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Lately, the clock on the wall doesn’t sound as loud as before. The seconds turn slowly, silently, letting the people in the room embrace the time without rushing their breath. There’s no reason to run, no reason to stay, and the in-between is exactly what Mafuyu has been looking for.
Lately, the sheets around his body don’t feel as grating as before. They envelop his frame, caress his skin, still marked in non-possessive bites and scratches. Mafuyu glances at his own chest under the covers, sees the red traces over it, hint of how it happened again.
Lately, the smell around him isn’t as bitter as before. It has a strong, stinging scent, going along with a smoke disappearing over his head. Tobacco has a different savour in the street and in a bedroom. Here, in the afterglow of his long night, Mafuyu can enjoy the smell invading his nose without a complaint.
Lately, the sight when he wakes up doesn’t look as plain as before. The blank walls and ceiling used to be hard to look at, but now he’s got a bare back to stare at. He shifts on his side, and observes the broad shoulders, also marked in scratches and bites from holding back sounds and loud breaths. Dark, short hair crawl up the neck until the head, that ends up turning towards Mafuyu.
“Hope you don’t mind.”
Mafuyu shakes his head on the mattress, a content smile growing on his lips despite himself. He didn’t hear this as a question; only a comment that Shizusumi had spelled out of politeness.
He is like this, sometimes. Most of times. Dark shades of classic clothes, expensive watch framing his delicate wrist, bangs styled perfectly, tone low, controlled, no unnecessary words ever crossing his lips. Every gesture of his is efficient, mastered, from the confidence in his walk, to the grip he can have around skin.
A shiver runs down Mafuyu’s spine. The memory of the simple fingers in and out of his body, teasing, dancing, making him say words he would be shy to repeat at the moment, swirls in his mind. It mingles with the mouth devouring his, the tongue toying with him, lapping at parts of his body he never knew could arouse him. His limbs, all sore and spent, are another result of the intensity of last night. Of the last nights.
These nights where, after a long shift at the grocery store, he could release all the tension and wait only for Shizusumi to erase his troubles. These nights where, after struggling forever to find the right sound, looking at his empty list of commissions, he could let Shizusumi kiss his problems away. These nights where, after desperately playing at the bar, hoping for someone to remember him and his voice, he could finally let his print on Shizusumi.
“Shizu. Mind lending me one?”
Shizusumi’s grey eyes see through him, piercing and clever, the kind that anyone would hide from, shrink, want to disappear at. But not Mafuyu. Mafuyu’s smile only grows wider, sweeter, when he sees them.
“Don’t you care about your throat, or something?”
His raspy voice gets straight to Mafuyu’s chest, his heart always jumping after hearing such a deep tone. Instead of answering that one, Mafuyu sits up and stretches his arm intending to reach the cigarette between Shizusumi’s finger. He never catches it. Shizusumi moves his hand away, insensitive to the offence on Mafuyu’s face.
“Do you care about me, now?” Mafuyu asks, surprised.
And he pretends these are just teasing words, but underneath, his surprise to Shizusumi’s move is genuine. He never tried to get closer, to understand what happened in Shizusumi’s heart. If Mafuyu tries to see what happens in Shizusumi’s mind when he fucks him, he’s scared he won’t be able to enjoy it anymore. He prefers keeping the mysterious aura around Shizusumi, the disturbance in his wicked smile, the harshness in his voice a perfect punctuation to make him come.
“I don’t like sharing.”
Shizusumi’s impeccable mask never cracks. It couldn’t. No matter the energy he would put in making him flinch, that wouldn’t work. And Mafuyu is glad it won’t falter; he doesn’t have to try anything, he simply lets his body to Shizusumi’s hands and he knows how to guide him on cloud nine.
After another drag, heavy smoke escapes from Shizusumi’s lips, and the end of it fades in Mafuyu’s mouth when he leans closer. The taste of tobacco on his tongue achieves to relax him, if it were even possible to feel better in this morning. Shizusumi’s toxic saliva mingles with his, letting him enjoy the treat a little more, despite not getting his own drag on the cigarette.
When Shizusumi moves back, his gaze is still sharp, fixated on Mafuyu’s tempting lips, curving in a gentle smile again.
“You do share, then.”
Shizusumi sighs, as if bending for once, just enough for Mafuyu to allow himself a chuckle. He falls back in bed in a thump, and their calm breaths become the only sound filling the room again. Mafuyu listens, can hear his own heartbeat, his own feelings and his own thoughts. Today, he’ll have to change the strings of his guitar, beg the landlord to give him a month more, to kiss up his manager for another miserable concert, and maybe, to sit for a moment to remember this night.
Maybe, Shizusumi will have a train ride for his next shooting, an interview on a famous local TV channel, give his fans a glimpse of his smile on Instagram, a filming session at a fancy place. Mafuyu doesn’t know yet if they will meet tonight, or tomorrow, or a month later after ceasing to exist for each other. The reunion will be explosive, thrilling, and it will remind Mafuyu what being alive means.
Lately, life doesn’t taste as sour as before. Mafuyu has found someone who can make it a sweet drink, without needing to burn his tongue trying to reach for a pathetic drop.