Shinobu had, metaphorically, a lot on her plate.
Her home life asked a good deal of her; she had four younger sisters in middle and high school to look after. It didn't matter how self-sufficient they were, baby teens still needed guidance in keeping it together. Meals cooked, homework helped, curfews enforced, etcetera etcetera etcetera.
Finishing her final year of pre-med was no walk in the park either. Two difficult bio courses had been monsters this semester, not to mention the required Literature seminar that she and Mitsuri blessedly shared, filled with useless busy work. Toss in studying for her MCATS, and this semester could officially be considered a recipe for no sleep.
She didn't mind being busy. It kept her focus forward, gave her very little time to look back.
She was organized enough, an expert at managing her time. What she wasn't quite so expert at yet, however, was managing people.
Particularly managing two specific people.
And these two specific people were currently both collapsed on top of her, digging her into the Twister tarp.
"Twister!" crowed Tengen, cackling with delight at the events unfolding before him.
Kyojuro leapt to his feet and roared, "VICTORIOUS!"
"Mitsuri," she attempted, muffled by her mouth pressed directly into Giyuu's sternum, "ow."
Shinobu must have been inaudible under the chaos of the Boys and the blistering babble of laughter and apologies from her best friend. She felt an elbow dig into her abdomen and she grimaced.
Thankfully, Giyuu was much stronger than he looked and pushed Mitsuri off as he stood. Shinobu sucked in a blessedly welcome gulp of air. He extended a hand down to her.
Good heavens, these two.
Why was it she seemed drawn to morons?
Not morons, per se. Not morons, in their own rights.
Giyuu was a simpleton, not a moron. He was blank. His expression hardly changed, he rarely spoke more than five words at a time.
Shinobu would never tell anyone that under that placid surface churned currents of opinions, rage, melancholy, righteousness. She let him appear foolish and vacant, because that was how he liked it. He didn't have time for niceties.
Speaking of niceties, Mitsuri was also not a moron, but she was very, very comfortable appearing as one. Her ditziness and bubbly personality let her hide as an airhead, let her be giddy and happy and sweet forever.
But Shinobu had her suspicions. She could smell a rat.
(Why did broken people accumulate together? A worthy question, were she to pursue clinical psychiatry instead of pharmaceuticals.)
Said-not-moron-number-one helped her to her feet, his calloused hand warm around hers. "Are you alright?" he murmured privately, ducking his head to catch her eyes.
Shinobu blinked back at him before she nodded.
She wanted to bite at where his neck met his collarbone as she fucked him from on top, feeling his large cock rock-hard inside her up to her navel, toes curling with electric pleasure as he moaned her name over and over again.
But it wasn't polite to admit such things.
Instead, she hummed her thanks and focused on said-not-moron-number-two.
Mitsuri was flitting around Obanai, horribly embarrassed and preternaturally lovely. Obanai, for his part, was doing an admirable job of attempting to keep his eyes above Mitsuri's chest.
He was failing, but it was the thought that counted.
"I can't believe you saw that! Oh wow, I feel so dumb! Oh gosh, pretend you didn't see anything!"
"How could I pretend I didn't see your Olympic gymnastic routine?"
"That's so silly." She blushed some more, sheepish. "That was just a backbend, not a whole routine."
One could almost see the mustache-twirling Tengen's grin promised. "I'm sure Iguro would like to see you do it again. We all would."
Sanemi groaned loudly and rolled his eyes. "Could you be any thirstier?"
"Yeah," sneered Obanai, who never had patience for Tengen's suggestive comments. When they were aimed at Mitsuri, he actively shot them down. "You must not be getting as much action as you tell us with how horny you sound."
Kyojuro prevented what would assuredly have been a spat by draping himself across Tengen's lap. "Action or no action, that is the question!" he announced, his delivery declamatory.
Sanemi glanced bemusedly at Kyo as Mitsuri giggled. "What is it with you and Shakespeare?" he muttered.
"Are we already talking about action?" Giyuu asked placidly, her hand still hidden in his. He gave it a gentle squeeze. "Have we drunk enough for that?"
Mitsuri was still laughing and chattering away, clearly delighted by what must have been Obanai's sense of humor. They were still in the entryway, lost in their own little world.
