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Evening light fell on Ohse’s back as he sat silently next to the open window, half-assedly clicking on his computer. It was the dead of summer at this point, and the nights were uncomfortably warm. Not as hot as the scorching middays he’d been suffering through for the past couple of months, but still warm enough to need a fan and an open window. Ohse hated the summer. He couldn’t wear his staple sweatshirts without overheating, and t-shirts meant having his disgusting rotted shitty bare arms exposed to his housemates.
He thought about killing himself then and there, but he imagined his little limp corpse wouldn’t be able to handle the heat, and he’d melt into pale gray goop that poor Iori would have to clean up and dump in the river, killing all the wildlife in a seven-kilometer radius. Ohse liked animals, and he liked plants, even if he never went outside, so he decided against it. Instead of killing himself that day, he simply groaned and tugged at the collar of his shirt. Maybe tomorrow, he thought. Taking a glance at the clock, he realized it was finally late enough after dinner that Io would be done hovering busily around the kitchen, too busy to bother him. He grinned softly to himself and tiptoed out of the bedroom.
Returning to his dark room with something cold to drink and light to eat, Ohse sat back down at his computer desk and turned the machine back on. There was a new tab open, one that Ohse couldn’t recall opening. An untitled doc with nothing in it but the simple phrase “hi ohse” in size 11 Arial font. Ohse stared at it, puzzled for a second, and looked around his room. Had someone been there? He swiveled around to look at his floor-bed/nest/sleeping arrangement/call it what you want. Sitting quietly in the shadow was a large figure. Ohse jumped in his seat. It gave him a hazy stare.
Ohse’s voice was shakier than usual in his surprise. “F-Fumiya. Hi. Don’t scare me like that…”
Fumiya laughed quietly. Ohse enjoyed his laughter. He averted his gaze. Not like a wretch like him deserved to hear anyone laugh, let alone Fumiya.
“... What are you doing in my room? I can’t understand why someone good- ehh.. why someone like you would want to be here. Willingly. I mean, it's a pigsty. Also, it smells foul. Sorry for defacing your home by doing this to it. Maybe I’ll just pack up and throw all my belongings in a volcano and then jump in and die.”
Fumiya looked down distractedly and picked at a scab on his knuckle. “I dunno. Cool it.”
“Sorry.”
They played this game every time Fumiya made Ohse’s room his wander spot for the night. And that’d been happening a lot lately. It was simply a formality at this point. Ohse barely thought about it anymore. Fumiya didn’t seem interested in the first place. This ritual was unspoken, just like every other aspect of their relationship. Ohse was fine with this.
Ohse continued fucking around on the computer for maybe twenty minutes, Fumiya silently watching from the floor. He reached up to steal sips, no, gulps of Ohse’s energy drink occasionally. Eventually, Ohse grew bored of whatever was on the screen and powered it off, eliminating one of the few light sources in the room. All they had was the little sunset left trickling through the window, and some near-dead fairy lights strung up around Ohse’s sleeping area. It’s not like they cared, though. Ohse lived in darkness most of the day, and Fumiya probably had enough inner darkness to last anyone else a lifetime.
Ohse spun around in the office chair, and Fumiya extended his hands towards him. Ohse took them sluggishly and let his friend pull him onto the sleeping bag. Fumiya’s hands were very warm and very, very sweaty. Ohse wiped his palms on his sweatpants and laid sleepily against Fumiya’s chest, teal locks falling into the crook of his neck. Ohse heard Fumiya reach over and turn the rickety old fan onto the highest setting. He felt the cool breeze hit the back of his neck, and he sighed softly. This stage of their hangouts was one that always stressed him out. Fumiya was insanely unpredictable. What’s his next move, Ohse thought. Would he initiate something? Would he start one of those weird deep tangents? Would he simply fall asleep? It’s not like Ohse was particularly opposed to any of those options at that moment, but he wished Fumiya would give some sort of signal once in a while. Maybe he was, in his own Fumiya way, but Ohse wasn’t quite sure how to read him yet.
