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Seba Natsuki didn't know how he ended up in this situation.
Well…that wasn't entirely accurate. He knew how he ended up here. When his peers in the weapons department had asked him to join the group chat, they'd described it as being "completely professional", utilized only to "communicate important information pertaining to their work as fast as possible." (Which, he should have known was suspicious, since these morons never had anything actually important to say.) That was the only reason he agreed to, allowed, his number being added. However, he soon realized, that what he expected to be 40 people, at most, was actually the upperclassman and post grad population at the JCC. And what was meant to be "completely professional" updates about materials delivered to the department was actually flyers and random addresses for parties. Which, there ended up being an overwhelming amount of. No matter the day of the week, or season, because, more than killing but maybe not more than money, assassins loved to party. Which makes sense if you work in the business of death. Besides, what was the point of murder for all that money if you weren't gonna spend it on alcohol and the worlds largest, most obnoxious, stereo set up. (Never mind that none of them, technically, had their licenses yet. Call it pregaming, in a way. For the absolute ragers they'd throw when the possibility of death was no longer at the hands of careless classmates, in an accident, but rather as a result of another human being fighting to literally keep themselves alive. When it was kill or be killed.)
So, the how was abundantly clear to Natsuki. He received the same text as everyone else, because no matter how many times he left the ridiculous group chat he was always added right back by someone (sometimes he was added back by numbers he didn't even have saved in his contacts). It stated a day, time, and location, BYOB, and received so many thumbs ups and hearts that Natsuki felt the back of his phone get hot.
He hadn't liked the message, but still. It was simple. He was invited and so he went.
The why, however? That was a much better question.
Natsuki grimaced as he glanced down into the mouth of the little paper cup settled gently in between his palms. The part of the lip which sat closest to him malformed. Slightly soggy and curled upwards, tiny indents in the patterned paperboard (it had a bright teal base with large, messy, yellow polka dots that he tried not to linger too hard on) below the rim. He'd been mindlessly gnawing at it as he progressively got more and more buzzed. Now, Natsuki wasn't a light weight by any means. He wasn't the tallest, especially at a place like the JCC, and his frame was best described as lean. However, he had found, long ago, that more than anything drinking was about willpower. More often than not, the situations where Natsuki found himself drinking were situations he didn't want to be in. With people he didn't want to be in them with. He was often so focused on ensuring that he didn't find himself mindlessly drunk in these scenarios (vulnerable in a way he would prefer not to be), that, years later, he's now found himself on the complete opposite end of the spectrum. If he wants to get drunk, he has to convince himself that he's drunk. Tossing back shot after shot, with an internal monologue of,
"Wow, I can't believe how drunk I am right now." "I'm so drunk and having a good time."
Looping inside of his head. But this was different. The text message had been clear, BYOB, and Natsuki (besides never intending to stay long anyways) was a year off from being old enough to legally drink. So he had come empty handed. A fact, which, he figured, Daisuke had taken personal offense to.
Daisuke is an upperclassman from the assassination department who, for all intents and purposes, is pitifully and utterly obsessed with Seba Natsuki. He had apparently been a part of the JCC's pre-graduation weapons department (meant as a beginners, exploratory, engineering course for those who planned on joining the weapons department post graduation). However, he had switched to the assassins department, just before Natsuki joined the weapons department, due to the work "not challenging enough" (his exact words). However, if you were to ask Natsuki, he'd say that the work was likely just too hard for the bullheaded man. When Seba quickly rose ranks, gaining his reputation as the "ace weapons maker", this Daisuke guy had convinced himself, and apparently everyone around him, that he and Natsuki were cut from the same cloth. Expert engineers, held back only by how subpar the JCC itself was, but still pushing boundaries "despite it all." What a load of bullshit. Natsuki had dug up some of the guys prototypes when the rumors had finally reached his ears, and was utterly dumbfounded that he managed to even get into the pre-graduate courses at all. (One of the pieces of garbage he managed to dig up from the box hidden in storage, was one of those singing, wall display, fishes with a gun in it's mouth. It didn't even shoot bullets whenever you pressed the button on the plaque for it to sing. You had to shove your hand in it's gaping mouth to get a hold of the guns grip and pull the trigger yourself. The bullets shot out the tail. It would almost be comedic if it wasn't so disgusting.)
