On the last day before break officially begins, he persuades Kurosaki to get a jump on their homework in the dorm lounge.
They are seated in the center of a sofa with shoulders in brazen contact because no one else is around. The rest of the students have either already left campus or are off preparing to do so. Even if they were surrounded by the watchful eyes of their classmates, Uryuu figures it wouldn't make a difference. Kurosaki would say it's normal for friends to lean against each other while studying. Maybe it is. Uryuu wouldn't really know.
He turns a page in the textbook he holds and his gaze catches on the fading cross at his wrist. Uryuu has access to at least three different solvents that would remove it—including the small bottle of hand sanitizer in his bag—but he can't bring himself to do it. Sentimental as it sounds, the simple emblem has grown on him since the first time Kurosaki started wearing it as a badge of rebellion over a year ago. Like most things related to Kurosaki, he should hate it. But he really doesn't.
"Pass me that calculator," requests Uryuu.
Kurosaki hands it over and asks, "Are you gonna finish your coffee?"
"Help yourself."
Reaching over to pluck the half-full drink from the cradle of Uryuu's knees, he downs it in three swigs and noisily crushes the can. A few seconds later, Kurosaki's phone vibrates against his hip where they are connected. Uryuu shifts aside as the boy fishes it from a pocket to read the message he received.
"My dad's almost here," Kurosaki announces and starts shoving his stuff into his bag. "I have to go finish packing."
"Why am I not surprised?"
"Hey, I would've done it last night if it hadn't taken you so long to c—"
A hand is clapped to his mouth instinctively since Uryuu knows what he's about to say. Alone or not, a public space is still a public space and he can't be too careful. But the reason they both stayed up later than they should have was indeed his fault, as Kurosaki implied. The fact that it took Uryuu at least twice as long as usual to finish had nothing to do with his level of interest, and everything to do with his muddled state of mind. He tells himself it was the distractions of school stress or residual anger over his father's surprise visit. It wasn't because that session would be their last for a whole week. It wasn't because he kind of wanted to draw it out, savor it like a gourmet meal. It wasn't because he is going to miss Kurosaki while he is gone.
"Good riddance," Uryuu mutters, returning to his calculations. "Hurry up and go so I can concentrate."
Although he doesn't look up to confirm it, he can practically feel Kurosaki's eyes rolling.
"If you're gonna be like that I should call you in the middle of the night for phone sex."
"I hope the sound of my voice mail does it for you, since that's all you'll hear."
"Smartass." A smirk tugs at Uryuu's mouth but he still doesn't raise his gaze from the notebook page he's scribbling numbers onto. "When will your dad be here?"
The smirk falls away. Of course Kurosaki had to bring that awkward subject up.
"He won't."
"So, you're taking a train home?"
"No."
There is a pensive pause. He leans in to peer at Uryuu's down-turned face. His eyes flick to Kurosaki's against his will and he isn't shocked to read the beginnings of concern blooming there.
"Don't tell me you're planning to stay here for break."
"Better than spending eight days stuck in the same house as Ryuuken."
"I guess I can see that, but staying here by yourself is just…"
"It's fine, Kurosaki. I do it every year for almost every break. I'm used to it."
His frown says he doesn't believe that for a second. Something tells Uryuu it's time to run. This isn't something he wanted to discuss, much less explain, and it can only lead to bad things. He slaps his book shut with the notebook and pencil still inside. His attempt to rise from the couch is countered by a hold at his elbow.
"You can stay at my place," Kurosaki suddenly suggests far too casually for comfort. "We have a guest room and my dad won't care."
"No, thank you." The courteous words are contradicted by a stiff tone. Uryuu would rather sleep in a gutter than in the Kurosaki residence.
"Why not?"
"I don't want to."
The frown spreads to his eyebrows, deepening the permanently perturbed furrow between them. "Quit being stubborn, Ishida."
"Take your own advice and quit asking."
"Listen, I won't touch you if that's what you're worried about. We can just hang out. As friends." That is so, so much worse. The horror he feels at the prospect must translate to his expression because Kurosaki's darkens in response. He releases Uryuu's arm and turns away on a sharp sigh. "Oh, right. How could I forget? We're not friends at all, are we? We're enemies who fuck each other on a regular basis."
