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Yushi lazily throws the tennis ball against the wall above his headboard, tracing its trajectory with half-lidded eyes as it curves right back into his waiting hand, the same way it's been doing for the past 20 minutes. His other arm is bent behind his head, going numb from lack of blood flow but it’s not enough to convince him to move from this otherwise comfortable position.
The sun is high in the sky, enveloping the bustling city in a sweltering heat. Yushi hears the rumble of engines, the buzz of conversation, and the hum of life beneath him, all blended together till he can’t really make one out from another. However, the Tokuno mansion remains quiet, save for the silent movement of staff working in the levels below. His parents (and everyone else they’d deemed important enough to bring along with them) were off to the heart of the city for a council meeting, probably discussing the “recent disputes and outrage from the people of the Undercity”, as said in the tabloids. ‘Disputes’ is a crude understatement, in actuality—full on riots have been breaking out, due to the introduction of trade taxes put in place by businesses, impacting them the hardest. Yushi had begged his father to finally let him get involved in politics: He’s perfectly qualified! He graduated with honours from the top school in the region, by his own merit, might he add. He’s practically overflowing with ideas. Yet they remain confined to scribblings in the pages of the yellowing sketchbook now strewn on his desk. He had so many plans on how he could contribute back to his community and create better conditions for everyone. Even those that the higher ups refuse to acknowledge with a ten foot pole. But no, his parents claim he’s not ready. Still too young, fresh out of university. Said he doesn't know anything, and dismissed him with a flick of a wrist and a sympathetic smile from his mother.
So call him petty that he decides to sulk in his room in rebellion, even though there’s no one else there to see him wallow in his own pity. Although it's really starting to seem more like a self-torture method, since he's quite literally about to die of boredom and melt into a miserable puddle into his sheets.
He’s probably dissociating when he hears a soft clink of metal against his window. Surely, he misheard—birds knock into his windows all the time— so he continues connecting the little bumps on his ceiling like constellations, hoping that one of the stars would solve all his life’s problems. The next clink is louder, followed by careful yet quick jostles of the lock. This makes Yushi sit up with a jolt, the ball dropping onto the duvet with a dull thump, as he finally notices the soft silhouette through his window, a figure blocking the light flitting through the sheer curtains. It feels like a scene out of a bad spy movie, except way more real. He instinctively reaches for the dagger hidden in his bedside table. It was given to him by a close relative a few years ago, brandished in the family colours, blue and gold. He's always kept it close as his prized possession, but he's never actually had to use it, let alone on another human being.
How this maniac managed to climb to the third story of the building without anyone noticing is beyond him, but with those skills under his belt, this person is certainly a dangerous individual. Despite the fear crawling beneath his skin and the slight tremor in his legs, Yushi curls his fingers over the handle of the dagger and steadies his grip.
The lock clicks softly from the outside and the window is slowly opened, the sounds of the city spilling into the room in a crescendo. Yushi creeps forward just as the figure enters through the window, combat boots land onto the carpeted floor in a deceptively quiet manner. And he seems to be… humming a song? It’s unfamiliar—something with an intense electric guitar riff and an aggressive beat in the background. Just as the intruder slides out from behind the curtain, Yushi takes that moment of weakness to pin the other to the wall with the weight of his body and digging the sharp edge of the knife right below his jaw.
The intruder, which Yushi now realises is a boy around his age, lets out a loud yelp as his head knocks hard into the wall. The impact of it knocks the lone wired earpiece out of his ear, which Yushi notices is covered in piercings—the helix connected to the cross at the lobe with a silver chain. He’s wearing a black hood that only pushes his dark hair further over his eyes, the fabric falling loosely over his shoulders. Donning an obscenely tight sleeveless shirt with a leather harness buckled right below his chest and numerous straps hanging from the sides, Yushi can’t help the way his own eyes drag over his exposed arms. The lean muscle is contrasted by the dark tattoos with bright neon accents adorning them, looking like a kid’s silly doodles rather than professionally done up. He’s never seen anyone dressed like this in all of Piltover.