Basically, in so many words, Daisuke was obsessed with him. And so, when he found Seba wandering around the halls of the party (in the home owned by…somebody? Who the fucks house was this-), he clapped a large meaty hand on his back and lead him into a room with plastic bags decorating the floor. All of them overflowing with ungodly amounts of soju. Where everyone else had automatically reached for strawberry or peach, Natsuki found himself pouring the 25 proof yuzu flavored liquor into his own bottle; and no one liked yuzu. So he basically had the flavor all to himself, and before he knew it he was two and a half bottles down.
His mind swam, his legs splayed wide apart as he sunk deep into the uncomfortable chair he was sat in. The conversation surrounding him droned on, as he worked to bring the, more than half empty, cup up towards his face. His movements were a bit choppy, delayed in a way, too focused on willing himself to move, not focused enough on actually moving. He tut his jaw forward a bit, sniffing softly at the clear liquid pooled at the bottom of the cup. He furrowed his brows at the tart scent, bitterness resting on the back of his tongue. He actually hated the flavor of yuzu. He liked apple instead.
Why was Natsuki here? His mind supplies him an image, then a scent, then a sound. The image of a figure, silhouetted by warm toned, lamp shaded, kitchen light. Jewel tones dancing on tanned skin from where they reflect off of crystal glass, decorated with cutesy patterns. A steady body leaned forward on a knee, bangs curtained around a flushed face like an angels wings. The scent of booze simmering under the surface, overwhelmed by the smell of tempura and tonkatsu; so much fried food, it should be nauseating instead of extremely fulfilling. The sound of life, pleasant instead of droning. Laughter reverberating off of cluttered walls, the bell like twinkle of the golden boys earrings, and the drunken, slurred, fondness of his voice as he whispers,
"Natsu…"
He feels his eye twitch. It was simple really. He was here because it's what the Sakamotos would do. It's what Shin would do. Usually, Seba Natsuki didn't even entertain the thought of hanging out with his JCC peers socially. Party invites ignored, love confessions flat out rejected, friendship placed on the back burner, because that wasn't what he was here for. His goals were simple; save enough money for he and Mafuyu to run away from their parents and never look back. The JCC was simply a conduit for him achieving that goal. He never let himself linger on just how much he enjoyed tinkering. Inventing. How his heart raced every time he dissembled a creation, honing in on that one little mechanic that was throwing the whole calibration off. He would never admit it, but there was something extremely comforting about the ability to do a tedious task and still being afforded his goal in the end. At the end of the day, Natsuki was a selfish person, deep down in his heart of hearts, only acting on things when they benefited he and the people he loved. The ability to act indulgently and still reap the benefits was something he did not take lightly. So, Natsuki didn't do friends. He didn't "hang out" with people, he didn't go to parties. Until now…because Shin Asakura, the worlds most annoying (and only) clairvoyant, made friends every where he went. Because, in the middle of a death competition, Shin managed to charm his, misanthropic, socially inept, younger brother. Because when Shin walked into a room, he caught every single eye, and when he spoke, he inspired devotion in a way that a part of Natsuki was convinced was supernatural in nature.
To put it simply; he went to this party, because if Shin was here, he'd go to this party. And he'd make friends, the extrovert that he is. And when Natsuki got that text, he felt the blonde whisper in his ear, the angel on his shoulder, that life was better with friends…
Now, he's deeply regretting it. He thinks it's unfair that Shin is the angel on his shoulder, with no devil to balance it out. Then he imagines Shin with cute little horns and a tail, and downs the rest of the soju in his cup.
"Women are just expecting too much outta us."
Daisuke huffs out from his spot on the floor, earning multiple agreeable hums from the other men around the room. Natsuki leans his head back to stare up at the ceiling. He sorta feels like he's falling, as he sinks further into the chair. He balances his neck against the wooden frame, unmotivated to hold his head up anymore.
"Huh? Whaddya mean by that?!"
Comes the shrill response of Mio, the girl from the assassins department with the bright red hair, dark roots, and blunt bangs that asked him out last year. Her face was flushed, nearly the same artificial color as her hair, and moments before she had regaled a tale to the group about a "test" she'd administered on her boyfriend. (Who was, as far as Natsuki could tell, not present among the group of five guys and four girls). Apparently, last week, she and her boyfriend had a date night; which consisted of her boyfriend showing up at her dorm, three hours late, with mediocre sushi in takeout containers in tow. Their plans to have a dinner date now closer to a midnight snack. The test came in the form of Mio pretending that she ran out of soy sauce, which apparently, she can't eat her sushi without. A fact that her boyfriend allegedly knows. She asked the other to run out to buy her a new bottle so she could eat her food, and he refused, the entire thing escalating into an argument.
