I will have you know this only has mentions of sex and not the actual thing itself because hello I'm lousy at it.
But with that set aside I do hope you like my own weird rambling when I'm alone and bored and Twitter has been giving me Sarumi feels and fberkhb.
This is why I should stay away from social networking sites.
Also this as close to them doing the do as I'm going to ever get in my life.
"Stay"
The first time was back when they were still in middle school.
Saruhiko remembered it vividly – every touch, every kiss they had exchanged all hot and feverish – both knowing they should stop but not wanting to.
They had been young and curious and very much convinced that everything would be okay. That it would last. That the morning after would be the start of something new but it still wouldn't be all that different.
They were right.
Because Misaki forgot.
True, it was probably because they had been drunk at the time - Misaki had managed to get his hands on some beer from HOMRA and had somehow convinced the taller teen to drink with him. From that point on, things had been a fuzzy blur in the background - lights too bright, senses too dull, everything blurred - everything except Misaki - his Misaki. Misaki, who had grabbed him, face flushed and had slammed his lips against him. Misaki, who had looked at him with shiny eyes and had asked him if it was okay for Misaki to be his first. His first everything. Saruhiko hadn't wanted to - it was too soon, too fast, too surreal - but he did.
For Misaki.
It wasn't at all like how everyone around him had described it - it wasn't magical, it wasn't special.
It was just Misaki.
And him.
But that had always been enough hadn't it?
But Misaki forgot.
Saruhiko, who had been awake before him had been taking a shower only to walk out and have Misaki sleepily ask him what had happened the night before. Questioning eyes weighed down his heart and made it altogether too hard to think.
Misaki didn't remember.
So Saruhiko pretended to forget.
The second time, was much more memorable - at least for Saruhiko. Or perhaps it shouldn't have been.
Suoh Mikoto was dead.
It had been a few hours after he had been forced to leave his workstation by a tired Awashima and he had obliged - more so because he was tired of staring at the same words over and over again -
SuohMikotowasdeadSuohMikotowasdead.
He should have felt satisfied but nothing seemed to ease away the growing ache in his heart that had settled the day he had first met the man. His mind was drawing a blank at what he could possibly do now - Misaki would only look at him but he wouldn't and - what did he want?
Fingers, numb with the cold, scratched at his mark.
He wanted -
Footsteps, heavy on the concrete, his heart weighing him down.
He wanted -
A hand wrapping itself around his wrist and dragging him into the alleyway, slamming him against the wall, hazel eyes piercing his entire being.
He wanted -
"Misaki..." he barely had time to form the words when his lips were caught in a searing kiss. The bitter taste of alcohol along with the reeking smell put all his senses on high alert as the probable drunk teen tightened his grip on his wrists, holding them captive against his head, trapping his head in between them. Struggling, he broke away, sharply turning his head aside only for the smaller of the two growl in an almost predatory manner before trailing harsh kisses down his neck. Saruhiko tried to struggle but he was tired - so tired - and soon allowed himself to be manhandled, not even flinching as Misaki bit down at the junction between his shoulder and neck, almost drawing blood.
His eyes drifted to the sky above, momentarily catching sight of what seemed to be a blinking red light in the distance.
Ah - no, not now. He couldn't do this now.
Misaki had let his hands go in favor of grabbing at the front of his coat, desperately holding onto him as he marked him as his own - and that was all Saruhiko needed to roughly push the older male away.
Misaki fell to the ground, clearly he had been using Saruhiko as a support - both physical and emotional.
Not that Saruhiko was anyone who could provide it.
Do broken things know how to mend others when they can't even mend themselves?
He narrowed his eyes at the figure hunched in front of him and all but hissed at him to leave.
Not tonight.
It felt to raw.
To painful.
His berating words got caught in his throat though, as dulleyes looked up at him, broken and utterly defeated, a single plea falling out of the skater's lips.
"Please."
The rest of the night was spent in whirl of colors, flashes of white and screams muffled by pillows. Saruhiko would deny it all but the night had taken it's toll and the next morning he had almost slept in.
Almost.