Shinobu couldn't help curling her upper lip.
Shinobu didn't get it.
She and Mitsuri had met over a year ago, again in a required course that Shinobu had put off taking. It had seemed like Mitsuri's first day outside; she babbled delightedly about the campus, about getting to take classes, about the school experience.
It wasn't until late in the spring semester that Shinobu had found out her age. Meeting people of a variety of ages on a university campus was quite normal, but it felt of note with Mitsuri.
Mitsuri seemed like someone who would have attended right after high school, joining clubs and majoring in something fun like graphic design, dance, education. Yet here she was, only in her second year, while Kyojuro was already a salaried employee in the workforce.
And when Kyojuro had declared that summer that Mitsuri was suddenly moving in with him, Shinobu took note of that as well.
Shinobu didn't pry. She wasn't a prier. She vehemently respected privacy.
But the little droplets of information, soft and small as tears, that Mitsuri let fall had Shinobu practically color-coding her notes.
A boyfriend.
Said some things.
And then he.
Let her.
Go to school.
And then.
He did something.
And thankfully.
He was.
Now.
History.
Shinobu would slit his throat if she ever saw him in person.
And yet, how curious it was that Mitsuri had seemed so fine with everything, only softly frayed at some edges, sometimes. Some melancholy. Little glances of panic here and there. A deeper blue ringing her eyes. A chalky tinge to her skin under fluorescent lights. A little thinner.
The only obvious tell of grief was Mitsuri's increasing tendency to recede. She just came out less, kept in more.
But otherwise she remained brightly cheerful, never any less loving and kind and gracious. Mitsuri would do anything for her friends, would bend over backward for them.
Apparently, literally.
So who was she to complain when Mitsuri found such deep companionship with this e-boy asshole?
Shinobu had to give credit where it was due; Obanai was clearly besotted with Mitsuri. Whatever spiny exterior he had blatantly melted like ice cream in Mitsuri's sunny presence. He often seemed like he wanted to drown in her, as if there would be no sweeter way to go.
But Obanai was so…
Hm.
Hm.
How to say this?
Mitsuri was, Shinobu thought, maybe the most beautiful woman she knew. The epitome of what a woman was hoped to look like. Her heart-shaped face, bouncy cheeks, lusciously full figure, small waist, dainty ankles and wrists, long and wavy hair, statuesque frame, and dazzling eyes seemed cut and pasted from any number of men's magazines.
Shinobu was keenly familiar with the private jealousies of comparing girl with girl, but never had she actively felt bad about her chest until she had seen Mitsuri and her triple-d-cups-with-extra-filling breasts. How could a girl compete?
Mitsuri looked like custard and cream poured into a body, topped with a dollop of strawberry sauce and lime jelly for good measure. In a word, scrumptious.
And Obanai…
...was a walking wire coat-hanger with a personality to match.
He was short. He was mean. He was weird.
Unless he was near Mitsuri.
Shinobu sighed fully and let her shoulders drop. What children they all were.
She knew there was more to this story that she wasn't quite seeing yet. But best just to leave it where it was for now. She did, after all, already have a lot on her plate.
Shinobu deftly, discreetly shook her hand loose from Giyuu's and maneuvered over to the kitchen.
"Giyuu's right," she chirped. "I think I need another drink before we start talking action and I definitely need another drink before I let you all drag me into that game again."
A resounding chorus of "hear, hear!"s followed and the Boys sprung into action.
Kyojuro must have started his party earlier in the evening, because he did a sloppy, yet still impressive, back roll across the couch, almost kneeing Tengen in the face, and jumped to his feet.
Sanemi fell off the back of the couch in his attempt to avoid being kicked in the face again. It was a good thing his face was already scarred, because this was getting ridiculous.
"Who's drinking what?" Kyo called, cheerily taking up his role as host.
"You don't have wine, do you?" Shinobu asked, helping herself to dig through cupboards. "The end of winter semester just invites cab sauv, you know?" She dug past multiple packages of baby snacks and single-serving tubes of peanut butter, finding nothing.
Kyojuro hummed over her shoulder on his way to the fridge. "I do not believe so. Mitsuri?"
