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Endo watches Takiishi tear the classroom apart. It's not something new to him, standing from afar, masking his presence, gaze affixed to the one-of-a-kind flow of Takiishi. It's something he always enjoys, no matter what injuries he sustained to get here or how Takiishi's eyes see right through him every single time he steps near him.
What's different is the feeling. Deep in his core, gnawing at something void of physical form, is bitterness.
Endo has never felt this before. It had always been ardent admiration, overwhelming awe, red-hot desire as vivid as Takiishi's mane of fire. Even now, mutedly, almost like an automated response, he slides his eyes over Takiishi's hair, the natural vibrance of Takiishi's natural hair blending seamlessly into his hair extensions. It had taken Endo weeks of close examining and salon scouring to find extensions matching the exact shade of Takiishi's hair. It had honestly cost him two arms and one leg, but it hadn't mattered; he wanted Takiishi happy, and it had been worth the somewhat docile expression Takiishi made when Endo finished applying them to his hair. He had touched the extensions in a thoughtful way that Endo yearned for himself. What would it feel like to be regarded like that in Takiishi's piercing eyes, by his powerful hands? Endo had never truly considered the possibility of Takiishi never feeling anything for him. Maybe in the liminal hours between late night and early dawn, the drinks in his system barring him from sweet sleep, the bruises on his skin never delicious ones made in the heat of sin. That only occurred occasionally, according to Takiishi's whim.
Right now, though, is probably the first time he brushes against that terrifying possibility.
If Takiishi is getting this furious at one rejection, perhaps the depth of his feelings is greater than Endo anticipated.
And that makes Endo nearly as angry as Takiishi is right now. If it wouldn't be a danger to his life, he'd probably join him in throwing chairs and desks around, hurling them at the walls and drowning in the scrapes and crashes around them. The only reason no one has sought them out yet — other than the obvious one of no one being brave enough to run after Takiishi, Endo notes with a hint of pride in himself — is because the music outside the school building is louder.
Endo had thought that it was a dumb idea to come to a Furin party. But being fair, it was probably because he didn't want to go, and because it had irked him to how readily Takiishi accepted the invitation, all because it had been Umemiya giving it.
It would be depressing to anyone else about how blatant the difference in Takiishi's attitude towards Umemiya versus the rest of the world, but not to Endo. He just wants Takiishi happy. No matter how high the climb or how treacherous the waters, Endo has made it his life's mission to achieve this goal, nothing being of greater importance or giving him greater joy.
But deep down, in the supremely dark areas of his heart, which admittedly dominate the organ, Endo has begun to harbor just the tiniest amount of bitterness about this whole situation, only because he knows that he could make Takiishi happy, happier than he could ever be with Umemiya, who has removed his fangs and devolved into a community-loving hippie. If only Takiishi would realize that— No, if only Endo could do something that would prove it to him, undeniably.
It has been better in the last few months since that fateful battle on the rooftop, Takiishi not swinging at him all the time, allowing Endo in his space more often, actually saying his name every once in a while. But Endo has always been greedy, so he had launched himself into his overcompensating, showering gifts and attention on Takiishi with a near-superhuman capacity.
But one invitation to a party that promised the presence of people, a thing Takiishi despises, had him actively choosing clothes, spinning around in the mirror, looking at clocks and calendars with unconcealed eagerness. Endo had almost been tempted not to go, the notion only half-thought, just a cry for attention that he knew would go unnoticed by Takiishi. But his affection for Takiishi runs as deep as the ocean, so he had accompanied him to the party, pulsing in the middle of Furin's large courtyard under the night sky, a crowd of friendship and hand-holding bullshit.
The music had been loud, but the laughter was louder, and Endo had felt bored almost instantly. He hadn't missed the looks some of the Furin members gave them, but he doesn't give a shit. He had looked at Takiishi, whose own eyes were darting around, clearly searching for Umemiya. He had looked radiant, a vision in sleek black leather held together by a shiny gold belt that he borrowed from Endo. His red hair had burned like a flame down his back, the gold in his extensions matching the belt. He had looked sublime, but that is hardly new. Endo has never stopped looking at him from the day they met, and he never will.
Endo had assumed this was a fluke, that Takiishi would see the mass of people before them and simply turn on his heel and walk out, like he normally would whenever he sees something he dislikes. Well, either that or start punching, but Endo kind of hoped that wouldn't be the case. He may not like Furin still, but the relationship has now become more complicated than he likes.
Fortunately (or unfortunately), Umemiya had come up to them, sprouting from the throng like an unwelcome weed. He had welcomed them in that fucking pompous manner of his, having the nerve to smile at both of them, giving him a considerable amount of notice. If he wasn't Takiishi, Endo didn't need or want his attention.
