Dancing with the devil Chapter 2: Leverage, a k fanfic

Chapter Two: Leverage
{ aka operation: Get Fushimi into the student council by any means necessary }

One month and still nothing to show for it. He's tried all sorts of things to get Fushimi to go along with him, but every single time he's been refused.

Munakata furrows his brow as he sits at his desk in the office and taps a finger against the smooth surface in slight frustration. Resting his jaw against a fist, he idly remembers the dull pain that had lingered there, from a bruise long healed. Fushimi Saruhiko's tendency to lash out makes things quite hazardous for his health, he reflects, the memory of that punch so many weeks ago still rather vivid.

When he had returned after deeming the other too volatile to pursue for the time being, his Vice President had taken one look at him and gotten out a first aid kit. The emerging bruise wasn't that bad, but she seemed to think a plaster would help. He indulged her, and while she worked she spoke to him.

"President.." Seri started, pausing in her movements to collect her thoughts, "I.. Is it wise to keep.."

The dark haired senior had let a wry smile spread across his lips, and closed his eyes as he responded, "Awashima-kun.. have you forgotten? I am not the type to give in.. and I have just discovered my own conviction."

Her eyes widened and her usually impeccable composure slipped, she fumbled a bit with the plaster, biting her lip. "Does this mean-"

Munakata huffed and waves a hand, somehow regaining his normal aura of command in an instant before turning his eyes on Seri.

"Teach me all you know," he ordered, and Seri couldn't help but be a little awed at the shameless way he said it. There was no trace of embarrassment on his face, despite having ordered something so ridiculously outrageous. A small smile of challenge appeared briefly on her face before she got to work. A closet fujoshi couldn't ask for better material.

"President!" The blonde's voice cuts through his daydreaming and he glances at her out of the corner of his eye, slowly sitting up to face her properly.

"What is it, Awashima-kun?" he asks, prompting her with a look. "Speak frankly."

She takes a deep breath and her clear blue eyes meet his purple ones head on. "I have nothing more I can teach you that does not require any real experience, or a willing subject."

Munakata blinks, and she pushes on. "That being said, President, if I may be direct... Get out there and start doing something!"

His Vice President then tosses him out again, and he's left feeling rather disgruntled and apprehensive, staring at the closed (and probably locked) Student Council Room door. This is going to be a regular occurrence, isn't it? Just as well.. He readjusts his glasses and then slips his hands into his pants pockets, moving to get some fresh air while he figures out what tactic to try first on one unsuspecting Fushimi Saruhiko.

For that entire month, he had been on the verge of some sort of meltdown- although it was nice in a way because Munakata reminded Saruhiko of emotion. Pure emotion, raw emotion- the type that you find when you've had enough of someone's bullshit. He let out another breathy sigh as he laid his head up against the cold, hard wall.

This is something he's really starting to loathe now. This had been his first appearance at school in a week, and he hadn't missed it. Saruhiko had currently spent the last week getting high and trying to forget everything that had happened- or at least tried too.

He's only here to take a test, which had been delayed ten minutes, so he was sitting in the hallway. Currently he's playing with his tie, his glasses currently pressed up into his hair so his face was shown. There are dark, discolorations under his eyes, and his high cheekbones are slightly hollowed. Saruhiko looks sickly, as if he doesn't go outside too, and his very finicky hands are continuing to play with that stupid gray tie around his neck.

Munakata makes a beeline for Fushimi's classroom, and his pace is leisurely as all sorts of ideas are turned over and inspected in his mind. While he can use his intellect and charisma to succeed without a concrete idea of what to do, he knows he'll need some sort of plan to fall back on and-

He stops his ruminating when he spies his person of interest sitting in the hallway, and all the thoughts of plans and tactics are banished from his mind. Fushimi looks terrible, like he hasn't been taking care of himself, and the dark haired senior is momentarily taken aback by how haggard the other seems. It's the most he can do to swallow his rising tide of unidentifiable emotions and settle on one he can definitely understand. It's not quite anger, he's not there yet.. but it's close.

Munakata starts to move again, his strides much longer this time, and ends up standing next to Fushimi, looking down. His expression is blank as he lets his shadow fall over the other.

"Fushimi-kun.." He presses his lips together, making a flat line. His tone is serious. "What are you doing?"

Someone is walking down the hall, and the bluet didn't really, really want to be bothered anymore. He had ten minutes to spare, what was the point now? Slowly, he closed his eyes and prayed it was some professor or something, someone who could just pretend to ignore him as all he did was wait for his own goddamn test to be done then he could leave.

But unfortunately, the world hates him.

It's Muna- whatever the fuck his name is, and even though Saruhiko remembers it, he'll never admit it. "Oh what do you want now, oh glorious student council president? Are you here to recruit me, because my answer is still no." He replied, tone apathetic and monotone as he didn't even open his eyes, fingers still playing with his tie.

"It's good I'm not inclined to listen to faulty orders," Munakata replies easily, slowly regaining his usual flair in a superficial sense. His inner feelings have yet to settle, just churning around in a slightly agitated manner beneath the surface, but he knows what he wants to do now.

His attention hones in on that yawn and he feels a bit vindicated. Even Fushimi's body knows what it needs - sleep. Lots of it. And nutrition. Easy enough to administer. He's already running ideas through his head.

"I can wait 15 minutes," he shrugs nonchalantly, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, a habit he has when thinking. He finds it a little endearing how the other is sharing all of this info.. it's probably because he's tired.

The dark haired senior then gives an acknowledging nod towards the teacher that has just arrived, and turns back to Fushimi with an expectant look.

Faulty orders? Whatever, Saruhiko just cussed under his breath as his stomach made another low gnaw sound and continued to cause him pain. It hurt a lot, yes, and he hated the feeling- but maybe perhaps in a weird way he liked it. He knew he was alive, that was for sure. With a scoff, he tugged at the fabric around his wrists, to make sure it wouldn't slip out of place. He didn't want that showing, anyway.

Slowly, he got up to his feet, dizziness hitting as he just pretended to casually lean against the wall, slowly crossing his arms as he immediately clicks his tongue. "Tsk, gonna wait for me like some love-struck girl?" He simply mocks, before the teacher arrives and Saruhiko immediately walks inside, practically telling Munakata off in his head.

His test takes twenty minutes, which angers him more than it should. He had said fifteen, why did it take longer? With a groan, he handed the paper to the teacher and left right after- ignoring his demands to tell him to stay and how his "participation" mark would decrease. Whatever.

Saruhiko wasn't paying attention, so he didn't know if Munakata was there or not, all he needed was some water. Shakily, he made his way to the water fountain and pressed the small button, letting the water shoot out from the little faucet. He took a few minutes to gulp down as much liquid hydration as needed, but it was clearly not enough to satisfy his stomach- yet.

With another mute sigh, he turned and immediately started heading from the entrance.

Munakata feels a small flare of amusement at Fushimi's words, because the idea of him being a love-struck girl is rather interesting... He's not quite as far gone as the term usually connotes, however, and there's one part of that remark that gnaws at his character.

Contrary to popular belief, he doesn't just sit on his ass all day and do nothing. He hasn't attained his position as the Student Council president by waiting for things to happen... no, he plans and acts pre-emptively to counteract issues that may arise. Of course, what that basically means is he often takes refuge in audacity and initiative. Munakata Reisi doesn't just wait.

He lifts his chin a little bit and regains some measure of that customary smirk of his as he dials Seri on his PDA. The other's bound to be in the room for at least 15 minutes, so he's got time to prepare a little surprise.

"Awashima-kun. I must ask you for a favor..."

Twenty minutes later the dark haired senior watches passively as Fushimi exits the classroom in a daze, carefully noting the effects of the other's hunger. It's probably why he took five minutes longer, despite all of his bragging. Munakata shakes his head, partly in irritation at the other's blatant neglect and disregard, and follows close behind. He holds an arm out and grasps Fushimi's shoulder as the other turns, applying some of his incredible strength to steer the path toward a different direction.

