I'm supposed to be studying for my exams "OTL
In my defense, I wrote this in half an hour and I'm on my break and suddenly I was hit by this random Sarumi prompt line "In retrospect, Fushimi knew this was a bad idea" and I was aiming for funny but it became angsty and stayed that way and idk when I stopped even trying to aim for humor but I'm sure it was somewhere after the first paragraph when I decided nope this is a nice painful fic, let's continue.
"Fushimi Saruhiko"
"You want us to do what?" Misaki's chopsticks fell out of his hand as he stared at Fushimi in obvious confusion and apprehension, no doubt trying to convince himself that maybe, just maybe he had heard wrong.
He hadn't.
In retrospect Fushimi knew this was a bad idea - and that itself had put him in a horrible mood. No, Misaki was supposed to be the one coming up with bad ideas - he was supposed to be the smart one - or at least, that's what everyone, including himself, had thought. But staring at the man in front of him, looking thoroughly agitated and confused, he suddenly wasn't too sure.
Saruhiko stared at the screen in front of him, irritably tapping his pen against the side of his keyboard. All around him, his subordinates kept shooting his worried glances but none spoke up in fear of invoking the wrath of their superior who had no qualms about flinging a knife at them even on his good days - on his bad days he'd make sure he didn't miss. And even Andy and Hidaka, pointlessly stupid as they were, knew to keep away from their boss when he was in this sort of mood. Saruhiko paid then no mind as he glared on ahead, his brain processing a million thoughts per minute.
No this was a bad bad bad idea.
It was a horrible idea.
It was worse than the "Misaki wanting to make him a vegetable smoothie" idea.
It was a bad idea - but the alternative was worse.
Sighing, he had clicked on the link and muttered curses under his breath. the things you do for lo- some stupid idiot on a skateboard.
"We're not having any problems." Misaki answered, looking puzzled for a bit before a look of hurt flashed in his eyes with clear tones of underlying panic, "Unless you think we do...?"
And there it was, the problem.
The panic. The fear.
Great - five minutes into this and it was already a mess. Fushimi had thought the worst outcome was Misaki laughing at him - no this was much much much worse.
They were getting ready to have a fight about how they were not fighting all the time.
Perfect - now they just needed to add Munakata and Mikoto to the mix and they were well on their way to sleeping on different beds - again.
Was it normal to have two bedrooms when you were together?
And that was the problem wasn't it? That's why he did what he did wasn't it? Why couldn't Misaki just see-
No, this was a bad idea. He should just call this off; pretend it was a joke. But he couldn't - couldn't forget how skater would always be in near tears the end of their fights, hazel eyes shinning too brightly for him to be comfortable with and how he'd be all tense afterward as if he was expecting him to just walk out on him again.
And that wasn't fair to Fushimi.
Fushimi was trying.
He was trying to trust Misaki - to love Misaki.
But Misaki had to trust him too.
Because he was trying and Misaki was supposed to trust him too.
Just trust him not to turn his back on them again.
But then, that wasn't fair to Misaki.
Oh how he laughed at the irony of it all.
Because really? In a relationship as messed up as theirs was, did it really matter what was and what wasn't fair? They should count their lucky stars they even had a relationship after all that they - all that Fushimi - had done to destroy it.
Trying to decide on fair and hoping for a smooth love in their endless cycle of lies and deceit and hurt was just like leaving an ice-cream out in the sweltering heat of the summer sun and then questioning why it melted.
Fair wasn't them.
Happiness wasn't them.
Theirs was not a fairy tale love - not a perfect ending.
There was no white horse - no sunset weddings.
They were the dragons that breathed fire, terrorizing the towns.
They were a story of the prince who showed up late and the princess who didn't want to let down her hair.
Of broken seashells and the shoe that never fit.
While normal couples had roses and the sweetness of chocolates, they dealt with the thorns and the bitterness of betrayal.
And Fushimi knew it was all his fault. One too many times he has shrugged off the redhead offered hand and he figured they were always better off alone - apart, away from each other.
Too bad he hadn't even been able to convince himself of that lie.
He hadn't been able to lie to himself - to make himself believe that he truly hated the Yata Misaki from Homra.
He hadn't been able to convince himself yet he had somehow managed to convince Misaki.
And the wounds he had left were deep - painful. And his words, as sharp as any knife he had ever thrown - maybe ever sharper - were hurled causally yet caustically when he had not thought of ever seeing the scars they would make. But Misaki had given him a chance - had been the one who was generous.
Had been the one who was the kindest - had been the one who was cruelest.
Because now the scars were visible.
Each smile forced, each caress with shaking hands told stories of hurt, betrayal and defeat. Hopelessness and hope mingled into one broken being.
"Misaki, it really wouldn't hurt to attend a session or two."
And really if he was 80% honest - because he couldn't be a 100%, no that wasn't him, he lied, he hurt, he burnt - this was all the Captain's fault for putting it in his head.
