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He stares up at the ceiling of his dorm room, but really it's like staring down into an abyss.
He never questioned that today, like so many days before and so many days still to come, he didn't go to school. What's the fucking point? He gave up on learning a long time ago, and the lectures just put him to sleep. Sometimes, he does wonder how different his life would be if he, like Aki and Mitsuru and the others, threw his efforts into school in earnest, trying to attain the highest scores, participating in club activities, and then coming home to study for the entrance exams. But the suppressors have eaten away at his motivation as much as they're eating away at his life force. When every single step is just another reason to forget, there's just no fucking point.
In the beginning, he found some comfort in the rebellion, the act of skipping school giving him the feeling that he had power over his circumstances, that defying authority somehow brought him closer to transcending this Hell on Earth. But then the boredom had begun to stretch out before him, long and endless, and with the ennui came the constant nagging at that part of his brain that he'd been trying to ignore since childhood: the part that wonders what Death is like. Being constantly alone with your thoughts can be frustrating, especially when you find yourself spinning in circles going over things you'll never be able to change, but at the same time, regardless of how dark it is, you're never alone. You've always got you. And though he's grown sick of himself, there is some comfort in always being able to think. Being conscious. Being alive.
The abyss stares back at him, grinning, taunting. He knows Death will be his just punishment. It's what he deserves. It'll even the score, make up for what he did. Yet he can't stop himself from clinging onto life like a sick puppy. It sickens and frightens him.
Yet he hadn't really realized just how much he wants to live until he came to stay at the dorm. Until he started to observe Aki and the others, leading their lives, playing out their parts in this grand fucking tragedy they call Life, and yet each of them finding ways to be happy. He used to watch them with disgust, thinking, “How frivolous it all is, how foolish to go about your lives thinking there's any meaning,” but then he'd heard Aki burst into laughter after Junpei said something unintentionally funny, and he'd suddenly realized that maybe, just maybe, he's the foolish one.
Now he watches Aki out of the corners of his eyes: a short chat with Minato here, a longer talk with the Chairman there, taking the mutt for a walk, going up to Mitsuru's room to study and practice his English. He remembers the days at the orphanage, especially after his sister had died—how Aki had looked so frail, frightened and confused, yet determined not to show anyone his weakness. But it had always shown through in his expression—that fear, that desperation to find some meaning in the face of the overwhelming senselessness of the tragedies that had befallen them. He doesn't see that look anymore. Akihiko’s eyes are steely with confidence, yet soft around the edges, warm, pleasant. And yes, as much as Shinjiro hates to fucking admit it, he looks happy.
It feels wrong—unfair, almost—and that had led him to think. Is it possible to achieve happiness in life, after all? Is it worth sticking around for? And before he knew it, he'd decided that he wants to live. Fuck it, but he wants to live.
Looking at the ceiling, he thinks again of Aki’s smile. It used to be directed at him, and his sister, but mostly it was his own image he saw reflected in Aki’s eyes as he grinned. Now that smile is directed at so many others. It’s even directed at those monsters inside Tartarus; Akihiko smirks as one of his killer punches drives an enemy to its doom. The sense of betrayal almost makes him boil. Look at me, damnit! Smile only for me!
Tossing and turning, Shinjiro half-wishes Aki would send one of those killer punches straight to his mind, blocking out these damn thoughts. Shut up, shut up, shut up! Stop thinking! Look what good it’s doing you!
Sitting up in bed, he throws a pillow at the wall, then jumps to his feet. All this thinking has him worked up, and it’s damn near making him nauseous. He stomps down the stairs, hoping that perhaps the TV will serve as a suitable distraction. But when he reaches the foot on the staircase, he sees the kid sitting at the dining room table, working on his homework. He tries to ignore it, tries to sit still on the couch, drowning out his thoughts with some dumb game show that’s on channel 3. It doesn’t work. The thoughts are always there, preying on him, waiting until his wind wanders so they can attack him with reminders of what he’s done and how he hasn’t yet paid the price for it. The debt collectors will be coming soon enough. Frustrated, he turns off the TV and hurries back to his room.
