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Shuji has sacrificed a lot for love.
His pride and dignity, for starters, and beyond that, his whole life’s philosophy and everything he thought he knew about himself. Growing up an unlovable child, into an unlovable teenager, and ending up an unloveable adult. It brought a certain comfort with it, knowing his future was set in stone—until it wasn’t.
Another thing he sacrificed. A certainty he would never get back. A future where he would never have to rely on anyone or anything, all gone in a matter of weeks. Before he knew it, reduced to someone who suddenly wanted to change and better themselves. From unloved and unwanted, to seen and heard, forcibly sometimes, but cherished beyond any comprehension.
By not just one person, but two. Something so unbelievable, it could be argued his sanity was another sacrifice that came with love.
A year in, it got easier. A new thing to take comfort in, the unease of it all, exciting and new and a sacrifice of personal space. Quite literally. Giving up his own apartment to move in to one barely big enough for three. Let alone three and four cats, and the occasional foster dog.
Now, with another two years behind them, the sacrifices have gotten easier, less big and dramatic. His favourite sweater, which just so happened to be perfectly sized to Chifuyu. That is, four sizes too big. A lot of his phone’s storage, lost to pictures and videos, to saved voice messages, and to several games, just in case Ryusei’s phone dies and he needs to get his daily fix.
Truth be told, after three years, with a softened heart and a slightly improved, but still questionable, personality, there isn’t a lot Shuji wouldn’t sacrifice for love anymore. He learned that whenever he gives something up, something better comes along.
His pride and dignity restore a little bit more every time he gets to whip out his phone and show off the picture he himself took of Chifuyu and Ryusei, doused in sunlight and wearing easy smiles, fit for a magazine cover.
The conviction about his unlovable status was a harder one to let go of. He tried to bargain his way out of it, at first. Claimed it made him funnier. Claimed it made him hotter. Claimed it was a good trigger for Chifuyu and Ryusei’s own sacrificial tendencies.
In the end, he lost to them, both persuasive and stubborn.
He loses to them a lot—Mario Kart, a lifestyle of energy drinks and instant ramen, and perhaps, his heart.
And also, arguments, rationality, the ability to say no when they come up to him on a night like this, hands roving over his body for everyone to see. Not sexual, even if it does stir some heat, but more like two overeager raccoons who don’t handle their liquor quite as well as they used to.
Ryusei clamps onto him easily, less crippled by his height to whisper against Shuji’s ear, and drawls, “C’mon, just one.”
Fending off Chifuyu with one hand, easier than it would be Ryusei, because of the height thing, he curls the other around the back of Ryusei’s neck, keeping him in place.
“If you drink water first,” he murmurs back, and knows he was heard over the thrumming music when Ryusei groans in his ear.
It seems as if Chifuyu knows Shuji’s answer when Ryusei reels back from him—which, he probably does know. After all this time, Shuji is still not convinced that they are not able to read each other’s mind.
Chifuyu very pointedly rolls his eyes at him, then pokes a finger in his chest.
“Listen, you bitch,” he starts, louder than Ryusei, hoarse from the alcohol and the cigarettes he’s trying to bum off Shuji, “neither of us need water when we’re barely drunk!”
Shuji hears it clear in his head, a professional at deciphering Chifuyu’s drunken slurring. To any bystander, he probably sounds far gone. He looks it, too. Cute and flushed, a frown on his face that doesn’t look even a little bit intimidating because of his unfocused eyes.
Before Shuji has the chance to reply, a hand starts to feel him up. Another little spark of heat, until he realises it’s not sexual again when Ryusei pulls his hand back victorious, Shuji’s crumpled carton of smokes in hand.
Like the filthy, thieving rodents they are, they huddle together, snickering and giggling like school girls, and make their way outside without so much a glance at Shuji.
The smart thing would be to immediately follow them outside and make sure neither crack their heads open when they’ll inevitably trip over their own feet. But, for just a moment, Shuji stays leaning against the bar, his arms crossed, and watches them leave. Watches Ryusei sling an arm around Chifuyu’s waist, pulling him in closer to dodge a group of people—even while tipsy, just as protective and attentive as he usually is.
In turn, Chifuyu affectionally bumps his head against Ryusei’s shoulder, all his catlike tendencies so much more pronounced after five cocktails.
Shuji watches them, and feels more alive than he felt for the majority of his life. His heart beats loudly, a little painfully, and the annoying lilt of Chifuyu’s voice calling him a bitch still rings around his head, Ryusei’s insistent, slightly ticklish fingers seeking out his cigarettes still tingling on his skin—and only because of the dim privacy of the bar does Shuji let a sappy, lame smile creep up and stay on his face for another minute or so.
