notes: Huge thanks to Fab (fabulousanima on tumblr) for betaing this for me! It was super appreciated and definitely needed.
I hope everyone enjoys this as much as I have enjoyed writing it~
got a boy in the war
chapter two
The first thing Tsubaki does every single morning is make Masamune's lunch.
It's not because he can't, because she knows her brother is very capable of making one, it's just that if she doesn't, he'll pack it full of sugary, awful snacks. It also helps her feel useful; since the mornings are the only time they really get to spend together.
She is in the middle of fitting his sandwich nicely between an apple and a fiber one bar when her brother enters the kitchen, looking bleary. "It's a school day?"
"Wednesday, actually," Tsubaki smiles at him, pushing the warm cup of tea toward him. "Are you that out of it? How late did you work last night?"
Masamune takes the tea gratefully, sipping it. "When did you make this? It's the perfect temperature."
"Don't change the subject," she chastises quietly, putting his lunch in the fridge. She turns back to him and gives him the face Maka calls "the Mom Look". He shrinks under it accordingly, and scratches a hand through his long hair. When he doesn't say anything, she lifts her hands to her hips. "Mas-a-mu-ne."
He rolls his eyes at her and shrugs, "I got back at one, went to sleep at three."
"Why are you awake!?" Tsubaki asks, shocked that he'd managed to drag himself out of bed this early. But then, she also knows that while she makes his lunch every morning, he wakes up to see her off. As it is, he rubs a hand over his tired face, peeking at her through spread fingers.
"Stop nagging."
"I'm not nagging!"
The rest of the morning passes by quickly enough and by the time she's ready to leave, he's waiting by the door with her back pack in hand. "Do you have tutoring tonight?"
"Yes, but I'll be home by five-thirty at the latest."
Masamune looks weary, but he hands her her bag with little reluctance. After a moment of hesitation, he pulls her close and presses a dry kiss to her temple. Tsubaki sinks into the familiar embrace and hugs him tightly. "Please be careful on your way home," Masamune finally says, pulling away and looking pointedly down the hallway.
Tsubaki nods, offering him a small smile before she leaves.
The walk to school is far, but the early morning breeze is usually enough to wake her up and start her day off well. If it's raining or unbearably hot, Masamune usually gives her a ride, but Tsubaki likes walking. It's time to think and time to herself, which she hasn't really had a lot of lately. Before, Tsubaki hadn't hung around Maka all that much—just occasional things, like a sleepover here, a movie there. They ate lunch together most days, but beyond that their friendship was more of an acquaintanceship. Ever since she'd begun tutoring Black Star, though, the three of them and Black Star's friend Soul had begun to hang around each other more often. Most nights Tsubaki isn't home until seven or eight, and by then she'd finishing the work she didn't on her spare. There isn't a whole lot of time to just breathe and think, so she revels in mornings like this.
She turns her iPod up louder as she walks, matching her steps to the beat of the bass in her ears. Walking to and from school is also a really good work out, and considering she doesn't have the time to get a gym membership, Tsubaki will take any chance at exercise she can get.
In her pocket, her phone vibrates a few times, probably Maka wondering if she's left already. Tsubaki doesn't reach for it, because she figures the girl could figure the answer out on her own, and instead begins to wonder if her teacher will actually go through with the science quiz this time, or if he's just bluffing. Stein is strange sometimes (most times) and never really tells them for sure when he's scheduling things, so Tsubaki has been struggling a bit. She's good at science and math, but when teachers are all over the place, she has issues. At least, however, Stein likes her and gives her looks when he says he's thinking about assigning something. Small mercies, she supposes.
Over the pounding of the drum in her ear, she hears something that sounds like a motorcycle engine and her thoughts about Stein and schools are immediately redirected to Black Star and the fact that his math mark has been improving steadily. Not that she'd expected any different, really, since the only reason he'd been in tutoring was to get caught up on what he'd missed last semester and where he'd gone wrong—all of which he could have learned in class, Tsubaki had realized the third week into tutoring him—and he was back on track, now. Mostly, the two of them spent the tutoring time after school talking about anything and everything, while he occasionally did math questions. Professor Barett had told her yesterday that after this week, she would be finished tutoring him.
This really sucks, because Tsubaki enjoys it now. Sure, Black Star can be loud and irritating and sometimes he's mean, but she likes talking to him and she…she thinks he likes talking to her. Or at least if he doesn't, he's a very good actor. She knows that telling him that they're finished with the tutoring would mean he'd go back to hanging around his club more often and probably stop hanging around her. And she doesn't want that—they've gotten to be friends over the past month, and the thought of throwing it away now would be…well it would be awful.
Tsubaki shakes her head, You're being stupid. He can do what he wants, and if he really decides to stop being your friend once this is done, then he's not worth it in the first place.
Still, it's almost like a part of her wants to find out if he'll leave once the tutoring is over. It's like a part of her wants to see if this is as genuine as she wants it to be.
Taking a deep breath to try and clear her thoughts, Tsubaki thinks stop. Breathe in. Breathe out. You're worth more than him, she tells herself, despite the fact that she doesn't really believe it. She could, of course, be blowing this completely out of proportion, but she also knows the reputation Black Star has with girls, and although they're not like…that…Tsubaki doesn't want to be just another girl he's thrown away.
So, she decides resolutely, she'll just continue to tutor him on her own time.
Black Star jolts back to awareness seconds before he spills his coffee, which is thankfully saved by Crona, who is not only being very nice and quiet this morning, but is also making him eggs. What a guy. "Fuuuuck, man, I need to sleep earlier."
"Okay, Crona," Ragnarok mocks, leaning back on two chair legs. "Medusa makes him turn in at like ten because if he doesn't get his sleep he whines and pouts like a little bitch."
"B-but you always…you always keep me awake! Yelling at the TV, or at your phone, or—or watching that stuff on your laptop!"
"Wear earplugs."
"I-I can't, they bother my ears! And what if they end up stuck in there? What if they come out during the night and…and I accidentally eat one or-!"
"Shut up, man," Black Star complains, dropping his head into his hands. Aaaand, the annoying Crona is back. Sweet. Smells like his eggs are fucking burnt. He really hates mornings, but mostly he hates Ragnarok and Crona. They're Medusa's little bitches and think they can just trample all over his house and take over all this space and Black Star is not and will never be down for this shit. If he sees little pink hairs in the sink one more fucking time—
"Morning boys," Medusa sings, dampening Black Star's already waning mood. She smiles at the three of them pleasantly, sliding into the seat beside Ragnarok, who nods at her. "Crona, your eggs are burning."
The pink-haired boy lets out a strangled cry, turning to the stove, where Black Star's eggs are blackening. "O-oh! Darn it, what do I do?! Ragnarok!?"
