Chapter Text
Takumi and Eito had been on the run for weeks. In all that time, they had never encountered a room so shockingly intact.
“Seems safe enough to spend the night,” Takumi said as he took in the tiny attic bedroom in all its secluded, only moderately dishevelled glory. It had a rustic ambiance to it with a low ceiling and all wood interior, complete with precarious floorboards that creaked threateningly whenever one of the pair dared to so much as shift their weight.
The small space was shockingly intact, not intact—which was an important distinction. There was a gaping hole in the floor that granted a full view of the levels below, making it feel more like a loft than an attic, even though it clearly hadn’t been designed that way.
Those precarious wooden floorboards groaned some more as Eito picked his way over to the bed at the other end of the room. By the dim light of the half shattered window set into the back wall, Takumi watched him run his hands through the sheets and then pull them away, bringing his face close to the mattress.
“There’s no mold as far as I can tell,” he said. “This is quite the find. I think we’re going to be able to unwind in relative comfort for once.”
“Finally…”
Eito dismissed his Class Armour, suddenly standing out in the darkness as his usual sanitarium white replaced the deep black of his combat attire. “I don’t think there will be any need to sleep in shifts up here. I doubt anything will be able to reach us with no ladder or staircase in place. I see a full night’s sleep in our future.”
Whatever method had originally been used to access the attic, it was long gone by now—destroyed by the same thing that had wrecked the floor, most likely. The two of them had only managed to get up there with each other’s help, Takumi boosting Eito as he used his scythe like some kind of ridiculously oversized climbing pick to grapple on and pull himself up, from where he extended a hand to Takumi. The rest of the house was completely trashed and totally exposed to the elements due to a crumbling wall, which they had used as an entrance. The attic was probably in such good shape precisely because it was so much of a pain to get into.
It was certainly safer up than down, but Takumi wasn’t as quick to lower his guard. “You sure? What about those flying guys?”
“I’ve never seen one of those things hovering more than one or two meters off the ground. They seem to be rare out here, anyway. We should be fine.” Eito’s voice took on a playful tone. “Why don’t you slip into something more comfortable and come relax with me?”
A tempting offer. Takumi followed Eito’s lead and deactivated his hemoanima, enjoying the sense of relief it brought. It always felt like the cryptoglobin was changing from a solid to a liquid state and slumping over lazily in his veins. It was like crawling out of a binder after a long day—but if the binder were wrapped around his blood vessels as opposed to his chest.
As he moved to join Eito, his eyes couldn’t help but linger on all the little remnants of the person who had once lived there, just barely visible by the combined might of the stars and the Artificial Satellite—the withered husks of long dead houseplants in terracotta pots, polaroid photos pinned to a corkboard that had fallen off the wall, books strewn about the floor, spilling from a half collapsed bookshelf…
Takumi could have sworn there were even fairy lights hanging in ribbons from the stereotypically pyramid-shaped attic ceiling, but it was difficult to tell in the low light. Whoever this room had belonged to, they were probably a teenager or young adult—around his and Eito’s age, maybe a bit younger.
Another nameless victim of humanity’s colonial war. One of the innocent people Takumi had been put on this planet to kill.
Eito had been right about a lot of things, hadn’t he? Takumi didn’t regret his decision to turn traitor with him. Rather, he couldn’t regret it. He was sick and tired of regret.
When he reached the side of his rival-turned-maybe-something-approximating-a-lover, he took stock of the bed. It seemed to be in good shape, just as Eito had said, though the thin sheets wouldn’t be enough to keep the cold off them. That was fine—the bed was small enough that their shared body heat would—
Takumi was virtually atomised by an orbital laser of sheer, concentrated terror as the realisation struck him.
He sure was looking at a single, individual bed. One very small bed. On a notably chilly night.
‘Now there’s a fanfic scenario if Darumi’s ever heard one! Ahahaha, totally classic!’ a recollection of Darumi’s voice shrieked with glee from somewhere in the back of his mind, as if she had just manifested in the depths of his psyche as an uninvited tulpa. ‘Prepare your tight little uke ass, Takumi. We all know where this is going!’
Ugh. Takumi chased her memory away with equal parts horror and guilt.
Meanwhile, if Eito had thought through the implications of their predicament for himself, he certainly wasn’t letting on. He slid off his shoes, set his glasses on the windowsill, unzipped his jacket and hung it from a bedpost, and then collapsed on top of the bed itself. He let out an exaggerated yawn and stretched like a cat lazing on an old woman’s porch before folding his arms behind his head and crossing his legs. A stray beam of silver light caught on his eyes, illuminating a coy gaze.
Without his usual bulky jacket, Eito might as well have been naked. His shirt hiked up just far enough to reveal his navel, and the slouchy neckline put so much collarbone on display it felt almost obscene given the amount of skin he usually kept covered.