"Come now, Fushimi-kun," he says, gesturing towards a bench a dozen or so yards away. It looks like it's had a table put in front of it, with plates of food placed tastefully on it. "Your stomach needs something in it. I've had a meal prepared for you."

Saruhiko was so close to leaving, he could taste that fresh air down his throat and the freedom he could encompass. And just before he can start moving, he's suddenly pulled in another direction- an arm is around him and his entire mind goes into a panicking mode. Although, when his head whips around, he realizes who it is and he feels like his entire stomach is going to claw out of his body.

Why was he here? Saruhiko was really, really getting sick with having to deal with this bastard, he's just so goddamn tired that he can barely even fight back anymore. His stomach pains were growing, along with a slowly pulsing headache that made everything brighter and worse than it was.

Suddenly there was a bench- or some sort of table- placed with food, and he immediately cringed. Saruhiko hated eating in front of others, which was usually why he stayed away and ate up on the roof, because then no one would ever, ever watch it. He sort of just stared, blinking his eyes at the food as if it was a dream, and another wave of weakness hit him. Fuck, he should have gone home.

"... Who says I need your help." Saruhiko puts on that same facade of impassiveness, yet complete annoyance. Although some part in his head almost wants to try and thank Munakata for this, because how long has it been since he's eaten a proper meal? His body usually runs off of stale or instant food, plus junk foods and fast food. This on the other hand...

"I don't want your pity, and I'm not hungry anyway."

The surprise on Fushimi's face only accentuates the dark circles under his eyes.

Munakata's only a little surprised that his arm, currently pushing against the other, is starting to double as a support beam. More so when he realizes the other is simply too tired to put up much of a struggle. It seems Fushimi's gnawing hunger is causing a great amount of weakness and strain, both mental and physical if his dazed and faint look is anything to go by. The other's expression of disinterest and displeasure also suffers the same flimsy constitution as the rest of him, and despite the fact that he can't yet read what's underneath that mask Munakata can tell enough that it's there; that it's not as strong as it used to be.

"Do you require someone to tell you that you need help?" He inquires in response, with an arch of an eyebrow. "In that case, I volunteer."

And still so stubborn. As much as the dark haired senior likes a challenge, this is almost laughably exasperating.. whatever it's going to take, though, he'll gladly meet that defiance head on. Furthermore, to speak of pity, of all things..

"Only people who think they are pitiful believe others will feel pity for them, Fushimi-kun," Munakata frowns slightly, but replaces the look with a knowing one. "Your condition indicates otherwise. Eat. It'll hardly be an inconvenience."

He glares his bright electric eyes at the other- although they're... they're not really bright anymore, but instead are a dulled, tired and lifeless shade. His stomach was still clawing at him, and he still had a hard time understanding why this was happening. Why was all this food here- like soup, rice, fish... It was traditional, yes, but why?

Why did Munakata pretend like he cared?

Saruhiko feels as if his persona is slipping, the mask in his face has a very small crack, and he needs to fill it. All he wants is to run home, hide under his blankets and possibly never crawl out for a week. He can barely swallow the sentences Munakata delivers as he just shoves at him, uncaring if he succeeded or not.

"Fuck off, I don't want or need your help." He spits, hoping that maybe it would sink in. "I don't need volunteers- I'm not some broken down mess." Saruhiko snipped, hoping to maybe get the idea. "I get it, maybe you're just taking pity on me because I look tired and probably hungry, well guess what: I'm not."

Munakata's not really sure where Fushimi keeps getting these protests from, because he certainly hasn't said anything himself. Broken down mess? The sound of that is rather ominous, he knows the other has a few issues that are affecting his health quite substantially.. but is there cause for further concern? Also, this attitude is... the idea of only helping someone when they're practically breaking apart at the seams is a bit chilling, he'll admit. If only because it sounds so careless.

"Maybe you don't want my help," he says unrepentantly, still driving the second year towards the bench with all of its food, only a few feet away. "But I think I'll take a leaf from your book, Fushimi-kun, and say... I don't care."

He places another firm hand on Fushimi's shoulders and pushes him to sit down before the placement of food.

"I do not need pity as an excuse to help you," Munakata declares with much self-assurance, watching the other carefully. He feels like he's supervising a tired wild animal. "Please let that fact soak into your brain while you eat."

Saruhiko feels as if he's done quite the good job in trying to steer Munakata away, but the idea of him still hanging around him definitely was unsettling. He didn't want this pity, no matter how much Munakata denied it. It made him angry, frustrated and just genuinely annoyed and pissy.

He didn't expect such a sassy comeback from this bastard, so he immediately bit back. "And maybe you should take another "leaf" from my book and fuck off." He immediately bit, hoping that maybe the other would get some sort of idea, but then he was pushed down, forced to sit and groan to himself because now his head just pounded and pulsed even more.

Anxiety was creeping up into his body, and he was scared indefinitely. Eating in front of people, it scared him- he always felt as if he was judged for what he ate or the amount. He was tired still, and his eyes were barely keeping themselves open behind his frames. He had to keep up this fight, he had his entire dignity to preserve.

"... Just go away already." He murmured to himself, trying to keep it under his breath before he finally, finally picked up the pair of chopsticks, glancing at the warm food in front of him and then picking up a small piece of beef, and placed it in his mouth.

It was unreal, the taste was something interesting and good- very good in fact. He hadn't had real good beef in a few months, and he definitely, definitely missed it. His face stayed impassive though as he tried to play it off like nothing had happened, almost making it seem like he was let down by it.

"... It's okay." Liar.

"No, thank you," Munakata just raises an eyebrow and declines, taking a few steps back so as not to be too crowding. He did notice how the other kind of froze up when he touched him, and with what going on right now he doesn't want to get punched again.. not when he's finally gotten the other to do something. Fushimi's still overly tense and cagey but at the very least he's eating.

The dark haired senior almost doesn't catch those muttered words and nothing in his countenance changes because.. the other can complain all he likes but Munakata isn't going anywhere, especially not in the figurative sense.

"..." He just blinks and genuinely smiles at that last remark. He's already gotten a feel of how Fushimi's stubbornness won't allow the other to actually say anything complimentary. This is good enough for him, because it is his lunch the other is eating. The fact that his own cooking isn't being insulted makes him rather proud. "That's fine. As long as it's edible to you, I have no complaints."

Munakata feels a little hungry himself, and there's plenty of food since he'd made enough for Seri as well. She gave her approval for his plan though, giving up her portion, so he sits down too and glances at Fushimi.

"Mind if I join you?"

Saruhiko continues to chew at the food, absentmindedly not even caring at all because all he wants is this one piece. That's all he needs- just this small piece of beef to tie him over until he's home. He continued to chew on it, savouring that flavour and warmth because he's decided to stop eating- anymore wouldn't do him any good.

But he can't stop his body when he takes another piece.

Something comes over the bluet, and he doesn't like it at all. He's internally screaming at him, saying that is his last piece as he breaks any and all eye contact with Munakata, even after he speaks. In some fashion, he sort of flinches, as if the Council President is going to do something, even though he just glances downwards.

Yes, Saruhiko definitely minds because then all of a sudden, it's like he's forced to eat more. But if Munakata joins, then he'd have less to eat- so maybe it could be a good idea. After swallowing those pieces of meat, he put his chopsticks down, and shrugged.

"Whatever." Essentially, that was a yes.

Munakata's a bit bemused at the fact that the other is basically chewing... just chewing. It seems his cooking is actually that good or Fushimi hasn't had anything savory in a long time, and it's with a bit of delight that he watches another piece get taken. Of course, that's definitely not enough food for someone who looks so haggard.. The dark haired senior narrows his eyes a little as the other puts down those chopsticks, and he drums his fingers against the table quietly.