With an aggrieved sigh, the bigger boy stands, making his way to the stove, where he grabs the pan, turns off the stove, and tosses the pan onto another, cool burner. "Just let 'em fuckin' cool, you retard."
"Boys, enough," Medusa chastises, tapping her fingernails on the table top. Her gaze is settled on him, and she tilts her head. "What's that on your neck?"
His lip curls involuntarily, and he raises a hand to rest against the hickey on his neck. "Would you believe I burned myself?"
"No."
"Then I think," he says, getting to his feet, "that you have your answer. Tell dad I'll be home late."
Medusa laughs, "Why? Another date?"
"No, I just don't like you, so the less I see of you, the better." His voice doesn't shake anymore when he tells her this, the same way he usually does, at least once a week. Medusa's eyebrow raises, and both Crona and Ragnarok pretend like nothing has happened. Same old, same old. "Have a nice day," he says finally, because his dad always told him that it's the nice way of saying go fuck yourself after insulting or yelling at someone.
Medusa's smirk follows him from the room, and Black Star has the vague sense that maybe he didn't win this one.
Maka huffs angrily, glaring at Soul for all she's worth. If Tsubaki weren't her friend, she might have laughed. Or, if she were the type of friend Black Star is, she would be cackling to the point of falling over. "Maka…you have ketchup on your neck."
It looks like she might actually pass out from sheer rage—and she hasn't even said anything yet—so Tsubaki reaches over and wipes the ketchup away for her. "I'm sure Soul didn't mean to…"
Soul is actually watching with a mixture of terror and humour, eyes alight. He is actually very cute, Tsubaki decides, watching the way Maka's eyes narrow and her own fingers tighten around the plastic fork she'd grabbed. She wonders if Maka argues with him because she thinks so too. Is this like one of those grade school crushes? Surely nobody can fight as much as the two of them do without feeling something.
Well, she'll have to ask her later. Right now, Black Star is tugging her out of the booth and onto the chair beside the booth, far enough away that being caught in the crossfire is a slim chance, but close enough that they can see what happens. Lunch has only just begun, so they have thirty more minutes to watch it all unfold. Currently, Soul is finishing laughing; fingers still ketchup-y from throwing the fry. "Your face is so red!"
Maka makes an enraged noise, launching into a long-winded tirade of just what an idiot Soul is, and what his mother should have done when he was a child to ensure that he'd never become so goddamn stupid. Tsubaki barely restrains herself from laughing, because when Maka is angry, she is angry, all glittering eyes and spitting. Black Star must agree, because he's leaning his head on her shoulder, wheezing as he laughs. "Christ, man. Maka you're too goddamn much!"
She turns her glare on them, mouth open to yell, but she is cut short when three girls slide into Tsubaki and Black Star's line of sight, blocking Maka. Tsubaki opens her mouth to ask them to please move, but the snotty look on the middle girl's face—Anya Hepburn, if Tsubaki remembers correctly, a year younger than them—stops her from saying anything.
Black Star flinches beside her, and then he leans back in his own chair, grinning up at the girls. At least the other two look pleasant enough. "What can I do for you, Anna?"
"Anya," the girl corrects, hands on her hips. The fight behind the three girls has dwindled either into a silent one or nothing at all. "Can I talk to you?" Her eyes dart to Tsubaki, narrowing, before they slide back to Black Star. Her foot is tapping, and Tsubaki thinks this is what a mean girl looks like, which is sad, because she's awful pretty.
Black Star snorts, "I'm kind of busy."
Anya turns to look at Tsubaki fully this time, eyeing her from her sneakers to her ponytail. Tsubaki tugs her sweater tighter around herself, frowning. "Are you, now?"
When she turns back to him, Tsubaki sees the small frown in his face, matching her own. Does this girl think that they…? Tsubaki snorts despite herself, unwittingly turning another glare on herself. Damn. "What the hell are you laughing at? You're the same as me."
"She's cuter," Black Star says unnecessarily, and Tsubaki shoots him a look, hoping he can pick up what she's putting down. She doesn't know if this girl is the fighting type, but Tsubaki really cannot fight her.
Thankfully for her, Anya seems more the scathing comment type than the scrappy type, and all she does is laugh very loudly at him. "You said you'd call me."
He grins cheekily. "I say that to most girls."
Tsubaki thinks she understands the look that crosses over Anya's face. It's hurt and confused, and she knows that this girl isn't as bad as Tsubaki thinks she is. She just…was lead on by Black Star, it seems, and had expected something to come out of it. Tsubaki doesn't think that she's wrong, and clearly she doesn't know Black Star that well. She's seen him angry, but this was mean.
Anya doesn't stick around much longer—she asks him to talk privately once more, but when he says no, she leaves the diner, and by then, they only have five minutes left of lunch.
Maka and Soul are back to glaring at each other, but none of the anger from before is there. Black Star seems much more subdued than before too, so she stands, grabbing her garbage. "I'm going to head over to my next class. I'll see you after school, Black Star?"
"Sure," he nods, while Soul and Maka wave their good-byes. She walks away as quickly as she can without it seeming obvious, passing Anya on her way inside. The girl's eyes are red rimmed, and Tsubaki feels sick.
Black Star gets the text around three, and he nearly says no because Mifune asked so last minute. The grade school isn't that far from the high school, but it's still out of his goddamn way and he also doesn't have a bike. This, in hindsight is probably why Mifune asked him. The last time he drove Angela around on the thing, the guy had nearly had a heart attack.
He laughs at the memory, startling Tsubaki from her science homework. "What?" They're sitting in the cafeteria today, to his utmost disgust. Only losers sit in the cafe, and even after school it's uncool. Thank god none of his friends hung around after two-thirty.
He loves hanging around the kid, but he feels kind of bad about ditching Tsubaki. Ever since the thing that happened with Anya a few days ago, things between them have been kind of awkward, and he'd thought they'd be cool today. At least she wasn't avoiding sitting next to him as much. He doesn't get what's wrong with her, with the whole thing, but he's been assured by Soul that girls are weird like that, especially girls who are your friends.
"Gotta go," he says, slipping off the bench and gathering his crap. "I gotta pick up someone."
The furrow in her eyebrows smooth out nicely, and she smiles, gathering her own things. "That's alright, then. Which way are you walking?"
"I'm going out the east doors. So your way, I guess."
"Want to walk together?"
He accidentally stabs himself with the lead of his pencil, "Uh—well I'm kind of in a hurry." Not that she walks slowly, but he figures if the two of them are walking together, they won't be speed walking. And all the same, Angela hates new people. Or rather, she hates Black Star when other people are around and if he's gotta watch the brat until Mifune gets home; he'd rather do it with himself on her good side. "So maybe another time?"