It was all very… enticing.
The invitation was so blatant even Takumi could recognise it. Still, that didn’t stop him from pretending that he didn’t. “It’s not very polite to claim the bed for yourself without at least having a conversation about it first,” he said stupidly—stupid enough to make himself cringe.
“Claim? Is that how this reads to you? I can’t believe you think I’d be so cruel as to make you sleep on the floor.” There was a sad little wobble to Eito’s voice that told Takumi he was pouting, even though he couldn’t see it in the dark. “You never fail to impress me, Takumi—I didn’t know it was possible for a person to be so dense! Don’t tell me you still doubt my feelings for you…?”
His eyes flitted up and down the bed that Eito was splayed out on. He took up pretty much the entire thing.
“Well, you’re not exactly leaving me much space,” Takumi hissed, feeling himself becoming flustered. He couldn’t stop staring at the thin strip of exposed underwear peaking out from the waistband of his pants.
Eito laughed. “And you’re not exactly the biggest guy in the world. Come on, you can slot yourself in just fine.”
“Yeah, if you want me sleeping practically on top of you.”
Takumi knew he was in danger the instant he said it. They both went quiet.
After the silence had gone on just long enough to get awkward, Eito purred a sultry noise that made Takumi’s stomach flip, velvety and blatant. He rolled onto his side, cheek pressed to the pillow as an arm dangled mischievously from the edge of the bed. When the light struck him just right again, the coy gaze had been replaced by full blown bedroom eyes.
“Mmmmm… Maybe I do want that,” he said sweetly. “Don’t you?”
So much blood rushed to Takumi’s face that he could feel the colour of his cheeks.
Honest answer? Yeah. He did want that. Quite a bit, frankly.
Eito’s sudden brazenness was startling, however. He had been all over Takumi from the moment they had run off together, and quickly proved to be a sickeningly affectionate (if somewhat backhanded) partner. But even so, his disorder was still present as ever—Takumi disgusted him, and he never missed an opportunity to remind him of this fact. Even though Eito was always reaching for his hand, brushing against his shoulder, and taking every excuse he could get to tend his wounds, no matter how minor, it never went beyond that—and it was always hesitant. He would even flinch on occasion, like he was expecting Takumi’s skin to grow teeth and snap at him. Hell, maybe it did have teeth from his perspective.
All that was to say that Takumi really didn’t know what to make of this sudden interest in—God, he could hardly say it straight even in his own internal monologue—this sudden interest in cuddling.
“W-Well, uhh… it doesn’t sound so bad, I guess,” Takumi managed after another embarrassing beat of silence, trying really hard to keep the excitement out of his voice. “But what about you? Are you sure you’ll be alright?”
“O, ye of little faith, Takumi. Give me some credit. How long has it been at this point? I’ve practically gone noseblind to you by now, and I can’t exactly see all too well in this lighting. So long as you keep that cute little mouth of yours shut, I’ll be just fine.”
“Cute? Never thought I’d hear that from you of all people. You’re really laying it on thick tonight, huh?”
“Ugly-cute, naturally. Horrifically so. With an emphasis on ‘ugly.’ But it’s okay, I forgive you.”
“What, so I’m a pug to you now?”
“Of course not, don’t kid yourself,” Eito said with a laugh. “I’d liken you to… hm…” He rolled onto his back again and scratched at his chin. “Some kind of amblypygid, maybe…?”
Takumi sighed. “Do I even want to know what that is?”
Another airy laugh. “Well, that depends. How do you feel about spiders?”
“That answers that question. Fine, whatever, just keep it to yourself.”
Eito sat up and patted the bed. “Then what are you waiting for? There’s no need to be shy. I’d never forgive myself if I allowed my darling leader to get sick from this cold.” He fixed those bedroom eyes square on Takumi. “I want to keep you warm tonight.”
God, he never got any less embarrassing. Takumi couldn’t tell what was worse—Eito himself, or his own absolutely frothing desire to curl up in the lunatic’s arms.
Resigned to his fate and propelled forward by the heat in his veins, Takumi kicked off his shoes and joined Eito beneath the sheets. He at least had the courtesy to shift over, which allowed Takumi some room, but it was still a very, very tight squeeze. Struggling to position himself in a manner that respected his co-conspirator’s personal space, he eventually found himself on his side, wedged between Eito and the edge of the bed, face pressed into his shoulder. It wasn’t particularly pleasant, but it was the best he could manage without being too invasive.
“Aww, are you trying to accommodate my disorder? You’re so sweet.” Eito giggled like a schoolgirl—an evil, evil schoolgirl. His voice was so thoroughly inundated with saccharine innocence that it looped into something sinister. “But I meant it when I said there was no need to be shy. Come on, make yourself comfortable.”