His stomach lurches from emotions he refuses to acknowledge. Kurosaki grabs his bag and stands with the clear intention to take his exit. Uryuu knows he should let him leave now before he makes it worse. Part of him wants to make it worse.
"That's right, Kurosaki," he quietly agrees, watching the boy halt to hear him. "We are not friends. We're not even friendly. Remember how you had to blackmail me into sleeping with you? Because I do. I think about it every time you touch me."
Uryuu can't see his face but something like anger registers in the set of his shoulders. Kurosaki doesn't turn to deliver a piercing rejoinder, though. He doesn't say anything at all. After a moment he takes a deep breath reflected in his posture and strides out of the room.
And Uryuu doesn't understand what compelled him to say it or why he feels guilty in the wake of brutal honesty because he does remember and he does think about their little 'deal'. It isn't a sin to tell the truth. He didn't even reveal anything that wasn't previously established. So, why does he want to chase after Kurosaki and say…and say that he's…
Sorry.
He takes off his glasses and buries his face in his hands, bending forward from the ache in his gut. God, what is wrong with him? When did he start giving a shit about how his words affect that irredeemable heathen? Uryuu presses the heels of his hands against his eyes and wonders if he's suffering from some obscure version of Stockholm Syndrome. He hopes so. The only alternative is that he cares for Kurosaki rather than simply tolerating him and that would be sheer catastrophe. Utter devastation. An emotion apocalypse. The death of his tenuous sanity and everything he believes in.
No, Uryuu desperately decides, he doesn't care for Kurosaki. He doesn't like Kurosaki. He won't miss Kurosaki. He hates Kurosaki.
Happy birthday, reads the concise message on his phone's screen.
It goes black at the press of a button and Uryuu sets it face-down on his desk with a sigh. The email is from an old pen pal he has barely spoken to this year. Although he doesn't really appreciate these kinds of half-hearted well-wishes, at least it isn't one of those cheesy e-cards that plays a lame ditty and casts pixilated confetti all over the virtual place while a jubilant cartoon animal pops out of the margins giggling like a maniac. He doesn't think he could handle something like that today. Not when his week has already been so depressing.
The weekend went fine. Uryuu focused on finishing his homework, reading ahead in his textbooks, and getting a jump on his upcoming literature essay. But when he ran out of assignments he also ran out of distractions. It didn't take long for crushing boredom to set in, swiftly followed by unnerving restlessness and seeping anxiety. Sleep would have been a welcome refuge if it wasn't suddenly so elusive. Instead, he is ashamed to admit, he spent a great deal of time staring into space trying not to brood about one person in particular.
It is a very good thing that email was not from Kurosaki or he would've sunk straight into the deep end and finally let himself drown under the misery he's been floundering in all semester.
Uryuu snatches off his glasses, pushes back from his desk, and goes to fling himself belly-first atop his mattress. He has been doing this a lot lately, too. It is unspeakably aggravating how Kurosaki has reduced him to this frail caricature of emo inclinations. His resentment ratchets up a thousand percent as he detects a trace of the boy's scent on his pillowcase—or he thinks he does, even though he has washed the bedding since the last time they were both on it. Uryuu doesn't know which is worse: his brain fabricating a familiar smell or his body's reaction to the phantom stimulus. One whiff of Kurosaki and his pulse fluctuates by nearly double its usual meter. His skin warms in seconds, an understated flush spreading outward as a pale pink stain.
He buries his face in the pillow and tells himself a series of pretty lies. That it's only soap he smells. That he doesn't feel a torrent of heat spilling lower. That he hasn't had any sexual thoughts about Kurosaki all week. That he has enjoyed their time spent apart. That he will be incredibly unhappy when the break ends. That he hasn't gotten excited each night, remembering certain events of past nights. That he isn't getting excited by one of those unbidden memories right now.