Takiishi had smiled at him. Takiishi. Smiled. And not his occasional delirious one that only made itself known in grips of intensity, violence or otherwise. A simple smile, like he was pleased by Umemiya just standing in front of them. It would have been pathetic on anyone else but Takiishi, but Takiishi isn't ever pathetic. It's an impossibility for him.
In the spirit of impossibilities, Takiishi had decided to disprove one: he asked Umemiya to dance with him. Endo had felt the world tilt around him, his blood running cold. This had to be the worst night of his life. Why was everything going so horribly wrong, nothing at all like how he predicted?
Takiishi had shed off his jacket, and the wolf tattoo they share rippled into view, a cruel laugh in Endo's face. His own tattoo had burned in response like it always did when Endo sees it, an intangible link locking them together. He thought of the day Takiishi had looked at the design, peering at it with as much interest as he had ever shown toward Endo, then handed it back with his stamp of approval. Endo almost ascended to heaven that day. He tries to recall the feeling, but it feels difficult to catch, lost somewhere in his dejection.
He hadn't realized that he was staring at it for so long until Takiishi shoved his jacket into his chest with one hand. Before, Takiishi would have just let go, and if Endo hadn't been paying attention like he hadn't been at that moment, it would have dropped to the ground and Endo would have received a fist to the face. Now, Endo's eyes had snapped up to Takiishi's face. Takiishi kept holding out his jacket, waiting for him to take it.
Endo could have just dismissed it as a mock gesture, something to appear more holy in the presence of Umemiya, but honestly, Takiishi has been more considerate as of late. It gives Endo hope, and hope is a dangerous thing. He can see it for the stupid, trivial thing it is when other people are trapped in the throes of it, but he cannot extend this opinion to himself, because it is all he has.
Takiishi had been looking at him, rather expectantly, which is a lot of emotion for Takiishi to express openly. Embarrassed, Endo had grabbed the jacket, putting on a smile wider than needed, telling Takiishi to have fun. He had meant that, at least, although the nod Umemiya gives him reminds him of who Takiishi can actually have real, genuine fun with.
He had stood by the side, like he always does, watching Umemiya and Takiishi dance together, the blackness in his heart spreading with each beat of the song. It had been hard to watch, Endo never being able to look directly at them.
To be fair, Umemiya hadn't seemed into it like Takiishi was. Every time Takiishi came close, Umemiya put a respectable distance between them, which wasn't much, but Endo could see the hesitance in Umemiya's eyes, the awkwardness in the line of his mouth. Trying to distract himself, Endo had turned his attention elsewhere, looked for Sakura in the party. Instead, he had laid eyes on Tsubaki, who was watching Takiishi and Umemiya with hard eyes and crossed arms, looking like the physical representation of how Endo felt at that moment. Endo had smirked then; it's always nice to see someone more miserable than oneself. It also explained Umemiya's polite behavior.
Then it hit Endo just how bad this situation could get. It had made him giddy.
Flash forward: it didn't turn out the way he hoped.
Sure, it had been clear what Takiishi's intentions had been, given the way his eyes latched onto Umemiya and his hips swayed closer and closer to his. Endo knows that Takiishi does as he pleases, whenever he pleases. It is a fact he had learned quickly and brutally. So when Takiishi had practically pounced onto Umemiya and planted his lips on his, Endo shouldn't have been surprised. Or hurt. Or enraged.
It was over as quick as it began. Umemiya had pulled back, hands cupped over Takiishi's biceps as he kept him in place, prevented him from trying again. He had darted a glance behind Takiishi, in the direction of Tsubaki, who had been halfway through storming over there like a wild animal. Tsubaki had halted at Umemiya's look, red lips pressing together tightly.
Umemiya had looked back at Takiishi, who had gone still. It was the first time Endo had seen such blatant bewilderment on Takiishi's features. It made Endo hurt, like he and Takiishi were one, sharing the same pain. Endo had wished all of it would come on him instead, spare Takiishi of such sadness. Takiishi is the only one capable of stirring awake Endo's long-forgotten human empathy.
Umemiya had regarded Takiishi gently. His face had been kind, his eyes understanding; it made Endo sick. He said something to Takiishi, trying to explain something to him. But Takiishi had ripped out of Umemiya's grasp. Endo had bit back a grin and braced himself for the explosion, the destruction, the absolute carnage about to unfold.
There was no explosion, no destruction, no carnage. Takiishi had backed away a few steps, bumping into the swarm of people around. He had looked like he was forcing himself to breathe, the inhale making his whole body tremble. Umemiya had reached out a hand, but Takiishi just turned and ran, straight into the school building. Even his fiery silhouette had looked faded as he disappeared into the shadows of the school.