He shifts against the bar, and feels the press of his lighter, still in his back pocket. It’s as good an excuse as any to follow after them, wondering if Ryusei forgot the lighter on purpose to lure Shuji into the alleyway behind the bar.
When he steps outside, he finds more people there already. A couple making out against the wall directly facing the door, the girl’s back turned to him, the guy’s hands wandering, hiking up her already short skirt dangerously.
Shuji averts his eyes with a soft laugh and a shake of his head. Young love, he muses, looking around for Chifuyu and Ryusei.
Aside from the couple, there’s a small group of men leaning against the wall to his left, leering at the two making out. Shuji makes direct eye contact with one of them when he fully steps into the alley, raising an eyebrow, smirking when the man drops his gaze quickly.
On the right, deeper into the alley, hiding in the shadows and away from the flickering light above the backdoor, he spots the silhouettes he’s looking for.
Huddled together, laughing about something or another, too engrossed in each other to notice Shuji approaching. As expected, they haven’t asked any of the other alley dwellers for a lighter. Three unlit cigarettes hang from between Ryusei’s fingers, his arm draped across Chifuyu’s shoulders, holding him close.
Shuji flicks his lighter in lieu of a greeting, watching Chifuyu jump with a grin, while Ryusei lets his his head fall back against the wall, lolling it to the side to watch him step closer.
“Took you long enough,” Chifuyu clearly tries to say in a seductive drawl, but in his current state, it comes out clumsy, all the more endearing for it.
Shuji rolls his eyes, stepping closer when Chifuyu extends a hand towards him, already reaching for the cigarettes in Ryusei’s hand.
“I took a whole minute,” he murmurs back, handing both Chifuyu and Ryusei one, sticking the last between his own lips. “Impatient.”
He leans closer, just shy of being right in the middle of them, and flicks his lighter back to life.
Chifuyu leans in first, eyes downcast while he lights his cigarette, but one cold hand curling around Shuji’s hip, fingers freezing when he slides them under his shirt.
Once his cigarette is lit, Chifuyu lifts his eyes, seeking out Shuji’s when he straightens back up again, giving him a small smile before taking a deep drag, exhaling smoke slowly.
The sight alone is enough to make Shuji lightheaded, something terrible and selfish in the thought that if all else fails, if everything goes wrong, there is at least this, a terrible habit passed from him to Chifuyu. Knowing he only smokes while drunk makes it better, makes it so that if Chifuyu were to ever try drinking to forget about Shuji, he’d always be reminded of him in the craving for a cigarette.
“Hey,” Ryusei says softly, breaking Shuji out of his dark thoughts—not the first, and certainly not the last time he does so. “Light me up, too.”
Shuji smiles and leans into Ryusei’s space, Chifuyu’s fingers creeping towards his lower back, a pleasant tingle starting to spread through the rest of his body.
“Don’t I always?” he teases, briefly stroking over Ryusei’s cheek before holding up the lighter for him as well.
It’s clear that between him and Chifuyu, Ryusei is the more sober one. Very Drunk Ryusei usually laughs at Shuji’s terrible flirting, his cheeks darkening with a flush. Still Slightly Sober Ryusei does no such thing, but the smirk and roll of his eyes he gives is maybe even better.
Shuji lights his own cigarette last, leaning sideways against the wall next to Ryusei, body turned in his direction. Chifuyu completes their little circle, kept close by Ryusei, and keeping Shuji close with the hand on his back.
Behind them, the dull throb of the music gets a little louder, and with it, the low murmur of the men’s voices disappears. The door falls closed, the echo of it still ringing around the alley when Shuji leans in even more, tugging Ryusei closer with an arm around his neck.
It’s easy to kiss Ryusei—easy on his back, and easy on his soul. A certain calm washes over him when their lips connect, no matter how many times they kiss. Like a rock to grasp onto in the middle of a roaring river. Like how Shuji imagines the last breath before drowning would feel like.
Ryusei always does this thing when Shuji leans back, keeping him close without saying a single word, without making a single move. The slightest sigh, the warmth of his eyes, enough to keep him in place, wondering every time if it’s worth it to ever not be at the centre of Ryusei’s universe.
As always, the moment slips away, and Shuji only lets it because now, three years in, he’ll know there’ll be more.
“You taste like shit,” Shuji leaves their kiss with, breathing it out against Ryusei’s lips, and he says it to rile him up, but also because it’s true, because Ryusei loves to mix beer with cocktails with wine and then a cheap shot to top it all off. It’s horrendous and addictive at the same time.