“Ow! Dude what the hell—” The boy hisses, eyebrows furrowed tightly in pain. He even has the gall to glare at Yushi, as if he wasn't the one who broke into his house through his fucking window.
“Who are you? What do you want from me?” Yushi retorts with a withering look of his own, his initial trepidation bleeding into annoyance.
It seems to have the opposite effect, as the boy smirks up at him, leaning in closer and completely ignoring the way the dagger continues to press further into his skin.
“I can be whatever you want me to be, baby,” the boy bats his eyelashes, voice silky like melted butter. Yushi makes a face that he hopes conveys his disgust, but before he can question the obnoxious stranger any longer, a static sound crackles through the space between them, followed by a deep voice.
”Riku? Maeda Riku, are you alive? Did you fall off the side of the building? Hellooo? Do you copy? Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3? Ryo, I think this stupid thing is broken again, he can't hear me.”
“Riku,” Yushi tests the name under his breath. It tastes foreign, and he’s sure he would’ve remembered such a face if he'd ever seen one. A boy-ish one, with wide, puppy-like eyes framed by smudged eyeliner as if he hadn’t used a mirror to apply it. He’s hot, Yushi begrudgingly notes to himself. If this Riku guy hadn’t just committed a crime, the blond fears he would be all over him and his friends would never hear the end of his lovesick swooning.
“That’s me. Mind if I take this? The kids are gonna start squabbling if I don't reply.”
The pure nonchalance does nothing but make his blood boil: Does he think Yushi is stupid? The moment he releases his hold on the other, he's sure to make a run for it. Or worse, knock him out with all that muscle.
“You wish,” Yushi replied bluntly, reaching down with his free hand to yank out the walky-talky on Riku’s utility belt. It’s made of a few different metals messily soldered together—a rickety thing that is obviously handmade by someone who, while not having the best aesthetic sensibilities, clearly knows his way around a toolbox.
The red light of the device blinks as Yushi clamps his hand around the button on the side, before holding it up to his face, “Hi, Riku’s … in the bathroom right now. Who’s this?”
The other side goes silent for a beat.
“I’m Sa—“ The sound of a dull slap, likely a hit on the shoulder by the second person in the room (Ryo, he guesses), and a muffled yet urgent chide to “Don’t use your real name, dumbass”.
“Sa…ntiago?” Riku winces, probably plotting to replace this comms guy once he goes back to where he came from, wherever that may be.
“Do you know why he’s here in my house today?”
There’s an evident panic on the other end, though neither of the voices speak up. Yushi imagines these two faceless strangers miming to each other in an attempt to find the least incriminating response to a clearly loaded question.
“…Window shopping?”
Riku slumps against the wall in defeat, deflating like a balloon. Yushi shoves the device back into Riku’s utility belt, satisfaction swelling within him as he watches the latter poke his tongue against the inside of his cheek.
“These idiots,” Riku grumbles, pink lips twisting into a frown. It makes him look… cute, almost. Not like the criminal that slipped into his room oh-so effortlessly. Yushi stifles a laugh.
“Ready to explain yourself, Maeda?”
“Okay, first of all, let’s put the knife down,” Riku pries the dagger-wielding hand away from his neck, revealing the harsh line where blood accumulated below tan skin. Yushi feels bad for half a second before realising this guy just crawled through his window. “Secondly, I meant to enter the study, but clearly there was some… miscommunication. In my defense, I did think the house was empty! I’m not an amateur… isn’t there supposed to be a council meeting happening about now?”
Yushi’s expression hardens. He can’t believe his parents' lack of trust in him almost led to him getting killed in a home robbery. Or maybe not, since this Riku guy seems relatively harmless, grumbling under his breath about how he’s going to “rip off Sakuya’s arms and beat him over the head with them”.
It gives Yushi enough reassurance to take a step back and lower his hand. Riku lets out a sigh of relief, pushing himself off the wall and soothing the point where his head hit the wall with gloved hands.
Yushi watches warily as Riku roams the room with casual, slow strides, like he owns the place: poking at the trinkets on Yushi’s desk, flipping through the books still left open, running his hands through the clothes hung up in his closet.