Uryuu inwardly chants these untruths until he almost starts to believe them, but in the back of his mind a fantasy burgeons. He can almost feel Kurosaki in the room with him—braced above him, trailing hands and lips and tongue over Uryuu's body. Clothes shifting, scent surrounding, warmth transferring between them. The soft susurrus of rushed breath filling a natural hush. He bites his lip against a shiver spurred by the imagined sensation of Kurosaki's hips pressed to his ass.
No matter how he struggles, he can't shut out the flow of erotic impressions streaming through his consciousness. Uryuu blames his 'enemy' for the lapse in mental discipline. If it wasn't for Kurosaki's influence he wouldn't be squirming on his mattress like a sex-crazed loser eking some small measure of relief from incidental friction. It's just one more aspect of Uryuu's life that he has tainted simply by being a part of it.
When he can't stand it anymore, he makes a desperate sound low in his throat and slowly slides a hand down his front. It feels like defeat and reprieve at the same time. It feels intolerable and inevitable. It feels like sin and sanction because the first graze of cool fingers to hot flesh sends sparks cascading down his spine. He pushes up to his knees for extra room but keeps them spread wide so he can keep his chest on the bed, keep his vision blocked by the pillow, and keep reality from registering too strongly. The longer he can pretend it isn't really happening, the better off he'll be. Uryuu is not masturbating to thoughts of Kurosaki. He isn't, okay? This is just…
From where it was left on the desk, his phone vibrates with an incoming call. Since he's a little preoccupied, he ignores the rhythmic buzzing. It's probably Ryuuken intending to nag him some more about being stubborn anyway. And as much as he doesn't want to think of Kurosaki right now, he wants to think of his father far less. Uryuu stops fighting it and lets the images come. He thinks of the sounds Kurosaki makes when he's close. The look on his face when Uryuu went down on him in the shower. The fact that he has learned precisely how deep to bite for best results. The strength of his grip in all the right places. The rough way Kurosaki handles him balanced by the gentle glide of his palms. The line of light kisses pressed so carefully along the arch of Uryuu's neck.
It's the latter memory that hits the hardest. His mouth opens on a subdued moan as his brow scrunches for conflicting reasons. He's holding back again. He doesn't want to come while envisioning such a chaste act, knowing what it implies about Kurosaki's regard for him. There is no affection behind the boy's attentions. There can't be or what they are doing is so much worse than he could ever accept.
That may be the biggest lie Uryuu has ever sold himself, but he'll keep selling it as long as the tiniest fraction of his brain buys it.
A firm knock at the door disrupts his concentration. His hand stills and slips out from under the unzipped waistline of his jeans. Uryuu sits up, grabs a tissue to clean his hand, and straightens his clothes as he wonders who the hell would visit his dorm at the tail-end of fall break. It's probably Ryuuken, for the aforementioned reason. If it is his father on the other side of that door, Uryuu will not hesitate to express the full extent of his discontent at the unexpected appointment. There is too much pent up rage and frustration and desolation swirling in his blood alongside the arousal that he feels fit to burst in half a dozen different ways. All it will take is one glare, one snide comment, one hint of disdain and he is going to flip the fuck out.
Combing fingers through tousled hair, Uryuu walks to the door and hesitates to turn the handle. Maybe he should pretend he isn't in. Maybe he should shout for the visitor to leave him alone. Or maybe he should quit acting like a moody teenager and open the damn door. He sighs, twists, and pulls.
No. No no nooo, he inwardly shrieks as his heart judders painfully before kicking into overdrive. Kurosaki is not standing in the hall outside his room. No, he is not. Uryuu starts to push the door shut on this evil apparition but a foot steps forward to block its path. He raises his other hand to the wood and pushes harder, but Kurosaki shoulders past him like it's nothing. The door slams shut with nothing to serve as resistance and Uryuu seriously considers reopening it to flee. Except he knows that once he starts, he won't be able to stop running until he's gone too far to ever return.
He straightens from his lean against the door and reluctantly turns to face his guest.
"Is that how you treat someone who went out of their way to bring you free food, Ishida? What's wrong with you?" Studying him properly, Kurosaki frowns and repeats in a more sober tone, "Hey, what's wrong? You seem kind of…"
Uryuu averts his eyes and lets his fringe fall forward to hide color that shouldn't be there. "What are you doing here, Kurosaki?"