Endo had followed. Umemiya almost joined, but Endo spun on his heel and snarled right in his face, "Haven't you done enough already?"
Umemiya had flinched, didn't respond. With a disgusted scoff, Endo went after Takiishi.
The school had been cleared out, all the students either home or participating in the party outside. Endo had dashed down the hallways, ignoring the fog of familiarity conjured by the sight of crowds of graffiti all over the walls. Then he heard it: a crash, followed by another, then another, and another.
Endo had turned into a classroom, and here they are now. Him hidden away in a corner witnessing the glory of Takiishi Chika. Like always.
Endo is surprised that Takiishi would bother running away to have a fit, but he supposes this is just testament to the change in Takiishi. Begrudgingly, Endo thinks that it may also be because Takiishi hadn't wanted to upset Umemiya by decimating his entire friend group.
A few moments pass — along with several chairs — before Endo thinks of the damages he's going to have to pay for. It's no big deal, it never is, but he cannot begin to imagine the emotional damages that Furin will claim. The possible nuisance feels numb to his bitter mind right now.
Endo looks at Takiishi again. The lights outside the window cast ghostly traces on the walls, illuminating Takiishi's face. Endo feels his breath catch in his throat.
Takiishi looks like he's in pain. Literal pain.
"Takiishi!" Endo cries out, then holds back. Takiishi doesn't acknowledge him, probably didn't even hear him, keeps throwing things around. Endo feels his heart sink. He doesn't know how much more of this he can take. At least he can try to stop Takiishi before he breaks a window and decorates himself with glass.
"Takiishi," Endo tries again, softer this time, the energy seeping out of him at Takiishi's forlorn dance in some other dimension. Takiishi doesn't stop.
Endo takes a tentative step forward, then another. Takiishi's back is to him, narrow but strong, heaving with rage. He's looking around, likely for more ammunition. Endo steels himself, reaches a hand out, touches Takiishi's shoulder, right on the wolf tattoo, the tattoo they share.
He's met with the demon he fell in love with, Takiishi whirling around, eyes blazing like forest fires. Endo feels a brief shiver run through him. In a bout of insanity, he keeps his hand on Takiishi's shoulder.
"Takiishi, please stop," Endo reasons quietly, the numbness growing around him. He prepares himself for the punch, almost eager for it because at least Takiishi will be focused on him in some twisted way.
Takiishi's breath is wavering, the unsteadiness clear in his shoulders. It's not like him.
"I know it hurts—" Endo starts, but Takiishi finally speaks.
"You don't know anything," Takiishi seethes through gritted teeth, but it sounds more like a whine than anything. The punch flies now, but it's so forward, so readable. More than that, Takiishi's words hit Endo in his core harder than anything he's ever felt. And it emboldens Endo. It emboldens the hell out of Endo.
Endo catches Takiishi's wrist, stopping the punch easily.
Takiishi doesn't flinch, just tries to drive his other fist at Endo's face. But it's the same as the first hit; something in Takiishi is dragging him under, making him sluggish and haphazard. Endo catches the other hand with his free hand. He holds them, Takiishi's skin soft in his palms. Takiishi keeps breathing shallowly, face hidden under the curtain of his hair.
"You don't know," Takiishi tries to growl, still sounding dejected. A pang of sorrow hits Endo in the chest.
"I do," Endo insists to the crown of Takiishi's head.
"You can't understand how I feel," Takiishi dismisses with bitter venom dripping from his words.
"The person you like doesn't like you back," Endo lists bluntly. Maybe that was too bold, but he's committed to this now. He scoffs out a mirthless laugh. "He doesn't feel the same way you do. I think I do know, Takiishi. I've felt this way for a long time." The words leave his mouth easily, but they sound like the most difficult thing he has to hear.
Takiishi's breathing has calmed, little by little. Slowly, he raises his head. His eyes are dull, his face slack. He looks so terribly, terribly sad. Endo feels a wave of mixed emotions: pain at Takiishi feeling so miserable and resent at not being the object of Takiishi's affections. It's so much at once. He doesn't understand how people feel this much all the time.
"I don't like feeling this way," Takiishi laments, not moving his hands out of Endo's grip. He's so close to Endo, previously only getting this close when he would punish Endo for irking him. Endo inexplicably knows that Takiishi isn't going to try anything here, the fire gone from his eyes. He thinks of what he could do to rekindle it; what gifts, food, words—
Endo's mind screeches to a halt at the look Takiishi pins him with. It feels like he's seeing Endo, really seeing him, noticing him through the murky shadows of the night and the distant drum of the music. Endo's heart stammers. He hopes his hands aren't feeling sweaty. He waits for Takiishi, whatever he wishes.