Mitsuri, flushed with pleasure and a few shots, pranced her way past Obanai. "I don't have any! I think we last got some, um, two weeks ago? Three weeks ago? I thought we drunk it all."
"Drank," Shinobu said, unable to repress the whip of correction.
Mitsuri took it in kind, as usual, with a smile.
Kyojuro laughed. "Do you think we all have a drinking problem?" he asked, the clanking of refrigerated bottles joining the menagerie of alcohol on the counter.
"You all do, absolutely," Obanai offered.
The Boys were then off! Who knew where they would end up?
"What is the deal with all these little snacks?" Shinobu asked, lowering her voice so only Mitsuri heard. She tried to put everything back where she found it. "Where is all your real food?"
The grin in response was toothy, easy. "Oh, you know, finals week. I've been snacking my way through everything, and this is all that's left!"
Shinobu wanted to put pressure on that thought, the presence of toddler food still a curiosity, but her attention was stolen by the Boys and eggnog.
"Gimme that good shit!" announced Sanemi. "Load her up!"
Kyojuro was happily obliging, pouring the rum strong; Tengen was mouthing off.
"Ugh, how can you stand to drink that stuff? It's like, viscous. Doesn't that cream just make your shit liquify?"
Sanemi balked. "Dude...what the fuck?"
"You know, all that dairy, doesn't it make your asshole spicy?"
"As a future medical professional, I'm a little worried about your bowels, Tengen," Shinobu demurred.
"My bowels are beautiful, don't you worry, babe. All the girlies can confirm!"
"The thought of a spicy human centipede," Obanai sniped, "might be even more disgusting than you describing eggnog as viscous."
Sanemi made a groan caught somewhere between humor and repulsion. "Please, you fucks, just let me drink my eggnog in peace!"
Kyojuro beamed. "Order up!" he shouted, depositing the offending yet unassuming cup in front of Sanemi. He laughed in that room-filling way of his and said, "Tengen, I would be a little worried if I were you. To be lactose intolerant sounds like it would be a hassle!"
"Yeah!" Mitsuri chimed in. "A hass-hole for your asshole!"
It took several minutes to peel Obanai and Tengen off the floor, for once united in laughter. Sanemi and Kyojuro had both consumed two glasses of eggnog in that time, and Kyojuro was on his third.
"I don't care what you say," Sanemi said as he hauled Tengen to his feet. Mitsuri was flitting around Obanai like a hummingbird, unsure if she should grab him or make him laugh some more. "This shit is delicious. Whatever it does to your actual shit, however, is gross." Tengen smiled roguishly and shrugged.
Shinobu glanced at Giyuu.
It was easy - had been easy, she corrected - to lose him in the noise of their friends. He was not one to speak up and the Boys plus Mitsuri were not people to simmer down. That even Obanai would jump in and contribute more than him was surprising; but then, they three tended to be the voices of reason. She and Mitsuri would sometimes joke that they were the quiet, dark-haired corner, a trifecta of solemnity. ("A threeo of solemntude!" "Solitude or solemnity, which one do you like more?" "Aw, nuts!")
"Would you like any, Giyuu?"
He swiveled those eyes to her. Mitsuri could say all she wanted about Obanai's mismatched set, Shinobu was just fine gazing at that cool, deep blue.
"I think," he muttered, "that hearing Tengen talk about his shit has made it unappetizing for tonight." He shuffled just a hair closer, hardly any movement at all. "You are on to something, though. About the red wine. Wine would be nice with you."
Her eyelashes fluttered, her lips pursed. "It's not like you, to admit when I'm right."
"When you are, I will."
She inhaled sharply and her nostrils flared as she glanced askance at him; he was smirking. Very slightly, but he was.
"Now I have one thing to say!" Sanemi barrelled into any other conversation, made the room join him. "Tengen can think eggnog is gross because he is wrong and also apparently can't digest milk," he paused to cackle, "but the actual gross drink is that can of Diet Coke in your hand, Mitsuri."
She gasped as she was singled out, one hand indeed holding a Diet Coke, the other buried in her billowing waves of mermaid hair.
Obanai, who had been attempting some space from his obvious adored by sitting next to Sanemi on the couch, actually shoved him.
"No, listen to me-hey, cut it out you little troll-that shit is nasty. And Mitsuri, I've seen you drink, like, five of those tonight."
