyes, sighing irritably. “How should I know?”

“O-oh right. Well, when’s your last class?”

“Pardon?” Saruhiko threw Yata a look equivalent to that of someone who had just been asked if the sky was orange.

“Your. Last. Class. What time?” Yata laughed lightly, rolling his eyes. “If it’s close to mine, I can meet you.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“You don’t have many friends do you?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue in response, trying to shrug Yata off to no avail. Yata smiled triumphantly on the inside, but even his small victory couldn’t stop his fingers from trembling as they held onto Saruhiko’s jacket. Yata considered himself a pretty confident person…except when it came to girls or, apparently, hot and moody motorcyclists. Therefore, he was terribly nervous. It didn’t help that if Saruhiko dismissed him, he’d look like a total loser in front of a bunch of onlookers.

“Let go already, you’re annoying,” Saruhiko grumbled, giving one last tug away from Yata’s grip.

Yata’s hold loosened on the leather jacket slowly until he released it completely, eyes turning down in disappointment and humiliation as silence filled the space between them. Saruhiko adjusted his glasses, turning to Yata once more before making his way for the exit again.

“I’ll be in the parking lot at five, and don’t think I’ll wait for you. Idiot.”

Yata’s head shot up, but by then Saruhiko was already walking to the exit. Yata smiled as he saw the slender figure disappear through the doorway, moving to face his friends again. The whispering around him had stopped with Saruhiko’s exit, and the clatter of plates and sounds of idle chatter resumed. Weird. Yata cracked open his soda, sipping contently as he looked around the cafeteria. He glanced at his friends again, eyes widening upon meeting their shocked stares.

Uhhh…

“Yata-san…” Bandou spoke cautiously, the first to snap out of the daze.

“Yes…?” Yata leaned back a bit. He knew this feeling. He was obviously missing something.

“D-do you know who that was?” 

Yata was seriously getting weirded out. I mean he wasn’t a huge gossip or anything, but he wasn’t totally out of the loop either. And he’d definitely never heard of Fushimi Saruhiko until today.

“Yeah, Fushimi Saruhiko. We met thi—“

“Exactly! Fushimi Saruhiko!” Chitose’s voice interrupted Yata loudly, his hands slamming down onto the table. Well, at least he’s not sad anymore…

“Yeah, what’s the big deal?!” Fuck…

“What’s the—Yata! That guy’s an asshole! Not only that, but he doesn’t talk to anyone,” Chitose explained, still looking at Yata in disbelief.

“Okay, but—“

“Yeah, and why would he talk to Yata of all people?” Eric chimed in, receiving a glare from Yata.

“Hold on a—“

“I hate that guy…he thinks he’s so cool with that dumb bike of his,” Chitose continued, crossing his arms.

“You’re just upset because girls like him. Well, until they actually meet him that is,” Dewa added.

“I don’t know why, that motorcycle isn’t even that great looking an—“

“Hey, that bike is awesome!” Yata flushed from his outburst, doing his best to recover. “A-although, it’s not like I’ve seen a lot of motorcycles before so I guess I wouldn’t really know.”

“Well…even if it was cool, he’s a total nerd. I hear he’s in Scepter 4,” Chitose responded.

“Ugh, he’s probably a hard ass then too,” Eric stated, crumpling up the trash from his meal.

The image of a key flashed through Yata’s mind. He set down his soda, leaning forward. “What’s Scepter 4?”

Dewa raised an eyebrow before answering. “Err…it’s like a frat…but not. It’s a dorm and a program all in one, but you have to test into it in order to live there. Apparently it’s super hard to get into, only skilled people actually get accepted.”

“Skilled in what?” Bandou looked up from his phone, curiosity getting the better of him.

“That’s just it. No one really knows,” Dewa continued. “They say the application and interview requirements are really vague, but a lot of people that get into that hall end up in government jobs or on the police force so it must be a strict program.”

“Creepy if you ask me,” Chitose muttered.

“I hear the director of the program is strange as hell too,” Eric whispered.

“The point is,” Dewa interrupted irritably, “is that people in that program are either nerdy, uptight, or just plain strange. But you can’t deny that they’re smart I guess.”