"Didn't I just say I brought food?" He raises the plastic bag he's holding as evidence and sets it on the corner of his desk. "Are you sick or something?"
Yes. Yes, he is. Sick in the head because Kurosaki's presence is preventing him from winding down like he needs to before the other boy intuits the genuine cause of his flushed appearance. Uryuu bars an arm across his middle in the hopes that it will suffice as some sort of shield.
"I don't want it. Get out."
"Tch. Inviting as always. At least try a bite, would you? It's one of my mom's old bento recipes. You'll like it, I promise."
"I don't care if it's the most delicious bento ever made, I still don't want it!" Kurosaki throws up his hands and goes to sit on the edge of his bed. Uryuu tries very hard not to think about what he was just doing there. "Why are you back early? Couldn't stand one more day with your dad?"
"No, idiot, I'm back early because today is your birthday."
Blush intensifying uncontrollably, he snaps his eyes to Kurosaki's at that. Call him optimistic but he really didn't expect the boy to remember, much less care enough to return early for it. Especially considering the last thing Uryuu said to him a week ago. He's not proud of it but he won't take it back. Not for a free meal and certainly not for an impromptu social call. His gaze falls to the floor as he mumbles his reply.
"No one asked you to—"
"Did you really think I'd let you spend your eighteenth birthday by yourself?" Kurosaki sounds offended by the assumption. Uryuu isn't brave enough to risk a glance for confirmation. "Seriously, why are you acting so weird?"
"I'm not acting weird," he denies, mimicking offense he doesn't feel since he's too busy subverting panic.
"Yeah, you are. It's like you're…I don't know. Shy?" Smirking at the absurd notion, Kurosaki teases, "Are you being shy, Ishida? Your face is bright red. What are you embarrassed about?"
"I'm not shy or embarrassed! I'm angry because some moron suddenly showed up at my dorm without warning, asking stupid questions and—"
"Actually, I called first. You didn't answer."
"That doesn't make it better!"
Evidently deciding to suss out the truth of the situation for himself, Kurosaki rises to close the distance between them. Uryuu's fingers scrabble for the knob but a palm is preemptively planted against the door beside his shoulder, holding it shut. Kurosaki's other hand nudges his chin upward to appraise his countenance. Uryuu knows what he will find there: pink cheeks, dilated pupils, flushed lips, and elevated breathing. Even Kurosaki isn't dumb enough to misinterpret the signs. Not when he's seen them on Uryuu too many times to count. Brown eyes widen slightly in recognition before darting downward to the telling silhouette in his jeans.
"Were you just…?" He turns his head away but doesn't attempt denial. There is awe in Kurosaki's voice as he says, "I thought you never—"
"I don't."
"But you were, weren't you? Right before I got here." Easing nearer to Uryuu, he asks, "Were you thinking about me while you did it?"
Who else, he wants to quip but it would surely set Kurosaki off like a bottle rocket. "None of your business."
His soft huff of laughter ruffles the ends of Uryuu's hair. Kurosaki tucks it behind his ear and leans in to whisper, "Since you didn't get to finish, do you want me to…?"
The offer has Uryuu turning back for eye contact and the tips of their noses almost meet with the motion. When his mouth parts to speak, Kurosaki's focus fixates on it. "You're asking?"
"It's your birthday."
Uryuu swallows against the implications of that simple statement. So, Kurosaki would willingly defer to his desires on account of the occasion? How considerate. Never mind that consideration is the last thing Uryuu expects—or wants—from him. It's more likely that Kurosaki is plotting to use this as leverage later on. Something along the lines of, remember that time I didn't molest you on your birthday? Nope. Uryuu is having none of that.
A slight change in angle has their lips fitting together perfectly. Kurosaki gives a short groan and buries his fingers in dark hair, kissing Uryuu like this is secretly the birthday gift he's been waiting for all year. He gets carried away far too quickly, popping the button on his jeans within the first fifteen seconds. Kurosaki doesn't hesitate to reach under fabric and take firm hold of him. Jolting from the pleasure imparted by that confident grasp, Uryuu gasps around the tongue massaging his. It's so much better than doing it to himself, even if he really wishes it wasn't.