“I’m not saying my plan isn't flawed or anything but, what's the son of the Councilman Yuta Tokuno doing at home on such an important day? Shouldn't you be… I don’t know… making laws or whatever you pretentious people do?” The taller boy asks, falling backwards onto Yushi’s bed without caring if he dirties his white silk sheets and being even more insufferable by making non-existent snow angels on his bed. Yushi tears his eyes away to stop him from blatantly staring at the sliver of exposed skin where Riku’s top rides up his torso, reminding himself that he should in fact be feeling very, very upset.
“They… they don’t think I’m good enough to be there, I guess. Maybe they fear I’d embarrass myself. Or, God forbid, the sacred family name,” Yushi sighs heavily, feeling a dull headache building behind his eyebrows. “My parents are great people, don’t get me wrong, but they, and so many of the people in that meeting right now are so scared of public backlash that they refuse to acknowledge the root of the problem. Them.”
The anger within him simmers till it reaches a boil, bubbling near the threshold. In frustration, Yushi throws himself face-first onto his bed next to the boy. If this were any other situation he’d probably laugh at the absurdity of it all—his friends would scoff if they’d heard he just had some sort of fucked up therapy session with the intruder and discussed the poltical and economic state of the world.
“I don’t know why I’m telling you any of this,” he mutters, muffled by the blanket pressed against his face. Riku has been still since somewhere in the middle of his rant. Yushi doesn’t need to turn his head to feel the other’s gaze on him, but he does anyway, cheek pressed into the bend of his elbow, meeting curious, knowing eyes. Something like understanding shines through, hidden underneath the hard exterior, built upon years of being shut out.
“Hey, if anyone knows about how shit your government is, it’s us.”
They sit in silence. Yushi isn’t sure what to say after that, just letting the words disperse into the air around them. It startles him slightly, when Riku suddenly props himself up onto his elbows, hovering above him slightly. Yushi’s heart stutters in his chest.
“Do you wanna know why I came up here today?” Yushi doesn’t know if he’s meant to reply because he really is curious, but the boy answers his own question anyways. “I came up here today to take back what was ours. The rich here become ridiculously more rich off of our suffering. It might not be the ‘right’ way, but it’s the only way we know how. Nobody listens. Not even the government. So what can we do other than fight for ourselves? I didn’t do this for me—I do it for those that have less.”
Yushi ponders for a moment, a lump lodged tightly in his throat.
He knows the reason why he’s living in one of the wealthiest parts of the city with a roof over his head and never needing to worry about his next meal is because of those that came before him. His ancestors and the preceding generations of council men and women who have made decisions in his favour. He’s embarrassed to have been whining like a petulant child about his ‘problems’ when they must seem so trivial and frivolous next to Riku’s. “I’m sorry,” he wants so desperately to say, but it doesn’t feel right. Doesn’t feel enough.
The other boy continues to speak even without a response—Yushi notices he does that quite a bit—eyes seemingly searching his and picking up on the slightest twinge of emotion. He feels naked, like he has everything out on display with the way Riku sees right through him.
“You know, where I’m from, no one would be caught dead talking to a Topsider. Not like this, at least. They used to tell us horror stories about the people that came before us. That lived through the violence. When you live down under, you see the effects first-hand. But up here, it’s almost like nothing has changed,” Riku laughs humourlessly, a dry, bitter sound. “But you, Tokuno Yushi, aren’t quite as bad. Which is lucky for me, because anyone else would’ve killed me immediately.”
He smiles, and for the first time, it doesn’t carry any mirth. It’s genuine, sincere, and… pretty. Yushi feels pride bloom in his chest for no particular reason other than the fact that he’s the reason for that smile. He’s crazy. He’s actually, positively lost it.
“I can’t believe I’m asking this, but… d’you wanna get out of here?.”
.⚙︎ * ‧₊˚ ⋅
Yushi doesn’t have much choice of dark clothing—he never really noticed how he gravitated more towards light colours, the same way everyone else is Piltover did. From the limited selection, Riku picked out a pair of black cargo pants and a dark tank top that says “Big Ass Titties Underneath This Tee”, given to him as a gag gift by his best friends for his birthday last year. Sion and Daeyoung had snickered like children when Yushi first pulled the fabric out of the box, and practically doubled over each other in laughter when he held it in front of his body to see if it fit.