An hour later, he hears voices downstairs, then footsteps down the hall. In spite of himself, he opens his door and peeks out, only to see Minato heading back to the floor below. Shinji decides to follow him, telling himself that he just wants to know whether they’ll be going to Tartarus tonight, though deep inside he knows he’s just trying to satisfy his morbid curiosity to find out what’s going on downstairs. Morbid, because he knows it’ll just piss him off.
In the dining room, Yukari’s helping Ken with his math problems. Aigis is seated on the couch in the living room area, petting the mutt sitting on his haunches next to her wagging his tail. Mitsuru is lounging in a chair, reading, while Fuuka pounds away at the keys of her laptop, occasionally looking toward the bar. He follows her gaze and finally finds Aki, arm-wrestling Junpei and countering the brash second-year’s boasts with a confident “Heh”.
“I’m heading out,” Minato announces, and they all know what that means. They’re not heading to Tartarus tonight. But they all decide to stay downstairs anyway; they would rather enjoy each other’s company than head upstairs to their rooms to study in isolation.
Shinji scoffs and turns around on his heels. No way he’s going to stick around for that.
Before he can disappear upstairs, he feels Akihiko’s eyes on him, like a powerful beacon compelling him to turn back around. He tentatively turns his head and sees his friend donning a look of disappointment, perhaps even derision. So you’re not going to stay with us tonight, either? those eyes say. You’re just going to walk away?
But then the eyes grow cool and hard, unsympathetic, and they direct their gaze elsewhere. He hears Akihiko laugh again, an outburst of rapid chuckles, and he shakes his head. There’s no fucking point. He can’t be like them, pretending to enjoy life, pretending to be happy and content with this miserable existence. He runs back up the stairs and all but slams the door to his room behind him to block out the noise.
Falling on his bed, he realizes he’s panting, and his hands are shaking. Fear sneaks its way back in as the abyss prepares to engulf him again.
Maybe what he fears the most isn't Death. It's what he sees right now in Aki's eyes: that he's being left behind.
***
Having already sunk back into that darkness, he's surprised to hear a knock on his door not ten minutes later, a short, staccato rap-rap, pause, rap-rap-rap that can have only one source. Back at the orphanage, he and Aki had developed a system of knocks on the wall so that they could continue to communicate when one of them had been sent to sleep in the claustrophobic closet as punishment. This particular set of knocks indicates an urgent plea of, “Please talk to me.”
He considers leaving the door closed as punishment. Aki's probably only here out of a sense of obligation, and if he doesn't respond, his friend will just go back downstairs and continue socializing. But Shinji realizes that now he's just being petty and childish. His friend wants to talk to him; he shouldn't deny him that opportunity.
Lunging to his feet and seizing the doorknob in one fluid movement, he wrenches open the door. As he'd guessed, Akihiko is waiting on the other side, a pensive look on his face. Shinjiro doesn't greet him and doesn't step aside to let him in, determined that Aki won't come inside until he states his purpose.
“Everything okay?” his friend asks, and Aki's seeming obliviousness to his anger is all the more infuriating.
Shinji shrugs. “Would it matter if it's not?” He shakes his head and pauses. “You should go back downstairs.”
“Of course it matters.” There's a hint of understanding, now, in Aki's eyes. “You matter. I want to know why you're upset.”
Shinjiro just glares at him. Don't talk to me like you understand, damnit. You have no idea what's going on inside of me. And I have no idea how to explain it to you. But it's too convoluted of a message for just his eyes alone to transmit.
Then Aki startles him by pushing him aside and stepping into the room. He even places his hand on Shinji's, which is still clutching the doorknob, to pull the door shut. The minute the door closes and it's just the two of them, the world seems to shrink. All of a sudden, he feels self-conscious and awkward. He and Aki haven't stood this close to each other in a long time, not outside of battle anyway, and it's almost like he fears that his friend will be able to steal a look into a thoughts just by standing so close and breathing the same air.
