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His skin smells like sweat, sea-salt and citrus. His breath smells of mint and alcohol. It stings in Ouni’s nostrils, still he buries his nose further into the warmth of the other. He feels like a dog, chasing scent and affection as if starving, but Rochalízo is hanging onto him just as tightly. It lessens the feeling of shame when both of them know that what they are doing is selfish.
Rochalízo bares his neck — milky white and speckled with freckles and moles. Ouni lunges for the soft thing, leaving bruises that look like spring’s first violets peeking through powdery snow. Rochalízo’s hands are cold compared to the rest of his body when he wraps them around his back. His long nails dig into his skin like little pinpricks. The half-moon shaped indents blend in perfectly next to the plethora of scars already marring the rest of his back. Surprisingly, Rochalízo has a fair share of scars too. A round one on his left shoulder that looks like something that could have been caused by a burn. Uneven texture along his cheeks: the last remains of teenage acne kissing childhood adieu. A fair amount of small thin ones sit on the underside of his thighs. Ouni hadn’t actually seen those, but he had felt them when Rochalízo had slung his legs around his bare torso. They are the only ones he doesn’t quite know how to explain.
It feels awfully like wrestling, the way they grope and scratch at each other like it’s the last touch they will ever feel. It feels like they are fighting. Not each other but something desperate and unspoken that sours the taste of each other’s mouths.
At some point, when avoiding each other’s gaze starts feeling too awkward, Rochalízo decides it’s easier to just turn around. His blond hair slips over his shoulders, hiding his face completely, and for a short, terrible moment it feels so easy to pretend that he’s someone else.
That isn’t fair, however, Ouni knows that. Not to Nibi, not to himself and certainly not to the man underneath him. Although he knows Rochalízo probably wouldn’t mind his thoughts drifting to simpler nights — not when both of them are doing each other for the wrong reasons — Ouni can’t bear the thought of fully indulging in an unachievable fantasy. By the tense muscles along the other’s shoulders Ouni can tell that he must feel much the same.
He leans down to kiss along the blond’s spine. Both to urge him to relax and to remind himself that Nibi never had freckles along his shoulder blades. The little reddish-brown dots stretch all over the pale canvas that is Rochalízo’s back and Ouni curses himself for thinking they bear a resemblance to stars because the whole point of this maneuver was to avoid thinking about Nibi.
“You like watching the stars?” He had asked Rochalízo.
The young Lord almost fell off the ship’s railing at Ouni’s sudden appearance. He knocked over the wine bottle sitting next to him instead and cursed loudly when some of the liquid soaked through his pants.
“Shit. Sorry,” Ouni said hastily, reaching to grab the tipped over bottle from where Rochalízo had tried to grab it unsuccessfully.
“You really shouldn’t sit on the railing. You could have fallen in,” Ouni said as he handed the bottle to Rochalízo.
“And you shouldn’t sneak up on people and scare the shit out of them,” Rochalízo replied with an irritated expression. “And don’t scold me about sitting on the railing. I’ve seen you sit in much more dangerous places.”
“Yes, but I am coordinated and agile.”
“You are just so funny.”
Ouni had to fight a smug smile as Rochalízo started to flush increasingly from embarrassment. He’s always easy to rile up, but there was no real reason to bully him tonight. Ouni hadn’t come to pick a fight. While they were still awkward around each other on a good day, he didn’t want to start petty arguments with the young Lord any longer. For Suou’s sake, if not for his own. “I’m sorry again. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He looks at the dark stain on the floorboards. “And I’m sorry about your drink.”
Rochalízo waved his hand dismissively. "It's…alright. Don’t worry about it.”
Rochalízo lets out a pained gasp and Ouni’s movements immediately come to a halt. He pants and tucks a long strand of black hair behind his ear.
“Are you okay?” He whispers as he leans a little closer.
Rochalízo doesn’t reply, only breathes loudly into where his face is buried in his forearms.
“...Sorry,” Ouni says somewhat awkwardly. He briefly smoothes the palms of his hands along the sides of Rochalízo’s torso where a few goosebumps had formed, gentle in a way he didn’t know he would ever be towards the other man, and begins to move away. “I’m gonna—”
A hand quickly grabs his wrist to stop him.
“No, sorry, we can continue,” Rochalízo says in a rough voice. Obviously winded from exertion.
Ouni shakes his head. “I’m not going to if this is hurting you.”