Yata rolled his eyes, he couldn’t believe his friends would believe dumb rumors so easily. “Oh, and you assholes aren’t strange?”

“We didn’t say that,” Chitose added, smirk resting on his face.

“Yeah, whatever. Saruhiko is a bit…stand-offish, but he didn’t come off as a bad guy to me.”

“Hm.” Chitose’s smirk didn’t leave his face.

Yata sipped down the rest of his soda as the table fell back into comfortable silence, swinging his legs absentmindedly as his thoughts stayed latched onto Saruhiko. Huh, so he’s in a special program. I should ask him about it later. Yata smiled slightly at the thought of a ‘later,’ even though he had no way of knowing for sure that he’d see the grumpy biker again later in the day. Still, it was something to look forward to.

“So Yata, you trying to get at that?” Eric’s monotone voice still contained a hint of mocking, Yata was sure of it. It was good that he had finished his soda though, or else Yata knew it would currently be all over the table.

---

“And here I was hoping you wouldn’t show,” Saruhiko drawled lazily as he saw Yata approaching his bike in a mild jog. He’d just about put his helmet on when the noisy skateboarder had called out to him at a distance.

“I’m surprised a jerk like you didn’t just ignore me and take off anyways,” Yata shot back.

“I was thinking about it.” Saruhiko rolled his eyes, tossing the helmet at Yata suddenly. Startled, Yata barely managed to catch it, emitting a small yelp. He looked down at the helmet in his hands awkwardly, throwing questioning glances between it and its owner.

“What do I do with this?” Yata scowled when Saruhiko threw him a judging look. The annoying biker rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically before continuing, voice sounding as if he was instructing a small child.

“You put it on, that way you won’t bash your brains out against the concrete,” Saruhiko said, giving Yata a slight smirk. “Not that it would probably make much of a difference for you.”

Fuck you too.

Yata was about to vocalize his frustrations, but then the implications of Saruhiko’s words finally hit him.

“Wait, you’re seriously gonna give me another ride?” Yata smiled slightly, hoping he was right.

“Well, you said you wanted to hang out or something right? I don’t hang out at school, it’s lame,” Saruhiko grumbled as he looked away. “Unless you wanted to walk somewhere, my bike is our only way off campus.”

Yata squinted for several seconds, blinking stupidly. He looked around, stunned for several seconds, before his lips edged up slowly in budding confidence. “Eh? So now you’re suddenly compliant?”

“That’s a big word Misaki,” Saruhiko tried to jest, but still wouldn’t meet Yata’s gaze.

“Nice try.” At this point, Yata had a full blown smirk on his face. “Do you get stage fright? No wonder you were so grumpy in the cafeteria.”

“Shut up,” Saruhiko threw the skater a defeated glare, looking away when Yata started to laugh.

“So can I take that to mean you like me?”

“I don’t even know you idiot.”

Yata huffed in frustration, beginning to fix the helmet atop his head. “You know what I mean.”

The biker pouted lightly at that, clicking his tongue in frustration as he took the bike off its kickstand. “I have no idea why I would, considering you look like you haven’t showered in days.”

Yata flushed profusely at that, remembering his less than attractive appearance.

“S-shut up, I was studying for that exam all week!” Despite the excuse, Yata still lowered his head. “Why should I care what you think anyways?”

“Dunno, but if I were a guy that liked you, shouldn’t you be embarrassed?” Saruhiko gestured to the back of his bike as he spoke, inviting Yata to sit. The skater obliged happily, affixing his skateboard to the side of the vehicle before hopping on and wrapping his arms snuggly around Saruhiko’s waist.

“That depends…are you a guy that likes me?” Yata smirked as he felt the muscles of Saruhiko’s back tense a bit. Gotcha.

The several seconds of silence that followed ended abruptly with the sound of the bike’s engine coming to life. Saruhiko relaxed in Yata’s hold, and Yata eyed the back of his head warily when the other chuckled.

“Hm, well it hardly matters unless you liked me back. Don’t you agree, Misaki?” Yata could almost feel the shit eating grin that was likely on Saruhiko’s face just from his tone.

You smooth piece of shit.