Riku giggled the same way, a beautiful, melodic noise. Yushi flushed an even deeper shade of crimson, and something beyond embarrassment bloomed behind his ribs. Thankfully, the taller boy removes his hood and slips it over Yushi’s head, the length of it enough to cover the text on the front of the top and successfully putting him out of his misery.
“Perfect.” Riku clasps his hands together, giving him a once-over before nodding to himself in content. “Could do with more accessories but I’m not sure we have time for that. Maybe next time.”
Yushi doesn’t even have time to grapple with the concept of a ‘next time’, because Riku is yanking open the curtains and bending half his body out the window he entered through. “Uh… What are you doing?”
The other tugs at a rope hanging from somewhere above, seemingly attached to the top of the building, making sure that it's still taut. It's only when Riku hops back on the ledge, testing the grip of his boots against the smooth concrete, that it clicks in Yushi’s head. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“You’re insane.”
Riku shoots him a wink and points upwards, before disappearing out the window. Yushi rushes after him, looking towards the roof to see the other boy waving down at him with a bright grin. He bites down on the leather at the tip of his middle finger and removes his hand from the covering.
“Catch!” Yushi fumbles and nearly falls to his death trying to get a hold on those stupid gloves the other so carelessly dropped from the roof. He really does not want to climb up the side of his house, but he also really, really doesn’t want Riku to think he’s nothing but a Top Side coward without a single adventurous bone in his body.
So he sucks it up and just tries not to look down, even as the distance between him and the ground widens further and further. Riku is at the top waiting for him with an outstretched hand, and if Yushi wasn’t so damn terrified right now, he would be thinking how the boy looked utterly angelic. Majestic in almost a biblical way.
He’s met with a view he’s all so familiar with, but he's never seen it from above like this. They're not much higher than they were in Yushi’s bedroom—just a couple stories up—but without the neighbouring buildings in the way, the wind flows freely all around them. Now no longer obscured by the hood, Riku’s hair looks much wavier, blowing in the breeze. From this vantage point, the council building can be seen in the distance, surrounded by the regal architecture that makes up the majority of Piltover. It's all Yushi’s ever known, really.
He turns his attention back to Riku who, with practiced ease, undoes the knot, winds the rope back up, and slings it back onto his belt with a click.
“Where’d you learn how to do that?”
Riku looks away with a grimace, before looking back up at Yushi with a serious expression. “You don’t wanna know.”
Okay, now Yushi is convinced he’s somehow managed to follow a serial killer onto the roof of his house. He can already see it on the headlines tomorrow morning: Tokuno Yu-splat—Found Dead After Getting Pushed Off the Roof of House Tokuno. The blood probably fully drains from Yushi’s face. because Riku’s cheeks puff up and he bursts out into a fit of laughter.
“Oh my gosh, you should’ve seen your face! Jesus, I’m not a monster Yushi-ah, I was just a very resourceful kid. Scout’s honour!” Yushi slaps him in the shoulder.
.⚙︎ * ‧₊˚ ⋅
When Yushi asked why they had to parkour over the buildings and risk their lives just to get to the bridge, Riku had simply said it was more fun that way. Yushi had groaned and whined, but all his complaints died in his throat when Riku circled a warm hand around his wrist and dragged him along. Thankfully he used to play varsity soccer and trained like hell back then, but nothing could've prepared him for Riku’s pure, radiating energy. He’s, quite literally, bouncing off the walls, while Yushi scrambles to follow him. The buildings gravitated closer and closer together as they moved further from the city centre, which made traversing the terrain and jumping over the gaps easier, but no less horrifying.
By the time they reach the lifts, Riku looks so incredibly liberated—cheeks dusted cherry from the exertion and a light sheen of sweat that for some reason, makes him impossibly glowy and beautiful. Yushi, on the other hand, thinks he's never been closer to death. He makes a mental note to hit the gym more often after this, something he’s been neglecting as of late to make time for wall-staring.