Tsubaki looks a bit crestfallen, and he wonders if he should just tell her to come with him, but the look is gone before he can open his mouth. In its place is a smile and she shrugs. "Sure. I wanted to go to the store before I got home, anyway." It's a lie, and Black Star really feels like shit now. Great.
He nods, watching her for a second longer. When her smile doesn't falter, he shrugs. Girls are fuckin' weird.
Angela comes ripping out of the doors, the first kid in the school yard, and it only takes seconds before she is lost in the swarm that follows her. Hopefully she got a good look around before she was run over, because if not she'll be looking for Mifune, who will be nowhere in sight. Black Star tugs off his hood, hoping she'll spot his hair, at least. He knows (very grudgingly) that he is not the tallest.
It only takes a few minutes before she barrels into him, fingers grasping at his pant legs. "Ohmigod he's not here?!" Angela asks, blinking wide eyes up at him. Her cheeks are flushed from running around, and her hair is a frizzy mess. At least Mifune has gotten better at braiding it. "Does that mean pizza!?"
"Means he's gonna be late from work and yeah, probably picking up a pizza. Come on you little gremlin, I've been standing here for like, fifteen minutes."
Angela scowls at him, but reaches for his hand obediently. He grabs her tiny palm and starts to tug her down the sidewalk, just until they get out of the sea of adults and kids, and then he slows. Angela catches up easily and they begin the slow trek to her house. "How come you ain't come and seen us lately 'Star?"
He shrugs, pausing at a stop sign. "Dunno, 'cuz your dad didn't ask me to."
"Ya don't need to be asked." Angela is a very wise kid. He knows he doesn't need to be asked, but it's weird going to Mifune's house sometimes. The guy is a cop—one who knows everything the club goes, because he'd almost been a part of it—and hanging around him is awkward. It's always like there is something unspoken between them, and there is. Sometimes it's just…too much. It's probably why he hasn't been by to see Sid and Nygus lately, either. Too much bad juju. And his dad would be pissed.
Angela blathers on about her day and how she dominated at duck, duck, goose today in gym, but Black Star is only half listening, trying to remember the last time he'd been by Mifune's. Probably not since before Christmas, when he'd given Angela that stuffed frog. Now that he's thinking about it, it really does suck. While there is some tension and awkwardness, there is also that sense of belonging that comes with eating dinner at a kitchen table, with talking about your day and…well, shit, he doesn't mean to get sentimental.
He's not thinking at the next stop sign, and it's only because of the kid by his side that he doesn't get them run down by a truck. "Jesus," he mutters, feeling the wind whip past his face and his ear bleed at the loud honk of the truck's horn. Angela is yelling at him too, so he looks down at her. "That should be a secret. Our secret."
Her chest is heaving from her shrieking and there are tears in her eyes. "You're bad!" She yells again, scrubbing at her eye with one hand, while the other squeezes his. Holy shit, he thinks, searching around desperately to see if there are any nosy parents who would rat him out. He nearly got them killed and she's crying now. Thankfully, there is nobody around.
"Oh my god, Angela, stop," he hisses, squatting down in front of her. It's like she's angry crying and if it were any other time, he'd probably laugh his ass off. She's such a ham. "I'm fine, we're fine, everything is fine. I was just lost in thought."
"Dad says you can't think," Angela mutters, pouting at him. "Can you carry me?"
Rolling his eyes, Black Star turns his back to her, allowing her to scramble onto his back. She weighs hardly anything, but she always tugs his hair. "It's just in case ya get lost in thought again!" Angela yells when he complains after a particularly harsh tug. "I don't wanna get hit by no cars!"
Fifteen minutes later, they are sitting in her living room, colouring pictures from her Princess and the Frog colouring book. He even let her turn on the TV so she could watch the mentally scarring shows on Teletoon. He is a damn good babysitter, if he does say so himself. And he only has ten minutes or so left until Mifune gets off of work. He wonders if he's getting paid—this is time out of his day, after all, and Mifune is working overtime so he's getting paid overtime, so if he doesn't get paid he will not be impressed. Or, he at least better get dinner. Good dinner, too. So long as Mifune actually brings pizza, Black Star will be happy, though he wouldn't put it past the guy to bring tacos. Black Star fucking hates tacos.
Mifune gets home while he's colouring a picture of a cute girl with big tits, and the look he gives the two of them sitting at the coffee table is fond.
Black Star secretly thinks: this is how a father should look at you, and then feels incredibly awful for it after. His dad has been a lot…well nicer is not a word that one usually associates with his father, but he's been less shitty. In fact, it seems like he's actually taking Black Star seriously now. It might be because Mike fucked up a run a few weeks ago, but hey he's gonna take what he can get.
He helps Mifune set the table because he's not a jerk and Angela runs around the kitchen on both their heels, retelling her story of the day. Black Star has already heard about Rachel Boyd pulling her hair and throwing sand at her on the playground, so he takes out his phone and scrolls through the texts he's missed. He'd already texted his dad and told him he'd be late, not trusting Crona to pass along the message. He keeps who he's with out of it, because while his dad doesn't mind him hanging around Sid and Mifune, he doesn't really like it.
A message from Tsubaki is on his screen, and one from Soul, asking him for the cheats to GTA 5. He doesn't reply to Soul, since it's been long enough since he texted him that Soul would have been annoyed enough to either finish the level without cheats or find them himself. Tsubaki's text is asking him if he took her calculator, which yeah, he thinks he did. Want me to drop it off? He texts back, sitting down across from Angela. Mifune opens the pizza box in the middle of the table and they start to help themselves. "So how is school going?"
"Sid hasn't told you?" He chews his pizza and leaves his phone beside his plate, just in case she texts back. "I thought he would."
"He mentioned something about you being tutored by someone. A girl, maybe?"
"A giiiiiirl!?" Angela trills, eyes widening comically across from him. Black Star narrows his eyes at her, chomping on his pizza and showing her the results. She shrieks a loud ew at him, and Mifune glares.
With a sigh, Black Star leans back in his chair, glaring at the both of them. "It's a tutor, she's a chick. So what?"
"Is she pretty?"
Flushing, Black Star shrugs. Sure, Tsubaki's cute. Hot, really. More like gorgeous. Tsubaki is a 10 outta 10, to be completely honest, but it's not like Mifune needs to know this shit. He's so weird. "Yeah, sure. Big tits."
"You know," Mifune quirks an eyebrow, cool as a goddamn cucumber. Really, if he didn't get on Black Star's nerves so much, Mifune would probably be his idol. "You really have not changed since we last saw each other."
Shrugging again, Black Star looks around the kitchen. He realizes he's being rude, but old habits die hard. At least, he figures he should apologize. "Sorry. It's just…weird, sitting down for dinner and being asked about school and stuff."
Mifune nods, because he does understand. He was in Black Star's position once, so he knows just how different the club is than a family—the same way the club is more of a family than your own, sometimes. The only difference between them is that Mifune got out.