Takumi let out a borderline emasculating cry as Eito tangled his arms around him and pulled him into his chest. He squirmed for a moment, Eito’s grip only tightening until he finally submitted and cuddled up to him in earnest, his face burning all the while.
With another girlish giggle, Eito nuzzled into his hair. “Is this okay?”
Takumi had to fight to keep his reply steady, but his efforts didn’t amount to much—his voice still cracked when he spoke. “I-I should be asking you that. But, u-uhh, yes. This is fine. As long as you’re o-okay, with uhh—” Another mortifying voice crack. He tried to play it off by clearing his throat—“A-As long as you’re okay with it.”
Eito made a pleased noise and nosed affectionately at the top of his head, giving him an almost possessive squeeze.
For the first time in his life, Takumi was grateful he didn’t have a penis. It would have made the effect this was having on him far too obvious.
Absolutely high on the chemicals that had just been mainlined into his bloodstream, he tried once more to get comfortable. The close proximity was… gratifying… to say the least, but it was dawning on Takumi just how hard and bony human bodies really were. For such a heavily romanticised act, it turned out that falling asleep in a lover’s embrace was more complicated than people made it out to be.
He didn’t know where to put his arms. There was always a limb pinned and falling asleep beneath Eito’s weight. No matter how he shifted or moved, there was a nose or elbow or knee or something jutting into him unpleasantly.
But still, it would have taken an atom bomb to pry him from Eito’s grasp.
After settling in as much as he could, Takumi let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes, attempting to relax.
Even with the broken window leaking cold night air against his back, Eito was so warm that it hardly mattered. His scent was all encompassing from that position, Takumi’s face buried in his chest.
His scent. Surprised, Takumi realised that he had already come to recognise it. Eito smelled like Eito, the same way Takumi’s mother smelled like Takumi’s mother, the same way Karua smelled like Karua.
And right now, his world smelled overwhelmingly of Eito. A slightly unwashed Eito—they had been on the run for a while, it was only natural—but Eito all the same. As much as Takumi hated to admit it, it was comforting.
“Your heart is beating so fast, Takumi. I can feel it through your sweater,” Eito murmured in his ear, sending a pleasurable shiver down his spine. All efforts to keep his thoughts chaste were immediately undone. “Do I still scare you after all this time?”
Takumi scoffed. “Y-Yeah, no. That’s not quite what this is. And I was never scared of you, for the record.”
Eito hummed. He carded through Takumi’s hair before running a hand down the length of his body all the way from neck to hip, slow and tender. Against his own will, Takumi let out an unsteady breath and leaned into the affection hungrily.
When Eito spoke again, his voice was even softer than his touch. “I’m sure you’ve figured this out by now, but I’ve never felt this way about someone before. I didn’t think I was capable of feeling this way at all.”
Takumi didn’t say anything.
Eito continued. “It makes me sick. You disgust me beyond words. I can’t believe that I… I want to touch you like this.”
“You were the one who wanted to sleep together…”
“I know. So don’t even think about pushing me away.” His words had a flinty edge, and he accompanied them with another possessive squeeze. “Humans are social creatures, after all. And I’m human too, whether I like it or not—the desires you evoke in me are proof of that, I suppose.”
“Eito…”
“Even though I can’t bear to look at you, I want to touch you. I want to be close to you. I want to… do all kinds of things to you.”
He sounded breathless—somehow weak and intense and predatory and timid all at once. Takumi was a fan.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is… thank you, Takumi. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to experience these emotions. I can hardly fathom it, but I don’t think I would trade this feeling for anything.”
Humiliatingly straightforward, just like the Eito Takumi had known during his first 100 days—except this time, he was being completely sincere. Takumi knew him well enough by now to be able to tell.
This was getting sappy enough to make his stomach churn like he was the one with the cognitive disorder, but it would be utterly tone deaf—no, downright cruel—to tease Eito while he was being so vulnerable. If anything, it was a privilege to see a guy like him in such a fragile state. It was like being trusted by a wolf, maw still red from its last kill as it licked submissively at his palm and showed its belly.
Takumi decided to meet Eito’s genuine sentiment with something similarly gooey. “I know it’s not really the same, but for what it’s worth… you make me feel pretty good, too.”
“Is that right?” Eito’s elated smile was heart-melting.
“It is.”
“In that case…”
Eito disentangled himself from Takumi’s body and—before the latter could mourn the loss of contact—rolled him onto his back and pinned him to the bed. Takumi looked up and blinked in surprise at the man who had just crawled on top of him, rendered in perfect silver by the light of the false moon. He really did resemble an angel of death, even without the cloak of his Class Armour falling around his shoulders like the ragged wings of a crow. That crooked grin was all he would ever need.