"Of course he didn't go out to buy you soy sauce, how is it his fault that you can't just eat the food?"
Daisuke had scoffed, another man somewhere else in the room butting in,
"Where'd you even get the idea for a test like that?"
Mio had rolled her eyes at that, waving a manicured hand in a dismissive gesture,
"The internet. Duh."
The entire interaction had left Natsuki extremely confused. He couldn't imagine how uncertain one had to be in their relationship to even think of testing their partner with arbitrary little games like that. But mostly, he didn't understand what was so difficult about going out and buying the soy sauce. His mind supplies him of a memory of Shin. Lids heavy, swaying back and forth, a ring of dried blood around his right nostril, as he sat on the surface of Natsuki's desk in his laboratory. Reeling from the aftershocks of testing a new prototype weapon he'd built; a variant of his glove. Meant to convert his own electromagnetic brain waves into a physical pulse of energy. They'd tested it outside, and what was supposed to be a "pulse" ended up being more of an explosion, which sent Shin reeling with a bloody nose and short fused ESP.
"You totally did that on purpose, invisible bastard."
Shin had joked, but it fell flat with the way Natsuki sat in front of him. Sat with straight posture, in between the others legs, knee bouncing up and down with overwhelming anxiety, rubbing his thumb over the knuckles of the blondes bruised, right, hand. Looking back on the experience, a part of the engineer was maybe a tiny bit grateful that the clairvoyants ESP was unusable for the time being; otherwise he'd likely had heard the string of explicits and pseudo-love confessions bouncing around in Seba's brain.
"I'm so glad you're okay." "I'm going to burn that glove." "I can't believe I did that to you." "I'm sorry." "I love you." "I love you." "I love you-"
His spiraling was cut off by the click of Shin's tongue. The sound brimming with resigned disappointment. Natsuki had snapped his head up to look at the other. The full weight of his dark, tired, eyes on display, as he forewent his "anti-Shin hood" (as the other often called it). He worried his brows, sure from Shin's perspective that he looked utterly pathetic, more akin to a kicked puppy than a grown man with a crush. The corners of the others eyes crinkled with vague amusement, his gaze still a bit hazy from overexertion. Shin flipped the switch, bringing both of his hands up to cup Natsuki's own, letting himself caress Natsuki's palm where he had previously been massaging his knuckles.
"Hana got me this Sugar the Rabbit key chain the other day. I wouldn't call myself a fan, but I clipped it to the back loop of my jeans because it made her happy. I think I lost it when I got sent flying."
He confessed, triggering the memory of something small, fluffy, and pink sticking out from underneath Shin's oversized jacket.
When Natsuki had finally got the other situated for a recovery nap (in the cot he kept in the corner of his lab), he immediately went back outside to their makeshift testing site. He scoured the grass for what felt like hours, even dropping down to his hands and knees at one point, looking for the key chain. When he finally found it, it was half buried in the mud underneath the base of a tree, and Natsuki had spent another half hour, washing and drying the thing before returning it to a drowsy, freshly awake, Shin like it was no big deal. And, in all honesty, it really wasn't a big deal. He'd have done it over and over again, if it meant seeing Shin smile that bright.
Who cared about going out for soy sauce?
He's pulled back to the present by Daisuke's slurred voice. He glances at the other, noting the way he's so flushed from the alcohol that he can see the red going up his neck to the back of his buzzed head.
"All these tests n' unspoken rules! Who has time for that crap?"
He's waving his own paper cup around as he rants. His words earn a few raised drinks from the other men in the room. Mio and a few of the girls, on the other hand, offer their own disapproving reactions.
"And what would you know about what girls want, huh?"
She pointedly asks and Natsuki has to agree. He thinks he's heard that this guys gotten rejected by almost every girl in the poison department. How do you get rejected by a poison department girl? They'll date anyone with a pulse just for the purpose of experimentation.
Daisuke puffs his chest out at that, all false bravado.
"Oh please, I know all about what the ladies want! You all love ta' bitch and moan about how independent you are and how you want a nice guy,"
Natsuki doesn't know if he wants to vomit or laugh.
"But at the end of the day girls want a guy that'll treat 'em a little mean. You know, a guy to slap 'em around, maybe choke 'em a bit, in bed, isn't that right Seba?"