Reaching inside his jacket, he pulls out a spare pair of chopsticks and holds them with a flourish. It's obvious that Munakata has a few hobbies concerning the kitchen and dining in general because he eats very carefully and lightly. He brings up a piece of tamagoyaki to his lips before pausing.

"Well, Fushimi-kun, go on. Stopping now would be impractical, after all. There's simply too much food for a single person to finish, be it you or me alone," he prompts, nudging a platter closer to the other.

... And Saruhiko was so close to snickering at the fact of the President's crazy ability to so damn prepared. It was almost disgusting- what if his sex life is like this? With a light snort, he kept his chopsticks on the table, staring to the side- away from Munakata and his stupidity.

Since when was this other in charge of how he ate?

With another sigh, and a click of his tongue, he rested his elbow on the table, placing the side of his face in his palm. His eyes were elsewhere, hidden behind those frames as he continued to chew at the already mushed food. All the food was mocking him though- and that's all he really wanted right now was to eat. But... he didn't...

... Goddammit.

He gets the feeling that the other is laughing at him but it doesn't grate on his nerves as much as it should. As much as it normally would, in any case, considering this is possibly the first sign of life and emotion other than apathy or detachment. Then Munakata thinks back to the meeting on the roof and amends his statement. Not the first then... And certainly, this will not be the last. He has plans, after all.

Munakata shifts a bit to reach for a vegetable dish and, while cleaning it out, speaks of trivial things, as if having a normal everyday conversation. "The beginning of the school year is always rather indicative of overall performance, especially when it comes selecting personnel and scheduling events. This year too, is shaping to be a rather interesting one."

He trails off, taking some time to properly eat. The dark haired senior's demeanor indicates how at ease he is, and inside he's actually trying to get the other to be less tense. He'd like it if the other would voluntarily eat more, but... well, he'll only turn to other methods when truly necessary. Munakata proceeds to pour tea from a thermos into two paper cups and places one on Fushimi's side of the table.

"I think that, with the sakura trees blooming so ardently, an outdoor meal is indeed a pleasant idea," he comments before gesturing towards a different dish, "This one is goes well with the feeling of 'spring'.. I recommend it."

His eyes continue to narrow at the ground, and every little noise that his ear caught just seemed to irritate him. He doesn't want this right now, and he can already feel sleep trying to relax and claw at his feet, beckoning more nightmares and hellish images terrorizing whatever sanity he had left. Saruhiko stomach was already churning and clawing, and slowly he swallowed those two pieces of chewed meat.

The bluet didn't expect tea to be poured in front of him. The one thing he hated more than anything was actually tea itself- it was disgusting and bitter. What the fuck is he talking about now- the feeling of spring? Saruhiko wasn't listening at all before he just pushed the bench back, standing up as he just shoved his hands in his pocket.

"Whatever, I'm done. Have fun eating." He replied, voice toneless and lacking any and all inspiration. All he wanted now was to just go home, perhaps maybe shoot up once more. To rid his mind of this gesture. He doesn't deserve this, not someone's direct pity. It was so obvious, so fucking obvious- or Saruhiko's reading him wrong.

Regardless of this case, this is the last thing he needs. Quietly, he took a turn back to the right and started to walk down the steps of the school, ready to throw himself out those damn doors.

Munakata doesn't really move, not at first, because he's a little reluctant to go through with his backup plan. It's not like he's going to knock Fushimi out and put a IV nutrient drip on him, that would be silly (the other needs good solid food not liquid).. but he definitely doesn't like being treated so lightly. With a sigh and somewhat lethargic movement, he grasps the chopsticks, flips them to their dull ends, and grabs a mouthful of chopped foods.

Stalking after the other, his long legs and strides coupled with his purposeful pace enable him to slide past Fushimi and block his path. There's no real escape, not when the dark haired senior is as fast as he is. He's holding those chopsticks as he tilts his head at the other, a sort of steely look in his eyes.

"Ahh, Fushimi-kun.. this is quite regrettable but.." Here his glasses flash in the light. "You need to eat in order to live and function, and if you're not willing to meet your own biological needs... I'll make you meet them."

"That is, I will force this food down your throat if I have to," Munakata says this with a rather pleasant expression. "In a way that's enjoyable for me."

He would be safe if he got outside, away from this bastard and where he could be home free. Worries could disappear like his conscious mind, but that wasn't how it worked did it? Although his entire mood continued to drop, especially when he was cut off. His eyes went from Munakata himself to the food in those chopsticks, and he immediately backed away, almost in a scared manner, like a cat.

"I'm glad you know simply biology." He spat, especially for that ridiculous comment about needing food to live. "Unlike you, some people can go for days without your ability to swallow down a piece of fucking fruit." Well, that's probably a lie, but it's true for him.

"You even so as touch me again and I will sue you for harassment; you creepy sadist."

"Hm, I do know quite a bit about biology," Munakata shrugs in a superior sort of way, a small smirk crossing his face as he raises the chopsticks, watching the other take some steps back. It seems Fushimi does have a bit of wariness when it comes to what his threats, which is an improvement from before. Not to mention his comments are getting panicky and completely, hilariously illogical. "...It seems to me that you don't, however. Shall I enlighten you? Those people you are talking about.. they're probably in the hospital, with IV drips."

He glances at the second year with a look of scrutiny, swiftly moving closer and cornering the other with his height. He isn't bothered by those words in the slightest, because Fushimi will never succeed and that's a fact. Munakata narrows his eyes and says "If you don't eat, you'll be soon be one of them.. and that is a prospect I find highly disagreeable."

"-just why do you insist on leaving yourself in this weak state?" The dark haired senior resigns himself to one last attempt before he really involves himself, one hundred percent in Fushimi's life; whether the other likes it or not. "If it's too much trouble for you to take care of yourself, I'd be willing to do it for you."

Saruhiko is about three seconds away from completely flipping the table and maybe throwing the thermos of tea straight at Munakata's face. He hates that he has to take steps away, because all he wants is to turn around and run, but how much energy could he expend right now? What if this stupid sadist caught up to him?

Oh shit- he moved closer. He immediately bit his lip, scrunching his nose a bit as he also took a few steps back too. Be one of them- like the people in the hospital? Impossible. The last place he wanted to go was a hospital, he hated it there. He had only taken one trip when he had been at the orphanage- he had caught pneumonia when he was a kid. The prospects of going back...

His mind was shifted from that when suddenly; Munakata asked him why he needed to insist to stay in this weak state. No, he would just lie once again and hide everything right again. This man didn't deserve to know anything, it's not like he'd even care. He wanted something from him, didn't he? Did he want sex? Was that what he was looking for- not just to join that student council? Slowly, he tried to swallow the lump building in his throat, because people can't be this nice right?

"Yes, yes it is too much trouble. I can fend for myself; I'm not some needy little girl. Go bully someone else into joining the Student Council and just leave me alone." He voice was cracking at this point, and maybe he was pushed to feel such a horrible pang of emotion run through his entire body. And with that, he just turned and immediately started walking in the other direction; eyes squeezed shut to prevent tears forming.

"Fushimi-kun!" Munakata says voice a bit louder than his usual low, imperturbable one. It's actually a bit sharp, as if he wants to get his point across immediately and without any risk of obscurity. He's watching the other walk away, again, and for the nth time he's facing that prideful back.. but, for the first time, it looks like it's wavering. The dark haired senior glances down at his chopsticks, still holding that mouthful of food in a frozen grip.

This... this issue right here is a critical one, he realizes. This refusal to eat, to really eat, is not something he can overlook. He is definitely going to do what he can, he can't accept anything less from himself, but... Munakata reaches up to adjust the bridge of his glasses with his free hand. He still has this incredible urge to shove the food down the other's throat. And he did say he would do it.

"I'm seriously doubting your words... And right now, what I'm doing has nothing to do with the Student Council," he states matter-of-factly, as if this should be obvious. "Furthermore, neither does what I'm going to do."