“Are you always this annoying?” Yata blushed, choosing not to respond to the question and instead flipping down the helmet’s visor to cover his face. He turned his head to the side and rested it against Saruhiko’s back as the bike glided towards the edge of the parking lot. He vaguely noted that Saruhiko wasn’t going as fast as he had in the morning. The bike halted briefly at the stop sign which separated the lot from the main street, and Saruhiko leaned back into Yata’s hold a fraction.

“I’m honestly not sure, never asked anyone,” Saruhiko said, chuckling lightly. Yata flipped the visor up, regarding the biker curiously.

“Something tells me you just don’t care.” Yata’s eye twitched as Saruhiko turned and smirked in response. Figures. “I guess I’ll have to find out for myself then.”

“Huh?”

“Are you busy tonight?” Yata smiled up at Saruhiko with his question, never being one to beat around the bush for too long. Saruhiko pulled over after noticing other cars start to line up behind him. Pulling the bike’s kickstand out a second time, Saruhiko turned around to face Yata more.

Saruhiko shrugged, waving his hand dismissively. “Some homework…but nothing I can’t handle before class.”

“Someone’s confident,” Yata uttered sardonically.

“I have a right to be,” Saruhiko breathed out, readjusting his glasses. “Anyways, did you have something in mind, Misaki?”

“Don’t call me that, asshole.” Yata began to lower the visor again, grumbling a few more words of discontent. Saruhiko snorted, kicking up the stand a final time and revving the motorcycle’s engine.

“Movie?” Yata muttered the question cautiously, unsure if he was even heard over the sound of the bike. Saruhiko turned to Yata though, catching his hazel eyes just before the visor covered them. There was a flash of hesitance in his cool gaze, and the blue pools that were his eyes were slightly wide as they regarded Yata. Yata raised an eyebrow at him, giving a sheepish shrug. That seemed to calm Saruhiko down, his eyes relaxing and lids lowering slowly.

“Hang on,” Saruhiko muttered, looking back to the road. “The streets near the theater are shit.”

Yata smirked, rejoicing inside. “You got it!”

And once more, the bike turned out onto the main road, speeding into the distance.

---

“Ah..ah! Yeah!”

Yata’s face was completely red as moans and heavy breathing filled the theater. The movie he’d picked had seemed like a good bet, its promo poster promising of explosions and chase scenes. Yata couldn’t believe how naïve he’d been. Yata ducked his head again as the hero of the film thrusted into the starring actress.

Yata had realized about forty-five minutes into the movie that he had made a bad decision. He was totally mislead though! Yeah the movie had been rated R, but it was a spy movie for fuck’s sake! It didn’t need a sex scene!

Is this even allowed? This scene is pretty graphic!

It was true, the scene seemed longer than the standard movie sex scene—not that Yata would really know, considering he usually couldn’t make it through a whole one. There were various cuts between the actual actors and their shadows during the scene, a result of some degree of censorship rules. But the noises, the noises were too much. Yata’s eyes were fixed to the theater’s floor, eyes only coming up to check if maybe the scene was coming to an end. He was often disappointed.

He dared not sneak a glance at Saruhiko, the embarrassment would be never ending. Watching a sex scene next to the person you liked was turning out to almost be worse than having to witness one with parents. His hands were sweating, and he was sure that he was fidgeting an excessive amount.

“Wow, it’s like you’ve never even heard of sex before,” Saruhiko drawled, sipping on his soda and watching the scene impassively.

“Fuck you!” Yata tried to keep his voice down, but there was almost no need to. It was a work day, and the only few others in the theater were seated near the front while the two of them were all the way in the back row. “The scene’s just really…showy!”

“You mean explicit? Yeah, that’s kind of the point.” Saruhiko smirked lightly as Yata fumed. Then, the biker turned to face him, lids lowered in a manner that made Yata’s throat go dry. He leaned forward, breath tickling Yata’s face. Yata turned away, looking back at the ground again with a glare. Bad idea.

Saruhiko’s lips were now painfully close to his ear as he whispered. “I never would’ve thought someone so bold could be such a virgin.”

Yata jerked away, blushing with a scowl as Saruhiko laughed. “Go to hell! A-anyways, the scene is finally fucking over and I need to pay attention!”

