There were few people in the world who didn't seem to mind his nature. He was naturally a volatile personality, changeable as all hell and extreme. That meant that most people were unwilling to spend more than a few days as his acquaintance. That also meant that the few people who stuck around meant something to him, made precious for their rarity. Every moment they were with him he expected them to leave, they never left. He'd lash out and cringe seconds later, and they'd only sigh and accept that as expected behavior. It was a rather mutual pain on both their parts.
His brain threw words at him to hiss at Ma-kun, "I didn't mean for you to get hurt. I did it for us all. It's all that fucking Yuki Eiri's fault… it will never happen again… ASK is dead… dear god, forgive me." But instead, he heard himself say, without any forethought at all, "I mean, you look like total shit. No one's going to swoon over that mug today." He lost a great deal of his visible arrogance and charm, just then, looked down and around, anywhere but at Ma-kun. He felt embarrassed.
"I'm not the lead singer of ASK." Ma-kun quipped back at him, letting the accidental cruelty go.
Tachi smiled for show, tried to look at Ma-kun for a moment, but found that as soon as he saw Ma-kun lying there in the hospital bed he felt his eyes tear up a bit. He looked back at the muted television set, laughed once and hoarsely, "Neither am I." His voice didn't sound amused enough, it sounded sort of airy and on the edge of being choked to death from blocked tears. He laughed nervously to cover it.
Ma-kun didn't say anything, and Tachi went to go sit by the bed, his eyes still traveling all over the place. There was a picture of a vase full of flowers bolted to the wall. The room became quiet then. It was the sort of ugly deathly quiet that made Tachi feel weaker and sicker by the moment, til his neck actually failed him for a second and his chin traced a little circle in the air.
Ma-kun reached out and touched his face, and he jumped just a little, but not enough to break contact.
"Hey." Ma-kun said, softly, but there was nothing else to say.
Ma-kun's face was diamond shaped and entirely too close to Tachi's. Ma-kun's eyes were an odd sort of frosty blue color, they looked almost unnatural.
A moment, a hesitation. Two men touching who shouldn't. Tachi couldn't breathe.
Just the corner of Ma-kun's mouth tugged upwards, and Ma-kun touched one finger to Tachi's lips, and very clearly in the silence stated, "Pout."
Tachi jerked his head back and stood up, offended. His eyebrows pulled together with displeasure and he frowned. "Fuck you."
"There." Ma-kun said, sounding a little amused, and very tired. "You sound better already."
He shifted his weight again, felt heavy all over. He wanted to apologize. He wanted to say it out loud, apologize for getting him involved in this. He wanted penitence, he wanted forgiveness, he wanted torture. He wanted anything but this hospital bed and that ugly feeling of eyes just looking at him.
"So, you came here to get this over with, eh?"
Tachi winced, but the voice lacked any real anger.
"Hate hospitals." He muttered, edged closer to the hospital bed, simply feeling awkward and at a loss.
"Yeah, I know."
He couldn't look up past the blue hospital blanket and the white sheets. He couldn't look up, tear his eyes away from the remote control sitting on the bed, past Ma-kun's knuckles. He didn't want to look up. He didn't want to see Ma-kun's face. He felt almost weak he felt so awful, great weights on his entire body pulling him down and down and down, exactly where he belonged.
They existed awkwardly in each other's presence for the meanwhile, neither attempted to make any sort of casual conversation. Tachi just stood there and hung his head like an upset child, a little boy who knows he's done something awful, was visibly agonized and perfectly willing to lie about it to protect himself from punishment.
It felt as if the passing of time had ceased. Tachi was now unable to look anywhere but at his own hands, and every time he tried to look up, his chin would dip back down again. It was quiet in the room, white noise taking up empty space: the air conditioner, nurses down the hall who complained about having powdered creamer instead of milk, and traffic driving by. The longer neither of them spoke the more self-conscious Tachi felt. Each glass grinding second they were quiet Tachi felt sicker, and the weight of the truth came down on him, and he clung to his exterior calm out of the strength of his pride alone.
"We lost NG." He said, feeling almost dizzy when he said it. Nauseated, weepy, but he wasn't going to break down, he refused to.
"Figured." Ma-kun answered.