His long arm snakes out and grips the back of Fushimi's uniform; he's holding the other like a cat by the scruff of its neck. The chopsticks are raised to his lips and Munakata places the food in his mouth, starting to chew it mechanically.

He heard that stupid honorific attached to his ridiculous last name and part of him just wanted to cringe again. Go away, go away, go away! That's all he's screaming at, because he's so close to breaking down right now- screaming and crying like a child throwing a tantrum- all because he couldn't get what he wants. His eyes are stabbing him, salty water threatening to fall from those electric orbs.

Doubting his words? Well, perhaps he was lying about almost anything and everything, but he hisses some curse under his breath, something along the lines of 'bastard.' He's still trying so hard not to cry right now, because he's so tired and exhausted and so fed up right now.

The back of his uniform is grabbed, and he immediately panics. There have been times when he's been snatched like that, and it horrifies him to no end. His chest feels heavier than it ever has in his entire life, and he barely manages to keep a choked sob down, and in the back of his throat.

"... And what are you going to do now?" He asks voice expressionless and blank as he probably prepares himself for the ultimate worst.

When he's sure that he's chewed the food enough to be digestible, he grasps the back of the other's head with a gentle yet firm hold and connects their lips in a swift movement. Using the split second Fushimi will take to actually register what he's done to his advantage; Munakata transfers the food into the other's mouth. He uses his tongue to guide the food down that throat, making sure the other swallows it, and then pulls back when the deed is done.

He fully expects to be in a world of pain once the second year gathers his wits back enough to retaliate, but his resolve doesn't waver. Munakata has proven that he's willing to go through with what he says; he's not just some spineless guy that can't back up his claims.

If the Fushimi's not going to eat, he'll make the other eat. That's a fact. He idly licks his lips before speaking again, "I am Munakata Reisi and I'm doing this on my own."

Suddenly, the back of his head was grabbed, and he immediately struggled. That is until, their lips were suddenly connected and his entire mind and body shut down. And then on top of that, there was something shoved into his mouth, something with a horrible taste that would have made him gag if he had such a reflex. A foreign tongue is also shoved in, manipulating that food so that he'd have to swallow it.

Once their lips are broken, the Student Council President quit their ridiculous kiss, and that's when Saruhiko immediately slammed his fist right into the side of Munakata's stupidly pretty face. And he made sure to definitely make sure to use as much strength as he could.

"Don't you fucking touch me ever again." He demanded, before immediately side stepping and breaking into some sort of half-run, making sure to finally get out of the school doors. Finally. Although he hadn't even noticed that his cheeks had warmed up- were they red? Shit. With a hiss, he simply adjusted his collar as he started walking out.

That's when he saw them- some of Homra's members near the school gates, smoking away. There were only a few of them, just Chitose, Kusanagi and Dewa- and when the three saw him he felt like he had been stabbed with their eyes. He stayed quiet, that is until Chitose spoke.

"Going home already, you pussy." He immediately heard, and he couldn't help but to roll his eyes. "I'm already leaving, you fag."

"Quite the reply for someone who was so easily obsessive over Yata-chan." That's when his entire blood runs cold, and Saruhiko stops walking and just listens to Chitose's voice currently takes a dagger to his heart. "We told you not to come to the funeral, and your ugly face showed." Saruhiko can already feel his entire body quivering and emotion is starting to drown him.

"He wouldn't have wanted you there." And this is where Saruhiko snaps, immediately pivoting just to see the brunet standing right behind him- and that's when he slammed his fist straight into the pretty boy's nose- trying to break it. That's when Dewa snapped and immediately ran to his best friend; surprisingly he wasn't actually smoking though. He could already see Kusanagi's eyes narrowing, but he didn't say a word.

"You don't know anything." He hissed, and before Chitose could even reply, Saruhiko casually climbed over the closed gate, and landed on the sidewalk. And this is when he started walking home, making sure to casually wipe at his cheeks when the tears fell past his glasses.

The fist that connects to his left cheek is just as painful as Munakata thought it would be as he watched it fly at him. The other put a great amount of force into it, a solid blow with an impact that makes him reflexively close his left eye. He's pushed back a few shuffling steps before he regains his balance, bringing a hand up to hover above his new injury. It really hurts, he reflects with a grimace as he feels his blood rushing to form a serious bruise. The internal bleeding heats up his cheek to an uncomfortable degree.

Well, that definitely wasn't his smartest idea... The dark haired senior watches Fushimi's hurried retreat for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face, before he takes out his PDA to contact Seri.

"Awashima-kun," he says, wincing slightly because it kind of hurts to talk. He fixes the way his glasses sit on the bridge of his nose while he speaks. "I'll fill you in on what just occurred later.. right now, however, I find myself with many questions and a serious lack of answers. Have you finished that report I requested yet?"

He listens for a moment to her answer then ends the call, turning to head for the Student Council Room. All of the things he's noticed about the way Fushimi Saruhiko behaves and reacts, mostly instinctively, sends red flags up in his mind. Munakata's still thinking about this, a frown tugging at his lips, when he opens the door to his destination.

And when Munakata enters, there's a very familiar spiky haired individual standing there, chatting with Awashima. Most would just know him as Akiyama Himori, and he's in charge of finding out whatever the Student Body President needs to find out. Of course there's Doumyouji Andy- but he's mostly there so Akiyama doesn't really get bored.

"The report was finished and edited by myself and Doumyouji-kun." He replied in a monotone voice, although it's tinted with pity. "As requested, a full document and update on the second year delinquent known as Fushimi Saruhiko." Doumyouji seems to stop staring outside, since this is his cue to speak as well.

"Currently, he lives on his own in a small rundown apartment near the Shinjukuu district, which is notorious in being the poorest neighborhood of the city." The ginger starts, as he glances to Akiyama, who signals him to continue. "He hardly ever leaves, and when he does it's for school purposes, and another that we saw- but couldn't capture with our cameras." Well, at least they could speculate. With a small bow from the other, it was now Akiyama's turn to speak.

"He currently has no relatives and until he was twelve, he grew up in a local orphanage on the outskirts of town. About four years, there was a missing persons report for him and another boy: Yata Misaki. The two had run away, and then they acquired said little apartment and had been living together ever since."

Finally, he was nearing home and craving some sort of hit. The bluet had stopped his tears from falling at this point by blanking his entire mind, and changing its subject. Quietly, he entered into the apartment complex and was suddenly given a ... look by the landlord. One that still disgusted him to this day.

"Your rent will be owed soon, Saruhiko." The blonde simply purred, and it made the bluet feel dirty. Another month, and then another "adventure." Well, it was more like a trip to hell. Suddenly, he felt arms wrap around his shoulders loosely, as hot breathe immediately fell on his ear lobe, along with lips.

"I do miss your body."

"It's rumored that when he does leave, it's for recreational purposes, and we surveyed a few students. Most said he hangs out with very shady individuals, usually ones who sell hard drugs like heroin and acid. Doumyouji-kun and I suspect those are the only times he leaves." Akiyama added, as he pushed some stray hairs from his eyes.

"His roommate though, Yata Misaki went to this school last year, but he is still enrolled." Andy stated, before Akiyama shot him a look. "However, he passed away a few months ago, January 30th." Well, today was March eighteenth, so it had almost been two months. "He was hit by a transport truck, and was killed instantly."

Saruhiko slammed his door shut, eyes still wide as he tried to shake that horrible feeling from his gut and shoulders. That disgusting breathe was still on his ear, and Chitose's words were echoing through his head. His hand hurt from the punches he delivered and suddenly he was craving a release.

He practically tripped over himself as he threw his shoes off and immediately went scavenging through a cabinet in the living room. This is where he slept now, it was impossible to sleep in the bedroom where he and Misaki used to sleep. It was sacred, only meant for someone as God-like as his ginger.

But he was gone, his deity was gone.