“Follow me,” Riku says with a tilt of his head, bangs falling over his face. Yushi’s fingers twitch at his sides, itching to reach out and brush the strands away. He’s only known the boy for a couple of hours, but Riku has an air about him that makes Yushi want to follow him to the edges of the universe. So he follows them to the edge of Piltover. Baby-steps, right?
After climbing down the side of a fire escape and fearing for his life, they turn into a narrow gap between a couple of shophouses, one so innocuous and unassuming that Yushi would’ve never bat an eye at if he'd ever walked through this part of the city.
One of the many gateways to Zaun, melded into the side of the street as if trying to hide in its own shadow. It's shrouded in darkness, only visible when the neon graffiti—that spreads out to the nearby buildings like an infection—catches the light.
The lifts stick out like a sore thumb amidst the neighbouring structure. So painfully different—asymmetry amongst symmetry—it was clear that the government left it in such a state as an unspoken warning: Topsiders do not enter the Undercity. Sure, Zaunites come up to trade or, in Riku’s case, attempt a home robbery, but the people of Piltover have no reason to leave the city.
Yushi hesitates for a second.
“Come on, Yuu-chan. Don't be scared, I’ll protect you,” Riku declares, fingers slipping between his own, and Yushi feels the heat radiating off of him, even through the thickness of the gloves still wrapped around his hand. The pet name rings through his ears and worms its way into the cavities of his heart. Yuu-chan. Said so easily, rolling off the tongue like it's the most natural thing ever. Riku’s tongue specifically—which he noticed has a little silver ball bearing pierced in the middle, peeking out from behind his lips. Yushi kind of wants to know what the cool metal would feel like pressed against his teeth. He shakes those thoughts out of his head because Riku is smiling at him like he can read his mind.
If he can, somehow, hear Yushi’s thoughts, Riku is merciful enough to not say anything about it. With a gentle tug, the blond is stumbling into the lift behind him, the doors shutting with a loud clank.
The metal box around them rattles violently as it starts its descent. Yushi clings on to Riku’s arm with a squeak at the initial drop, immediately regretting it as the latter huffs out a laugh, amused. He rips his hands off like the contact sears his skin, a similar burn spreading onto his cheeks.
He’s not much taller than Yushi is, but he’s much sturdier, stance still upright and steady despite the jarring shakes. It doesn’t take longer than a moment before Riku wordlessly takes his hand back into his own once more. Yushi wonders how often Riku does this. Go up to the Top Side, he means, not hold hands with other guys in elevators.
The lift comes to a stop with a startling jolt and the taller boy doesn’t even so much as flinch.
When the doors open, Yushi doesn't quite know what to expect to see behind them. Maybe the wasteland portrayed in his history books, streets covered in dirt, grim, and neon purple splotches permanently staining the concrete as a reminder of the Shimmer epidemic a few years ago. Those advertisements that would come up on television screens in every household, a half-hearted attempt from higher-ups to pretend they care about the plight they’ve put the people in.
But the place he’s found himself in is surprisingly…. vibrant. They seem to be in some sort of marketplace, with stalls and shops lining the crowded streets. Children weave through the sea of people, customers bargain with shopowners for discounts, and there must be street performers somewhere because an electric sound is blasting through the air and ricocheting all around them like a surround sound system, a melody similar to the punk rock Riku was listening to earlier. It’s so colourful, asymmetric, abnormal, strange, bold, yet so beautiful, charming, and most importantly—normal. Almost like Riku himself.
“It’s no Piltover, but it’s home. I grew up on these streets with the other kids, and all these people… they’re family, you know?” Yushi nods silently though he knows Riku isn’t looking at him at all, wistfully staring over this beautiful wasteland with distant eyes and a small smile on his face. Yushi watches as the green glow bounces off his cheeks and reflects off his irises.
“Come on, there’s some people I’d like you to meet.” He beckons with a tilt of his head and an easy grin, hooking their arms together like an elderly married couple going on a promenade and drags him along the crowded street. They weave through the sea of people, bumping into a good few of them while Yushi rushes out “excuse me”s and “sorry”s to the passersby. He’d expect snarls with sharp teeth and harsh glares, but there was nothing of the sort. This was probably the norm for them—to be so painfully free; To have their children roaming the avenues knowing they would protect one another.