The grip around his wrist tightens slightly. “No, I–” Rochalízo signs and turns his head slightly so that Ouni can see the profile of his face. “I’m alright. Please can we—” he cuts himself off. “Please. Don’t worry about it.”
“It’s sweeter than I expected,” Ouni said after taking a sip. He licked the last remaining droplets off his lips and passed the bottle back to Rochalízo who took a sip himself.
“Well, it’s not a particularly strong wine.” He took another swig. “Not really the type of wine to get drunk on quickly.”
Ouni thought that Rochalízo must have been at it for a while then, judging by the slight flush to his cheeks and overall more relaxed demeanour. He wasn’t drunk, not really, but he certainly wasn’t sober either.
“Was that your goal?”
Rochalízo shrugged as he passed the bottle back to Ouni’s outstretched hand. “Not really.”
Ouni took another sip of the liquid. The taste of alcohol was more apparent upon this second taste and he could already feel some heat rising to his cheeks.
“You would think so with the way you downed shots of gin with Ginshu just yesterday.”
Rochalízo almost smiled at that but it was gone before Ouni could catch a proper sight of it.
“That I did upon her request. I hold my liquor well anyways.”
“I don’t,” Ouni admitted as he beheld the now almost empty bottle.
Rochalízo is quick to snatch it back with a badly hidden smirk.
“I’ve had more practice than you.” He placed the bottle on the floor next to them. “Thanks to those stupid rules you had on the Mud Whale.”
“I snuck a bottle with the rest of the Moles that one time. Before the first attack.”
Rochalízo whistled impressedly in a way Ouni knew he probably wouldn’t have done without the alcohol in his system. Tipsy, then.
“And to think Suou scolded me for calling you a delinquent before.”
“I think that was more because of the tone you used.”
Rochalízo hummed. No irritation, no insult to bite back, just a quiet, acknowledging hum. Unusual for him. “I guess you would need to ask Suou to know for sure.”
There was a strangely sad glint in his eyes upon the mention of their mutual friend. There had to be a reason for the young Lord to be above deck at this hour after all. Ouni didn’t pry.
“How did you even sneak into the alcohol storage?”
“I made Kicha stand on my shoulders so that she could climb in through the window. She was the only one who could have fit through a space that tiny.” Ouni smiled at the memory. "Unfortunately she managed to knock over some bottles and the noise alerted some of the Mayor’s Aides nearby. We almost got caught.”
“Well, you have to admit that it wasn’t exactly a well-thought through plan.
Ouni shrugged. “Nibi was never one for strategy, yet he always insisted on coming up with our “plans” when we needed one.”
The name was out of his mouth before he could think better of it, alcohol loosening his tongue cruelly, and suddenly his mouth felt sliced open from the sentence. How could one name still hurt so much?
Rochalízo must have noticed the sudden distress in Ouni’s posture, or maybe he had simply realized the implications of the name being unfamiliar to him, but he was quick to move the conversation along.
“I need to confess that I also snuck some liquor back on the Mud Whale.”
Ouni’s eyes went wide at that. “Really?”
“Really.” Rochalízo said, smiling slightly.
“How did you manage that?”
Rochalízo cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose I didn’t really sneak it. I just lied. Kind of, I mean.”
Ouni raised an eyebrow, curious about where this story was going to lead.
“I told Shinono it’s a cultural thing and she let me take a bottle or two.”
“Wow.”
Rochalízo shrugged.
“You are a liar. You lied to Shinono.”
“Technically, it wasn’t a lie,” Rochalízo defended.
“How so?”
“Alcohol isn’t nearly as much of a taboo in Amonlogia as it was on the Mud Whale,” he explained. “So, as I said, I have more practice with handling my liquor.”
Ouni only rolled his eyes at the statement which unfortunately caused him to lose his balance, only further proving Rochalízo’s point.
“It only really was a taboo for the Marked population.”
The heat of both their bodies is dizzying, or maybe that’s just the last remaining alcohol in his system. Ouni presses his burning forehead against the back of Rochalízo’s neck and circles his waist with his arms as he moves against him steadily. The man below him makes a sound at the back of his throat as he does so. It’s a quiet, restrained sound and not for the first time tonight does Ouni wonder how the other man manages to keep this quiet. Rochalízo shakes in his grasp, his taut muscles trembling like a leaf in the wind and Ouni holds him a little tighter. Blond hair tickles the side of his cheek and the sensation feels painfully familiar.
It hadn’t taken them long to finish the rest of the bottle with Rochalízo doing most of the heavy lifting. Despite that, both of them seemed to be equally drunk as they laid on the ground in order to better gaze at the stars.