The bluet finally found what he was looking for, and he hurriedly prepared himself with a tourniquet on his upper arm, as he filled the needle with that clear fluid. Slowly, a vein finally showed itself, a small skinny one through his pasty clear skin.

Saruhiko shoved that needle in and emptied all its contents before he fell back, upper neck leaning on the couch as he was lost into a brand new world.

Munakata gives a mildly respectful nod to the other individuals in the room, who aren't officers in the Student Council but are still valued members. His bruise throbs but he ignores it in favor of sitting down with a steaming cup of green tea, handed to him by Seri. He settles into his usual chair and prepares to listen to the report.

His first hint that something is wrong is that odd tone in Akiyama's voice. As the words pour from the other's lips, the dark haired senior finds himself furrowing his brow in thought and displeasure. The frown on his lips deepens and his eyes narrow as he processes the new information. What he's hearing isn't good at all, and when Akiyama gets to the part about an orphanage Munakata stops drinking from his tea. An orphan, huh?

It doesn't even stop at that. The mention of those devastating drugs has him dragging a hand over his face before dropping it into his lap. His other hand is clenching his cup of tea. Seri watches him carefully, because she knows his feelings on the subject, but her head whips to the side in shock when Andy drops that last bomb.

There's a sudden noise, the loud clinking of porcelain shards as they fall to the floor. Munakata's eyes are wide and he hasn't realized that he just shattered his tea cup. Blood is slowly dropping down his fingers and steam is rising from the spilled drink.

Dead. Fushimi's childhood friend is dead, and recently so. There are a lot of things that make sense now, and now his mind is racing a mile a minute. Belatedly, he glances down at the remains of his cup and asks, with surprising steadiness, "Is there anything else you've yet to mention, Akiyama-kun, Doumyouji-kun?"

Akiyama hadn't even begun to realize that suddenly his own sort of "boss" would... react this way? That shattered tea cup was right on the ground, broken into pieces- completely destroyed. It was rare for him to see this sort of destruction from someone as regal as Munakata, although he just simply cleared his throat.

"We looked some medical records, and most have been sealed except for this one... occurrence. It happened when he was ten- apparently he got into a fight with a child at the orphanage because he beat up Yata-kun. Saruhiko broke a model plane he made and shoved the pieces down the kid's throat." Akiyama added, looking a bit disturbed as he restated the information.

"He was admitted to a mental hospital for rehabilitation, but most don't think it worked." Doumyouji added, although Akiyama just sighed in response. "That's all we could gather, per say. There is more information, but we feel like it should be given to you not by us. We did survey a lot of students, and many have quite the consensus about this Fushimi. Can I ask why you're so interested?" Akiyama asked lightly, hoping that his sort of "King" would reply.

That was where Andy stepped in to say something. "Most kids say Yata-kun was very heavily involved in HOMRA, the gang in the school. Saruhiko apparently joined but was so possessive he wouldn't let his friend stay for too long. There's been a shift between the group and the bluet now, and some people say that it's Fushimi's obsessiveness was the reason behind his best friend's death-" He was then cut off by a sharp elbow to his ribs, which caused him to sputter and cough.

And the two stared at Munakata, hoping for a reaction.

He broke his favorite cup without even thinking about it. It wasn't as if he had a momentary rush of emotions, but rather a gradual buildup of distracting thoughts. In the midst of connecting the dots and forming conclusions, his growing realizations had simply caused him to forget what he was doing. Under the strain of intensely constant and uneven pressure, it had cracked until it couldn't hold shape anymore.

Crack, crack. The shattered shards fall to the floor as they slip between his bloody fingers. Munakata supposes that there's surely something symbolic to be appreciated right now, but he doesn't care.

"Mental hospital..." The thought of someone so young already being admitted to such a place is disquieting. Was it necessary? Probably not; it's likely no one was willing to pay for an orphan's transportation and therapy sessions. Implications and doubts. He exchanges a glance with Seri in silent communication, and she sketches a bow before moving to complete her new task. He then refocuses on the two that are speaking.

Bringing his uninjured hand to readjust his glasses, Munakata ponders Akiyama's question. His mind flashes to an old memory and a word slips out, "Instinct? No... A proclivity?"

His train of thought is interrupted by Andy, and he frowns again at the mention of HOMRA. That trouble-making, delinquent group; that does not bode well, especially since they are both violently inclined.

Fushimi's obsessiveness with this Yata Misaki is a highly likely cause for the degradation of his health now, as well. Without his central, living emotional crutch, the other's life has probably fallen apart. The reason why the other has repulsed all of his overtures of friendship is becoming clear. Plus, this theory that Fushimi might be partially responsible...

"What do you mean, Doumyouji-kun?" Munakata's eyes flash with a steely edge as he seeks answers.

What did he mean? Akiyama sort of bit at his lip, rolling it against his front teeth as he tried to come up with an explanation... It was mostly rumoured but had actually been confirmed by HOMRA itself. The spiky haired teen didn't say anything, but instead it was Andy who decided to run his mouth yet again without thinking.

"Apparently, there's this confirmation that on the night of his death, Fushimi had stolen Yata-kun's phone and texted a girl that he really liked and called her every name in the book and Yata-kun found out. They had an argument, and witnesses remember seeing Yata-kun on a skateboard while Fushimi on a bike behind him. And then a transport truck came out of nowhere, and struck Yata-kun..."

There was this awkward pause though, and that's when Akiyama finally stepped in. "Police reported that Fushimi wouldn't let go of Yata-kun, even though he was just covered in blood. The paramedics had to knock him unconscious due to the amount of stress and anguish he was under..." Geez, this guy had it really, really rough- and suddenly the green haired teen felt bad for ever complaining about his overbearing parents.

Although, Andy did decide to run him mouth again- just because he didn't truly understand. "What surprises you about the mental hospital- the guy seems like a crazed psychopath- whenever he walks into a room it gets ten times colder-" And that's when Akiyama slammed the ball of his foot straight into the ginger's toes, causing him to yelp and shove at the other teen.

Munakata exhales, trying to relieve this uneasy feeling building in his chest as he listens. While Andy needs to, sooner or later, reign in his rash tendencies, at the moment his inability to keep quiet is actually very informative. The situation is worse than he thought. He is quite sure Fushimi, on some level, blames himself for the other's death, and adding to the fact that the second year had witnessed it happening and seen the body.

-One thing that bothers him however...

"And no one thought to give him counseling?" Munakata closes his eyes, as if trying not to see the incompetence written all over this. Knowing Fushimi, the second year probably refused and didn't show up to sessions… but to have not pursued it is an occupational and moral disgrace.

Seri steps closer and settles down with a first aid kid in her hands, even though she's clearly at least a bit shaken by this. Her clear blue gaze settles on his hand and she speaks quietly, "President.. this happened during the break. I doubt many people knew. Being in HOMRA, a hospitalization or long absence from class is nothing out of the ordinary… the fact that Yata-kun is still in the student registry…" She trails off, but her point is communicated. Things will have to be rectified.

He feels a spike of irritation when Andy speaks unthinkingly, though his expression doesn't change. He still manages to convey his displeasure; voice is strangely mild when he replies, "Thank you for your input, Doumyouji-kun. But as you are not a qualified professional, please refrain from making your own diagnosis. Observations and conclusions clouded by perceptual set are often far from accurate."

Thinking back, perhaps his earlier words about having nothing to live for were very much on the mark. That certainly seems to be the case, what with the blatant self-neglect going on. Signs of grief, he supposes, but not healthy at all.. and while no two people grieve the same way or at the same pace, he knows this isn't how it should be. Fushimi's issues run deeper than he expected, but despite everything Munakata believes they are not impossible to set straight.

"…Akiyama-kun," he says after a long moment of silence. "What was Homra's reaction to this?"