Crossing his arms, Yata looked up to the screen stubbornly. After several minutes, he managed to finally get back into the film. The scene with the main villain monologue went on for another ten minutes, and was so sinister that it managed to have Yata completely engrossed. It was coming to an end though, and soon the scene cut to the cliché romantic rooftop exchange between the hero and his lady. They embraced cheesily, caressing each other’s faces as the hero gave her his parting words before he left on his dangerous mission.

“Ugh, so unoriginal,” Saruhiko muttered, placing his cup in its holder. “He’s only known her for a day and yet he’s giving her all this sentimental crap.”

Yata glared at him, irritated that he was missing important dialogue. “Will you shut up? This part’s important!”

“How so?” Saruhiko laughed dryly. “They’re just gonna end up making out, and then when he leaves, she’ll get kidnapped.”

“Have you seen this movie?!” Yata turned to him, face full of shock.

“No idiot, it’s just predictable that’s all.”

Yata frowned. Oh, so now you know everything?

“I bet you you’re wrong!” Yata smiled challengingly, satisfied at the look of disbelief that crossed the other’s face.

“Seriously? You like being a loser I guess.” Saruhiko extended his hand towards Yata. “You’re on, Misaki.”

Frown returning, Yata shook the hand firmly. “Yeah, and stop calling me that!”

Surely enough, the couple onscreen ended up having a very heated make out session, and Yata was borderline worried that it would turn into another godforsaken sex scene. It didn’t though. Because shortly after, the girl was kidnapped by the villain.

Yata groaned, burying his head in his hands. Why movie industry? Why?

Saruhiko clicked his tongue beside him, lazily turning his head to face Yata. “Well—“

“Yeah, yeah! You won, I get it, fuck you,” Yata huffed angrily.

“Well yeah, no duh I won. You’re surprised?” Saruhiko slouched in his seat, clearly bored. “This movie does suck though.”

“Fuck off, the big action scene is probably coming up soon! I’m trying to pay attention.” Yata continued to watch the movie for several more minutes before sure enough, the main, action-packed climax of the movie started to unfold. Yata watched as cars exploded on screen and the main hero raced against the clock, firing his gun at various enemies before jumping on a stolen motorcycle to begin the chase.

“So inaccurate too, that kind of bike wouldn’t accelerate that quickly,” Saruhiko continued, not even bothering to keep his voice down anymore.

“I swear to—“

“And I thought the bomb was supposed to go off in five minutes, there’s no way all this happened in under five minutes.” Saruhiko crossed his arms.

Yata turned to him, ready to tell him to shut up again, but was met with a wide smirk. This bastard is doing it on purpose.

“Fuck you, I’m trying to follow the story!”

“I don’t know why you’d want to, its shit.”

“You’re fucking annoying!” Yata practically yelled his complaint that time, and a few people in the front looked back and shot disapproving looks his way. He glared back at them, they didn’t know what he was going through.

“You still like me though,” Saruhiko stated matter-of-factly, still smirking.

“I never admitted that!” Yata laughed, a blush tinting his cheeks. Thank god it’s dark.

“Why not, it’s obvious.” Saruhiko leaned towards Yata again, adjusting his glasses and pushing his bangs back. Yata gulped, he really was weak to that. Asshole.

“I’ll admit it when you do,” Yata muttered back. Out of the corner of his eye he could see more heads turning their way.

“Well, I’m here aren’t I?” Saruhiko’s voice sounded sure, but as he spoke he turned his head away, smirk turning into a frown. Yata’s eyes widened, and he momentarily forgot about the sounds of gun shots and explosions he was missing. He squinted and moved around in his seat, trying to get a look at Saruhiko’s downturned face. Eventually he just got frustrated and grabbed the collar of the other’s jacket, jerking him up to face him.

“Y-you dick! What kind of admission is that?”

“My kind.”

“Fuck you!” Yata let go of the other, wrenching off his beanie and swiping a hand through his unkempt hair. He huffed, and at that point, people had begun leaving the theater. He couldn’t care less. “Why out of all the people on the planet do I have to like such a jerk?”

“Well if it makes you feel better, I like a total idiot.” Saruhiko shrugged, but his tone was light, no hint of malice present.