Eito looked so at home like that, wrapped in night. He was just like Nozomi—born to be the centerpiece under a sky full of stars.
Just like Karua.
“I’d like to try something,” he said casually. “Do you mind?”
Takumi didn’t know what this ‘something’ was, but judging by the lascivious glint in Eito’s eyes, the suggestive position he had been put in, and the gloved hand that was currently cupping his cheek, he was pretty sure he wanted whatever it was.
He nodded vigorously—an overeager gesture that was completely at odds with the nonchalance he tried (and failed) to pour into his reply. “U-Uhh, sure thing. Go ahead.”
He only got approximately two seconds to cringe at himself before Eito leaned down and kissed him.
Takumi had always imagined that his first kiss would be with Karua. It would be sheepish and romantic—a precious moment fated to become his most treasured memory, marking the beginning of a long life lived at her side. Maybe it would be a quick peck at the door after walking her home from a late-night movie, or a sweet and sudden admission of love at a new year’s festival the second the clock struck twelve. No matter what form the scene took, two characteristics remained the same: it was always Karua, and it always happened at night.
But Karua was nowhere to be found. Takumi was in bed with a man who looked just like her, the festivals and late-night movies playing out in the sky hundreds of thousands of kilometers above him while he hid from monsters on the surface of an alien planet. Takumi had just given his first kiss to a serial killer in an abandoned building, surrounded on all sides by post-apocalyptic devastation and the horrors of war.
Still, crickets were chirping outside. A cold draft slunk in through the cracked window, thick with the scent of night. Eito’s hair was silver, his eyes were soft lavender, his smile was timid.
All of it was correct.
Even though it was nothing but a gentle brushing of lips, Takumi felt like he was being denied a piece of himself when Eito pulled away. There was a magnetic tug connecting them from deep within his veins, like the ghost of Eito in his stolen cryptoglobin was reaching out, yearning to be reunited with the real thing.
Eito wore a dazed expression, but he broke out into a goofy smile the instant he caught Takumi staring. “You are making the ugliest face right now.”
“F-For once I believe you,” Takumi managed. “And yet you’re as easy on the eyes as ever. Honestly, it kind of pisses me off.”
Eito’s smile fell from his face like he had just been slapped, a wide-eyed look of shock taking its place. Takumi was almost scared he had said something wrong—but the way Eito averted his gaze, the slight pout to his lips, the fact that he had just stopped dead when he was usually so quick to bristle when he got upset…
He was flustered.
Takumi cursed the darkness—he wanted to see him flushing up to his ears. “Haha, no way. Don’t tell me that’s all it takes to knock you off guard. I just have to call you pretty?” He offered a lopsided grin. “…Because you are.”
Eito huffed. Takumi half yelped, half laughed as he was seized roughly by the hair, his adorably shaken assailant giving it a sharp tug.
“Ugh, you utterly loathsome little—”
Eito cut himself off, the tail end of his sentence dying at the back of Takumi’s throat as he kissed him again, hard this time. Takumi jumped, but didn’t miss a beat—he returned the kiss with equal passion, meeting Eito’s tongue with teeth and grabbing his hair just as he had done to him. If Eito wanted him, he could have him.
…Even though it felt like taking a metal pipe to the face. Eito was a voracious flash of pointed canines, and it was so clear he had never kissed anyone before that it was obvious even to Takumi, who had also never kissed anyone before—excluding the prior, tender little union of lips that had functioned as the opening act to the current make out session, of course.
Eito wrenched him into his mouth. Takumi choked on the invading tongue and squirmed as his shirt was pushed up, a stray hand feeling across his stomach and grabbing at his waist, even fingering his bellybutton like some kind of weird pervert, which Takumi made a noise at. He tried to punish Eito with a full-blown bite to his lower lip, but it only made him moan.
Following the pervert’s example, Takumi allowed his own hands to wander, one arm looping around Eito’s neck while the other snaked up the front of his shirt to grope his chest. What he found under there genuinely made him want to kill somebody.
Eito was well-built—he knew this. Sometimes, when his deceptively frail looking companion was without his huge jacket, Takumi would catch glimpses of his physique. His neckline would slouch a little low and lure his eyes downward, forcing him to notice how much shape there was to his chest. He’d stretch and his shirt would hike up just enough to reveal defined abs—which he had, for some godforsaken reason. Eito was tall enough to rest his chin on top of Takumi’s head at standing height, but noooo, that wasn’t enough for him—the greedy bastard had to be jacked too. It was infuriating.
Eito was so much bigger than him. Takumi wasn’t in bad shape himself, but Eito was taller, bulkier, no doubt stronger if they were to go at it without their Class Weapons. It was impossible not to think about while being held down like this, and it was stupid stupid stupid stupid so damn stupid.