"Sir, he's refused any and all counseling services provided by the school." Akiyama immediately replied, as if he was just waiting for Munakata to say something. Of course though, Fushimi never showed up, and even on the days that he has appointments the bluet still didn't appear. It was truly, truly irritating...

He blinked when Awashima says something, and that's when he immediately decides to try and do work for her. She's ... just so pretty- he almost feels compelled to do so. "A-Awashima-s-san... I'll fix the registration problem." Akiyama croaked, hoping that he didn't exactly sound like some stupid frog- well at least his voice didn't crack.

"Homra's reaction to the death of their vanguard?" Doumyouji asked, incredulously as his spiky haired friend cleared his throat. "Furious, sir. Rumor has it that Fushimi was actually going to be banned from the funeral by Homra's law, but he showed up anyway. They were about three seconds away from a fight, but Fushimi said nothing and just stayed at Misaki's grave until he passed out..." Well, that's what they heard wasn't it? With a long, long sigh, Akiyama felt the strong need to choke down a few cups of coffee.

Munakata simply purses his lips at the other's reply, because he's already seen that coming, having grasped Fushimi's uncooperative nature from his previous interactions. The fact doesn't change, however, that the second year needs help... quite possibly a lot of it.

There's a sort of feeling inside of him, which compels him to feel a professional's touch isn't what's needed. That it's too impersonal.. and a stray emotion, a whisper of a thought tugs at his core. He can try it. And perhaps this time, when he himself reaches out to someone else, he can actually succeed.

Seri glances up from her position and nods curtly at the stuttering Akiyama, a faint look of approval in her icy eyes as she replies, "I'll leave that to you, then."

"-So Homra blames Fushimi-kun for Yata Misaki's death," The dark haired senior frowns again, steepling his bandaged fingers together and musing to himself, "This spells for a troubling state of affairs. I have no doubt that one way or another, they will end up clashing with one another.. and considering the nature of both, it'll be a violent sort of altercation."

He can feel a headache coming on. This is not what he needs at the moment, but in the interest of the safety of the student body, as well as his own feelings.

"Akiyama-kun, Doumyouji-kun," Munakata says, his voice carrying the weight of an authority that refuses to be ignored, "I have a new job for you two. I want you to monitor the school security cameras and report the actions and movements of all of Homra's members. Should they come into contact with Fushimi-kun, let me know immediately."

Akiyama blinked once, then twice as he watched the other nervously. What could they do now? In his opinion, they should have just let the other go, let Fushimi run himself into the ground. It was easier this way, but he could understand why Munakata was outstretching a hand- or at least trying. It was admiral, at least, but he didn't really know what to do at this point.

Andy also stood there, still sort of contemplating his own words until Munakata also spoke. In fact, it was different though, because at first he spoke just to Akiyama, then to apparently the two of them, then to them again- they were assigned a new job. Andy sighed, all he wanted to do was to go home and game, but he supposed that would have to wait... unfortunately.

"We can do that, sir. And we understand your precaution. Is there anything else you'd like us to find- perhaps the rest of his medical records, we could even give you his current address if you so choose to visit after school. Besides, the day here ends in ten minutes, perhaps you should assess him one more time before deciding anything... major?" It was just a suggestion of course, the last thing he wanted to do was to push his own ideas his Student Council President.

Andy just nodded along too, although the idea of Fushimi and Homura colliding. It just seems... dangerous and plain scary. Quietly, he swallowed down whatever pride he had, and nodded along with Akiyama. Yeah, of course he'd help...?

Munakata receives the offer of further help with some surprise, and the smallest of smirks appears, hidden behind his threaded fingers. It seems there's promise yet for this one, if he's so willing to take the initiative in such a careful manner. He waves the brief thought away, though, because it's not the time for that.

"Thank you," he acknowledges as he glances down at the desk in front of him, a contemplative look on his face, "His medical records could be helpful. Have them ready in case there arises a need in the near future. As for his address, I don't believe I have enough justification to take that step yet... it's still early. We will wait on that until things become clearer. I shall make a decision then."

The dark haired senior untangles his fingers and sits up, raising his head to look at both of his newer members. His purple eyes hold a warning. "To confirm, if a confrontation between Fushimi Saruhiko and HOMRA does occur, you are not to intervene. I will not have any of my subordinates endanger themselves unnecessarily. Notify me. I'll be the one to go out and settle things. Understand?"

He would be blind not to see the fear in Doumyouji's eyes.

A movement next to him reminds Munakata of his Vice President's presence. The almost affronted look in her eyes gives him pause and he feels a flare of amusement at her reaction.

"Should things get ugly, I am counting on you to do what you do best, Awashima-kun." The look only eases a little bit, but now she's more resigned than disapproving, and he can move on to other things.

"With this, we may call it a day," Munakata declares, picking up Fushimi's folder and thumbing through it again. "Akiyama-kun, Doumyouji-kun, you are free to leave. Your new duties start tomorrow."

Well, this could potentially be dangerous. Akiyama glances to the side, seeing Domyouji biting at his lip nervously, although he relaxes a bit when the spiky haired teen nudges him. The thank you was at least nice, but Akiyama knew he had to keep digging for his Captain. Of course though, he could not disappoint. "I promise to dig up as much as I can." He added, voice clear as he glanced to Awashima, blinking once, then twice before looking away.

Not to intervene? Andy is so close, so close to objecting but maybe for once, the ginger just sort of ... stopped and listened. Maybe if he kept his mouth shut, everything would work out a bit better. "Understood." They both replied, almost at the same time- and that seemed to calm the ginger a bit more entirely.

Awashima was spoken too after that, which made the green haired teen uncomfortable- but it didn't matter at this part now. Quietly, he nodded and dragged out Domyouji- his nervousness still acting up of course. He did hear some jokes from the red head, but this was not his concern now.

What if Fushimi did do something...

It was three days later when Saruhiko returned back to classes, or at least onto the grounds. He was a wreck to say the least, as he had gone on a three day binge of heroin, abused it beyond recognition. He knew he had to at least attend one day without gaining suspicion- so here he was. More frazzled than ever, his usually spiky hair lying flat against his face for some reason- instead of poofing out like a cat.

His clothes were a hot mess, to put it nicely. His sleeves were rolled up just to cover his elbows, those little pierced holes in his skin from that dreaded needle that controlled his life now. The brown shoes he wore were only semi-tied, his pants at least on his legs and he even neglected to wear his tie- just the white collared shirt and dark gray vest. How boring, how ugly...

Hey, just like him.

It was pathetic in a way, that he'd listen to that one voice that tempts him a little too much and causes those injections to last for hours- letting the fear and hatred and self-loathing leave his entire body and he filled with happiness and almost love? No, love was impossible for him, well now it was.

Saruhiko's main goal at this point was to just try and avoid Munakata- avoid that creepy senior with a passion. Although, he'd rather run into Munakata than Homra, since he had heard the rumors of their restlessness. Quietly, he yawned and rubbed at his eyes underneath his glasses, trying to massage his overly tired eyes to wake up.

Well, at least it was lunch time, which means he was already up on his favourite perch after taking the long route there- to avoid the Student Council and apparent sworn enemies. A lot of thoughts plagued him, what if he just... jumped off the top of the roof? Would he hit something- probably just the first floor roof- and die instantly? That'd be a nice death, to die like Misaki did: without pain.

Although, sharing traits of a masochist and a sadist made your slowly planning suicide a bit harder than it should be.

Another day, another morning. Munakata straightens the sleeves of his uniform and puts on his necktie, pausing when he spies something out of the corner of his eye... something that he hadn't paid attention to in a long time. Walking over to his bookshelf, he reaches up and brings down an old wooden frame. A picture of himself, only much younger, with a very old man next to him, rests inside.

He gently brushes the dust off the glass cover with his pale fingers, his touch lingering at the edge. It's been a while since he's looked at this, and at the thought his gaze turns more purposeful. For a moment he just stands there before putting the frame back and leaving for school.