He holds on tightly to Riku as they travel deeper into the city. The boy shares stories of his childhood—playing soccer with the neighbourhood kids when he was little, hiding up in the abandoned shophouses to smoke stolen cigars as a teenager, running out in the dead of night to leave his mark on the city in the form of neon graffiti. He occasionally turns to Yushi as he speaks animatedly, flashing his beautiful teeth at him, smiling so wide his eyes reduce to crescents. Yushi is absolutely enamoured.
He's never pegged himself as an all-romantic, lovesick fool, but Riku has turned his life upside down and nothing is normal anymore. He can’t stop smiling even though the muscles in his cheeks are starting to ache. Any other well-adjusted adult would tell him that following a strange yet insanely attractive boy that coincidentally tried to rob him into the Undercity is the worst idea ever conceptualised. Well, except Sion, who would’ve certainly encouraged this reckless behaviour because he has taken the responsibility of fussing with Yushi’s love life out of his own volition.
“Saku and Ryo are my brothers. Not by blood, but in all the other ways that matter. We look out for one another and do crazy shit,” Riku laughs, almost to himself, and Yushi can only imagine the reels of memories flickering through the former’s mind. They're younger, only by a few years, according to Riku. Apparently when they were kids the two would trail after him and the other older boys as they roamed the streets like they owned the place. They basically took them in after that and treated them like their own.
Yushi tries to imagine the owners of the voices he’d heard over that walky-talky—one higher pitched and the other with a deep timbre. The only thing he can conjure up is two scrawny children with messy hair and bright smiles, fumbling about in an attempt to impress their older role model.
Yushi wants to ask more. To push and prod till he knows Riku inside out; Knows all about his past and his aspirations for the future; Wants to know what makes him tick and what makes him smile at Yushi like he's said all the right things. He wants to introduce him to Daeyoung and Sion too, then maybe they could have gatherings during holidays and play board games and make too-sweet desserts. Or maybe he’s thinking too far ahead and he should keep his head in the present, walking idly while pressed shoulder-to-shoulder with the most gorgeous boy he’d ever seen.
The tranquility is abruptly broken, however, as a ripple of panic ricochets through the air ahead. A seismic shift that happens so suddenly it gives him whiplash. There's no shouting, just a quiet yet efficient rush. Store vendors start folding down their stalls in a matter of seconds like they’ve done it a hundred times before; Shoppers turn on their heels and rush into the nearest alley, dispersing into the darkness.
“What's going o—” Riku’s hand slips into his like it's second nature, pulling him along for the nth time today. That's when he sees it: The streetlights reflecting off of shiny golden armour, sleek metal that cuts through the chaos of the Undercitylike a knife. Enforcers.
The people here would either be hostile and bare their teeth at the soldier, or keep their heads down and mouths shut. Yushi isn't even quite sure why these Enforcers bother closing down these street markets that do nothing but help provide livelihoods for the people when there are more important issues at hand.
Topsiders aren’t typically allowed to be gandering in Zaunite streets, much less the only child of the Tokuno’s. If the Enforcers caught him here, it would take no time at all before the word spread upward and into the ears of his parents and the Council. The thought itself sends a shiver up his spine. Yushi holds the flimsy hood over his head with his free hand to cover his honey blond hair that contrasts obnoxiously with their surroundings.
This situation is honestly horrifying, and Yushi doesn’t dare look back lest he’s faced with a gaggle of soldiers storming after him—although he knows that is unlikely to be so—but through all this, Riku is… laughing? A sound so bright it’s meant for no one but them and the pitch black darkness, to be swept up in the wind and carried far, far away. Yushi doesn’t even realise he’s laughing too, till he’s out of breath from physical exertion.
He’s yanked into a narrow alleyway a distance from the initial marketplace—the music that was playing now a mere hum in the background. Yushi falls backwards against the wall to catch his breath, pulling Riku in where their fingers are still intertwined. He catches himself with a hand next to Yushi’s head, but they knock into each other awkwardly nonetheless, Yushi’s chin bumping into Riku’s shoulder, but they can’t find it within themselves to care.