Mitsuri flushed crimson under all that attention, her fingers spasming for something to do.
"O-oh! I! Um! Ha! I-I like the way it tastes! The acetone!"
"Aspartame," Shinobu immediately translated.
"Right! That! I think regular Coke tastes too thick, or whatever. Yeah!"
Sanemi eyed her beadily, one hand holding Obanai down against the arm of the couch. "I'm just saying, you drink that shit like water."
Mitsuri smiled and set her can down on the kitchen counter, a cute laugh bubbling up. The Boys may not have noticed, but Shinobu did; a little light behind Mitsuri's eyes withered and went out. Her feelings must be deeply hurt. Why a snide comment about her drink did it, though, was curious.
Writing that down...
And also not tolerating Mitsuri's feelings getting hurt for any reason…
"So," Shinobu said. "You mean to tell me that you, Sanemi, who drinks piss-flavored light beer and the chalkiest strawberry protein powder shakes I've ever smelled, are our progenitor of taste? You, who has a bandage on your chin? You, wearing the same t-shirt and jeans we saw last week? You, an outfit repeater?"
Sanemi's jaw dropped and her eyes flashed.
"You can say all you'd like about Tengen's scatalogical problems, but I don't think his piss is as dark orange as yours must be." Damn, she still had it; no one could hammer a nail in a coffin quite like her.
Tengen, only briefly flabbergasted, exploded into howling cackles.
Sanemi's mouth spluttered like a fish, rapidly seeking any reply that could dunk as hard as she had. The longer it took him, the more their friends joined in Tengen's mirth.
Mitsuri flashed her an achingly soft, grateful look, but didn't pick up her can again. She moved to her room in search of her phone. Obanai's eyes followed her, his chuckles dying out like embers.
"I think!" bellowed Kyojuro, downing what remained of his drink, "that it is time for another round of shots!" He swayed as he stood.
"Buddy, are you sure?" Sanemi asked.
"OF COURSE!" boomed Kyo. It was astounding he hadn't yet gotten a noise complaint from his neighbors. "Giyuu, come drink!"
Shinobu knew where this was going and she wanted no part of it.
Leaving the circus where it was, she decided to float after Mitsuri into the sanctuary of her room.
Mitsuri was sitting on her queen-sized bed, almost camouflaged amongst the pastel duvet, pink stuffed animals, and pale mint canopy netting. She was thumbing through her phone, but glanced up when she realized she was not alone.
She smiled, and it was as delicate and shattered as broken glass, or heartbreak.
"Thank you," Mitsuri said softly. "I don't know if Sanemi deserved the full Kocho special, but thank you."
Shinobu crossed her arms over her chest. "What are you talking about? Of course he did. All of those idiots need a good shakedown."
Mitsuri laughed politely and beckoned for Shinobu to sit with her. Her bed was so plush that even Shinobu sank into it, as sweet and puffy as a cartoon cloud.
Over the past two months, the Boys had only intensified with the addition of Sanemi and Obanai, and Mitsuri and Shinobu found themselves horribly outnumbered. The chaos could sometimes become too much to bear.
Mitsuri didn't mind it so much, as she had revealed she had multiple younger siblings and it felt like wrangling children. Shinobu had to patently disagree, she minded it very much, but she mused now that perhaps it was because she had grown up in an exclusively feminine environment.
That made finding time to get away, just the two of them, even more special. Mitsuri's room made for a serene, pastel haven.
Mitsuri flopped over and laid her head in Shinobu's lap. She hummed indulgently when Shinobu began gently raking her nails against Mitsuri's scalp.
They paused for a moment, listening to the muted cacophony of the Boys in the kitchen. It seemed Kyojuro had successfully gotten Obanai to take a shot.
"How are you doing?" Shinobu asked quietly. Her nails disappeared in the cotton candy sea of Mitsuri's hair.
Mitsuri trapped her own hands between her thighs; a comfort gesture to keep her hands still. She sighed.
"I'm okay, I think. Really glad to be done. ...Really really really glad to be done. That math class kicked my booty, I don't want to think about math ever ever again."
Shinobu gently tugged at the earring in Mitsuri's lobe. "You know what I meant."