…
What?
Seba is, once again, starkly reminded of the fact that he is not sober. Despite this, he moves with urgency, sitting up straight, head facing forward as he takes in the rest of the room. Every single pair of eyes is on him. He thinks this is the most silent that the place has been the entire night, and he grimaces, resentful of the fact. He doesn't understand this collective obsession his peers have with his opinions and dating life. It's unnerving, as he turns over the obnoxious mans words in his head once more. Seba Natsuki is someone who always takes great care to carefully select the words he says. It's the reason that others consider him so quiet, maybe even a bit rude, but it's not because he doesn't have anything to say. Rather, he has a lot to say in any given scenario. If he didn't, he wouldn't have gone through the trouble of creating a hood to keep Shin out of his mind. It's just that the thoughts he chooses to actually let out are extremely limited in comparison to what's in his head. With alcohol swimming under his skin, the scent of golden yellow filling his senses, before he can stop, he finds himself speaking.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
He watches in real time as Daisuke's face falls. His heartbeat picks up, unease and tension building in his shoulders as he imagines all the ways this could go wrong. As he imagines the other man, bigger than him with a bruised ego, sending a punch fueled by liquor his way. But, at this point, it's like he's watching himself from outside of his body, as his mouth moves without his brains permission.
"I would never hit my boyfriend during sex. He's beautiful and has a pretty smile, I would never go out of my way to hurt him for fun. Why would anyone want to do that?"
Which, really, what he's saying isn't exactly a lie. There was a common misconception (among who, he wasn't exactly sure…maybe it was more of a lie his own, insecure, mind supplied him with), that he and Shin were enemies who, against all odds, became friends. This wasn't true. At all. It was better to call them rivals. Enemies felt too…intense. Yes, during their first meeting they had tried to kill each other, that was true. But that wasn't out of malice. If it hadn't been demanded of him, with the promise of a hefty paycheck behind it, Natsuki wouldn't have actually attempted to do so. Now, with their newly established dynamic, Natsuki definitely didn't want to kill, or hurt in any way, Shin. Sure, Shin got hurt sometimes when he would test out his inventions, but that was different. A mutually beneficial act of amusement and competition between the both of them. He pushed and the esper bended and resisted; the two seeing how far the other could go before they eventually snapped. The idea of Shin, all big, beautiful, eyes framed by straw colored lashes and muscular legs, vulnerable underneath him, and him taking that moment of vulnerability to be cruel, all for the sake of his own pleasure, made him nauseous. He would never needlessly go out of his way to hurt the other.
"I'm obsessed with my boyfriend,"
He confessed breathlessly, as the rest of the room seemed to be still processing the statement before. Mouths agape, eyes wide with shock,
"I'm ultimately fulfilled whenever he's happy, and even if I wasn't…that's just a ridiculous thought. Who wouldn't be? I work in the physical, the practical, I conceptualize logical solutions for problems, and then create the tools to actualize them, but I seriously think his smile has the warmth of the literal sun. One time, I saw him grin at a crying baby, and it immediately stopped crying."
His hands are clutched around his cup in between his knees at this point. The thoughts in his head progressively tangling more and more as he speaks without prompting. A part of his compromised consciousness completely forgetting the point of the conversation, that there are other people in the room, as his voice decreases in volume. Almost as if he's speaking to himself. His shoulders are slumped forward by now, taking on his usual posture, as he stares up at the ceiling through dark lashes.
"And who cares about going out to buy soy sauce,"
He sneers, tossing his empty cup, which has now become indented at the sides from where he started squeezing it, to the side.
"I would fly to Taiwan and get authentic bubble tea if my boyfriend told me he was craving it. You guys act like it's hard."
His rambling is cut off by a squealing sound and it's only then that he looks out over the room once more, the sound cutting off any incoherent thought, as a part of him immediately sobers. His peers look gobsmacked, one of the guys next to Daisuke pouring his drink into his lap from where he'd been lifting it to his lips to sip on. Mio has her hand clamped over her mouth, face flushed, eyes sparkling in a way that makes it seem like she's going to cry. He hears her squeak again when his eyes land on her, her voice shaking as she speaks,
"Oh my god…that is so romantic."
She croaks out, as the other girls in the room coo and awe in agreement. Natsuki is suddenly met with the awareness that he's now, probably, considered the poster child of boyfriends amongst the girls in the room (all of whom, seem to be nursing their own mediocre relationships). However, he feels extremely off footed, like the world is turning under his feet despite the fact he's still sitting, as he suddenly remembers…he and Shin aren't dating.