He feels the remnants of their adventure in the vibrations rumbling under the taller boy’s ribcage where they’re pressed together. The way the huff of their breath mingles in the humid air between them. He’s sweating. Maybe it’s from the run, or maybe it’s from the way Riku looks at him with a gaze so intense he feels like he’s melting into the brick behind him.
“Crazy seeing you here again,” Yushi chuckles nervously in an attempt to sound cool and composed but he’s not sure it’s working because Riku is looking fully amused, eyes twinkling with something Yushi can only describe as fondness.
“Yeah?” It’s primal, raw and breathy, and he doesn’t know how to act as Riku leans in ever so slightly, giving Yushi enough room to back out if he wanted to. Though he really wishes he would just take what he wanted from him, like how he had intended to at his house earlier today.
He shocks himself by being the one to take the leap over that line that they’ve been dangerously toeing the entire day, surging forward and closing that miniscule distance between them. Riku is equally shocked by his sudden boldness, but it takes only half a second before he's kissing back with even more force, grinning into it so their teeth clink. It's fast and messy, and Yushi is grateful he's not in the right state of mind to be concerned about practically slobbering over this boy.
Riku is so ridiculously good at this, it makes him wonder how many people he's dragged around the corners where the light doesn't hit. He loses all notion of thought the moment he feels that silver ball bearing slide against his tongue. Yushi lets out an embarrassingly loud noise that is thankfully muffed immediately as Riku seals their lips together again like it's their secret to keep.
His hands, that once uselessly hung at his sides, reach up to greedily grab at the firm muscle of his biceps and the line of his back, pressing them so close together that their torsos are flush. Yushi wants nothing more than to be smothered by Riku’s chest and obnoxiously skillful tongue.
Riku’s ringed-fingers run through his hair, gripping the strands to tilt his head and slot their mouths deeper together, consuming him whole. His knees feel wobbly and weak as the other takes control, holding him up with strong arms and enveloping him in an addicting heat.
Yushi would very much die a happy man in this moment, here, with Riku touching him all over and shoving his tongue down his throat. He can imagine how pathetic he looks, lips bitten-red and parted, panting like a dog as Riku’s lips trail over his cheeks and along his jaw, nipping the skin gently.
Thankfully, Riku isn’t fairing much better than he is—red splotches high on his cheekbones and breath laboured and heavy, hitching ever-so-slightly at Yushi’s every reaction.
He mouths all over the pale expanse of his throat, down to where the skin hides behind that ugly tanktop. Yushi knocks his head harshly against the back wall, giving him more room to bite and suck, leaving behind a kaleidoscope of red and burgundy blooming in its wake. He can't wait to stand in front of the mirror tomorrow morning, covered in Riku’s marks, pressing into the bruises with lithe fingers to feel the sting—the memory of this little escapade.
“You make me so crazy,” he groans into Yushi’s neck, whining under his breath. It should be sexy, and believe him when he says it definitely is, but he’s so utterly endeared he can’t help the giggle that bubbles from his chest.
“Says you, pretty boy,” he sighs, head drifting amongst the clouds with all the little angels around him chanting ‘Riku, Riku, Riku’, till it's all he can think about.
It feels like divorce when Riku leans back ever so slightly, but he makes it up to him immediately by placing quick, chaste pecks from the corners of his mouth to his lips—barely there, and a stark contrast to the intensity of the kiss before. Riku never fails to surprise him, ever spontaneous and unpredictable.
“I don’t think they’re chasing us anymore,” Riku supplies with a lopsided grin.
Yushi rolls his eyes, the muscles in his cheeks twitching with effort in a futile attempt to stop the dumb smile from forming on his face. “I don’t think they ever were.”