Though, he supposes another difference is that Mifune wanted out. Black Star loves the club, in his own way. "So uh, how was work?"
The man's shoulders tense and even Angela sink low in her chair, kicking him. Staring in bafflement, he watches the way Mifune seems to grow older before him. He winces, because, while maybe not directly his fault, this is probably the club's fault. "That bad?"
"Not you," he murmurs, pushing his plate of half-eaten pizza away from him. "Arachnophobia."
Black Star makes the same face he always does when those assholes are mentioned: it's a look that mixes his disgust with his annoyance, and he sees the same look on Mifune's, though his has a twinge of desperation and exhaustion. Between Arachnophobia and Hoshizoku, the police were always kept busy, but recently, Arachnophobia has been…more of an issue; or, as his dad likes to say "better at being caught."
Mifune rubs a hand over his face, massaging his temples. Angela has pushed her plate away, even though it looks like she still wants more. Black Star reaches forward to push her plate back to her, taking a bite of his own food. "They're assholes, man—"
"Language."
"—and if you need me to, I'll rough some guys up."
Mifune casts him a disapproving look. "I don't need a child fighting my battles for me. I can manage just fine—the police can manage ust fine on our own. Though, I would ask that you and Soul try and stay out of club business for a while. I know Spirit is talking about cracking down on gang activity. Anyone caught with drugs, or doing something unlawful will be charged. No more of this 'letting you off with a warning'." He narrows his eyes at Black Star, whose hand has drifted to his pocket, where a beautifully rolled joint lies, just waiting to be smoked. "And if I see you smoking, I will shove it down your throat. You should quit that garbage."
"Ya really should!" Angela agrees, though he doubts she knows what they're talking about. "Dad? Can I have more juice please?"
Mifune stands, giving Black Star one more look, before asking, "So this girl? Tell me about her."
Black Star groans. "What's there to tell? She's nice."
"Wow, must be difficult for you. Hanging out with nice people? Spirit says you and Maka have been hanging around more and more lately."
With a pointed glare, he says, "Yeah, well, she's Maka's friend."
"So she's nice, she's pretty…anything else?"
Angela and Mifune give him matching inquisitive looks. He wonders if there is anything else. Tsubaki's sweet and smart and gorgeous, but he hasn't really hung out with her unless they've been doing homework, or Soul and Maka were there. She's his friend, he guesses, but she's not Maka to him, or Soul. She's just someone who hangs around sometimes. Someone who helps him with work and someone he can get along with. He wonders if maybe they should change that. He likes hanging around with her. And for the first time in a while, he doesn't really want to sleep with her. With a glance at his phone, he sees that she's texted back.
If you don't mind!
Black Star decides he'll try something. Try and be her friend. "How about I keep you updated on that?" He asks, and if he's not mistaken, Mifune smirks.
At some point during the night, they'd gone from her house to his, and now they were sitting on the couch in his living room, playing COD. "Wow, for someone who said they didn't know how to play, you sure know how to play." He grits his teeth as she kills him again. He should have played a different level. Tsubaki laughs lightly beside him, bumping her shoulder against his.
"It's actually very easy if you pay attention to the instructions."
"What instructions?" He grouses, tongue sticking out as he finds some place to camp. He doesn't care if it's a shitty way to win—at least she won't know he's being a jackass. "I told you which button shoots."
She doesn't say anything, instead focusing on the screen intently. "Where are you? Where is that?"
He leans back in his seat, mentally thanking his dad for investing so much money in such a comfortable couch. He also sends a mental thanks to whatever gods are looking out for him, because there isn't anyone home, and his dad is incredibly embarrassing when girls are here. Tsubaki gets into his range of vision, and he shoots her. "HA!"
Deflating into the couch, to the point where she is leaning on him, Tsubaki sighs. "I'm no good at this game."
"Nah, you're pretty good. Better than Soul was his first time."
She smiles at him, and they watch as it replays her death. He doesn't really know how they got here, because all he'd really meant to do was drop of her calculator and ask if she wanted to go for a walk. It was really nice out, so he figured it wouldn't be a bad idea. Only, half way through the walk it'd started raining and they'd had to book it to the closest place—his. "So when does your father get home?" She asks, shifting so she's not sitting against him. He kind of misses the warmth for a moment, and then berates himself for being dumb.
"Dunno, could be soon, could be later. It's a fifty-fifty thing with him."
Tsubaki nods absently, sinking lower on the couch. She turns toward the screen again, "Do you want to play again?"
It hits him very suddenly that she looks anxious. That she looks nervous about something, and he has it on very good authority that girls only ask when your parents are gonna be home when they want to…do stuff. Is that what Tsubaki wants? Is he picking up what she's putting down or is he totally wrong? He takes back his earlier thought for sure—he wouldn't mind sleeping with her.
He's about to make a move when a door slams open somewhere in the house, Ragnarok's heavy footsteps pounding toward them. "Star! Where the fuck is your stupid fucking—oh, who the hell are you?"
The big guy stops suddenly in the door way, staring at a startled Tsubaki. He's pretty startled too, he had no idea the idiot was home. She looks at Black Star, then back at Ragnarok. "Is this your brother?" She asks tentatively.
"No," he says at the same time Ragnarok says, "Sure." They glare at each other for a few moments, before he says, "I need to know why the Xbox isn't in my bedroom."
"Because it's out here," Black Star sighs, jerking his chin at the system, which shows their scores. He winces at Ragnarok's laugh when he sees Black Star's. "It's not yours, by the way. My dad bought it for me."
They have another glaring match. "Medusa says I can use it whenever I want."
"Medusa says a lot of shit, but most of it comes out of her asshole." A socked foot kicks him, and he scowls at Tsubaki. "It's true!"
Ragnarok doesn't say anything to this—just pulls the cord out of the wall and begins to unhook the Xbox from the TV, like the cocksucker he is. "Can you not? I have a fuckin' guest over here!"
He is ignored, which annoys him even more. Tsubaki keeps kicking him, glaring at him when he attempts to rise. Her foot lands in his lap and she adds pressure. Despite the colour on her cheeks, Black Star is sure she means business. "Don't you dare."
Unaware of what's happening, Ragnarok says, "I could tie you in a knot, you little monkey."
Like fuck, Black Star thinks, but values his balls way too much to do anything beyond spout a few more insults at Ragnarok as he continues on his way back to his room, grabbing the only other controller they have. His door slams shut a few seconds later, and both of them sink back into the couch. "Take your foot off my balls."
Her leg is gone faster than he thought possible. "Sorry. I just didn't want you to fight with him. It's not a big deal, really. We can do something else?"
Ah, he thinks, staring at her. Right. Will she go all the way? Or is she more of the heavy petting type? He wouldn't mind if she were the oral type, but he won't push her. Scooting closer, he nods. "Sure. Want to go to my room?"