“What do you want?” he asks, annoyed, letting his hand fall away and taking a step back to put some distance between them.
“Just talk to me,” Aki says, his voice gentle and soft. “Please.”
But Shinjiro can't shake the feeling that it's too late for words to save him. The physical proximity between them may have narrowed, but the gap in understanding is still so wide he could drown in it.
Aki looks him straight in the eyes and places a tentative hand on his upper arm. “Shinji—”
“NO!” he yells, and before he realizes what he's doing, he throws a punch that only narrowly misses Akihiko's face, the momentum carrying him forward, while Aki stumbles backward thanks to his quick reflexes and successful dodge. Both of them land up against the wall, Aki pinned down with his back to it, while Shinji's fist had only narrowly avoided becoming embedded in the thin plaster. He looks down at his friend, panting.
There's a moment of absolute stillness. Shinjiro stares at Aki, whose face has gone pale, yet there's no sign of fear in his expression. They're both breathing hard, and he wonders if this is what it's like to be a wolf who's meeting an alpha male of another pack for the first time, wondering if it's worth it to start a fight. It's like they're testing each other's resolve, prodding at the edges of each other's minds.
Without warning, Akihiko's closed fist hits him in the stomach, just below the ribs. Two things happen. One, the impact knocks all the air out of his lungs while it sends him off balance, and he comes crashing to his knees. Two, his head leans forward, and when he lands on his knees, his face gets shoved rather awkwardly into Akihiko's crotch. There's no mistake that that wasn't intentional, but they both freeze.
He's about to move back when his nose catches a whiff of a musky scent. At first he just feels disgust, but the scent awakens something feral in him, hungry and vicious. Akihiko has just given him an opening, and he intends to exploit that weakness.
His friend is still frozen in place, regarding Shinjiro with wary eyes. Rising back to standing, Shinji smirks briefly, then launches himself at Aki, sinking his teeth into the patch of skin where the neck meets his shoulders. He doesn't bite down hard, but he does break the skin, and the metallic flavor of blood is oh-so-satisfying.
Akihiko is trying to push him away, but he can't disengage Shinji without risking losing some flesh in the process. The struggle just excites him, and for the first time he realizes that he's hard. Fueled by the passionate rage and jealousy, the desperation, Akihiko's musk and the taste of blood, his firm erection strains against his pants. He presses his crotch against Aki's loins so the other can't feign ignorance about his reaction.
“You think you understand?” Shinji hisses when he finally lets go of Aki's neck. “You think you know me?”
His hands fumble with the buttons of Akihiko's sweater, but he doesn't have that kind of patience, not today. He jerks the vest’s two halves apart and laughs when a button pops off. The way the shirt underneath is tucked perfectly into his pants pisses him off, and he rips it out, exposing his friend’s stomach. Akihiko hasn't said anything, still, but his face looks flushed and the skin of his belly feels warm. He moves his hands lower, tugging at the belt, his anger rising when he can't figure out how to work the buckle open.
“Show me, damnit. Show me you know me. Show me you care.”
Akihiko’s next move surprises him. His friend just looks straight into his eyes, cool and confident, so Shinjiro braces himself for another punch, but then Aki relaxes and moves to help take off the belt. The moment suddenly goes from heated to terrifying, as Shinji acknowledges that he doesn't really know what he intended to do.
“C’mon. Don’t you want this?” Akihiko taunts as he lets his pants fall down in a pool around his ankles. He lifts them up with his foot and tosses them away, then kicks off his shoes and socks.
Is that what Shinji wants? He doesn’t really know, but whatever the fuck is going on here, he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t excite him. He sheds his jacket and his pants, and now they’re both down to their shirts and underwear. As he bends down to take off his socks, Akihiko takes advantage of his momentary distraction, and he knees him in the stomach. A flash of pain ignites his body, and even his honed reflexes can’t stop him from falling to the floor on his back.