When he arrives Munakata gets right to work on the piles of forms that had piled up in the last few days, but his mind is also juggling the issue of one Fushimi Saruhiko.

"President," Awashima Seri's voice cuts into his haze of council responsibilities and word after word of meaningless formalities. He glances up, welcoming the brief respite. "Just a little while ago, when delivering papers to the Principal, I spotted that second year, Fushimi Saruhiko."

"Fushimi-kun?" the dark haired senior leans back and gives her his full attention, because the person in question has been gone for three days after their last interaction... and this gives him a strange feeling of unease. "How did he look?"

"Yes," she confirms, "And, President, I think it would be wise if you were to see his condition for yourself."

That... did not bode very well at all. She's taken that clinical tone of voice again, the one that reveals how detached she's making herself as she says it. Munakata frowns, a downward tug to his lips, before he stands up and moves to the door. "I see... I'll be taking your advice, Awashima-kun. Since it's lunch now, he should be on the roof. Please take care of things while I'm gone. Should Akiyama-kun or Doumyouji-kun report something, forward it to my PDA immediately."

With that, he slips out of the office and makes for the nearest staircase.

Saruhiko blinks once, then twice as quietly as possible- it's like he's a ghost now. He's withering away, making sure to try and leave no footprint behind. The bluet is currently sitting on the ground, in the corner of the metal fence that only covers half of the roof. He could so easily stand himself up and throw himself over.

But that'd be messy. And he doesn't want to die in a messy fashion.

Maybe he'll die in a more peaceful way- or at least pretend too. A drug overdose could be it, just make him seem like he's some ridiculous junkie from the streets and purposefully make it seem like it's an entire lie. Maybe he could drown himself- but the human body reacts in such situations.

He quietly thinks of death, so then he can be with his Misaki.

Meanwhile, Akiyama gets a strange text from his PDA- one from Awashima. His heart immediately flutters, and it goes to ridiculous scenarios where the cold Ice Queen's heart melts for him in some poetic fashion. He immediately looks, only finding a report that Fushimi was back.

And this was his time to keep an eye on Homra. As soon as they'd figure it out, find out where he was, there could be some serious problems. And whatever interest Munakata holds for Fushimi... Well, let's just say that it may even be hurt a little bit more than it should. With that, the green haired male immediately texts Domyouji- making sure that his partner in crime could know what they had to look out for.

It's an admittedly frustrating journey for Munakata, as he's stopped on the way to the stairs a couple times by his peers and once by a teacher. After offering his customary greetings he smoothly exits the conversations with practiced ease, continuing on his way. Eventually he reaches his goal, slowing his brisk walk to a calmer one as he approaches the door to the roof.

For a second he pauses before it, hand hovering over the precipice of something he can't define. A slow, almost grim smile spreads onto his lips and he swiftly turns the door knob, swinging the door open. The bright light of the afternoon sun is momentarily blinding, but the pleasant breeze is only a faint memory. There's hardly a stir in the air.

Munakata easily spots Fushimi at one edge of the roof, and begins to walk closer. "Ahh, Fushimi-kun, it's nice of you to show up today. You've been-!"

He stops about a meter away, his words cutting off abruptly as he look over the other with much more focus, in shocking detail. What utter disarray, and the word is so much more mild than the truth of what he sees. Fushimi looks a lot worse than usual, and that's saying something. The dark haired senior feels the beginnings of a deeply rooted anger grow in his chest at the sight. It's still buried, but sooner or later...

"What's this.." Munakata moves another foot forward, angling his head down to address his underclassman. "Three days and you look more than three times worse... What do you think you're doing to yourself?"

Saruhiko at first doesn't even bother to turn his head- and in fact he doesn't. It's like a delayed reaction, on purpose however, but when he sees Munakata he scrunches his nose and turns his head away again. Well, this was not the person he ideally wanted to see, but maybe it can work out...

Hah, that's funny.

Three days? Ah, so was this creep taking notes- how endearing, if it wasn't so weird. Why did he care? Why did someone, an outside no less, suddenly give two shits about him. And he didn't think he looked that bad- his diet really did consist of some fruit, a lot of junk food and heroin: what could make him look better? Quitting his addiction? No, impossible- he needed that heroin: it improved his life. That's all that mattered: being high.

"Doing what to myself?" He replied, voice hollow as he instinctively pulled his rolled up sleeves down, at least past his elbow- he had forgotten about the one little injection site that was more in the middle of his arm than near his elbow; the joint. Of course he played it off like it was nothing and he tried to put up that familiar arrogant smirk but little did he know that it was cracking at this point.

It was cracking into millions of ready to shatter pieces, and he didn't even notice.

Munakata does not appreciate the other's deliberate obtuseness, because the proof, the outcome, the indisputable result is right in front of him. All he has to do is look, and not even that hard. It is impossible to ignore, like a flashing neon sign that warns of a crash on the road. The other's voice is as empty as his body looks and his heart most likely feels.

"I'm quite sure you know what I mean," the dark haired senior replies flatly, his eyes narrowing a tiny fraction behind white frames. "But for time's sake I'll get straight to the point. That mask you've been using as a shield has seen newer days, better upkeep. Such an emotional armor is only as good as the person behind it, and right now you're falling apart."

The obvious condition, the lack of care for hiding, the predictable location... it's almost like an unconscious plea for help.

"What's your goal in doing all of this to yourself? Why this slow, living death? And, perhaps, the thing that's bothering me most is... Why won't you let me help?"

Things he can probably never understand on his own.

He stoops a little, his lips pressed together in a line and his eyes scanning the other. His gaze slows around the area he'd seen Fushimi try to cover, a brief glimpse making him stop and doubt. Evidence of...

Munakata lowers on one knee and reaches out, needing confirmation.

Why. Why was this happening to him? Saruhiko finishes rolling his sleeves down as he listens to Munakata, and he has no idea why he knows so much when he's said nothing. What the hell?! He… he didn't even tell Munakata his own issues- why was he figuring this out? It was unfair to him entirely that this bastard had snuck around his life and found all this… this…

Truth.

This truth stung, it hurt, it burned and it ruined everything right now. Why, why, why- this was still not adding up at all. In a showing of aggressiveness, he slapped Munakata's hand away, and stumbled and pushed himself back up onto his feet, now realizing that in many ways he was cornered.

"How dare you assume that my life is so bad- I wear no such thing as some... mask! I have no armor at all- don't you get it?! You're making all this shit up because you want to justify stalking me." He accused, easily sliding lie after lie after lie. "And who cares if I want to die- why can't you let me?!" Saruhiko shrieked, voice actually leaving that monotone setting and lifting itself to something higher, something angrier.

Although he did realize this was an entire scene he was creating, but he didn't even care.

Munakata feels a sharp sting on the side of his hand as it's knocked away, and he finds himself diverting his attention to the almost vulnerable look on the other's face. For some reason, the entirety of the situation is mind achingly raw to him, and his own mask of composure starts to peel away, as if in response to Fushimi's rapidly crumbling one. The air is charged and tense, unpredictable and thus potentially catastrophic in the dramatic sense.

Lies and an admission. Words that both of them know to be utterly false echo in the still air of the rooftop while the carelessly thrown phrase 'I want to die' hammers inside of the dark haired senior's chest. So that's it, is it? Fushimi wants to die. That's the reason for what's been eating at him. Knowing this, this piece of the puzzle, of the jigsaw that is Fushimi Saruhiko... does not fill Munakata with the normal satisfaction he gets when fitting pieces together to make a picture.

Far, far from it.

Something white and searing jumps in his gut, like the strike of an errant lightning bolt. In the face of the other's distressed accusations, he remains firm even as he fists his hands tightly, nails biting into flesh with the effort.