Natsuki's heavy knocks reverberate through the long hallway. Something that he, maybe, should feel a bit shameful about. But he knows that every person in this building is his underclassman, so he can't find it in himself to care. He's lifting his hand up to knock once more, when the door finally flies open. Irritated, tired, eyes locked onto him, and when they finally process who exactly he is, they, somehow, become even more irritated.
"Stupid big brother…"
Mafuyu grits out, from behind teeth that are likely grinding underneath his surgical mask. To plenty others, it's a bit odd. Most siblings don't refer to each other so formal, so clinical, opting for a simple "big bro" or maybe even a nickname. It sounds clunky to unfamiliar ears, so off putting that one has to wonder if it's some sort of joke.
"Little brother…"
Natsuki responds, because he likes indulging his younger brother. It may seem weird to others, but it works for them, and the fact that they have something unique just to the two of them warms his heart.
Taking a step forward, Natsuki goes to ruffle his brothers pin straight hair, which earns him a slap in response. The older man slinks into the room, pulling off his shoes with a pointer finger curled into his heels. He can hear more than see the way Mafuyu scowls,
"What are you doing here?"
He grounds out. He throws a glance over his shoulder at his younger brother, silent for a moment, before he simply shrugs in lieu of an answer. Once his shoes are off, Natsuki makes his way deeper into the dorm. He forgets that the underclassmen get bigger dorms than their upperclassmen; more space, in exchange for the fact that the rooms haven't been updated in forever. Outdated wooden accents, floors that vaguely smell of mildew, and air conditioning units that simply do not work. It's any wonder how Mafuyu hasn't had a heart attack yet over how unsanitary the entire building is.
Natsuki passes Kaji, his brothers awkward roommate (he wonders what the two of them even talk about, since they seem to get along well), tilting his chin up in acknowledgment. He's still wearing his ushanka despite the fact both he and Mafuyu are in their sleep clothes, and he seems too nervous to meet his gaze, eyes glued to the floor.
After a few short strides, Natsuki collapses onto his brothers bed; which is an actual mattress on the floor, unlike Kaji who seems to sleep on two futons stacked on top of one another. He huffs out a long, insufferable, breath as he sinks into the sheets. He can't remember the last time he slept in the bed in his dorm, content to either fall asleep at his desk or in the cot in his lab. His brothers sheets and duvet smell like mandarin detergent and the memory that the younger boy prefers citrus makes him laugh. Although the sound mostly comes out as a muffled breath.
"Hey,"
The masked boy chastises, making his way over to where Kaji hovers next to the upperclassman's prone form. Mafuyu sends a kick to his brothers side, which earns his a soft grunt. There's a twitch in his left eye, as he feels himself becoming increasingly annoyed, before he pauses,
"Are you drunk?"
He asks, which finally gets him some sort of verbal response,
"Never go to parties, little brother."
Natsuki bestows his wisdom upon the other with so much sincerity it's almost laughable. Mafuyu lowers his leg at this, shoulders slumping a bit as he simply silently stares. He seems to be having some sort of internal battle; his instincts to be a bratty teenage boy fighting against his extreme affection for his brother. He looks like he's about to pop a blood vessel, Kaji cringing at the sight, before he takes a deep breath. He speaks almost like the words are physically painful for him, as he asks,
"What…happened…big brother?"
That finally gets Natsuki to peak one of his eyes open, casting a glance over at the other. He thinks back to the slap he'd received upon entering the room. The message as clear as day; don't touch me. He thinks back to one of Shin's visits. To him wrapping his arms around Mafuyu's shoulders, pulling the other into a hug. The younger boy melting into his embrace, head resting against the soothing beat of the espers heart. His eyes fall closed again after a moment of silence, a slight groan tearing it's way from his lips,
"They were being mean to Shin."
He offers. He has enough sense to leave out the…everything else of the conversation, but a part of him is still bitter that Daisuke thought he'd agree. He's never going to hit Shin ever again. He needs to prove that he can be good, like Shin; Shin, who wakes up every day and makes the conscious effort to be kind to those around him. Even if he can hear all the extremely cruel and callous things they say about him in their heads. Chooses to believe that his kindness is enough to combat against pure and true deep seated hatred. The hatred they keep inside of themselves to fester, because they know no one else can check them on it.