Looking alarmed, Tsubaki shakes her head. "I was thinking a movie? Or TV? We could always talk, too!" Black Star blinks, was he wrong? He must have read the signs wrong or something. Maybe she was actually curious about when his dad would be back? Wow, foot meet mouth.
"Movie? Sure."
"What do you mean?" Tsubaki asks, frowning when she messes up her toe nail. She wipes away the paint before it dries and readjusts her phone against her shoulder. "He thought I wanted to...?"
"Sex, Tsubaki," Maka says on the other line, voice tinny and small. "Probably. You asked when his dad would get home! In Black Star talk, that's like asking how quick you can do your quickie."
"That's sick," Tsubaki caps her nail polish. "I never meant for him to think that! I just wanted to know, because you said his dad was strict."
Maka laughs, "I'm pretty sure I called him a dick."
Tsubaki sighs, reclining on her chair and staring out the window. The rain has let up, leaving everything glistening in the moonlight. It's pretty. "Do you like him, though? Maybe you were acting flirty or something."
"No," Tsubaki says immediately. She winces when Maka hums at her. "Well, no, not really. He's cute, but badass isn't really my type."
"Same," Maka says solemnly, and she can imagine her friend nodding.
They talk a bit more about how awkward everything was afterward, and how Black Star has apologized as she'd left, but even after their phone call has ended, Tsubaki can't stop thinking about it. Was she being a flirt? She's never been on a date with a guy—or alone with one—so she doesn't really know proper etiquette. She thought she was being friendly, but maybe not.
Whatever, she thinks, squeezing her eyes shut. Hopefully things aren't as awkward as they had been tonight, tomorrow.
He thanks the gods and whoever the fuck else is out there that she didn't take anything he did to heart. Because if he came to school the next day with her acting all awkward because of what he'd said, Black Star would probably die. How fucking embarrassing, inviting a girl to your bedroom after reading her signs wrong? He should have known Tsubaki wouldn't ask something like that, and he has no idea why he wanted to go along with it. Tsubaki is like…like Maka to him, although maybe not as…well, special. He makes a solemn vow in his head to keep his dick away from her, because fuckin' something like that up wouldn't be any good.
So it's with a clear conscience that he goes to the club meeting Friday, slipping his phone into his pants pocket as he slides into the seat beside his father. The man gives him a nod and a small smile, and he returns it easily. He watches the rest of the gang slowly trek in—Soul, Liz, Mike, his uncles. Daichi, who looks exhausted from his trip back from Hawaii the night before getting the guns from the harbour, Ragnarok, Crona, and his stupid mom. They all grumble their hellos and in his Uncle Kenji's place, lights up a cigarette. No matter how many times Katsuya has told him that shit will kill him, the guy has insisted on smoking them.
He's pretty sure the meeting will be short this week, since all his dad needs to discuss is who will be running the guns to Vegas this weekend, but there is tension in his dad's shoulders that has Black Star wondering if there is something more. He knows Daichi took two prospects to Hawaii with him, but he'd only seen one today. Did the Yakuza do something? Catch them getting the guns from the harbour?
Although they're not as old, strong, or well-known as the Yakuza, Hoshizoku is still pretty formidable, especially his Aunt's charter in Japan. He knows there have been skirmishes between the two of them before, and there is a huge population of them in Hawaii, where they get their guns. If Daichi came into contact with one of them and lost a prospect, the club might have to expect some backlash, or prepare themselves for war. And with Arachnophobia waiting in the wings…it's not a good idea to get on the Yakuza's bad side, is all.
Soul settles down heavily in the chair beside him, sporting a huge bruise on his neck that Black Star hadn't seen earlier today at school. "Busy?" he mouths, smirking when the other boy flushes and scowls. Liz lets out a loud snort beside Soul, covering her mouth when people look at her. "Sorry."
White Star shakes his head, beginning, "Dark Star, your report from Hawaii?"
Dark Star-Daichi—clears his throat, clasping his hands in front of him and squeezing them together, knuckles white. "Everything seemed fine, like usual. Rika and Chika were there with the order, which leads me to wonder if Minako suspected something might happen. Everything went well there—by the way, Yellow Star, your sister says, um, hello—"
Uncle Kenji laughs loudly at this, muttering bitch under his breath. Black Star doesn't really know what the relationship between he and his sister, but he figures it's one a lot similar to his and Maka's.
"—and so Rika and Chika made sure everything went well at the docks. When we were leaving, though, I noticed a black van following us. We tried to lose them, but, well. The Yakuza know the island better than us, and they've got sway with some of the other gangs there. By the time I realized we were being ambushed, Allen was already dead. Shot through the head."
That, Black Star realizes with a sick feeling, is why he didn't see the other prospect. It's not uncommon for prospects to die, but it sucks nonetheless.
His father exhales through his nose, leaning forward and resting his forehead against his clasped hands. "How did you and Donahue get out alive?"
Daichi laughs, but it's humorless. "I killed quite a few and if you don't mind me saying, Donahue deserves a patch for all the killing he did. I probably wouldn't be here if not for him."
Patches are what all members have on the back of their leather jackets. Maka had once wrongly assumed that the Hoshizoku on the back of his and Soul's jackets were their patches, but if that were the case, her father would still be part of the club. No, their patches are the stars stitched over their hearts. Each member of the core group has one, but there are some who don't have Star names, like Soul, Liz, Crona, and Ragnarok. Only family gets one of those.
"I'll take it into consideration," White Star says after a pause. "The guns are at the warehouse?"
"Yes," Dark Star nods firmly. "I made sure they got there myself."
"Good of you," Uncle Jon says, clapping him on the shoulder. Most of the club voices their agreement, but Black Star notices the way Mike's face hardens at his father's compliment. "Now, who's running this shit to Vegas?"
White Star shrugs, rubbing his scarred knuckles. "Are there any takers? You'll be compensated for it, of course."
Liz immediately raises her hand, while Mike and Kenji do the same. Black Star almost considers doing the same thing, but his dad had told him earlier that he had something else planned for him. It left him feeling giddy, like a kid on Christmas, and he hopes it's not something shitty. He would hate to pass up a trip to Vegas.
"Alright, the three of you. I want you gone by tonight." His father says. They all nod their agreement, and Liz looks relieved. He knows that times are tough over at the Thompson house, so he figures all the extra money they can scrounge up, the better. He suspects his dad knows this, too. "Black Star, Soul, Crona. I want the three of you to do something for me, too."
Soul looks up at the sound of his voice, Crona makes a small, distressed sound, and Black Star straightens in his seat. "Yes, sir?"
White Star smirks, "I heard from a little bird that Arachnophobia will be dealing near our borders tonight. Care to take a ride out there and see what mayhem you can cause? Of course, I'll need you not to get caught."