"Help me, Endo," is all Takiishi says. It falls between them like a plea, not a command. Endo can't believe it. His name, the request, not a drop of violence. It had seemed impossible at one point.
But impossibility is Takiishi's field of expertise.
Endo wants to help Takiishi, has made it his life, his purpose, his destiny. But he doesn't know what to do. If he can't heal his own heart, how can he heal Takiishi's?
He thinks of what he would want in this moment, if the roles were reversed. Only one of his wildest fantasies, of course. What would he want Takiishi to do if he was feeling so forlorn?
Maybe it's not so complicated. Maybe he should just do what he himself wants to do. The right thing to do has never really came to Endo anyways.
Scanning his eyes over Takiishi several times before he moves, Endo takes in a breath — maybe his last — and brings Takiishi into his arms.
In a perfect world, he would have kissed Takiishi right here, right now. But for some damned reason, this is what feels like the thing to do. Endo hasn't been hugged much before — not in the way that counts. He's not sure if this is having the desired effect on Takiishi. Takiishi is stiff in his arms, not reacting to Endo's attempted embrace. His arms are limp by his sides, his chin over Endo's shoulder. Still, Endo holds firm, holds Takiishi firm. He relishes in the way their bodies fit together perfectly. It almost feels better than with their clothes off, a different kind of intimacy achieved. Endo doesn't know if he should move his hands, rub circles into his back or whatever they say in books. He wonders if Takiishi can feel how fast his heart is racing.
Then, a miracle.
Takiishi moves his face to the side, leaning against Endo's neck, brushing against his hair. His hands slip around Endo's waist to knot his fingers in the back of Endo's shirt. He leans into Endo, falls deeper into the hug. Endo feels like he's short circuiting. He can't believe this is really, actually happening. He tries to think of something that would confirm that this is reality, but Takiishi grows heavier, like he's fallen asleep, and in turn, Endo's legs feel weak. In an awkward motion, Endo manages to sink to the floor, taking Takiishi with him, who follows willingly.
The anger in Takiishi seems to have dissipated, because he just flops in Endo's arms like an exhausted shell of a person. Endo sits on the floor, resting his back against the leg of a desk still upright. Takiishi sinks further down until Endo is cradling him in his arms, Takiishi's head tucked into the crook of Endo's elbow. Takiishi's eyes shut, but he just looks still, not asleep. Endo takes another chance and brushes the hair from his face to the side. Takiishi doesn't stir. Endo wonders if he could get away with stroking Takiishi's hair, but he has never liked being bothered while he rests, so Endo refrains.
Now that it's somewhat quiet around them, Endo takes a moment to look around. The room is achingly familiar, the walls crowded with graffiti that Endo had contributed to back in his Furin days. He remembers walking these halls with Takiishi, chasing after him, his back always in view. There are some new drawings — nicer drawings honestly, like people actually took the time out to carefully sketch over the wall instead of the angry, hurried scratches of color of the older graffiti. He can see the new Furin peeking out through the cracks of the old Furin, an unavoidable light shining through. He used to despise it; now it's not exactly at the top of his list of things he hates. That night on the rooftop seems to have changed more than he realizes.
Takiishi lying in his arms is proof of that.
Minutes pass by. Endo sees shadows dance across the windows, indicating the tapering off of the party, the music dimming to slower melodies. They should probably move, go back home so Takiishi can sleep on a comfortable mattress instead. He looks down to voice as much, but freezes. Takiishi is watching him, eyes leached of their color in the paleness of the outside light.
"Are your eyes blue or green?" Takiishi asks quietly, sounding like he's in a trance. Endo feels his heart stop like it did the night he first said his name — his full name. He's being noticed by Takiishi, piece by piece. He is being seen by Takiishi.
“Green, but I guess it depends on the lighting,” Endo explains. Takiishi continues to stare into his eyes, like he’s searching in them for something. He raises a hand, stretches it out, touches Endo’s face. Endo doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe.
Takiishi strokes his thumb over Endo’s cheekbone once, the motion slow and methodical, his eyes still watching curiously. Endo is sure that his heart can’t take much more of this, his skin warming and his nerves humming at the touch of Takiishi.
“I like them,” Takiishi says finally, dropping his hand, skimming his fingertips over Endo's infinity tattoo fleetingly. Endo knows that Takiishi enjoys watching him get tattooed, which had led to his body becoming more ink than skin. He'd do it forever, just to see Takiishi happy. Endo’s skin aches for Takiishi's touch once more.
Endo honestly thinks he could cry, but he’s not that pathetic. Even if he is, who can blame him?
It’s the best thing Takiishi could ever say to him.