"So mean…can you believe that? So mean to our Shin."
He mumbles, body now metaphorically sinking into the mattress more than physically. The alcohol fueled haze in his mind settling at the bottom of his brain like sediment, weighing him down, further and further into the warm arms of exhaustion. He can't see the face that Mafuyu makes at the words,
"-our Shin."
A flash of something unspoken between the either of them. The acknowledgment of all the light and warmth that Shin has brought to their dreary existences. He gets no response from his younger brother, who walks off to search for the extra blankets and pillows he and his roommate keep tucked away in the closet.
As Mafuyu walks off, Kaji stares at Natsuki. His brows furrowed with nerves and concern, as he feels himself spiral around the question
"What should I do?"
He thinks that maybe he should place a reassuring hand against the older mans back, worried that he may find himself ill in his drunk stupor. The memory of Mafuyu's response to the same action during the JCC entrance exam, however, is enough to sway him from attempting the action. After opening, then closing, his mouth a few times, turning a few words over in his head, Kaji finally speaks,
"Is there anything I can get for you, Seba-san?"
He receives complete silence in response and for a moment he's so embarrassed, thinking that the other has fallen asleep, that he wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.
"Shin…"
He picks up, ever so softly, with his increased hearing. It's muffled, almost as if he hadn't been meant to hear it in the first place.
"I want Shin…"
Is the last thing he hears, before Natsuki's breathing levels out and sleep consumes him.
When Mafuyu finally walks back over, he tosses the bundle of fabric into Kaji's arms. The other sputters, confused for a moment, before he glances over and sees his roommate crawling into his bed.
"You take the floor, yeah?"
Is all he gets before Mafuyu rolls over and goes to sleep, leaving Kaji to go to bed on the hard wood floor.
For a few moments after he wakes up, Seba Natsuki is convinced that he's dreaming. Usually, when Natsuki wakes up it's to the mechanical beeping of the alarm on his phone. Irritating the longer it sounds, the slight second pauses in between chirps feeling less and less the more he tries to sleep on. In the end, it feels like the beeps are overlapping each other, echoing inside his head until it becomes impossible to ignore. Or, there's the days when he's awoken to the slamming of the heavy door to the weapons departments laboratory. Boxes purposely knocked over, in the efforts to create as much disturbance as possible. When he finally manages to wretch himself to the land of the living, he's usually met with a pinched ear and a scolding by the other members of the department, as if he were a child and not a grown man.
This morning, however, he's met with the featherlight sensation of skin on skin contact. Skin stretched over bone, gently brushing against his brow, as a hand presses fly away hairs out of his eyes. He's still an assassin, despite working as an engineer, so he instinctively darts his hand out, gripping the wrist of his unknown assailant with his eyes closed.
He feels himself unconsciously relax, leaning forward ever so slightly to press the base of his curved nose into the pulse point of the warm wrist. He recognizes the mineral and calone blend, grapefruit, lavender, and juniper wafting over his senses from the detergent the jacket worn was washed in. Fingers relax against the apple of his cheek, stretching out to leave trails of touch over fluttering eyelashes and slowly unfurrowing brows. The hand cups the side of his face, and he presses his lips against the spot where his nose previously sat. The action is almost a kiss but it lacks the weight of commitment behind it.
"Shin…"
He breathes out, voice thick with sleep and something that sounds a bit like desperation. When he finally lets his eyes flicker open, he notices that the windows are open, the blinds fluttering in the breeze. His golden boy is silhouetted in the light once more, and he can feel the warmth of his skin through the layers of fabric between them, where his thigh presses against Natsuki's ribcage. He sits on the bed, face open, slightly amused, light strands of hair dancing around his face. An angel sitting at the edge of the bed.
"Hey, invisible bastard."
Shin snickers, leaning over where he lay flat on his stomach. Natsuki feels himself press into the warm palm of his hand, hoping that if he were to push hard enough their bodies may become one.
"How are you here…?"
He asks, even though, in reality, he couldn't care less; just so he can hear the others voice.
"Kaji texted me around 2 o'clock this morning saying you were asking about me. Once 7 rolled around I got on the first train here. Which, you should feel honored,"
Shin pouted a bit as he spoke, tone teasing.
"You know I hate taking the train."