Black Star knows taking a second to think on it is not the best idea but—Crona. How the fuck will they get anything done with Crona? Thankfully, Soul speaks for him, "We'd love too, right guys?"
Crona nods jerkily, watery eyes staring up at Medusa. "O-of course. Thank you."
Watching the boy for a moment longer, Black Star shrugs. "Sure, I've been looking to break some jaws."
"Splendid," Medusa coos from behind his father.
Black Star's leg shakes up and down, up and down, up and down, as he waits for Crona to come out of his room. He thought he heard crying, earlier, and while he kind of feels bad, he also doesn't. The kid, if he's scared, should not be in a fucking gang. And he really doesn't want to drag him along to this thing, because he's never seen the kid fight and if he fucks off on them, Black Star won't hesitate to beat his ass into the ground. He's not looking to get fucked up tonight—he's looking to fuck shit up.
Crona emerges from his room, Ragnarok following with a huge leer on his face. "Take care of my kid brother, won't ya?" He asks, though he doesn't sound worried.
Standing, Black Star nods. "Yeah, sure, let's get a fuckin' move on it; Soul's already waiting for us by the 7-11."
Ragnarok grins as he sends them off; leaving Black Star to wonder if maybe he hopes Crona gets his ass kicked. Probably; the guy does it regularly himself.
Despite the fact that he's generally useless, Crona can ride well. He keeps up with Black Star and doesn't look like he's afraid of everything when he's on his bike, and Black Star knows the feeling. Riding is a lot like flying, he suspects. It's a rush of adrenaline and if Black Star could only do one thing for the rest of his life, it'd probably be this.
They meet Soul in record time. He looks anxious and annoyed. "If you need to take a shit before you do it in your shorts, I'm sure they have a bathroom." Black Star jerks a thumb over his shoulder at the 7-11. Soul looks even more annoyed than before. "No? Alright then, ladies. Let's skedaddle."
It's Mosquito, Free, and a very large masked guy, which is problematic for three reason, two of which go like this: Soul, Black Star, and Crona are, for a lack of better words (when compared to these three) are scrawny. Soul has enough muscle on his arms to be bigger than Maka (which isn't a great feat—the girl is strong as fuck) and Black Star is strong for someone his size, while Crona looks like he couldn't lift ten pounds. Against someone like Giriko, they might be okay. Against these assholes, their chance is very slim.
"I'll take the big guy—the masked one," he mutters, squatting in the bushes. He curses Arachnophobia and their constant need to deal in obscure, forested places. Soul scowls beside him, toying with a knife. Its blade is curved slightly—it'd been a gift from Black Star's dad when he'd graduated from prospect, while Black Star had gotten a katana. Crona only has a little switch blade. "Actually—I'll go for Mosquito. He's more experienced. Crona, do what you can, Soul, you try and keep him from getting his ass too badly kicked. Put on your hoods, too. Just in case things go sour. We don't really want them knowing who we are."
Soul looks like he might argue, but nods after a moment of hesitation. Crona looks like he might be sick, and Black Star feels for him, he really does. This is his first time doing something like this, and he knows it's not easy for first-timers. "On my count, we spread out and go in."
Another round of nods and Black Star counts down. "Go," he hisses, watching them both run in the opposite directions. Soul's got his hood up, so he disappears quickly, but Black Star watches Crona go several feet before flicking his own hood on.
He waits a minute, two, and then darts out from the underbrush, toward the three men waiting. Their buyer won't show up—his dad's made sure of that.
Mosquito is the first to notice him, and he sounds the alarm, letting out a loud shout. By then, Black Star's already tackled him into the dirt, while Soul rams into Free from behind, and Crona comes out swinging with his knife from masked guys left.
As much as he wants to, Black Star can't focus on their fights when he's up against a guy like Mosquito. He seems to grow several inches, already back on his feet and looming over Black Star. He hit him before he can gather his bearings, hard enough that he finds himself on the ground. Again. He thinks he might hear his phone crack—or maybe he feels it—against his thigh, but he's more worried about Mosquito's foot.
The man kicks him with more force than Black Star had thought possible, and he scrabbles for his knife, struggling to breathe. Fuck, his dad has sent them to their death. Sometime during the fight (if he can call it that) his hood had been knocked off. In his peripheral, he sees that both Soul and Crona are faring the same as him.
He manages to get a good enough grip on his knife to reach up, stabbing Mosquito in the thigh as he kicks him in the throat.
Obviously, the knife in the thigh trick did nothing.
He attempts to get to his knees, but Mosquito—no, this is Free—fists his hand in Black Star's hair, tugging it up so he's blinking into the brightness of a flashlight. It sears his eyes and he blinks, trying to see beyond it. He must look a mess, but he's sure they can tell who he is. Who sent him.
Tears spring to his eyes as he stares, but he can't help it. "Sorry, wrong guys," he tries to laugh, but it's garbled, like most of his words. He doesn't try to speak again—his tongue feels too big for his mouth. He must have bitten it.
Mosquito seems to have understood what he meant, though. He frowns down at him, using a handkerchief to clean off his knuckles. "You tell that father of yours, that the next time he decides to play games, we will play back. And you won't be going home with a few cracked ribs."
"Sure thing," Black Star spits, grinning when he sees it land on the shining leather top of Mosquito's loafers. "Motherfucker."
He sees the hand second before he feels it, and then—
Black Star must black out for a second, because the next thing he knows he's laying with his face in watery vomit, and the three assholes they weren't sent to fuck up are gone. The fight was over embarrassingly fast, and he knows he'll never hear the end of this.
Crona is whimpering a few feet away; Soul is holding his arm, face half-buried against the dirt. He looks like he's in a fuckton of pain. Black Star can't see Crona from where he's lying, but from the gross crying noises he's making, Black Star's sure he got the shit beat out of him, too.
He lies there for what feels like forever, just trying to catch his breath. His side hurts like hell and a couple of his fingers might be broken. He knows that he should call someone in the club to come pick them up, but he knows his dad will be there and he can only imagine what will happen. Just because they were bigger isn't an excuse, Black Star knows. He's been trained to fight guys bigger than him, to use his smaller stature as an advantage rather than a hindrance, but Mosquito, Free, they have years of experience on them, on him, and they proved it. He tried, at least, but he knows his dad won't see it that way. And without Uncle Kenji there, Black Star won't have a chance trying to argue his point.
So anyone from the club is out, right now. He thinks briefly about calling Sid or Mifune, but knows both of them would insist they go to the hospital, and Mifune would want them to press charges or charge them and he can't deal with all that bullshit right now.