“You never answered my question about the stars,” Ouni noted. His speech had begun to slur a little.
Rochalízo hums. It’s a high-pitched and carefree sound, like a bell or a bird whistling.
“I suppose I do like it. You can’t really see the stars in Amonlogia because the air is too dirty most of the time,” Rochalízo explained. “I’ve only ever been able to see the stars when sailing so I think I’ve come to associate them with,” he paused briefly, “Freedom. In a sense at least.” He groaned and covered his face with his hands. “Why am I telling you this?”
“Don’t know,” Ouni mumbled. “Why am I listening?” It felt strangely easy to talk to Rochalízo and Ouni didn't know when in the last hour of their drunken conversation that had become the reality. It was the lonely night, probably, the stinging feeling that kept them both awake that neither of them addressed despite both of them knowing it was there. Somewhere along the line he really had become soft.
“I don’t know,” Rochalízo echoed his words.
They fell silent once again, letting wind, waves and the fluttering of the sails take the lead in their conversation. Though, after a while Rochalízo broke the peaceful moment after clearing his throat.
“I can’t feel my feet.” He remarked with something that could have been the start of a giggle.
“Fuck,” Ouni said and then Rochalízo did laugh.
“Fuck, we’re drunk.”
“Mhm.”
Ouni let his gaze fall away from the stars and looked at Rochalízo instead.
In retrospect, looking at him had always hurt somewhat. He used to think it was only because of his general distaste of the other man, but if this night proved anything it’s how wrong he had been about that.
In truth, there had always been a resemblance between Nibi and the tactless stranger that had one day infiltrated their island, and after he had stopped curling his hair it had only become more apparent to Ouni that despite his sharper features and curiously coloured eyes the curve of his nose and the softness of his cupid's bow look so very familiar that it might just burn his retinas. Or maybe he only feels this way now that Rochalízo is spread out underneath him. Somewhere after Ouni’s apologetic embrace the other’s resolve seems to have broken and he had started to make more noise. He doesn’t sound like Nibi at all and somehow, Ouni realises, that hurts differently. Not less, but in a way that feels like he could bear better.
The way Rochalízo’s shoulders tense again the second he removes his arms around his middle doesn’t go unnoticed by Ouni, but the other doesn’t get to protest before Ouni leans close to his ear.
“Turn around?”
It’s a question rather than an order so Rochalízo hesitates for a few moments. Eventually he does oblige, though. Ouni keeps his eyes on him as he settles into the new position. The way sweat glistens across his prominent collarbones and the way his nose scrunches up in something he can’t quite tell is pain or pleasure. Ouni helps guide one of his legs over his shoulder and once again his thumb brushes over the row of scars there. They seem more familiar to him now but he doesn’t look, he doesn’t ask. He starts moving again and Rochalízo’s fingers twist in his dark strands.
He wonders who Rochalízo must see with how his eyes are glazed over. If it’s some other forbidden fling he met before he even knew of the Mud Whale’s existence or if he really, truly, sees Ouni but that is exactly where the problem lies. Briefly, he wonders if it’s Suou he sees.
Ouni leans forward until his forearms are on either side of Rochalízo’s head. His hair falls forward with him, forming a pitch black curtain around the pair. When they kiss it’s the first time neither of them close their eyes while doing it. Ouni sees the way Rochalízo’s pupil dilates and feels the gap in his teeth through their kiss. Rochalízo makes a sound that is far too close to a sob to be anything else and it vibrates through both of their bodies.
“We’re dropping you off in Viola in a few days, right?” Ouni asked suddenly.
Rochalízo only hummed.
“Why Viola?”
“I'm mostly there for official business. I’ll go on to Amonlogia from there.”
“Don’t you have a new settlement to attend to?”
“Yes, I do.” Rochalízo licked his lips. “But it’s not every day my brother is getting married.”
“Oh. Wow,” Ouni said dumbly. “Congratulations?”
“I’ll tell Anticheiras,” was Rochalízo’s dry reponse.
“...Which one is that again?”
“The oldest one. Not the one you threatened. Not the one who shot Shuan,” Rochalízo winched at the words. Ouni did too but only internally.
“So the one I didn’t really meet.”
“He was there when they came to get Atsalí, but yes.”
Ouni hummed. “I still don’t have a face for the name.”
“I doubt he has one for yours either.”
“Is this, like, a big deal? Since he is the oldest and all.”