Yata sighed, leaning on his elbow lazily for a few moments, having basically given up on following the movie anymore. It obviously wasn’t going to happen. After a few seconds, his frown started to deteriorate, and he exhaled loudly before giving Saruhiko a small, content smile.

“I guess we both have bad tastes then.”

Saruhiko snorted at that, meeting Yata’s gaze with a serene look of his own. Before Yata could say anything more, a bright light shone in the pair’s direction, momentarily blinding them. Saruhiko hissed a string of curses, shielding his eyes from the offensive source of light.

As Yata’s eyes readjusted and he let out complaints of his own, he could make out an orange vest at the end of their aisle. Oh, it’s a worker. Yata then remembered all the noise they’d been making, and looking down towards the front, noticed that a majority of the people had left. Whoops.

“We’ve received a noise complaint coming from this theater,” the worker said, voice nasally. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Yata groaned, somewhat embarrassed as he and Saruhiko got up and started to walk down towards the nearest exit. “Whatever, not like I was paying attention to the movie anyways.”

Yata managed to shoot one last scowl back at Saruhiko as the biker hummed amusedly.

---

The next day, Yata invited Saruhiko to study at this apartment. After the other’s initial gloomy protests, Yata managed to convince him. He had one more final on Thursday, and even though it wasn’t one of his harder classes, he still was unsure on a few topics. Plus, the idea of Saruhiko relaxing on his couch wasn’t at all unpleasant.

Saruhiko seemed smart too, being in a special program and all. During the instances in their study session in which they got sidetracked, Yata took the chance to frequently ask him about it.

“So you really have to test into it then?” Yata put his book down, grabbing some popcorn to munch on. Saruhiko rolled his eyes in return, leaning back into the couch cushions.

“It’s not the police force Misaki, it’s just a useless club.”

“You know what I mean though! Not anyone can just join,” Misaki said, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s less like a test and more like a recruitment. It’s annoying,” Saruhiko gestured lazily with his hands before continuing. “They approach you as if you’ve already passed a test that you didn’t even know you were taking.”

“They?”

“The program manager and the program director.” Saruhiko shrugged, glaring in the distance as if looking back on a memory.

Yata laughed at the expression, it was…adorable really. He scrambled from the floor to join the other on his ratty couch, leaning on his shoulder against the cushions so that he was staring at the other. “So you don’t like it then?”

“It’s alright, the dorms are well kept.” Saruhiko scratched the back of his head in thought. “Plus I guess it’s a key to a secure job after graduation too, so it doesn’t hurt.” Saruhiko scowled after that though, seemingly being filled with dread. “All the work just pisses me off.”

Yata snorted at that. For someone who was supposedly really smart, Saruhiko sure could be lazy. “I think it’s really cool though, even though it sounds sorta creepy.” Yata laughed again when Saruhiko threw a frown his way.

Yata moved to pick up his book again from the coffee table. They were almost finished, only one more major topic to cover. “So, do you like the people you live with?”

“Domyouji Andy was hell’s personal gift to me.” The icy tone that accompanied the abrupt statement had Yata nearly jumping back. Fuck, is that a no then?

Saruhiko relaxed eventually though, warpath mode temporarily deactivated. “They’re all okay I guess…the others. I don’t hate them,” Saruhiko muttered quietly, turning his face away in mild embarrassment.

Ah I get it, you’re a dick that just doesn’t like admitting when he likes people.

“You’re fucking weird,” Yata sighed, handing Saruhiko the textbook and signaling a return to their studies. The other didn’t argue, only begrudgingly taking the book in order to start reviewing the principles on the page.

Another thirty minutes passed and Yata started moving to put his school books away, satisfied with his handle on the material for the final. It wasn’t dark outside just yet, and Yata couldn’t help but shake with excitement. Now the two of them could hang out and lounge around, maybe watch another movie or play a videogame.

Except Saruhiko was now making a very awkward show of trying to leave. Fucking—

“What are you doing?” Yata’s tone was dry, amazed but unamused at the other’s lack of social ability.

Saruhiko froze mid step, gazing at Yata inquisitively, like the question was a problem he’d never attempted before. “Um…we’re done right?”