He's pretty sure that he can call Wes. Soul might be pissed at him, but the guy would probably help them without telling his parents. Or he could just call a cab and they could fuck off somewhere for a while—Maka's, maybe, or—
With his good hand, Black Star digs into his pocket, hoping his phone isn't too broken. The screen is cracked, but thankfully the phone still works. The brightness of it blinds him momentarily, but soon enough he's in his phone book, swiping his thumb across Tsubaki's name.
She takes her sweet ass time getting there. Or maybe it just feels like an eternity. Crona has stopped whimpering and has graduated to letting out little huffs that might be sobs, and Soul has taken to speaking in another fucking language that might be Italian, or might be French. Whatever the case, Black Star is pretty sure he's been cursing his name for the last half hour.
He hears her before he sees her—actually, it sounds like Maka's clumpy ass boots stomping into the clearing. They emerge from the brush a few seconds later, both girls looking panicked and scared. When they spot them, Maka's hands fly to her mouth. "Oh my God," he hears her breathe, but Tsubaki is a statue, standing tall and rigid beside her.
And then it's like all the strings snap and she runs forward, the beam of her flashlight illuminating everything as she runs. Maka takes a moment longer before she follows suit, immediately going to Soul and Crona, muttering unintelligible things under her breath.
Tsubaki drops to her knees at his side, a determined look on her face. "What happened?" She asks, and he has a sneaking suspicion she means injury-wise.
"Boot to the abdomen, mostly. I think it might have been steel toed." He grins at her, tasting blood in his mouth from the multiple times he'd bitten his lip and tongue. "I'm fine. Check on Crona, Tsubaki."
Dark eyes narrow at him, but she nods. While she checks on Crona, Black Star struggle into a sitting position. The clearing is dark, but he can see dark spots on the grass and dirt where he'd stabbed Mosquito, and at least he did something. "How's Soul?" He asks, pushing to his feet, gritting his teeth. Maybe he has a cracked rib or four. Soul is leaning heavily against Tsubaki, who had apparently gone to help him instead of Crona, while Maka helps a dazed-looking Crona to his feet. They all look rather pathetic, and it must not inspire great confidence in the club. Tsubaki must think they're a bunch of pussies, especially him. At least Maka knows what they're capable of.
With a sigh, he starts limping toward the direction they'd come from, turning back only once to make sure everyone was still upright. Tsubaki gives him a few directions, and soon enough they're standing in front of her car, which looks a lot better than their tipped over bikes. At least they weren't trashed. "Y'gonna call sumone ta pick 'em up?" Soul asks quietly beside him, looking really fuckin' awful. They'll have to pull a real good story out of their asses to tell his parents.
Black Star shakes his head, starting toward the car. "Nah…not yet, at least."
"Where do you want me to take you?" Tsubaki asks, helping Soul to the backseat, while Maka helps Crona on the other side. Black Star slips into the passenger seat, frowning when he smears blood on the window. Shit. He scrubs at it with the sleeve of his jacket, but all it does is make it look worse.
He answers her when she gets in beside him, "Maybe a bridge, so I can jump off it."
Her brows furrow and she raises her hand to hit him. Thinking better of it, she instead turns the car on. "How about my house? Or Maka's?"
"Not mine," Maka murmurs from the back. In the rear view mirror, Black Star sees that both Soul and Crona have their heads on her shoulders. "Papa won't be happy if he sees them, and he'll probably call someone."
Tsubaki nods, backing slowly onto the main road. "Alright, mine then."
Black Star is once again amazed at how nice Tsubaki's house is. He is, also, once again sitting on the edge of her bathtub while she flutters around his shirtless self, looking way too panicked for his liking. What happened to the calm and collected chick from the clearing?
Obviously, it's his abs. Black Star has worked very hard on them, and they are beautiful. "So uh…you have a brother, right? He's not gonna show up and skin me alive, is he?"
Tsubaki pauses momentarily, eyes shifting to something beyond him. "Let's not rule anything out," she says eventually, leaving the bathroom and coming back with a rag. She wets it in the sink, looks at him, then back at the sink. "Your whole chest is like one big bruise. I think we should have taken you to the hospital, I mean you're—it looks really bad—"
"It's fine," he nods jerkily, holding his hand out for the rag. Tsubaki hands it to him slowly, looking hella worried. "I'm fine. Everything is fine." It sounds like déjà vu, and he recalls saying the same thing to Angela, days before.
Tsubaki's fingers drum anxiously on the porcelain of the sink. Is she going to say something? Maybe he should tell her to go and help Crona or Soul. He's seen Maka try and help someone while they're hurt and she usually does more bad than good.
At the same time, they both say, "You should—"
"Give me the cloth," Tsubaki says firmly, holding her hand out for it again. Black Star looks down at it in his hand; water is dripping down his arm, and he can't clean himself with his fingers fucked up like this. He's long since realized they're not broken, but they must be sprained. "I'll help you clean up."
That's kind of hot, Black Star thinks, handing the cloth over with minimal bitching. But she doesn't wipe his bloody face clean sexily, but rather with quick and efficient swipes. It almost hurts. "Aren't nurses supposed to have a soft touch?"
Tsubaki looks sheepish, and she lets up on the pressure. "Sorry. I should really work on that, especially if you're going to keep ending up in my bathroom." Her cheeks are dusted with pink, and he thinks he's lost a lot of blood or maybe Mosquito knocked something loose in his head because he wants to kiss the fuck out of her for being cheeky at a time like this. Bless her.
"Sorry about this. And last time," he says eventually, looking away from her. She's finished wiping his face clean, and she hands him a fresh shirt that must be her brother's. The corner of her mouth quirks up a bit; not quite a smile, but not a frown either.
"I don't mind," she shrugs, turning away from him. "But my brother will be home soon—what is that?"
He hears it too, now, and he also hears Maka asking the same thing in the other room. It sounds like someone pounding on the door.
Black Star is on his feet and running from the bathroom before he fully realizes what he's doing. The persistent ache in his side goes from a five to a ten in seconds, but it's nothing compared to what's coming. "Shit, shit, fuck!" He mutters, sliding to a stop in front of the door. Through the stained glass he catches grey, and he stumbles back from the door. Does he hide? He could always hide and Tsubaki could say she hasn't seen him but how the hell did he get the address? Black Star was watching and they weren't tailed, so the only way was—"Crona."
He must have heard Black Star's hiss of his name, because he cowers behind Maka when he slides back around the corner and into the living room. Tsubaki, who had been following, stops half-way, staring at the door. "Do I open it…?"
"No!" Black Star snaps at the same time Crona squeaks out a "Yes!"
"Shut up! What the fuck did you call him for!?"
"M-mother told me to text when everything was finished! I didn't want her to worry!"