Waking up beside Misaki was a dream come true. A dream - and he knew from personal experience that no dream was meant to last and would soon to turn into a nightmare. And they did so at moments when one felt increasingly vulnerable -
- as did this one.
"Mikoto-san..." the words slipped out of the redhead's as easily as one would breath which was ironic, because it seemed to hinder Saruhiko in his own shallow breathes.
Mikoto-san.
So be it.
Flinging himself out of bed, he winced slightly at the pain. Quickly, he dressed and left his ex-best friend lying in a pool of regret and what could have been.
Misaki would not remember who had been the one he had slept with - Misaki forgot things when he drank.
Misaki forgot.
Always forgot.
Misaki always forgot him.
Saruhiko promised himself that it would be the last time.
Light rays filtered through the binds as the raven haired man groaned, turning away from it's source, opting to snuggle into the warmth next to him.
Next to him.
He sat up straight, azure eyes widening in disbelief, blood pulsating through his veins a he stared at the figure lying next to him in increasing horror.
Not again - he had promised himself.
Misaki mumbled something in his sleep before rolling over, facing away from Saruhiko. That broke him out of whatever trance he had been in and he scrambled out of the bed, cursing himself under his breath.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck.
No, this was wrong. Wrong wrong wrong! Mentally, he tried to remember what had happened that had led to once again, him being taken by the redhead. A sharp pain shot up his spine but he barely acknowledged it, choosing to focus on the slumbering Red in his bed, with the proof of their dirty secrets making stains on the sheets.
Oh right, he and Misaki had gone out drinking last night because the older man had insisted they at least do that much to celebrate their newly reformed friendship.
That much had led to too much.
Horror seeped into his bones as a dull ache settled into his heart.
No, he couldn't, not again. But what other choice did he have? A quick glance around the room confirmed his thoughts that yes, this was in fact Misaki's apartment - he knew because he could guess from the posters and video games - and in a flash, he was dressing himself.
Leave before the other wakes up.
Leave before he finds out.
Leave before he leaves you.
Leave - and be forgotten once again.
Jamming his feet into his sneakers, he was about to rush out of the room when a small voice cut through the silence, freezing him on the spot.
"Stop - why don't you ever stop?"
Breath.
He needed to breathe.
Struggling to get air into his chest, he slowly turned to face the figure in bed, who still had his back turned to him.
"Ne~ Misaki's awake?" he began, desperately trying to keep some semblance of normality between them, a cocky grin making it's way on his face, "I thought you were passed out from-"
"Saruhiko stay."
Stay.
The word shouldn't have that huge an impact on him but it did nonetheless. Saruhiko's arrogant smile faltered as he stared dumbfounded at Misaki – his Misaki, who was getting up, and watching him through tired eyes.
"Stay." He repeated, holding up his arms, "Saru, don't go...don't make it like those other times."
His words hit Saruhiko like a tidal wave – crashing against him mercilessly, tossing him into an abyss of uncertainty and apprehension. He felt like a small ship, battling against a storm, desperately trying to keep afloat.
Misaki remembered.
Misaki knew.
It was a struggle to keep him expressions neutral. Misaki groaned in frustration, running a hand through his short messy bed hair and Saruhiko was suddenly overwhelmed by the need to replace those hands with his own.
Memories of the night before began to surface in his head, making his face flush.
Gentle hands, warm breathes mingling, bodies moving, completely in sync with each other.
Feeling his body turn hotter, he took a step back.
No, he needed to escape. He had to leave before-
"Saru, just come over here." His eyes focused on Misaki, who sat there with his arms open, waiting for the younger man to make his move.
Run.
He should run.
A hesitant step towards the other male made him curse at his own involuntary movement.
Misaki's face remained impassive as he approached him like a wounded cat – angry and aggressive but cautious, his claws ready for war.
He paused once he was standing next to the bed though – unsure of what to do or say. But it seemed Misaki had other plan. Reaching out, he yanked Saruhiko down on him and in a flash had the younger pinned underneath him, kissing him like there was no tomorrow. A low whine made past his lips only to be devoured by the other as he nibbled on his lower lip, trying to gain access.