Somebody so bookish and cute had no right. Absolutely no right. It made Takumi so fucking mad. Unfortunately, it also made him desperately want to touch himself.
God, he really was glad he didn’t have a penis right now.
He had to fight Eito off to pull away long enough to get a breath down, and—in spite of his stature, the intensity of his personality, and all the blood on his hands—the larger man whined in protest like a kitten that had just been denied milk.
What an utterly astonishing noise. Takumi felt like he was playing a video game with a sanity meter. -100 Mind for Takumi Sumino.
“You’re adorable, Eito,” he gasped between ragged breaths, voice betraying his arousal even when his body couldn’t.
“And you’re mine,” Eito hissed in response. “Until every single filthy human person is dead and gone and we’re the only ones left. You’re staying with me forever.”
To go back to the sanity meter metaphor, his was definitely also at zero.
Stroking his hair reassuringly, Takumi planted the most gentle kiss he could muster on his jaw. “That’s right. I promised, didn’t I? You don’t need to be so territorial.”
Eito whined again, pathetic and broken. He took Takumi’s face between both hands and somehow managed to kiss him with even more zealous fervour than before, his entire weight pressing him into the mattress. The tent in his pants was obvious with their bodies so close, and the revelation sent so much blood between Takumi’s own legs that it made him dizzy.
Alight with fresh desire, he parted his lips eagerly as Eito licked into his mouth and filled him with so much tongue it was like he was trying to choke him. It felt so insanely good. Takumi wanted to choke on him. He wanted to choke on his fingers, on his tongue, on his—
There was a retch.
For a second Takumi thought Eito actually had triggered his gag reflex. He was suddenly shoved away with an abruptness that could only be described as frantic, and when he saw Eito covering his mouth with the back of a palm, look of abject horror in his eyes, it became pretty clear that Takumi hadn’t been the source of the sound.
Before he could even process the fact that Eito wasn’t on top of him anymore, his favourite genocidal maniac was already scampering over to the gaping hole in the floorboards—the pseudo-loft opening that had granted them access to the attic.
And as soon as he reached it, he threw up over the edge.
Takumi was flashbanged by a memory of Karua. To celebrate his first summer job, he had bought an absurd number of chocolate bars from a convenience store down the street and invited her over to help him get through them all. He had framed it like she was doing him a favour, but in reality the plan had been about her from the start—she was the one with the crazy sweet tooth, after all.
They had gorged themselves to sickness—literally, in Karua’s case. She had puked all over Takumi’s floor, only choosing that moment to reveal she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He had spent the rest of the night tending to her as she cried and serial vomited like her body was convinced the excess sugar was going to kill her.
Back in the present, Takumi was on his feet before the disgusting wet splat could even indicate that Eito’s vomit had hit the ground beneath the attic. He knew, logically, that what his partner needed most in that moment was probably space. Unfortunately for him, Takumi was being driven by instinct, not logic—and those instincts were screaming, ‘Karua is in trouble, go take care of her.’ He was at Eito’s side in a heartbeat.
“Eito…! Are you okay?!”
Of course he wasn’t. Takumi didn’t know why he even asked—it wasn’t like he could expect a response when the poor guy was still dry heaving.
He crouched at his side and put an arm around his shoulders. After some pained gasping, Eito made an awful noise and doubled over again, expelling a fresh stream of thin liquid. With his nightly rations already festering half-digested on the floor, it couldn’t have been much but water and stomach acid at this point. Takumi muttered encouragement under his breath and pushed stray locks of hair out of Eito’s face, tucking them behind his ears as pale light played off his cheeks and gleamed at the corners of his eyes, as if there were miniature stars caught in his long lashes. It took Takumi a second to realise his face was streaked with tears, all the wetness reflecting the delicate tendrils of light that were reaching in through the window.
Tsubasa, emeto queen that she was, had always made it look so easy. She would puke her guts out and then bounce back within seconds, carrying on with her day like nothing had even happened. Spending so much time around her had made Takumi forget the amount of strain it actually put on the body.
No. He chased the image of Tsubasa out of his mind before guilt could start gnawing at him. Thinking about her would only invite needless pain—thinking about her, or anyone else but Eito, for that matter.
So, Takumi concerned himself with Eito. He seemed to be done, sucking down deep, shaky breaths through his mouth. He just quivered in his embrace for a moment, eyes fluttering shut as he slouched down and—to Takumi’s utter shock—allowed his head to fall weakly on Takumi’s shoulder. He must have been exhausted.
This was a whole new level of vulnerability for Eito. Takumi had never seen anything like it before.
“Are you okay…?” he asked again, hand sliding down from Eito’s shoulder to rub tentative circles into his back.
“Yes,” Eito breathed. “I— I’m alright. I’m sorry you had to see that.”