"Kurosaki."
He doesn't recall breaking the kiss to say it and doesn't know why he would want to. He doesn't recall clenching his fists into the sides of the boy's t-shirt, either. Uryuu tenses as the pacing of his strokes speeds up and says his name again, more urgently. Kurosaki curses into the curve of shoulder and throat he was just nibbling. He raises his head to stare at Uryuu with a lust-drunk gleam in his eyes.
"Were you that close, Ishida? If I knocked a minute later you would've been covered in come…"
Then he definitely wouldn't have answered the door, he wants to point out, but Kurosaki has him right on the edge and he doesn't have the breath to spare for snark. Uryuu can feel it rising—the wave cresting, threatening to crash. He tilts his head back to rest against the door and fails to cut off a groan before it emerges. But it turns into an unhappy noise as the pressure of that sliding grip disappears.
"Kurosaki," he complains with his tone.
"Feel free to keep calling my name but it won't change the fact that I'm about to give you the best birthday blowjob of your life."
"Wha—"
Uryuu's incredulous exclamation is sidelined when his wrist is caught and tugged. Kurosaki drags him across the room, pushes him to sit on the bed, and yanks his pants down to his thighs in rapid succession. By the time Uryuu recovers enough to gripe about it, Kurosaki is already living up to his boast. His mind blanks and his fingers curl into the covers because God damn. It's exactly like that time in the confessional: fast and wet and unrestrained. Only this time Uryuu doesn't hit his limit in under a minute. He can't; Kurosaki won't let him.
The urge to yell at the jerk is powerful, but Uryuu is moaning too much to get a full word out, never mind a sentence. When did he start doing that? And why can't he stop?
As though anticipating his thoughts, Kurosaki briefly halts the assault to encourage, "Be as loud as you want today. No one can hear you but me."
Oh, he'd like that, wouldn't he?
Watching him work is making it worse, Uryuu realizes. He lets himself fall backward and shuts his eyes, but losing the sense of sight emphasizes touch. On top of that, the hand that isn't locked around the base of his erection moves to rub up and down flexing abs. Kurosaki is enjoying this too much. Why else would he be drawing it out so long? For the sake of seeing Uryuu writhe, obviously. He can't help it, couldn't lie still if his life depended on it. What Kurosaki is doing feels so fucking amazing that part of him can understand the appeal in prolonging the end. But Uryuu also feels like he's been waiting for days, since the last time they were together this way and he doesn't think he can bear it any longer.
"Kurosaki!" In all honesty it's practically a plea. When is Uryuu ever honest with himself? "Oh, God, I need—"
He doesn't get the chance to communicate his needs because Kurosaki is suddenly kissing him, possessively pushing his tongue inside. Uryuu's hands automatically trade sheets for shirt to tightly grip.
"Don't you dare say His name right now," commands Kurosaki with a nip to his lower lip for emphasis. "He's never made you feel this good."
Uryuu opens his eyes to gape at him for that unwarranted assertion, but they snap shut again as Kurosaki's fist goes from holding steady to pumping fast. He bites Uryuu's throat firmly, just how he likes, and it isn't the Lord's name being praised this time around. The pressure releases in a glorious shockwave, vibrating through him like the thrum of heavy bass. It is impossible to resist getting swept up in the 'music' Kurosaki always inspires. He is the veritable maestro to Uryuu's concerto.
The strident chorus gradually tapers to a sweet refrain. There is moisture gathered in the corners of his eyes and he tells himself it is only a side-effect of a stellar orgasm. It has nothing to do with how he feels about Kurosaki's surprise visit.
When he gets up to grab the box of tissues, Uryuu raises up on elbows and asks, "What about you?"
"Maybe later," he replies with a small smile. "I wasn't kidding about that bento so don't even think about saying you're not hungry."
"I'm not." Kurosaki shoots him a long-suffering look layered with something else that makes Uryuu's heart thump harder. It's not affection, he reminds himself, it can't be. He glances away and mumbles, "But I guess I'll try it anyway."