A hand was wordlessly placed on his back. Oh, Ohse thought. It was one of those nights. Guess that explains the noise of the fan. Ohse shifted his body up a little bit to place his head closer to Fumiya’s. Fingers crawled up his spine. He shivered. Maybe there was a benefit to the once unfortunate fact that he’d worn a t-shirt that day. Fumiya’s other hand reached around to touch his back as well, and Ohse selfishly let himself sink a little further into the man below him. Once in a while, he “deserves to be just a little selfish”, he recalled Rikai telling him. He hated himself for it. Tentative hands landed on his shoulder blades, and he could suddenly feel how underweight he was.
“... The scapula. They say those are where our wings used to be.”
“....did you hear that line in a book..?”
“Yeah, in this comic you left on your floor. It was pretty good.”
“Aaaahhh”
Fumiya left his back alone at last and moved upwards a little to run his hands through Ohse’s hair. Maybe that was the “Fumiya Symbol”, Ohse concluded, and he lifted his face to meet Fumiya’s. His eyes were especially dark in the dim lighting, like black holes. Ohse wished they’d suck him in already. He shut his eyes tight and brought his lips to the younger man’s mouth. He kissed back hungrily. Fumiya’s hands moved down to Ohse’s neck and pulled him in a bit deeper. He was more energetic than usual. Was it the energy drink? He didn’t think about it too hard. Ohse thought he’d take a little bit of initiative to reward him, and opened his mouth slightly. To his delight, Fumiya took the bait immediately and they began to make out.
His greed was palpable. Eventually, the kiss moved from Ohse’s lip to his face, and then downwards to his neck. Ohse inhaled sharply and prayed there wouldn't be any marks. This wasn’t new territory, but it certainly wasn’t completely familiar. He was fine with letting Fumiya explore a little bit, though; he was just 19 after all. Not like Ohse had much physical experience either. They were both figuring things out. Ohse craned his head back slightly, giving Fumiya more space to work with. He regretted this a little when he felt a dull pain on the side of his neck.
He winced. “...Ow?”
Ohse felt the boy grin beneath him. Fumiya let go, but the painful sensation lingered.
“Too far?”
“Sorry… Um.. No. But give me some warning next time…. (shit shit shit sorry i ruined the mood didn’t i)”
“Nah. Ohse, I am going to bite you.”
Ohse hoped Fumiya would break skin and give him fatal diseases when he felt incisors graze him again. He prayed he’d get ripped to shreds like a deer under a panther when he felt canines dig into his skin. He badly wanted Fumiya to ruin him, but he wasn’t sure if he had any redeeming qualities left to ruin in the first place. Was that masochistic? He didn’t want to ENJOY it. He didn’t deserve that.
He was too busy thinking about that to realize Fumiya had moved his way down to Ohse’s clavicle and was tugging the collar of his shirt. Fuck it, he thought, and he hesitantly removed his top. It was damp with sweat, anyway, and it’s not like Fumiya hadn’t seen him shirtless before. What dignity did he have left at this point. The sun was near set, and there was barely enough light to see his foul figure in detail. Ohse prayed Fumiya wouldn’t notice the scars and let him nose around his torso, planting soft kisses as he went.
Another morning was upon Ohse again, another morning that he hated, and the light poured in through the window. Fumiya was gone already, and Ohse would have wondered if the events of the previous night were just a dream had he not felt the rippling aches on his neck and chest. He slithered to the bathroom and peeked at the mirror for the first time in ages, praying he wouldn’t throw up. There were red bite marks. Visible red bite marks. Fumiya never broke skin (to Ohse’s dismay), but these would certainly stay a day or two. Ohse prodded at some other marks on his body before throwing on a sweatshirt and hoping his hair would obscure the one on his neck.
The first one to notice was Saru, somehow.
“Fuck is that on your neck, dude? A bite mark?”
Ohse froze.
“...”
“Did Io bite you during a fight!? I should have told you that was his finishing move a while ago.. (but between you and me I always thought you had that shit in the bag so I never bothered letting you know)”
“He… Uh…. Well no.. Uhh… Yeah… poop..?”
“I don’t give a damn if you lost the fight, man. Just means you’ll kick his ass in the next one. I’d pay to see that happen.”
“Ueeehh..”