And he knew he was wrong for blaming the ex blue king but it made dealing with everything so much easier.
Easier didn't always mean it wasn't painful.
"WE ARE NOT HAVING ANY PROBLEMS GODDAMMIT YOU'RE JUST BEING A BASTARD AGAIN WE ARE NOT GOING TO ANY COUPLE'S COUNSELLING SESSION."
Wrong. 0 points Misaki.
Fushimi wanted to believe that - but the bruises in both their bodies made him doubt.
He wanted to believe but the tears made him fret.
He wanted to believe - but Misaki didn't believe in him.
Because Fushimi had never given him any reason to.
Because that man had taken away his reasons to.
Eyes that would always be challenging him to just walk away, why don't you, that's all you know how to do.
Curses thrown at him that repeated the same thing in various different verses.
Traitor, walk away.
"Misaki, why can't we go? It's perfectly understandable for an idiot like you to get help."
And he didn't help either - didn't stop aggravating the easily flammable redhead. Adding fuel to a fire that was already burning too ferociously - flames and embers reaching the sky.
Reaching the sky, enveloping him.
Burning ant farms and scars.
He didn't help - didn't know how.
Gentle words and a gentler touch - these were not things he was familiar with - never had been. Not familiar with at all but wanted to be.
He wanted to change - for Misaki.
Because there was only so much Misaki could take before he would break - break away from him.
And no matter how cruel he seemed, how apathetic he made himself out to be - he didn't want that didn't want the other to walk away - hypocritical of him since he was infamous for doing the exact same thing.
Blue eyes focused on the figure before him, body trembling and eyes flashing - clear signs of a storm lying ahead. Misaki's knuckles had turned white gripping the table so hard, Fushimi feared it would break.
Misaki would break.
"Say that again you bastard!" He hissed out, eyes narrowing dangerously, hand reaching out to grab him by his shirt, body being surrounded by the remains of his red aura and the raven haired man was thrown back in time, against his will, to a place that was as damp as it was dark and reeked of garbage and burning flesh.
An alley with an opening yet no escape.
A mark with a family yet no sense of belonging.
A pain yet no wound.
Misaki must have been brought back with him because the grip on the collar loosened and hand retracted as quick as it has reached out - as if the one Fushimi had burnt this time was him and not himself.
What a joke.
Their entire life was a joke.
"You heard me Mi-sa-ki...or are you so stupid you don't even understand basic Japanese now?"
Stop stop stop.
This had to stop.
This was dangerous. He was hurting Misaki - he had to stop.
The fragile bond between the two had just begun to reform and here he was, recklessly tossing it in the waters, not sure if it would or wouldn't drown. He was sure that they would never have what they once did - innocence lost in the sea of blood and despair. But they could take what they could salvage and rebuild a broken empire out of sticks and stones they had managed to scavenge.
In his mind, Fushimi could see a child, crying, desperately trying to stop the fire from spreading and then there was that man, standing over him, laughing with hollow mirth. Shadows lingering in the doorway, sending chills down his spine.
That man? No, that was him.
It was Fushimi.
Misaki growled at him.
"Look you bastard," he barked out, "if you have a problem with me let's deck it out right here, right now. But don't you-"
"Misaki."
Stop. Someone had to stop.
And it wouldn't be fair if it had to be Misaki.
"Misaki." He repeated and for some reason the word sounded foreign on his tongue. Why - after all these years, why did it seem unsure? He loved Misaki didn't he? Loved him to the point that it didn't seem like love.
Was love supposed to hurt? Was it supposed to make you cry silently into your pillow during nights when the sheets around you were cold and there was no body to hold you? Because if that was the case, they were in love. So recklessly in love.
Misaki must have caught onto his time because he fell silent.
"Misaki, I love you." The words tumbled out without any way to stop them. Because Misaki had to know - needed to know. Because Fushimi didn't know what else to do - what else to say - to convince him that it was over - the past was gone.
It was gone and he was still there. He always would be.
Empty promises always fade away.
How easy it is to break but not to mend.
Because each promise was just another echo of the ones he had made when they were young - free.
Careless.
Thoughtless.
Pointless.
"Well you have a real funny way of showing it!" Misaki leapt to his feet and with one nasty look in his direction, stomped over to his own room, slamming the door shut behind him and Fushimi didn't need to strain his ears to hear to know that the door had been locked.
A shuddering sigh escaped Fushimi's lips as finally his body lost its composure and slumped where he sat in front of a cold dinner.
Another night of sleepless solitude awaited.
Chapter two will be sweeter...not. Its just Misaki's POV...if I ever get around writing it because lets be honest I have no idea how to write Misaki's POV.
Now I'll go back to studying the male reproductive system - something I've been putting off since the start fml. This shouldn't be so embarrassing for me - I read gay porn online wtf.