Ryusei visibly chokes back a laugh. Next to them, Chifuyu at least has to decency to hide his snort behind the sleeve of his sweater.
“Yeah?” Ryusei takes another drag, exhaling and talking at the same time. “Well, I’m not wasted yet, so you look like shit.”
“Stop it,” Shuji drawls, playing with the neckline of Ryusei’s shirt. “You think some pretty words gonna get me in your bed tonight?”
Chifuyu snorts again. He quickly raises the cigarette to his lips when they both look at him, always a little bashful under too much attention, blowing out smoke with his eyes still averted.
“’S too much like foreplay,” he mumbles, grinning at himself. “Knock it off, both of you.”
The subtle slur in his voice is still there, but he’s putting in the effort to sound more put together than he really is. A lightweight at the best of times, usually preferring to be the designated driver, all the more sweeter for it when he lets himself go a little.
Shuji coos at him, flicking his cigarette away in favour of wrapping his other arm around Chifuyu’s neck to pull him in.
Kissing Chifuyu is harder—both on his back, and on his soul. Their height is the most obvious indicator that they’re too different, that they shouldn’t fit together in any life, any universe. It’s a dive too deep, a drop too steep.
If Ryusei is the last breath before drowning, then Chifuyu is the ice cracking underneath Shuji’s feet, seconds away from being swallowed by dark waters.
The choice they both make each day, Shuji knows it to be both the sacrifice for love and the reward, all in one.
Chifuyu pulls away with a shuddering breath, flopping forwards against Ryusei, who gasps and quickly tosses his cigarette, before he accidentally sets Matsuno ‘Hairspray’ Chifuyu’s hair on fire.
They lean against each other, Chifuyu’s shoulder pressing into Ryusei’s chest, embraced by both his arms, smoking the last of his cigarette with a content little smile.
Shuji watches them, continuing to pluck at Ryusei’s neckline, sneaking fingers under it to gently stroke the back of his neck.
The first time he saw them like this, wrapped up in their own little world, Shuji remembers a gaping hole in his chest, something twisted and dark that sucked out all sweetness of the moment.
That same hole is no longer there.
It felt like the hardest sacrifice of all for a while, to no longer have it.
He knows better now.
It’s Chifuyu this time, who snakes a hand down the back of Shuji’s jeans, searching for the second pack of cigarettes he knows to be there, because those are the sort of sacrifices that Shuji makes these days—buying a pack extra, because his pretty leeches will finish the first within a matter of hours.
And a little later, draining his bank account to buy them another round of shots, then one more, a double shot, to close off the night, because Ryusei had a long week, and Chifuyu doesn’t let loose often enough.
They all make it back home in one piece, sort of, not too long after that.
Chifuyu had been taking deep, calm breaths the whole drive back, his face growing more pale by the second. The second they get home, he’s sprinting inside, leaving the door wide open to make a beeline for their bathroom.
It’s an easy routine after that. It starts with Shuji pushing Ryusei in after Chifuyu, continues with Shuji finding a bucket to leave on Chifuyu’s side of the bed, and ends with Shuji laying out an extra blanket for himself in the guest room.
When he comes to wish them goodnight, Chifuyu still looks on the verge of dying, and Ryusei looks ready for a long night to come.
“I see you’re taking the easy way out?” he whispers when Shuji walks over to his side of the bed to kiss him. “Asshole.”
“Love you, too.” Shuji’s kiss lands on the side of Ryusei’s mouth when he turns his head away. “Good luck, my love.”
On Chifuyu’s side of the bed, Shuji masterfully dodges a kiss on the mouth and presses a soft peck to his sweaty forehead.
Ryusei watches him with a playful glare, shaking his head, and starting to brush his fingers through Chifuyu’s hair in a calming way.
“I’m the one who suffers here,” Shuji tells him solemnly, pushing the bucket a little closer when Chifuyu closes his eyes with a groan. “I have to sleep without you guys tonight.”
With a small voice, sounding on the verge of tears, Chifuyu whispers, “you could stay.”
“Hey.” Shuji kneels next to him, cupping one side of his face. “You know I’d do anything for you, for Ryusei. Love you more than life.”
He knows what’s coming when Chifuyu groans again. Shuji is up and halfway through the door before the precious money he just spent on drinks ends up in the bucket.
Shuji has sacrificed a lot for love. He will continue to, happily so. But there are limits, and now that he is certain the love he gave up so much for is reciprocated, he really does not feel the need to prove he is worth loving anymore