"Misaki, stop. I'm-I-I can't-" He began gruffly only to have the other growl and pull back, staring down at him hard. They stayed that for a long time – Fushimi flushed, skin heated and Misaki just gazing down at him.
"You're an idiot." Misaki finally said, flopping down on the bed next to him. Saruhiko made no move to respond, too busy trying to control his erratic heart beat.
"I don't want to hear that from you..." He finally managed to get out, turning on his side to face him. Misaki's smile was brighter than any star Munakata Reisi could have told him about.
"Saru..." He flinched away from the hand that came to stroke his face and a look of hurt crossed Misaki's feature, which he tried to hide behind a small shaky laugh and a weak smile, "Ah...I guess I deserved that huh...?"
"Why?" Saru wanted to know. Why do this now? Why not say anything before? Why with him? Why him? Misaki's gaze seared it's way to the very core of his soul.
"Why Saru? Why? You're asking me this now?" Irritation bubbled up inside the Blue clansman. Sitting up, he glared at Misaki venomously.
"Oh I'm sorry Misaki," he taunted, his voice laced with sarcasm and malice, "When else can I ask you? Does Tuesday fit into your schedule? Or do I have to take a fucking numb-" The rest of his words got cut off and he was once again pinned to the mattress, Misaki's face hovering centimeters away from his.
"Because I love you." He replied simply, eyes searching his face for something that Saruhiko wasn't altogether sure he could give him. A dry laugh escaped his lip, eyes narrowing dangerously.
Love.
What a joke,
Love didn't exist.
One fooled themselves into believing such things. No, there was no love – only people who's existence didn't bother you as much as others' did. You grew accustomed to their presence – their leaving hurt because it disrupted the routine you had created in your mind.
Love.
What a stupid concept.
There had been a time when Saruhiko had been convinced he loved Misaki – a time when he was sure Misaki loved him back.
Those times were gone now and so was that little boy who used to believe that someday, someone would come save him.
No, only he could save himself.
But...Misaki had come didn't he?
Misaki had always come.
To him.
For him.
Blue eyes focused on the face above him, smiling at him with fond exasperation.
"Do you understand now?" He muttered, leaning down to place a firm kiss on his mouth before moving to brush his lips against his ear lobe, making an a shudder rip through his body as his arms came to wrap themselves around Misaki's small but toned body, "Do you see Saru?" He could only nod as Misaki trailed kisses along his jaw before once again finding his mouth.
"Misaki, "he mumbled into the kiss and the said man pulled back, grinning, his face red, but eyes shining. Saruhiko's heart sped up as he fought down the urge to throw him off of himself and sprint towards the exit.
No, he wouldn't let that man control his life anymore. He was done with letting his ghosts ruining everything for him.
"Misaki," he repeated, burying his face into the other's chest as Misaki allowed himself to fall to his side, his arms immediately pulling him close. Saruhiko didn't want to move.
"I'm sorry I didn't mention it before Saru," Misaki muttered, "I didn't think you'd want me to talk about it since I thought you were drunk and only did all that with me because of that..." Saruhiko didn't respond but felt the cold feeling that had permanently set itself in the pit of his stomach disappear.
Misaki...didn't hate him.
The thought in itself seemed too good and Saruhiko tightened his grip around him, curling up into an even tighter ball, hoping Misaki would not push him away for being too clingy. He didn't though.
Instead, Misaki snuggled in and closed his eyes, looking tired and worn out. Their bodies were a tangled mess of limbs at this point but Saruhiko couldn't find it in himself to care.
"Hey Saru...?" A sleepy mumble made him look up at the peaceful face of his almost asleep Misaki, "Just a fair heads up, " a yawn interrupted his words, "You better...be here when I wake up cuz I've woken up to an empty bed thrice and...that's three times more than I can handle."
Saruhiko nodded numbly, and felt his own lids start drooping.
Ah, the rest could wait.
They hadn't talked about anything at all. But it was a start.
Saruhiko chose to let everything sit aside as he felt himself being lulled to sleep at the sound of Misaki breathing gently next to him.
The world could wait and he'd face it later.
For now, Saruhiko chose to stay.
What? Did you all really think I was going to end this on a sad note?