Natsuki first relished in the sound of the other mans voice, before he let himself actually process the words. He furrowed his brows again, clenching his eyes closed as he took another deep breath. Underneath Shin's familiar sun bathed scent, sat another, just as familiar, one. Of oranges and lemongrass; his brothers favorite laundry detergent. He kept his grip firm on Shins wrist, as he rolled himself over. He felt like the whole world was spinning; in a way that was off kilter, like a cyclone projecting itself directly into the center of his brain. His mind pulsated with a headache, as he squinted up at the shadows dancing across the water stained ceiling. He grimaced, he had to get he and Mafuyu a place soon. He didn't like him staying here. That's when the thought finally hit him. Oh yeah. He had fallen asleep in his brothers dorm.
Like a pebble making a ripple in the surface of a pond, the strain to his mind was interrupted by a flick to the side of his temple by Shin.
"I also heard that someone had one hell of a night."
From anyone else, the action would have pissed him off. And it did, a bit, in a way that just felt…different. Because it was Shin and he couldn't find it in himself to actually be pissed off at him. Even when they were pressing each others buttons, pushing each other back and forth like the opposite ends of a magnet, he was never angry at the other…just incredibly fond.
It took a moment for him to process the spoken words, once more, an exasperated breath falling from his lips as the memories of the night before came flooding to him all at once. The text, the yuzu flavored soju, Mio's words, followed by Daisukes, followed by his own. Before he stumbled his way to his brothers dorm (because it was closer than his own) and commandeered his bed. Seriously, who's house was it that they were at?
Sighing, Natsuki pulls himself up into a sitting position. His back pressed against the wall, as he rolls his shoulders in an attempt to work out the kink in his neck. Despite the fact that he's not standing, from this position, he finds that he's still taller than Shin, much to his delight.
"Yeah, yeah, it happens."
He grumbles, a teasing lit to the corner of his lips. He glances at Shin, prepared for their banter to start, but all sound dies on his tongue as he takes in the sight of the other.
Shin is staring at him wide eyed, lips pulled taut into an unreadable line. His hands are now resting on top of his thighs, clutching the denim of his oversized jeans, his shoulders squared, his face flushed to his ears. Natsuki is breathless, confusion evident on his face as he wonders what changed.
"Um…"
The esper begins, raising his right hand up to rub at the back of his neck, a few strands of hair catching on bandaged fingers. Natsuki, reluctantly, mimics the motion, which only serves to deepen Shin's flush. A question is on the tip of his tongue but he feels himself choke on the words, as his own fingers tangle around his dark curls. His hand fans out, running his flat palm down from the crown of his head to the front of his neck, as he's met with the realization that he's not wearing his hood. The memories of last night flood the forefront of his mind once more, before he can attempt to stop them, the words,
"My boyfriend", "My boyfriend", "My boyfriend"
repeat in his mind.
"Shin I-"
He starts, eager for damage control, but all he can do is let out silent squeaks. Seba Natsuki is someone with far too many thoughts in his head, and he's extremely careful about which thoughts comes out of his mouth. Every interaction he has, he runs conversations over and over again in his mind. Trial and error, tweaking sentence structure, rearranging words, placing intonations at specific points, because he's the ace weapons maker. He's a damn good engineer. However, in this moment, his head is clear for the first time in his life; mind to mouth filter thrown to the wayside as he speaks without hesitation. His words as blunt as the natural tone of his voice;
"Shin, I like you."
Light explodes behind his eyes, as he feels his heartbeat increase tenfold. He thinks he can taste iron on his tongue with how much blood his heart is pumping. His tone is as flat as usual, voice deep and even, but the yearning there is so thick that the words drop between them like a stone.
"Shin, I like you." "Shin, I like you." "Shin, I love you." "I love you." "I love you." "I love you."
The words echo in his pulsating brain, neurons firing in time to the beats of his heart. When his vision clears, however, he feels a chill up his spine. Something frigid and sickly, spines injecting cold poison into his veins.
Shin sits in front of him and Natsuki thinks he looks horrified. He looks as if he wants to flee, one leg already hanging off the bed, foot flat against the floor. Because Shin is kind. Shin is good. And Natsuki has put him in the impossible position of turning him down politely. Because he's a bad person, and no matter how hard he tries, he will always hurt Shin.
"Natsuki-"
"No."
Natsuki cuts him off, his suddenly dry tongue pressing against the roof of his mouth. He figures that his words have gotten him into a lot of trouble today, so he attempts to choose his next words carefully. Be short, concise, attempt to hang on to the fraying edges of their relationship hes now damaged.