His friend takes a step in his direction, and that’s his mistake. Shinjiro’s leg lunges out and back to trip him, and Akihiko comes crashing to the ground on his ass. While he recovers, Shinji sits on top of him, straddling his waist. His ribbon necktie serves as a convenient hand-hold to bring Akihiko’s torso up to the right angle to punch him in the face—not quite so vicious as to cause serious damage, but hard enough to bruise.
“You don’t know shit,” Shinji growls, “moron.”
Then he presses his lips to Aki’s, forceful, demanding, and Akihiko parts his without much resistance. He does make a startled, spluttering sound, but he can’t mouth off with Shinjiro’s tongue down his throat, and Shinji feels satisfied. He sucks in his friend’s essence, and for the first time in two years, he thinks he might know what it’s like to feel not just alive but living for more than the inevitable moment of retribution.
Their mouths release, a strand of saliva dangling in the air between them and breaking when Akihiko moves his head back just a little. “You’re an idiot.”
Shinji just grunts in response as he brings their lips together again for more.
Akihiko tries to grapple with him but finds himself effectively pinned down under the weight of Shinjiro’s muscled thighs. Shinji grins and lets go of the ribbon, untying it so he can remove Aki’s shirt. His nipples are hard and he looks unusually wanton, straddled by his friend and clad in nothing but his briefs, which are straining under the pressure of an impressive erection.
Of course, Akihiko’s swollen member has stiff competition from his own. Shinji suppresses a laugh; they haven’t compared penis sizes since they were boys.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Aki says, just a slight hint of discomfort in his voice.
“Like what?” Shinji asks as he takes off his shirt and tosses it in a corner.
His friend hesitates, then answers, “Like you’re about to eat me.”
“Does that scare you—” He bends down and licks Aki’s chest, starting at his bellybutton and moving slowly upwards toward his nipple, all the while watching his face. “—or does it excite you?”
The fact that Akihiko’s breath is coming out in short gasps and his eyes are unfocused is answer enough. Shinjiro slowly moves his lower body out of the way so his hands can have easier access to Aki’s briefs while he continues to lick and suck his nipples. Calloused fingers reach underneath the white cotton fabric and find the engorged member, wrapping themselves around the shaft.
Akihiko closes his eyes and lets out one long, slow breath until Shinji bits down on his nipple.
“Ow!” Akihiko sits up straight and almost knees him in the balls. “You bastard! What was that for?”
Shinjiro rises to his knees and steals another kiss. “Relax. I didn’t even draw blood.”
But his friend retaliates by biting his lip. This time, there is blood.
“Piss me off and I’ll squeeze too hard,” Shinji warns, but he’s grinning even while a tiny well of blood begins to trickle down his chin.
Akihiko licks up the blood, his tongue sliding into Shinji’s mouth for another passionate encounter. Two minutes later, he has to come up for air, but if he could’ve managed it, he’d have kept going.
The pressure down below is becoming unbearable. He's been trying to shove it to the back of his mind, ignore it, pretend it isn't there while he makes sure that this is really what they're doing. He knows that they started this dance a long time ago, and it was probably inevitable that they'd finish it at some point, but that doesn't make it any less intimidating.
He's been gently stroking the skin of Akihiko's cock, but now his motions become more insistent. He finally tugs the member free from its confines underneath Aki's briefs, while at the same time pulling out his own cock and stroking it. It's strange to do something that's simultaneously so similar yet so different; a familiar heat spreads through him, but that's nothing compared to the fire that ignites in his loins when he sees Aki's eyes roll back into his head and his breath come out in gasps.
Their positioning is awkward, though, and Akihiko puts his hand on Shinji's chest to push him back to sitting with his legs spread. To his surprise, Aki then moves to between his thighs and sits on his haunches, leaning forward and balancing himself with his hands on Shinjiro's shoulders. Slowly, he lowers himself until their cocks are almost at the same level, and he reaches out a hand to grasp them both, pushing their pulsating, hot flesh together.