He did nothing but rest against Takumi for a while, gloved fingers nudging into his palm and interlacing with his own. Eito curled himself around his arm in a pseudo-hug and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before he shifted away, shoving noncommittally at his side.
“You have no idea how much your concern means to me,” he said meekly. “But please, I-I—”
Takumi could take a hint. He didn’t need to be told twice. “Sorry. Of course.”
He reciprocated Eito’s hand squeeze before trying to let go and back off, but the trembling man continued to cling to him. He really was like a puppy sometimes.
It was best to err on the side of caution when it came to mixed messages—especially when dealing with a person as volatile as Eito. Takumi shook him off with a bit more force, still being gentle about it, and returned to the bed. He took a seat at its edge and kept a vigilant eye on him from across the room.
After a stretch of silence, Eito spoke up—some strength having returned to his voice. “This is nothing new for me, but it’s been some time since I last threw up. No matter how horrid you are to look at, I can’t forgive myself for exposing you to something like that. I really can’t apologise enough.”
“Then don’t. Seriously, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”
“As endearing as your sympathy is, I’m not just being self-depricating here. I willingly ignored my limits and pushed past them. And honestly?” Eito threw his head over his shoulder and met Takumi’s eyes. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Haha, isn’t that just revolting? What the hell have you done to me, Takumi?”
His sunny smile was bright enough to be seen through the darkness—in fact, it reduced it to a bloody smear of viscera.
Takumi didn’t really know what to say to that. “You’re crazy.”
Eito chuckled lightly. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t heard that one before.”
Silence settled over them again. Takumi turned to stare out the window at his back, eyes straining to decipher anything in the abyssal black. The world outside was a picture painted in vague, ominous shapes—abandoned houses flanking the road running through the residential district; massive, crumbling pillars dominating the horizon. If he remembered correctly, they were called sky scrapers. Enveloped in the night’s pitch, they looked like sinister obelisks holding up the sprawling void above.
And the Artificial Satellite loomed over it all, peering down on the war-torn planet like it was the huge silver eye of a malevolent god.
Home. In spite of all its evil, that was still Takumi’s home.
Cricketsong was pretty much all he could hear—it was familiar and comforting, unlike everything else. If he closed his eyes and focused on the noise, he could almost pretend he was back in his room in the TRC, window cracked open as he dozed off carefree on a Saturday evening.
Almost. The wind dispelled the illusion as it snaked through the shattered glass. It was too cold, too unwelcoming, too bright and alive. Takumi could smell the starlight on it as it nipped at his skin. The Tokyo Residential Complex didn’t have anything quite like it.
He knew that Eito loved it. Karua would have loved it, too. As for Takumi himself, he wasn’t sure. There was undeniably an intoxicating sense of freedom to be found under the open sky, but he couldn’t let go of those memories of safety—a soft bed, a cozy room, stable weather and a mother who loved him.
A best friend he would die for.
He still wanted to go back. He wanted it more than anything in the world.
But if he could go back… would he? If a magic button manifested in his hand and all he had to do to return to his old life was press it, what choice would he make? Going back would mean abandoning Eito. It would mean breaking his promise.
Takumi had broken enough promises.
He had betrayed his friends for this, after all. He had made that absolutely abominable decision of his own free will, and he refused to allow himself to regret it. Out of all the tough calls he had made, this was the one he could absolutely never regret.
Hence, the endless sky was correct. Eito’s company was correct. The sticky mess between his thighs was correct. It had to be.
“Say, Takumi. Have you ever heard of counterconditioning?”
Eito’s voice pulled him from the dangerous mire he had been treading into. Takumi turned his head to look at him. Eito was facing him now, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
“Can’t say that I have,” he replied. “Why?”
“It’s a technique used in behavioural therapy and animal training to reduce a subject’s fear in response to a negative stimulus. A positive Pavlovian association is established between the subject and the stimulus, which eventually replaces or diminishes the initial negative association,” Eito said very matter-of-factly.
He was the type to memorise Wikipedia articles for fun, wasn’t he?
Takumi blinked, hoping the cover of darkness would at least hide the dopey look that was almost definitely on his face. “U-Uhh, could you maybe put that into simpler terms…?”
“I love how stupid you are, Takumi,” Eito sighed dreamily. “It’s so cute that it makes me forget all about how disgusting you are!”
“Just explain it for me if you don’t want to sleep on the floor…”
“Ooo, scary! If your stupidity is cute, your feistiness is downright adorable! I’ll indulge you then, since I like you so much.” He paused, rubbing his chin as if deep in thought—likely an exaggerated gesture intended to make Takumi feel like a plebian. “Say an animal shelter takes in an abused dog that’s scared of men. Every time a male employee walks by the dog’s kennel, they toss a treat through the bars. Eventually, the dog comes to associate the presence of men with being fed a treat, and naturally becomes less fearful as a result. This positive association replaces—or at least lessens—the initial fear response. That’s the general gist of counterconditioning.”
