Chapter Text
Do you know that moment when you have a fight with someone and all you can do is dread the moment you have to apologize until you actually do, and realize that unless you were beyond forgiveness, there was a certain relief that came to the world righting itself back into orbit? Raito doesn't really have a reference for that feeling, that emotion bubbling up in his core that makes the world seem far more brighter than it should, until into his life waltzed an idiot with zero self preservation skills and the uncanny ability to make Raito experience something he's never thought about.
Back then, making friends had been a decision that Raito couldn't entertain. Not because he didn't know how to interact with people, or because others were somehow intimidated by him and his parents, but simply put—no one wanted to be around him. He was too much of a teacher's parent, the class favorite, Raito would say his peers had been much more angry at him than they had been fearful. Gossip flooded the halls. Shoulders smacked into his. People dispersed as soon as he came around, their whispers of how insufferable he was still echoing in his head years later and did Raito care? Had he agonized over people who thought treating a little kid like the scum of the earth wasn't in any way, shape or form bullying?
Well, he'd be lying if he said it didn't get under his skin. He didn't cry about it, or complain to his parents, or told the teachers, because there hadn't been a reason to. No one was beating him up. No one was playing cruel pranks. He was just being ignored, or even more so acknowledged angrily, and Raito had been okay with that, really. He'd been okay with being alone, with not having to perform for someone, knowing full well that he would've hated every second of catering to the feelings of people who didn't think he should curse so much or be so blunt because it was too mean and not appropriate as if Raito wanted to sanitize himself for the pleasure of having company.
If he had to be alone to be himself, then that was alright for him, he thought, even as the first hint of companionship had him kicked out of his home and dragged into a military could, stripped of his essence just so he could say yes sir and no sir and never question what he is thought. Kind of like school, but every tiny mistake you make costs you your lunch and maybe a pain free night of sleep.
To feel agony over Tomoro calling him Souda was just what Raito wanted to avoid.
This attachment. This closeness. This need to please and to be seen. It was all Tomoro's fault. It was always Tomoro's fault. If he didn't exist, Raito is sure his life would be much simpler.
(If he didn't exist, Raito thinks his life would have never had color to it)
How dare he come into his personal space, ruining all that Raito's done to make himself who he is, always giving him that stupid, pleading look of his as if Raito was someone who deserved his attention and yet—he gets it every single time with no fail. With every happy exclamation of his name, Raito's stomach does flips and his chest flutters. With every grin directed his way, his head spins and his mouth goes dry. Tomoro makes his life a living hell to be in and despite it all, Raito feels nothing but bone dead relief when he ducks from the swing of a leg and throws his arm forward, hand curled into a fist, only for it to be grabbed, his body spun around like a top that makes the world bounce around in his head.
Planting his feet firmly on the ground beneath him, Raito stops himself from almost falling off the roof, precariously balancing on the ledge before he drags himself back up, heart thudding in his chest. No one should feel so exhilarated at dodging kicks that have enough force to blow their bangs back, but the wind that ruffles his hair like a hand curling in the strands and whistling through his ears is nothing compared to the breeze that cuts through him like a knife at each near blow that he dodges from his opponent, whatever he recieves being brought back tenfold because now he can let himself fall loose, can shake out his hands and suck in a breath through his teeth and throw his leg out with the same amount of feeling when he dodges Gigsamon's stupid arms of sand.
Tomoro takes it like it's nothing. The bruise that explodes on his skin when Raito's foot connects makes him swallow. The way he jumps back, bringing his leg up, his knee slamming into Raito's chin and making his brain rattle in his skull, has the same effect of making his stomach swoop as Tomoro's stupid beaming smiles do.
Everything is the same, back to normal, and yet, everything is changing at the exact same time. Their fights go on longer. Raito can let his muscles tense up more, throwing out kicks that make Tomoro spit out blood, staining his teeth and lips, and Tomoro can jump over him when he flips, their eyes connecting for a brief second of time, Tomoro's hair flying in his face and the world freezing in Raito's tracks before it resumes with Tomoro planting himself down on both hands that scrape against the ground and immediately throwing his leg out, foot slamming into Raito's abdomen.
He takes a page out of his book and holds onto it, letting them both stumble, free falling towards the water with a splash that muffles the world for seconds at a time before Tomoro is kicking him away by the face, foot slamming down onto his nose hard enough to bruise for him to let go.
They come up to the surface gasping and shaking out their wet hair, stumbling to their feet without a second of hesitation, clothes sticking to their skin, hair to their face, their blows still as coordinated as before, each kick sending sand flying into the air. The world turns blurry, his legs swept out from underneath him, and on instinct, Raito flips back onto his hands, throws his leg out, feels hands grab onto it and when he's flipped over, crashing into the sand, is quick to roll over before Tomoro's foot could crash into his chest, sweeping his leg out to catch onto the other boy's and send him crashing to the sandy earth.
Raito's brows raise when Tomoro kicks himself into a handstand, fingers sliding through the sand, and Raito barely has time to move when his foot clips his shoulder, nearly sending him sprawling out into the sand before he rolls over and jumps back to his feet and gets a foot straight to his chest for the victory which does send him sprawling out onto the ground just as the tide rolls in, soaking him from his hair to his toes and Tomoro's foot slams into his stomach hard enough that Raito feels it in his spine.
It shouldn't make him crash back into the water, peering up at the bespectacled boy's face. Despite both of them being drenched, Tomoro looks worse off, his hair a mess and unstyled, wavy strands dripping wet as the sun falls down on him, making the other cast a shadow over Raito that gets his heart thudding in his chest, never mind the fact that Tomoro's wiping salt water from his face with his shirt, and Raito can see exactly where his foot connected with the boy's side, the bruise exploding onto his skin like fireworks in the air that burst into a multitude of brilliant, dazzling colors.
Much like the way Tomoro's foot presses deep onto the softness of his stomach, digging into the muscles there, and everything feels like when you're hugged a little too tight around the middle by someone excited to see you, that can't ever fathom letting go, because to let go would mean to part ways and Tomoro would certainly never allow for that to happen.
"Ha…" Tomoro blinks down at him, blood on his lips, dribbling down his nose from one of Raito's kicks, and lifts a hand up, wiping it away with the heel of his palm and Raito's stomach flips and his mouth goes dry at the sight. Oh. "You—" the boy starts, head tilting, bangs sliding over his eyes as he peers at Raito through them, as red as the blood that stains his skin, "—look really good under my foot. This must be what it feels like to put the pressure of your weight on someone—" his foot digs in harder and Raito lets himself splutter, "—and watch them squirm under you without anywhere to go."
His hand pushes his bangs back, and Raito thinks, if it's Tomoro's foot that's digging into his stomach, making each inhale sting and have him feel the way pressure sits on top of him like a dam waiting to break, then he can let himself drift away.