Mitsuri smiled through another world-weary sigh. "I know."
"When are you going back?"
"...Next week. Kyojuro's driving us, so I'll only be seeing my family when I'm there. And he has to get back into town for work, so it'll only be for a couple days. That means I'll be back to hang before you know it!"
Shinobu debated if she should, but curiosity won out over reason.
"And your ex?"
She stiffened only briefly. "I haven't talked to him in a long time. I don't plan on seeing him. I don't want to see him."
"Does Obanai know?"
Mitsuri turned her head to look up at her friend. "What does that mean?"
Shinobu smiled gently. "Come on, Mitsuri. I have eyes."
Mitsuri blinked prettily before pouting.
"Shinobuuuu," she whined softly.
Shinobu gently tweaked her on the nose.
"Mitsuriiiiiiii," she crooned right back.
She stuck her tongue out, exasperated.
"I mean, he knows about him. Sort of. He knows that I have an ex. He kind of hasn't really asked me any more about him."
Because he doesn't want to know if you're still in love with him, Shinobu thought. Because even forced ignorance is bliss.
"Are you going to tell him?" she asked instead.
"I guess I will. Eventually. I don't know. He kind of doesn't need to know the full thing. I mean, we're not dating, or anything."
"Do you want to?"
They caught eyes. Mitsuri looked like she might disappear.
"Mitsuri."
"I…" She seemed pained. "I like him. I do. He's...so sweet. So special. But he only likes me as a friend. He tells me all the time, how glad he is to have a friend like me. So it's just not like that."
You fool. You sweet fool. You beautiful little fool. Him too, so stupid. You're both such fools.
"I think that's good," Shinobu said. "That's smart."
"Hm?"
Shinobu smoothed Mitsuri's bangs away from her face.
"I can tell. I've got a good idea of it all. You're so sweet, so loving. You love everybody so much." Mitsuri's smile was a warm beam of sunlight. "But I don't think you're ready to date. I know you still think about him, sometimes. So it's good that you and Obanai are such good friends. You should keep it that way. You deserve to be in a relationship with someone who will be as all-in as you are. Don't settle for less. Stay friends."
Mitsuri made a hum of acknowledgement; her gaze wandered away. And then she smiled. "Shinobu?"
"Hm?"
"How does it feel to always be right about things?"
Shinobu knew what she meant. It wasn't, could never be, mean. She grinned back.
"It's nice. I'm not always right, but it's nice."
"Or...you know what I mean. To be so smart about things."
"It's only good when I can help people with it. Otherwise, I feel mean."
Mitsuri sat up. "Shinobu! You're not mean! You're never mean!"
"Not everyone is you, Mitsuri."
Instead of refuting, Mitsuri embraced her. "I love you," she said after a pause.
"I love you too, knucklehead."
They smiled at each other.
As if on cue, two things happened simultaneously. One: Mitsuri's phone began to ring. Two: a sudden dash of multiple pairs of feet, a chorus of "no, no no!"s, the banging open of a door, and the unmistakable sound and immediate smell of retching.
"Shinobu!" Tengen yelled, barging in. "We need you! Kyojuro!"
Shinobu looked between him and Mitsuri, who looked between her and the mobile.
"You go!" Mitsuri said, "I'll be right there! I just have to take this!"
Shinobu sprang into action and dashed past Tengen. She crossed to the main room, past Obanai and Giyuu, and ran through Kyojuro's room. It was an awfully good thing Kyo and Mitsuri each had their own toilet, because, as Shinobu arrived on the scene, it looked like Kyojuro was going to be bent over the porcelain for a while.
Sanemi was there, worrying over their blonde friend, unable to do much besides uselessly pat his arm.
Kyojuro caught a break in his puking and collapsed against the toilet for a breather. He was pale and clammy, his eyes swam. He at least had the wherewithal to flush the vomit away.
"Whew, I didn't think you were gonna make it all the way here," Tengen said from the door as Shinobu moved in, checking Kyojuro's eyes. He nodded weakly before a new wave of vomit announced itself and he bent back over the rim.