“Okay, that makes sense…” Takumi said slowly. He couldn’t help but feel that he was walking into some kind of trap. “So, what’s your point?”
“You can think of me as the proverbial dog in this situation—though my issue is with people in general, not exclusively men, of course,” Eito said cheerily. “I sure was exposed to a lot of negative stimuli tonight, wasn’t I? And I was such a good boy about it, too. Don’t you think a little positive reinforcement is in order?”
Takumi felt his face redden again. God, this guy was needy. “I think you’ve received plenty of ‘positive reinforcement’ as is. I could feel it through your pants, you know.”
“Haha, I won’t deny that,” Eito said with an angelic smile, the spitting image of innocence. “But that was before I threw up. If we leave off like that, I’m going to be anticipating it next time we do anything intimate, and that’s just no fun. We ought to end this on a positive note.”
Takumi had hoped the comment about his blatant erection would throw him off balance, but it seemed to have the opposite effect. Eito drew himself up from the ground and strolled over to where Takumi sat at the edge of the bed, still grinning like he had never done anything wrong in his life. He leaned over him flirtatiously as he spoke, as if trying to highlight the aforementioned size difference that made Takumi want to bite his stupid fucking head off (and maybe also spread his legs, just a little bit).
“I’m ready for my reward whenever you are.”
The light from the window was hitting him just right again. Stunning purple-blue eyes fixed Takumi with a pleading stare, still puffy and wet from the strain of throwing up. The puppyish pout really pulled the whole thing together—just sad and pathetic and rained on.
Fuck.
Eito’s ‘abandoned puppy in a cardboard box’ act was completely at odds with his smug attitude, but good lord, Takumi was not immune. The words fell from his lips like he had been made in a lab for the express purpose of saying them. He didn’t stutter, his voice didn’t shake—he spoke with absolute confidence because, as bloodcurdling as it was, he meant it with his entire heart.
“You’re gorgeous, Eito. Seriously. I know you don’t have any point of reference, so you’re just going to have to take my word for it, but you’re genuinely the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on. It’s no wonder you think you’re the only good-looking person.”
Eito took a step back. He was gaping at Takumi like he had just whipped out a gun and shot him. He cycled through a lifetime’s worth of expressions in the blink of an eye, and it was such a delight to watch. Each and every emotion looked so damn pretty on those perfect features.
Incredulousness.
Mortification.
Anger.
But by the end of it, he was blushing like an anime girl—the ones who ran to school with toast in their mouths and crashed headlong into their love interests while rounding the corner. It was obvious even in the dark. Takumi could have been blind and he wouldn’t have missed it.
Before he could feel too satisfied with himself for the tactical nuke he had just dropped, Eito regained his composure. He was sporting a threatening smile within seconds, wide and insane.
“So you want the taste of vomit in your mouth? Because that’s what I’m hearing.” He took a step forward. “You’re a dirty pervert, Takumi. That’s just nasty, even for you.”
“W-What?! I only did what you asked me to! H-Hey, hold on—”
Eito was trying to crawl into Takumi’s lap—which he was far too big for—and growling like some kind of horny animal.
Yeah, the taste of vomit didn’t sound too bad if it meant continuing down this path. Unfortunately, Takumi knew he had to be the reasonable one right now. In defiance of his own (rampaging) instincts, he clamped a palm over Eito’s mouth before he could get any ideas.
“No,” Takumi said firmly, directed at himself as much as Eito. “We’re not doing this. You’re not allowed back in bed unless you promise to keep it in your pants. And while you’re at it, promise that you really can stomach sleeping with me. U-Uhh, in the same bed as me, I mean.”
Eito sighed dejectedly and shook Takumi off. “Yes, I promise the latter is fine. I’m sure of it.”
“And what about the former?”
“…Is there room for negotiation?”
Takumi wet his lips and averted his eyes. His resolve was seriously being tested here. “Never in a million years would I have expected you to be so… lecherous.”
“Me neither,” Eito said simply, and then a brief pause. “…Is it a problem?”
“W-Well… No, I wouldn’t say that. I, uh, don’t mind, I guess. At all, actually—” He had to catch Eito by the mouth again as he started leaning closer, fingers creeping dangerously up his inner thigh—“BUT, you need to respect your limits. You said so yourself—you pushed yourself too far tonight.”
There was a muffled complaint from beneath Takumi’s hand. Eito’s eyes were boring into him, still so perfectly erotic. Sad, pathetic, rained on… needy.
Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
“You’ve already hit your breaking point,” Takumi continued with some strain. “Get some rest for now. I’m not going anywhere, so there’s no rush. We can continue this some other time. I promise.”