Rochalízo took a deep breath. “Oh, yes. Especially since he’s 24 already. Any later and my father would have thrown the next best Countess — or some of the like — at him like a necktie.”
Ouni furrowed his eyebrows. “That’s late? Why? Your lives have always been long.” Marriage at a young age was the norm on the Mud Whale, but it had obvious reasons. Ouni didn’t understand why it would be the same in Amonlogia.
“For simple people it may be different, but my family is noble. Marriage is,” he bit his lip, looking for suitable words, “think of it as a business. It’s about connections and status.” He was quiet for a bit and then: “At my age my mother already had her first child. For us it’s an obligation in many different ways.”
“That’s…,” he didn’t quite know what to call it, “It’s like a reverse version of the stupid rule we placed on our Mayors.” Deep down he had always known that the rule only caused harm but it still struck when it turned out to be true in earnest. Sometimes he still felt sorry for Byakuroku. Most times he felt sorry for Taisha. But his feelings regarding Taisha were a different kind of beast entirely.
“It’s a cage,” Rochalízo agreed tiredly and it made Ouni halt his thoughts.
Something dawned on him then, something cold and true. “Does that mean you’ll have to marry too?”
He didn’t need to look at Rochalízo to know that he went as stiff as a board at the question.
“I’m the youngest so still not for some time, but…” he turned to his side to face Ouni, “eventually.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I feel sorry for the poor girl that will inevitably grow unhappy with me as her husband,” Rochalízo spat. “I’ve never wanted to marry,” he whispered defeatedly. It was a confession, something Ouni’s ears probably never should have heard, yet he still did and now it hung between the two of them like a stormcloud.
“...I get that.”
“That fits you,” Rochalízo said confidently at first, but then backtracked once he caught himself saying it. “I mean, I think.”
“Actually…It’s not like I hate the idea in itself.” He saw Rochalízo’s expression change to surprise. He was surprised too, but not because of the sentence itself but because of his readiness to share it. “I just like to think that I will be able to find the person I love in the afterlife regardless if our souls are bound by marriage or not.”
Rochalízo’s face crumbled like a tissue. Hurt tinged with the slightest bit of disgust and perhaps even jealousy. He sat up quickly, far too quickly for someone as drunk as he was. He pressed his forehead against his knees both to wade off dizziness and to hide his expression. Ouni followed him into the sitting position tentatively but he didn’t say anything.
“Fuck,” Rochalízo cussed. “How dare you say something this poetic? Aren’t you supposed to be grumpy and cynical and whatnot?”
Under other circumstances Ouni might have taken the bait and started a pretty argument, but he couldn’t then. Not with the way Rochalízo’s voice had trembled with true, ugly emotion.
“I generally try not to take Shuan as an example, actually,” Ouni joked instead. He didn’t feel confident enough to comfort Rochalízo.
A broken sort of laugh ripped out of Rochalízo. “Fuck you.” He spit into his arms, but with the way his shoulders were shaking it could have been mistaken for sobbing easily.
They sat in silence for a while until the shaking subsided enough for Rochalízo to uncover his face again. His eyes were bloodshot but Ouni didn’t think he actually cried.
“Have you been in love?” Rochalízo’s rough voice almost sounded angry.
Oh, how Ouni had dreaded this question, but they had come so far already and he didn’t have the heart to turn around again. Somehow it felt almost traitorous towards Nibi’s memory.
“Once.”
Rochalízo went quiet at that.
Ouni swallowed thickly.
“Sometimes I still think I am.”
Rochalízo looked at him then, somewhat lost, somewhat like he was looking at a kindred spirit.
They fell into another silence. An even heavier one.
“I’m sorry.”
Ouni moved to look at the stars again. Among them he hoped to find Nibi, but loneliness greeted him instead.
He recognised that loneliness in the man next to him. He saw how Rochalízo looked at Suou when he thought no one was watching. He’s seen the desperate longing for something he knows he could never have. The longing for something he didn’t believe he ever should have.
He barely believed it himself, but in that moment he really, truly, understood Rochalízo.
“I’m sorry too.”
Rochalízo bites his shoulder when they come to completion and the sting makes him feel alive. They pant against each other as the heat slowly leaves them. It’s only when the ringing in his ears subsides that Ouni notices Rochalízo sniffle quietly next to his ear. Ouni can’t see his face, but something tells him the other man wouldn’t want that anyways. He simply holds him as they shake together.
“Fuck,” Rochalízo chokes. “I get why Suou’s in love with you now.”
Ouni continues to hold him.