Shinobu stepped back and turned to Tengen. "I don't think it's alcohol poisoning, I think he's just throwing it all up. At this point, we'll need to let him puke it all out and keep an eye on him, just in case it gets worse. I don't think it will, though," she added, as Sanemi was about to interject with concern. "Once he gets it all out, he'll need water and some electrolytes to rehydrate, and some ibuprofen. No food until tomorrow morning."
Tengen, surprisingly, was the one to step up behind Kyojuro and pet his forehead gently. "Do you have any juice or anything here?" he asked softly, uncharacteristically tender. Kyojuro shook his head and coughed.
Sanemi's white hair was on end, but Tengen's slid smoothly out of his hairband as he moved to tie Kyojuro's long hair back with it.
"When did you become a nurse?" Giyuu asked from Kyojuro's room, having floated in after them.
Tengen grabbed Kyojuro's hand towel and moved to soak it with cold water. "That's on you if you weren't paying attention to what a nice guy I can be," he said over his shoulder. Kyojuro weakly laughed, coughed, and spat up some more in one motion and noise. "But seriously," he said, "how do you think I could get three amazing girls if I couldn't take care of them?"
Obanai scoffed from the main room. Shinobu gave him a begrudging smile.
"Here," Shinobu said. "We should clear out of here, let's give Kyo some space. Tengen, will you keep an eye on him?" He nodded as she ushered out the other mountains of muscle.
"Who is good enough to drive?" she asked the room; Sanemi and Giyuu raised their hands.
A weak mumbling came from the bathroom and Tengen translated, "Kyo says someone can take his car! Don't look at me though, you all know I'm drunk as a skunk."
Sanemi, glad for something to do, stepped up to the plate.
"Don't worry, I'll go get some ibuprofen and Gatorade. Toss me his keys," he directed to Obanai, who complied. "Anything else I need?" The massively fat wad of keys jangled its way in the air to Sanemi's outstretched hand. Wow, did Kyo keep an impressive set of keys.
"That should be good," called Tengen from the bathroom over the sound of Kyojuro's retching. Poor Kyo then paused and croaked weakly, "Thank youuu."
Everyone in the room made a face of disgust, sympathy, or some weird mixture of the two as they heard a renewed wave of upchucking.
"Anyone else?" Sanemi offered to the room as pulled his coat from the pile on the couch. Shinobu smiled up at him, tight-lipped. "Maybe some crackers if they have them. But you go ahead."
Sanemi grinned, saluted and left. They listened to him jangle his way to the parking lot.
Shinobu sniffed delicately, making her way to perch on the couch. Tengen was perfectly up to the task of holding Kyojuro's hair back; vomming up too much creamy eggnog wasn't so much of an emergency that it called for a future medical professional to supervise further, she decided.
She was, however, ruffled to discover she was left in the room with only Giyuu and Obanai, the sounds of Kyojuro's car receding in the distance. Giyuu had made his way to sit on the floor, ending between her legs.
Could he be any more obvious?
Obanai was caught between the kitchen and Mitsuri's bedroom door, her breathless voice barely audible.
…
…
…
Well, this was awkward.
What had been a rapid tumble of an evening, boisterous and full, screeched to a silent halt.
The dark-haired corner, the trifecta of solemnity, couldn't do much but glance between each other.
What was there to say to each other?
Obanai shuffled where he stood, sticking his hands in his pockets. Apparently he wasn't much use in a medical crisis.
They lingered there for several more minutes, listening to the ebbing and flowing tide of Kyojuro's vomit. Gross.
However, surprisingly, she wasn't the one to break the silence.
"I think," Giyuu intoned, after a few more minutes' silence. "The party might be wrapping up. I'm going to head out." He looked back at Shinobu meaningfully, his eyes fathoms deep.
Oh.
Oh.
She blinked. Her ears burned.
Kyo and Mitsuri didn't need her to stick around.
He would be fine. She had said so herself. And Mitsuri wouldn't mind; they had gotten to hang out a little.
"Can you give me a ride?" she asked, jumping on her chance. For some reason, she explained to the room, "Kanao dropped me off, and I don't want to have to call her to come all the way back."
The excuse sounded too big for only an audience of Giyuu and Obanai.
Then again, why did she care what Obanai thought?
Giyuu merely blinked at her.
"Sure."
The sudden, looming prospect charged the air around her.
A warmth pooled at the bottom of her belly.