.⚙︎ * ‧₊˚ ⋅
Sakuya and Ryo are everything and nothing like what he’d expected: Two younger boys with a style similar to that of Riku’s, but with an even more youthful, playful look. Sakuya even has just about a million keychains and accessories hooked onto his belt buckles and just about any other place that would fit them. His hair is dyed a platinum white, which Yushi thinks must’ve taken an unhealthy amount of bleach if his hair had been as dark as Riku’s. Ryo seems to be a big fan of neon green—from the streaks in his otherwise dark hair, to the accents on his shoes and the paint splatter on his jersey like it’s abstract art. Their style is just like Riku’s—bright, bold, and foreign. Clearly they've learnt from the best.
He had pictured them as such in his head, but what he did not anticipate was round chubby cheeks and pouty pink lips. The taller of the two had stiffened up the moment Yushi walked through the door of their little hide out, reaching for the wrench on his messy work table like his fight or flight got activated and he did not hesitate to choose fight.
The smaller boy, lounging on a patchwork beanbag as he thumbs aggressively at the console in his hand, glances up for a mere moment before turning his attention back to the game on his screen with a scoff and a quiet “Knew it”
Sakuya squints at him, looking him up and down with discerning eyes, basically challenging him to say something. “Hi, I’m Yushi,” he squeaks, offering a smile that has too much teeth and not enough of anything else, and it comes out so unsure it sounds more like a question. Why is he getting intimidated by this child with pink star clips in his hair?
The boy looks confused for a second. “Tokuno,” Ryo adds helpfully.
Recognition flashes in his eyes. “Oh! You mean the one Ri has been talking about for—”
The boy in question slaps a hand over the other’s mouth, muffling the rest of what he’s about to divulge.
“You’re telling me you’ve been obsessed with me and you thought the next logical course of action is to break into my house?”
A poorly-concealed snicker-turned-cough bubbles from the other boy, still pretending to be deeply absorbed in his video game. “You mean being simultaneously confused about whether to hate you and your whole family line or wanting to marry into said family line?”
“Okay, cut it out, dickhead,” Riku groans, chucking an empty soda can in his general direction and failing miserably, covering only half the distance between them and rolling across the paint-splattered floor till it hits Ryo’s sneakered-feet. “I was just doing some… light research, on the Tokuno lineage, which led to some light scrolling of your Instagram, but it doesn’t mean I’m obsessed or anything!”
Yushi rolls his eyes, but can’t help the way the tips of his ears heat up at the admission that Riku has not only been stalking his social media—creepy, maybe; cute, definitely!—but has also seen all the photos of him pretending to be nonchalant and mysterious when today alone has shown him that he is nothing like what he attempts to portray himself as online.
“You two look like you had fun,” Ryo comments casually, finally dropping the console onto the ground next to him, strutting over and plopping himself down onto the work bench. Sakuya squawks in protest about his “work space being messed up”, which Yushi doesn’t quite understand when his table is already messy in and of itself. Maybe he has a system or something, which is what Daeyoung loves to say when he's too lazy to organise his desk.
Yushi is confused for a second at what Ryo could possibly be referring to, but when Sakuya looks at his neck and makes a face like he ate something sour, his eyes widen in horror.
He rushes to the mirror next to the door—thrifted or stolen (he wouldn't put it past them), and framed in an elegant Victorian frame that's been artfully decorated to fit the space—and nearly screams at the sight.
To put it plainly, he looks like he got mauled by a bear. Way to make a good first impression.
“Holy shit, are you an animal? Have I been walking around town like this the whole time?”
“You definitely weren't complaining when I had my mouth on your throat…” Riku just has to add because he's a little shit and Yushi is ten times more humiliated.
He glares at him and Riku folds in a matter of seconds, slinking up next to him and sliding an arm snugly around his waist. Yushi stares at them in the reflection, watching how they contrast each other in every way. It's kind of perfect, ironically.
“Yuu-chan,” he whines, dragging out the second syllable as if the longer he complains, the higher the likelihood Yushi will quit sulking. And, annoyingly enough, it works. Maybe it's the adrenaline of everything that has happened today, the thrill of it all still running through his veins, but he can't help but grin and lean against his shoulder. Because he's weak. Fine. Whatever. Sue him.
Sakuya makes a loud gagging noise. Ryo makes exaggerated kissing noises.
And Yushi has a lot to share with his friends on Top Side.