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Nishiki would feel different.
Not that she knows, but she knows; there's no detail of his that goes unnoticed. How he holds a glass and how his throat twitches as he swallows. How the messed-up hair sticks to his forehead after too many drinks. How he kisses half-drunken girls, both of their faces red, his fingers sliding up her dress, "Sorry, I think me and the lady gonna change the scene", — Nishiki holds the hot body close as he looks at Reina with a loopy, but still confident smile. And she nods, and chuckles, rolls her eyes in mock annoyance as a friend would. Should. Her heart tears in two, jealousy sharing it with a strange, almost perverted affection. He looks... cute, even like this, even with a new woman every night, and she'd rather exchange her pride for his content.
She makes peace with what is offered; it grabs her hips and shoves her to the wall. The hands are too rough, the smell is too bitter, the kisses too short. Reina can't stand the reality tugging her out of her thoughts.
They are eerily silent. Her breath gets louder, and their lips part with a wet, sloppy sound, but that is not how she'd wish it to go. Facial hair scratches her skin, teeth sink into her neck — she has to push away, although it does little. Reina doesn't want others to know, and definitely doesn't want Nishiki to, but her protest melts away with her clothes.
The only eye looks at her yet past her, as if through. Are hers the same, empty and glassy? Can he tell she's thinking of another the same way she senses someone's ghost in her place? Plain sexual boredom doesn't lead men to women like her. Reina could've had someone else, too. No, he holds her with regret only she can return. Or she is looking too much into it. She's a naïve girl where it matters.
Majima is handsome. Probably. Reina doesn't think in these categories, not since she started looking for the same man in everyone she meets. But he's not bad-looking, just unbearably wrong. He's not him. She hates herself for recognizing Majima's features as well as she has learnt to. This should've stayed impersonal, mechanical, almost, but this is the... fifth? sixth? time, and it brings her at least as much comfort as release. You'd call someone a friend by now.
Friends don't make sweat glisten on her flushed forehead. He's not too gentle, not that she wants him to, and the grasp on her body almost leaves a mark. Deep purple hickeys cover her breasts among the newer, reddish ones. Do I just want sex?
Her stifled gasp gets lost on his skin, somewhere in the jet black ink; Reina pushes her legs apart, leans on the cold wall for support. Uncut nails abrade Majima all over. At least he is nice to touch. At least he doesn't talk, and when she closes her eyes...
No.
The conjured images flee, and her willpower cannot catch up with them. A whine escapes Reina's lips. What a shame. The arch in her back is unwitting, her body clings to him a little too much. It's okay. It will be over soon , she thinks to herself as if of some torture. His arms lift her up, holding her at the exact height he wants. Majima's strong, she's seen them fight, him and Nishiki, and bizarre motherly shame pains her to remember the quick defeat. It cuts her apart the same second he pushes into her.
This time, she kisses him first.
Outside of sex, they talk little. What about? Both of them carry dead weights on their shoulders, but neither budge. Is it not enough, that what they know about each other? Plus, if he's not stupid, he would've guessed her grief already. And if he is, then Reina doesn't want Majima to know. She's not going to ask him either. Can their woes ever be compared, those of a hopeless bar mama and of someone... who is he ?
Sometimes it is good and sometimes it almost hurts and sometimes it is just like with anyone else, but Reina never says no. It's better today. For a brief moment, her face is mellow, pressed into his shoulder with an expression she'd rather hide.
The afterglow spreads through her body with an awkward tang of hesitance. In a few minutes, they'll clean up and get dressed, — and nothing has ever happened. But this time has not passed yet, and the closeness is as sour as she is desperate for it.
Majima is refreshingly gracious, letting her go with care he doesn't show otherwise, and helping her to her clothes, and, most importantly, saying nothing about the two of them. Reina watches him move, not out of any affection, but idle (yet genuine) curiosity.
"Ya know, I used to run an establishment, too", he buttons up his shirt, an unlit cigarette already pressed in-between his teeth.
"Really?" Her question comes out a little dumb. It doesn't fit the situation, but, honestly, what response would?
"Yeah", he nods. "A cabaret". That's a lot. Much harder than organizing one bar. She doesn't dare to ask what he does now. "Your place is nice".
"Thank you". What a moronic answer.
"I'd drop by as a normal visitor, but I don't wanna spook your regular boys. They wouldn't be happy".
"It's fine".
Finally, his eye meets hers. It's dark, and if there is an emotion, Reina cannot count on it being earnest. Should she say something? Is there anything that she wants to say, or, maybe, that she doesn't ?
Instead, she lets Majima out of the room and watches him leave Serena. Kiryu and Nishiki promised to see her tonight. She'd better fix her hair.