She stiffly went to gather her coat, her shoes, her purse. Obanai merely gazed at them from where he stood.
"Do you need to leave right now?" Shinobu asked up at Giyuu, tying his scarf by the door. He nodded. "I'd like to, yeah. I didn't realize how late it was. I've got work in the morning." She nodded right back.
"Obanai," she said, not quite naturally. "Will you tell Mitsuri I had to leave because Giyuu was heading out and offered me a ride?"
Obanai blinked his multicolored eyes. "Okay."
She smiled at him, one of her placating smiles. "Thank you. You're such a good friend to her. You're lucky to be liked by her." He flushed at that. Ha. That ought to keep him off her tail for a little while.
Shinobu huffed, knew she was rushing out. But...
She waved and smiled at that weird little e-boy asshole until she and Giyuu were both firmly outside in the dark and the door clicked shut.
They both exhaled heavily, then glanced at each other.
The corner of his mouth ticked up, almost imperceptibly.
"'Can you give me a ride?'" he parroted quietly. "Oh, poor me, my baby sister is so far away, how will I get home?"
Shinobu shoved at him gently and made the familiar path back to his car. He didn't need to see that she was smiling. "Oh please," she whispered. "At least I didn't lie. 'We have to leave now,'" she dropped into a false baritone as he unlocked the car. "'I have work in the morning, we absolutely must leave now.' You don't work again until Tuesday."
They both climbed in.
"Are you saying you don't want to be here now?" he asked, his voice a low rumble against the fluttering pulse in her neck. His mouth found her jawline just below her ear.
She ignored the question in favor of pressing her hand on top of his on the gear shift. Giyuu shivered, started the car. He switched their hands' positions and gripped.
He put the car in reverse, began backing out.
Shinobu leaned over to him and slid her free hand up the back of his neck, burying her fingers in that dark, wild hair.
"You know," she sighed against the shell of his ear, "the moon sure is beautiful from here."
He inhaled sharply and kept his focus ahead.
"My room has a good view of it," he said.
She smiled. "If you insist," she whispered. "Let's see if you're right."
XxX
Mitsuri's throat clenched in panic, glancing down at her phone.
At that name.
She looked back up at an alert Shinobu, a panicked Tengen in her doorway.
"You go!" she found herself chirping, her voice ringing hollow. "I'll be right there! I just have to take this!"
Shinobu and Tengen didn't spare her a backwards glance, rushing to take care of Kyojuro.
Mitsuri, however, found herself glued where she sat, tethered by that name glowing up at her, the ringing chime reverberating painfully in her ears.
The outside noise faded to a dull roar.
Her thumb paused over the green phone icon, and then pressed down.
She moved the phone to her ear, got up to softly close her door. No one was looking her way, not even Obanai. She looked at his back as he stared into Kyo's room.
"Hello?" she whispered.
"Mitsuri?" His voice through the receiver wrapped around her neck and squeezed.
Her hand clenched on her door frame just as Obanai glanced questioningly over his shoulder. Their eyes met.
"Yeah," she said. She shut the door.
XxX
Obanai sat alone on the couch.
He waited.
Mitsuri had been right, of course; Giyuu and Shinobu had made their fucking exit. Who did they think they were fooling? Just because Giyuu wasn't one to talk didn't mean he was slick. Shinobu, at least, had the decency to look embarrassed and to ask after Mitsuri. But still. Those horny clowns.
Obanai decided he wouldn't be sitting on any of Giyuu's car upholstery for a long, long while.
Sanemi had returned shortly after from the convenience store, loaded with more powerades and bottles of ibuprofen than Kyojuro could ever use from even five nights' drinking.
That was just the kind of guy Kyojuro was, Obanai thought. So loving, so welcoming, that he invited that kind of love and care in return. Sanemi and Tengen would probably end up spending the night, just to make sure that Kyojuro was okay in the morning.
Kyojuro didn't need any more nurses. Obanai didn't want to get in their way.
No, there was only one reason he was lingering.
And that door had been shut for over an hour.
Obanai might have, on another night, already made his departure. He never wanted to get in her way or overstay his welcome. He did everything in his power to make sure she would never get tired of him, even though he could have stayed by her side forever, if she let him. He gladly punished himself with the absence of her presence to make sure she didn't have a reason to decline him.