Shinji's eyes widen, but he doesn't complain, forming a fist around Aki's member and pumping vigorously while his friend does the same for him. A dribble of pre-cum from Aki's cock drips down onto his own, and Akihiko uses it to lubricate his hand and make his jerking movements smoother, longer. Both of them are panting, faces flushed, eyes dazed and neither of them ever thinks to question that this might not be the right thing to do, because it feels so damn right.
Barely suppressing a roar, Shinji comes first, the hot, sticky liquid coating Aki's hand. He has to pause for just a moment to catch his breath and let the dizziness subside, but then he resumes pumping Akihiko's cock for the delicious fluids he knows are contained inside, anxious for the chance to release. His other hand moves up to grasp the back of his friend's head and pull him in for a rough kiss. His eyes never leave Aki's face, eager to see how the instant of orgasm will splay across his features.
Aki comes more quietly, scrunching his brow and pressing his eyes shut in deep concentration, his muscles tensing and then abruptly slackening as his loins spurt forth their seed, drops of it even making it onto Shinjiro's chest and thighs. Akihiko clings to his neck for support while he rides the wave, and Shinji lets him sink into his lap, gasping for air, when both of them are sated at last.
“Shit,” Akihiko mumbles, his voice breathy and hoarse. “Fuck.”
Shinjiro smirks. “Too much for you?”
Aki gently punches him in the ribs, but it's less angry and competitive of a gesture now, more friendly and playful. “As if. It's just, um. It's been a while. You know.”
Once they've relearned how to breathe, Akihiko relaxes, leaning sideways into Shinji's chest, their foreheads touching. It's an oddly tender pose, and it brings him some discomfort while he tries to determine how best to respond. He finally settles for wrapping one arm lightly around Aki's lower back and placing the other in his lap.
For a moment, they just sit there in silence. Then Aki turns to him and says, “I'm glad you're back,” his words brief yet chock full of earnestness and warmth.
Shinjiro doesn't say anything, just enjoys the moment, a mild tingling sensation still playing across various parts of his body and occasional sensual shivers running up his spine where Aki touches his bare skin. There's a wonderful simplicity to what he's experiencing, and he doesn't want to risk ruining it by saying something stupid.
Akihiko seems to understand, because he turns and wraps his arms around Shinji's neck, pressing their chests close together so they can feel each other's heartbeats’ gradual return to their normal rhythms. He closes his eyes and just breathes.
When every single step is just another reason to forget, in his best friend’s arms he finally finds relief.
Will you teach me how to live?
***
“Leaving?” Shinji asks, his voice thick with drowsiness.
They’d been lying on his bed for a while, just lying there, side-by-side, not talking. He’d caught himself staring at the ceiling again, but for the first time, it isn’t so damn scary; it doesn’t feel like Death is lurking, waiting for him just on the other side. Then he’d turned on his side and watched Aki drowse, suddenly no longer afraid to look him square in the eyes. Suddenly no longer so damn angry.
Akihiko had been the first to move, climbing out of the bed and quietly putting his clothes back on. Shinjiro, half-dozing, had just regarded him in silence, not knowing what to say.
“I’ve got to study,” Akihiko explains as he buttons his vest and straightens his ribbon tie. “You know what they say: sleep for four hours, pass. Sleep for five hours, fail.”
For the first time, Shinjiro notices how pale and haggard his friend’s face looks, swollen bags having formed under his eyes, probably from lack of sleep. His tousled hair and the beginnings of a purple bruise on his left cheek make him appear even more pathetic, although Shinji also finds it strangely endearing.
Aki opens the door halfway, then pauses. “See you tomorrow?”
Shinji rolls over and turns his back to him, scowling. Who’s the pathetic one, you or me?
“Yeah. See you tomorrow.”