"You are the one that refuses to, as you say, get it," he retorts, his countenance rather stormy. The deep seated anger is building, and he's not quite sure if he can stop it anymore. "You're the one that's making things up, trying to delude yourself. Let me spell it out for you, Fushimi-kun. Dying is not the solution to anything, and if you think I'll simply watch as you let yourself go like this you are greatly mistaken."

Munakata has this determined look on this face, a sort of fierce promise reflected in it.

"Who cares?! I do, you fool. For all your brains you might as well be empty headed!"

"Dying is my only fucking solution- you twat!" His voice is raised, and he's on the defensive now, but what else does he have left to defend? "You didn't even know who I was until you decided to look through some papers or talk to the principal! You wouldn't have even known anything about me! I'd already be dead by now!"

For a minute, he stopped himself from going any further, although he was even more enraged by the idea of Munakata calling him, essentially, stupid. "Fuck you. I don't care how much you think you know about me, you'll never understand me and by the time you do I hope to God I'm dead."

With that, the second year briskly walked around the other, and he was not holding back the tears.

Why, for the first time in his whole life, was someone offering to help? It made no sense to him, because most would push him away like the dirty street rat he used to be- although the treatment wasn't any better when people suspected a drug addiction. Fuming, he made his way down the stairs and headed into the courtyard, hopefully to cut passed any teachers or council members on duty so he could leave.

And that's when he was spun around and punched in the face.

Immediately, he backed away, holding his nose blooding nose as he realized who the culprit was. "Chitose, you hit like a girl." He hissed, although he barely had time to dodge that second punch. Suddenly, a circle was formed around them, consisting mostly of Homra members. "Yeah, says the fairy himself," he shot back, earning a few snickers from some of the bystanders.

"Leave me alone." He replies as his voice flattens and appearing unanimated in general- his voice was steady, in a monotone voice that made Chitose scoff. "You punched me, so why don't we settle this?" With the crack of his knuckles, the two tangled themselves in an already escalating fight.

Munakata doesn't say anything while the other rants at him, eyes trained upon the second year in that same piercing stare. The words that are flung between them seem like poor attempts at changing the subject, as if the other is latching onto anything he can possibly use to switch the focus off of himself. A defensive maneuver that has little effect on someone like the Student Council President.

"Isn't that how most people meet? Not knowing each other at all.." his comment, like a sigh on the wind, falls on lone ears. The other is already out the door to the roof, moisture lingering in the air where Fushimi had passed.

It may be presumptuous of him, but the emotional outburst is almost like a challenge. If he does end up understanding Fushimi, and the other isn't yet dead... what then? The answer is something Munakata can't afford to find.

He takes a few minutes to lock away that budding anger, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He doesn't want to worry Seri. She is very observant when it is the least convenient for him, and she hasn't seen him truly lose his temper yet. He manages to compose himself, his normal cool expression returning, when his PDA begins to ring.

The beat that dwells in the serene universe.

The sound of order is played-

"Yes?" the tone cuts off as Munakata answers. A pause. Then in a sudden, compulsive move his fingers tighten around the electronic, his eyes widening as he listens. His head whips to the side to trace the path that Fushimi took not ten minutes ago with his gaze. "-What did you say?!"

It appears the thing he feared has indeed occurred. This will not end well at all, and the thought makes him square his shoulders in preparation for what he'll probably have to do.

The dark haired senior exits the roof and takes to the stairs as fast as his feet will carry him, still holding the PDA to his ear. The tone of his voice is remarkably calm and in control. "Explain the situation to me. Quickly."

Akiyama's voice is rushed, because he's on the first floor and he's just staring at the fight that's already unfolded. Shit shit shit- this was just…! The green haired teen felt that anxiety rise in him, and even cringed when Andy took a punch straight to the side of the face for trying to intervene…. Whoops.

And that by no means did it imply Saruhiko was losing- because he wasn't. They were tied in a way, where Chitose's lip had been split and Saruhiko's glasses had already been thrown off his face- and not voluntary. The two were clearly angered, although it was more of Chitose seething this red hot flame, and it looked like in some sadistic and almost masochistic way, that Saruhiko was enjoying it. He was enjoying the rush that came with it, the adrenaline and the very idea of getting to fuck around with someone who hated him.

Although his excitement came crashing down when he got a sudden kick to the stomach, which allowed Chitose to use said foot to keep the bluet on his back- and maybe Saruhiko mixed up the different emotions of surprise and fear in this situation, as he gave Chitose a seemingly blank expression.

By the time he registered which he felt, Chitose was simply straddling him, taking turns with each of his fists to slam them into the side of Saruhiko's face. That didn't stop Saruhiko from fighting back though, and that's when the bluet started to thrash about, regardless if he had a bit of a harder time to fight back with someone being on top of him.

Akiyama's voice is rushed, because he's on the first floor and he's just staring at the fight that's already unfolded. Shit shit shit- this was just…! The green haired teen felt that anxiety rise in him, and even cringed when Andy took a punch straight to the side of the face for trying to intervene…. Whoops.

By the time he registered which he felt, Chitose was simply straddling him, taking turns with each of his fists to slam them into the side of Saruhiko's face. That didn't stop him though, and that's when the bluet started to fight back, regardless if he had a bit of a harder time to fight back with someone being on top of him.

Soon, even though Saruhiko's head is dizzy and he can barely see, he can feel the specs of blood dotting his face- and he knows it's not his blood that's spilling. He doesn't even seem to notice Akiyama, who's watching from a window and telling everything, everything to Munakata; like a play-by-play.

The situation changes, however, when Saruhiko punches Chitose straight in the crotch, which gives him time to throw the brunet off him and stumble to stand. When he did, he gasped for breath, and smirked at the brunet. And this is where he's already bored, and the megane decides to try something new and that was to casually pull a small switchblade from his pocket.

"If you want a fight, then you can have one." He purrs, too calm for this entire scene, and some people gasp because of the very sight of said knife. With that, Chitose just smirks and pulls out a similar one, this one engraved with that Homra insignia- the one Saruhiko hates so fucking much. "Might as well join you, then." Chitose replies, smirking as he finally stands himself back up, and they stare each other down for a few seconds.

And then the two are locked back, slashing at the air and trying to do the most damage with the thinnest, or thickest, cut.

And that's when Akiyama practically drops his PDA and practically loses his monotone voice and seemingly apathetic temperament- as he's on the verge of screaming at Munakata to quote unquote, "Get the fuck down here!"

Munakata's taking the stairs almost three at a time, not really stopping for a second and moving like a blue flash against the grey walls and tiles. He grabs the bannister at the second landing and uses it to swing himself onto the next flight of stairs without slowing down at all. He's still on call with Akiyama, and if he strains he can hear the sounds of the fight, a background commotion signaling numbers and violence aplenty.

Gritting his teeth, the dark haired senior practically leaps to the ground level hallway below as he clears the last few steps. He barely spares a moment to drop the call and stow away his PDA, cutting the last uncharacteristic yell off mid-sentence, before he's out the entrance doors and into the courtyard.

What he sees makes something heavy and unnervingly cold just drop inside of him. There's a whole bunch of HOMRA members in a circle, like a cage of writhing fire. He's about 3 meters away from the fight, and the telltale silver arcs of light he can glimpse from behind the bodies lets him know that things just got a lot more dangerous.

The adrenaline he's running on now will help him get through this, which is good because he has to stop this, and quick, lest something irreversible happen. With only a quick glance at a familiar red head on the side, Andy Doumyouji, who now sports a massive bruise, he takes a steadying breath and straightens up.

His glasses are tucked away. He has one pen, one pencil, and a pair of chopsticks on his person right now, and he will use them if he has to. Creatively. But only as a last resort.

"Excuse me," Munakata says with forced nonchalance, placing a hand on the shoulder of the nearest member of HOMRA. With his monstrous strength, he just tosses the guy aside, knocking over a couple others and clearing a path toward the center. "If you would so kindly get the fuck out of my way-"

"-Chitose! Fushimi! Put away your weapons, NOW!"