"Seba is okay,"
He starts off and Shin flinches like he's been hit.
"You don't have to think of a nice way to turn me down, it's okay, I understand. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
He offers politely, attempting to set boundaries that should have been there in the first place; instead of whatever it is they've been playing at. During that first day they reunited, when Shin was convinced that Natsuki was still the enemy, but followed him around for hours on end like a lost puppy. Shin furrows his brows,
"I was not like a lost puppy."
He pouts and Natsuki's heart lurches. He yearns so deeply for Shin that it makes him angry. It makes his teeth ache.
"Stop it."
Natsuki responds gruffly,
"Just forget that I said anything."
"That's not fair! I have access to both of our memories, how am I supposed to forget this?"
"Not my problem."
He's trying. God knows, Natsuki is trying. Attempting to smother his deep seated desires for Shin, fueled by ever swelling affection he didn't realize was there until it was too late.
"Natsuki-"
"Seba."
He cuts him off again because hearing Shin say his given name is far too painful. A part of him wonders if he should start calling Shin "Asakura" which gets him a heated glare in response.
"Natsuki-"
"Stop reading my thoughts."
He slides forward on the mattress, feet planting on the floor as he prepares to physically flee this conversation. Before Shin-Asakura-can wise up and finally reject him properly.
"Stop interrupting me!"
The blonde responds like a child, standing before Natsuki gets the chance to, and stomping his foot. That raises his hackles even more, his eye twitching in a way that's all too similar to the way Mafuyu's had the night before.
"What is it that you could possibly need to say-"
"I like you!"
Shin shouts, voice reverberating off of paper thin walls, out of the window. Natsuki thinks the birds have stopped singing, the leaves no longer scraping gently against the ground, as the curtains dance comes to a halt. His shoulders, which had squared in his preparation for a fight, suddenly slump. He looks up at Shin through his lashes, mirroring their previous position that day in the lab.
"You don't have to lie-"
"I've never liked liked anyone before."
Shin confesses. He says it all in one breath, as if it's physically painful for him to admit. Which, knowing Shin, it probably is. His pride making it extremely difficult to admit what the realities of living on the streets since six years old does to a person. Difficult to admit when he doesn't know something that his peers have long known, long experienced, perpetually frightened of falling too far behind; left alone in the dust once more.
"I…I didn't even know that…that what I've been feeling…for you…meant anything until you said it too."
When Natsuki takes a metaphorical step back to take in Shin's form everything suddenly clicks into place. He's standing there, 21 years old, in clothing that swallows his form, hands shaking so hard that he thinks that the esper might start crying. Shin can read everyone's thoughts, find them at their most bare, put names to emotions that they can't because he's seen them. On the other hand, however, Shin has no one to return that sentiment. No one to take his hand and guide him through feelings and facts of life that he should have been familiar with by 16.
So, Natsuki reaches out. Hands lifting Shin's from where it shakes at his side. Sandwiching the digits, so that his thumbs may run across his warm knuckles. He pulls him closer, the sound of denim rubbing against denim filling the room as the blonde takes tentative steps forward. It takes a few moments before he's standing in between Natsuki's legs, knees close to buckling. There's silence between them for a long while, the engineer listening carefully for Shin's breathing to slowly steady out. His heart clenches, disappointed in himself for making his golden boy feel this way.
When he's sure that the other won't cry or pass out anytime soon, he tilts his head upwards, voice airy.
"Shin?"
He asks, nearly begs, staring at the others side profile from where he nervously chews his lip and stares out the window. The blonde startles a bit, ears burning once more. A few seconds drone on, before he slowly drags his gaze down to the other. His earrings once again twinkle with the movement; soft, singing, metal and jewels the soundtrack to Natsuki's personal heaven. The dark haired man juts his tongue out to wet his bottom lip, eyes narrowed as he stares directly into Shin's light.
"Will…you be my boyfriend?"
He asks, before taking in a stuttered deep breath. This time around, there's no long stretch of quiet, as Shin lets out his own breath; taking all sorts of anxiety and fear with it. Natsuki can hear the breeze return, the birds singing their serene song, as the curtains flutter in time with the wings framing Shin's face.
Then his sweet boy is leaning forward, burning face pressed against the side of his neck, as Natsuki wraps his arms around his waist.
"Yes…yes, I'll be your boyfriend."
He whispers, the angel on his shoulder.