“Well—“

Saruhiko ignored him though, continuing to stumble unsurely towards the front door. Yata crossed the living room in a few quick strides, somewhat panicking because really, he didn’t want Saruhiko to go yet. Voicing such thoughts probably wouldn’t get through to the biker anyways, seeing as Saruhiko seemed to be communication impaired. So instead, Yata chose the physical approach. Nothing would be wrong with that normally except…

Yata took it too far, as he tended to do with everything.

Yata practically lunged towards the other’s back, wrapping his arms around the slender waist before he could even comprehend what exactly he was doing. Damnit…

Silence flooded the apartment aside from Yata’s heavy breathing. The humiliation creeping into him was intense, but he hadn’t truly registered his actions enough to let go. So there he was, basically hugging Saruhiko’s rigid back like they were back on the bike, trying to process what to do next.

Shitshitshit.

“Misaki…”

Yata didn’t reply to the puzzled voice, blush deepening as he buried his head into the back in front of him, figuring it couldn’t get any more embarrassing than it already was. Saruhiko’s hand rose to glide across Yata’s, an unspoken question.

“I just don’t want you to leave you dumbass loner!” Yata’s hold tightened a little before finally moving away. He grabbed Saruhiko’s backpack from the other’s right hand, placing it back on the ground near the door. Saruhiko’s taken aback response was almost comical, as if Yata had spoken in another language entirely. He sputtered somewhat, turning around to regard Yata with stunned eyes.

“But, why?” In his shock, Saruhiko was completely compliant as Yata practically guided him back to the couch and sat him down.

“Stupid! Did you forget that I l-like you?”

“No…I remember that. I just don’t know how it works,” Saruhiko muttered, light flush barely noticeable across his cheeks as a look of irritation spread across his features. “I’m not used to feeling like that.”

“Yeah figures, arrogant prick,” Yata sniped half-heartedly. He sat down slowly beside Saruhiko, still mildly self-conscious, but not willing to distance himself. He and Saruhiko were practically sharing the same cushion now.  The biker clicked his tongue, crossing his arms as he dropped his head onto Yata’s shoulder.

“You’re too direct…and noisy.”

Yata smiled, relaxing his body and allowing himself to inhale Saruhiko’s unique scent of soap and hair products. “Someone has to, you’re not the most vocal person in the world.”

“Hm, too bad.” Saruhiko’s words were laced with a teasing quality, but Yata decided not to rise to the bait for once. He instead opting for grabbing Saruhiko’s head, lightly lifting it off his shoulder and placing it onto his lap instead. Saruhiko complied easily, repositioning himself so that he was lying down and staring up at Yata.

They sat like that, in completely comfortable silence with Yata occasionally running his fingers along the ends of Saruhiko’s hair. They did so for a good ten minutes until Saruhiko softly moved his head in Yata’s lap, eyebrows lifting.

“If you’re going to make me stay here…is this all we’re going to do?” Saruhiko’s voice held no spite or boredom, just lazy contentment. Yata looked from his blue eyes up to the ceiling in thought before meeting the hypnotizing gaze yet again. He shrugged, small laugh escaping his lips.

“Would you mind if we just stayed like this?”

“No.”

Yata sunk into the couch cushions a little more, breathing happily as his eyelids began to droop. He decided to at least switch on the television before getting totally comfortable. He reached for the remote, trying his best not to disturb his partner too much, and flipped to a neutral channel. After putting the volume on low and setting the remote back on the coffee table, Yata began to run his fingers through Saruhiko’s hair in earnest, pleasant air of coziness draping over them anew.

“When do you want me to go?” Saruhiko touched Yata’s other hand, the one resting on his chest.

Never.

Yata pouted at that, knowing that yes, eventually the other would have to leave. That didn’t mean he couldn’t prolong it as much as possible though. Yata smirked gently, stilling the fingers that had been threading through dark locks.

“Wanna stay over today?” Yata had sheets and food and whatnot, and there was definitely enough room for Saruhiko to stay.

The other’s eyebrows shot up again, a smirk of his own slowly forming. “Think you can entertain me for that long?”

Yata hummed challengingly, shooting the other a determined look.

“You bet your ass!”