Black Star snorts at the thought of Medusa giving a shit about anyone but herself, but at the same time he feels kind of bad for the guy. He knows what it's like to want someone to give a shit about you. Still, he made a bad fuckin' call texting someone and now—
There is more pounding on the door, only this time it sounds like his dad is kicking it. Tsubaki gives him a look, like she's sorry, before starting toward the door. "I'm sorry, but…my door," she says, as if she's justifying herself. That's just as well, he's fucked either way. His dad knows he's here.
She pulls open the door, but his father isn't standing there. Instead, he's on the edge of the porch, growling threatening things at someone. Black Star creeps up beside her, peaking around her shoulder. He doesn't give a fuck if that's pussy shit, because his dad is terrifying.
White Star is arguing with a taller, male version of Tsubaki, who is also, apparently, a cop.
The breath leaves him very suddenly, and his head swims. Her brother is a cop? Her brother is a cop. She knows, most likely, that Black Star and his family do not do the most savory things and he has been here getting his ass patched up twice already. How could she not tell him?
Tsubaki looks at him, mouth open, but Black Star beats her to it. "A cop?"
Boy-Tsubaki's head jerks up at the sound of his voice, dark eyes landing on Black Star. "What the hell do you think you're doing!?" He barks, already shoving past his dad and starting toward Black Star. White Star turns as well, eyes ablaze, and Black Star knows that he is Fucked.
"Definitely not what you think I am," Black Star laughs weakly, backing away from the advancing cop. Tsubaki catches his arm in a tight grip, her voice reprimanding, telling her brother to stop, which thankfully works. Boy-Tsubaki pauses, entire body rigid as he glares.
Unfortunately for him, Tsubaki's plea for his father to stop too falls on deaf ears. White Star stalks into the house, shoving past her and her brother. Black Star doesn't even get a chance to back away before he's got a hand wrapped tight around his bicep, pulling him so they're face to face. "Lost a fight so you run like a pussy bitch to your little girlfriend's?" White Star sneers, breath smelling like whiskey and pot. "You think you got your ass beat tonight? I'll show you what it really means to get your ass fucking kicked—"
"Get out of my house," Boy-Tsubaki says quietly, sternly. During some point in the last five minutes, Maka, Soul, and Crona have appeared around the corner, watching silently. White Star doesn't even look at them, and Black Star wonders about fairness. This is not his fault. None of this is his fault, and yet…
"My pleasure," White Star growls. He jerks Black Star around and shoves him toward the door. He stumbles, but keeps his footing. "Eater, Crona, let's go."
Black Star doesn't meet Tsubaki's eyes as he leaves, but he can see her face in his peripheral. She looks like she might be sick.
"And stay the hell away from Tsubaki, you little hood rat," Boy-Tsubaki says as they all pile out of the house. Black Star turns, ready to tell him where he can shove his demands, when his father laughs.
"You can fucking bet he will," White Star snarls, and the last thing he sees before Boy-Tsubaki closes the door is her stricken face.
It's only after they've dropped off Soul that Black Star realizes he's about to get fucked up, and not in the good way. In the front of the truck, his dad's knuckles are white around the steering wheel, and he can feel the anger radiating off his dad in waves. Black Star supposes he'll deserve what he's going to get; it's a well known fact that White Star hates people who run away, and that might as well have been what they did. He called girls to come and get them, hid out in one of their houses like a little pussy. He was in charge of this gig, and he'd let it get all screwed up. Failure is not an option in the club, especially not against Arachnophobia.
So when they get home, ripping into the driveway fast enough that he feels sick, his dad lets Crona out of the truck without a word, but he grabs Black Star by his arm and pulls him bodily out, dragging him toward the door. Crona is ahead, stumbling up the walk, and White Star passes him easily, shoving Black Star through the door.
"I gave you one job," he says, eerily calm, voice belying his stance. Dark eyes glare at him, muscles tensing, hands fisted at his side. "You had one goddamn job and it was to teach them a lesson, and you what? You got your ass handed to you? I taught you to be better than that, I taught you-"
"I was up against Mosquito, and Free! And there was some huge fuckin' guy in a mask-we couldn't have taken them on if we'd had guns!" Black Star tries to reason, holding a hand against the side that Mosquito had kicked. They really ache right now, and he regrets not taking the painkillers Tsubaki had offered him.
White Star's gaze falls to his side, narrowing. "And you go to a cop's house? Did you want to get arrested?"
"I didn't know her brother was a cop," Black Star sighs, stepping back slightly when his dad advances. He notices that Medusa and Ragnarok are both in the living room now, watching with thinly veiled amusement. Assholes. "If I'd known that I wouldn't have-"
"What? Had sex with her? I'm sure that her brother being a police officer is hardly something that would stop you."
"I didn't have sex with her," Black Star argues. Something uncomfortable settles in his stomach at the thought of thinking about Tsubaki like that. She's...she's worth more than the girls he's slept with, bar none. And the idea of his dad thinking she's just another whore, it makes him angry. "It's not like that between us. We're just friends."
"And I suppose Eater and Albarn's girl are just friends too," White Star says absently. Black Star almost laughs at that, but holds it back. He doesn't need to do something to antagonize him further. "And don't worry, it won't be like that between you. I was serious when I said you weren't going to go near her again."
Narrowing his eyes, Black Star asks, "What?"
White Star is smirking now, slipping off his jacket and tossing it onto the back of the chair. He looks far too smug, and on his left, Medusa laughs. "I don't want you near her again. I see it, and I'll break your hand. And then the other one, and maybe a leg after that. I'm not joking."
He wouldn't, Black Star thinks desperately, phone burning against his hip. He wouldn't do this. He's not like that. He wants to ask him to change his mind, so stop. He wants to tell his dad that everything is alright, that the fact that her brother is a cop won't effect anything.
But Black Star has learned that holding your tongue when White Star is angry is the best course of action, and so all he does is nod and turn away, shoving past Ragnarok and down the hall, into the bathroom.
Inside, he pulls his phone from his pocket, hands shaking. He takes a moment to slow his breathing, and instead of texting her, he pulls back the shower curtain and turns on the shower. Hopefully it covers the sound of his voice.
It only takes a second for her to pick up, and when she does her voice is strained and quiet. "I can't talk to you."
"I just wanted to make sure that your brother didn't get to angry," he says, clearing his voice when it cracks. God, he's such a girl. "And that...that we're cool."
"I have to go, Black Star."
He bites his lip hard enough that it starts to bleed again. Black Star doesn't even get a chance to say anything else before he hears the dial tone in his ear. Fuck.
Looking down at his phone, he tosses it to the ground, not even caring if it breaks. If she wants to believe whatever bullshit story that her brother tells her, then she can go right ahead. He doesn't fucking care.
Black Star strips down the nothing and gets into the shower, enjoying the way the scalding hot water feels against his bruised abdomen.
notes: If there are any more questions/you want headcanons/or just wanna hear about the fic, I usually dick around at monkkeyslut at tumblr, so hit me up!