But the way she had looked at him when she had shut her door alarmed him; he never wanted to see that deer in the headlights expression on her face ever again.
Something in that wide-eyed gaze and her breathless voice, smaller than he'd ever heard it, was deeply troubling.
It was all so incongruous.
That face, that voice, on the same night where he had seen such joy, such giddiness. As well as that outfit. As well as that fucking backbend.
Obanai couldn't help but audibly groan, even at the memory of walking in.
Truly the most what-the-fuck he'd ever walked in on.
He'd had no idea she could do that. That she was that flexible.
He felt his cock twitch at the thought; another gross, cum-stained image to hide away until he was in the dark. Mitsuri, with her hair loose. Mitsuri, bent backwards. Mitsuri, with her lips curling in a smile of pleasure. Mitsuri, in those tight clothes. Mitsuri, with that waist. Mitsuri, with that ass. Mitsuri, with those TITS.
Breasts, Obanai rapidly corrected himself. They were breasts. He wasn't Tengen, for fuck's sake.
But fucking hell, her BREASTS.
Obanai had initially held the vague idea that she was curvy, only getting a soft outline through her baggy, baggy clothes.
That vague idea had shifted into a teasing reality when he'd made her borrow his hoodie. It had clung lasciviously to her top, hinted at the skin of her impossibly small waist, revealed the shape of those hips and thighs in their glory. He'd had to immediately turn away and sit down so he wouldn't stare at her ass, so she wouldn't see the shape of his semi in his skinny jeans.
But now, tonight!
His lust-filled imagination hadn't held a candle to what a spandex stretch and a low-cut neckline could provide.
Her ass actually jiggled. Her tits actually bounced.
No-breasts. Breastsbreastsbreasts.
Obanai felt overstimulated, a sensation that had become foreign. Not since middle school had he felt this sunk.
He looked at his hands.
They would look...small. Against those stunning curves. He wondered if the give of them against his fingers would be how he imagined.
Fuck. He was starving.
He could admit that to himself; he was wasting away with want of her.
It felt like masochism, this pain and pleasure all mixed up together. He was more than happy to have any ounce of her; any text she sent, any smile she gave. When she studied in his apartment, he was overjoyed. When she reached for his hands, he was in ecstasy.
Mitsuri's comfort with him was not something he could have predicted. That she so willingly accepted each little piece that he shared of himself and would offer eight more pieces of herself in return seemed the most unfathomable heaven.
He liked her and she liked him.
Ignoring his lust for her, he actively enjoyed her. Her cheesy jokes, her kind spirit, her curious mind. It was all so cute. Mitsuri had become one of his best friends.
He constantly had to remind himself that they were just friends, just buddies. That was all she wanted from him; she'd even titled herself as 'Best Buddy' in his phone. He would respect what she wanted to the ends of the earth. The biggest battle was to remind himself not to do anything too boyfriend-y. Limits. Boundaries. Etcetera.
It was murder to be apart from her, it was blissful agony to be with her.
Obanai dragged his fingers through his hair and curled in on himself. "Get a grip," he whispered to himself.
Remembering that look on her face did quick work to drain blood from where it didn't need to be.
It was all so fucking confusing, so fucking miserable.
His lust for her was certain. His appreciation for her was clear. His concern for her he'd thought was a chained-up beast, distant and slumbering, but it had violently reared its head several times over the course of the night.
He wondered quietly, not for the first time, if he might be in love with her.
Obanai turned to look at her door.
Still shut.
He wondered if it would be out of turn for him to check on her. To knock, at least.
They'd never been in each other's rooms. She'd never invited him in to hers and he did not dare be so rude as to ask. He'd never invited her in to his; they'd never leave, if he did. If she said yes.
But he'd been sitting out here for a while. He was lingering, he knew. But...aching for her from her warm sitting room was surely better than pining for her from his own dark, lonely, bleak place.
How dumb, he thought to himself. Metaphorically, I'm no different from Kaburamaru.
His own mind, then, was abruptly made up for him at a sound from her room, far worse than the expression she'd had on her face.
His heart plummeted. His breath caught.
The sound was horrible, but unmistakable; Mitsuri was crying.