That last part seemed to get Eito’s attention. He pulled Takumi’s hand away by the wrist and spoke quickly, voice tinged with intensity. “I’ll hold you to that. Next time we find somewhere even remotely comfortable, I’m going to—”
“Sounds good to me!” Takumi interrupted him. His will was going to shatter if he had to listen to a single one of his pervert thoughts. “It’s a date.”
And with that, he pushed Eito away and curled up in bed, pulling the thin sheets over himself. He closed his eyes and waited, but when Eito’s weight didn’t immediately flop down next to him, he opened them again and cast him a wary glance.
He was staring at Takumi with a timid expression, like a well-trained dog looking to its owner for permission. Takumi could only lie there, helpless to defend against the 15 to 16 new sex fantasies his brain spawned in response, seemingly to torment him.
God, Eito was making this so difficult.
Takumi beckoned him with a sigh, fighting to remain calm as the diabolical siren’s song answered the invitation by crawling up to him on all fours, wrapping himself around his body, and nuzzling into his neck.
He literally felt pleasure course through his veins as the sudden contact got him wet all over again. It was horrifying.
“O-Oh, man…” Takumi’s voice came trembling and small.
“Mm…?”
“Nothing, nothing, just… talking to myself. Go to sleep.”
The vomiting had killed the mood, but to say that Eito’s desperation had wound Takumi up again would be an understatement. And now that he was back in his arms… God, he really was big. And warm. Hot breath tickled Takumi’s neck with every rise and fall of Eito’s ridiculous, infuriatingly well-built chest, and it was making him feel crazy. It was the ultimate test of self-control to keep from going back on everything he had just said and begging him to—
No! No… No. Not now. Not tonight. Eito needed to rest, and Takumi didn’t want to get puked on. Next time.
But… maybe he was being patronising by denying him on the grounds of his disorder alone…? Eito was the one living with it, after all—he would know his own boundaries better than Takumi did. And he was clearly incredibly interested in further intimacy, so…
Takumi had never needed to jerk off so badly in his entire life.
If he just got it out of his system he wouldn’t have to think about it anymore. He could pass out without issue. As he genuinely considered excusing himself for a moment to resolve the problem, he shifted against Eito’s body—and then it happened.
His leg grazed Eito’s crotch. He wasn’t fully erect, but that was unmistakably a semi.
There was only so much a man could take. The sanity bar plummeted to zero for the second time that night.
“Okay, fine. Fine! I take back everything I said earlier!” Takumi almost yelled, grabbing at the bulge in Eito’s pants, which made the latter jump. “You want me to deal with this, right?”
Eito’s eyes blew wide like he had just been shot full of heroin. Cute cute cute cute.
“H-Huh?!” he bleated. “W-What…?”
Takumi’s grip on his cock tightened. “You’re cute. I want you. I changed my mind—let’s do this.”
Eito stiffened beneath his hand in real time, and it made Takumi’s sex drive thrash around like a rabid animal.
“Y-Yes…!” Eito whimpered, already reaching for Takumi with a mix of disbelief and unearthly hunger in his eyes. “Yes, of course! I-I’m so glad!”
He was absolutely beaming.
Takumi was going to die. This was going to kill him. Eito wouldn’t even make it to his clit—he was gonna stroke his inner thigh and that would be enough to send him over the edge and make him cum in his pants like a desperate loser.
This was very quickly turning into a pregnancy risk.
“O-Only hand stuff, got it?” he barely managed before losing his mind completely with Eito all over him. “I’m not letting you kill me with a coathanger abortion.”
“You wound me. I like to think I’m more competent than that,” Eito panted, staring down his neck like he was trying to build up the courage to put it in his mouth. “You’ll receive only the finest of healthcare from me, my darling Takumi—you won’t even get an infection!”
Honestly, he was probably right. If anyone could manage such a feat, it was Yugamu. And if anyone else could manage such a feat, it was Eito.
“Only hand stuff!”
“I’m only speaking in hypotheticals, I heard you the first time…”
Eito suddenly went in for the kill and licked a long stripe up his throat. Takumi moaned pathetically.
“Don’t— D-Don’t kiss me again,” he whined without a shred of the intended authority, dodging Eito’s ravenous maw when he zeroed in on his lips. “Th-That’s what made you vomit earlier, right…? Don’t do anything you’re not absolutely sure you can stomach right now.”
“…I suppose that’s the least I can do after being so demanding all night. Alright, I’ll play nice.” He slipped his hands under Takumi’s hoodie and ran them up his sides, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, “But that means you have to let me do this the way that works for me, so I don’t want to hear any complaints out of you.”
Takumi got the feeling he and Eito were going to sleep well tonight.