And they resumed being quiet.
After minutes, eons, fingers touched Tachi's face, and he didn't jerk away. He let Ma-kun force him to look up. Ma-kun pet him on the head lightly and smiled without any malicious intent at all. It hurt Tachi to be forgiven so easily. He should have smacked that hand away right when it touched him, but it was so good. Soothing. It meant that there was at least one person left in the world who didn't hate him.
Ma-kun's face was bruised, cracked and ugly. His blonde hair was oily and sort of tangley. His eyes held nothing but kindness.
Instantly, Tachi was filled with utter distaste. He jerked his chin to one side, spun around. "I gotta go." He felt like he was running away, and was a little ashamed.
"Yeah."
"Later."
So now, Tachi was home. It was a good flat. The floor was wood, in warm tones. His furniture was an excellent grade of leather. His stereo system all Sony product perks -- NG and Sony had been in bed together for years.
Tachi was drinking rum from a plastic bottle. It was too sweet, really. If he drank too much in one swig, he'd gag on it. But he was out of soda, so that meant that he had no appropriate mixers -- and right now, all he wanted was just a little bit of oblivion.
There was overwhelming quiet in his flat. Tachi lolled his head around in a circle, examined the ceiling, the floor, the décor. He liked it here. He liked the things he owned. He liked being rich. He liked it here.
"Only little drunk." He sighed. "Not…. Enough."
And he closed his eyes and smiled just a little bit.
"Only a little fucked." And he laughed. "Only a lot."
He closed his eyes tightly for a moment, pursed his lips and grit his teeth. For a moment, everything inside him wanted out. For a moment, tearing apart the apartment wasn't at all beyond his grasp.
And then it became meaningless, everything had suddenly become meaningless. There was nothing left. The only thing that ever mattered to him no longer existed.
His mouth pulled into a classic frown face, his eyebrows knit lightly. He pursed his lips.
"Pout." Tachi said outloud, laughed a little bit. "I … don't pout…" and he closed his eyes and got quiet, wondering why he even bothered saying anything out loud to begin with. It was just too quiet inside his flat, it was just too alone. But he was alone for a reason, an obvious, simple reason: he was a monster.
Simple fact. He was a monster, and he had chosen to become this monster.
Twenty-one year old has been monster high school flunky alcoholic. He rolled his head back so it was resting on his sofa seat, laughed at the ceiling and felt his gorge rise. He sloshed his head back to an upright position, squinted at the bottle on the floor and pulled it closer for another drink. Tachi drank too much rum again and nearly gagged, his stomach knowing he was drunk enough when his brain urged him to go further. He cautiously capped it, spinning the white plastic cap back onto the bottle, set it aside, and lay down on his floor.
He breathed. And that was it.
It was a blur of days. He only went out for liquor and sex. Those two things, at least, still had some sort of effect on him. Star fuckers still wanted a piece of him even if he no longer actually had a contract with any big name company.
And they usually went away willingly. All they wanted from him was bragging rights. All he wanted form them was a little mindless pleasure. Fair trade.
He was sitting on the floor, back braced against his couch, staring at the tv, which was turned off. He was just looking at it. He was just staring. He wasn't thinking. The silence in the room had seeped into him. He wasn't alive. He was just sitting, he was just inhaling, and he was just blinking.
His hair hadn't been washed in many days. It was a tangled, oily, black mess. He hadn't gone out to get any more liquor since his last bottle ran out. He was just sitting. He was just sitting. He was just sitting. Brown eyes blinked in longer stretches than they should. His breath felt a little labored. If he thought too much, his world felt too tight and loose at the same time, utterly groundless and unsafe.
The knock at his door made his entire body jerk in a fear response.
He held still.
He hoped they would go away.
He was almost upset that he'd begun thinking again.
He only wanted to exist inside this stillness.
He heard keys sliding into the lock, he heard the door open. He didn't look for a moment, but eventually swung his head to see who entered, felt as if he were weighted.
Ma-kun walked up to him, crouched down next to him, touched his shoulder. "You look like hell." And Ma-kun pet his head. Tachi closed his eyes and told himself he had no right to feel relieved.
"You eaten today?"
Tachi kept his eyes closed and didn't want to respond.
"Taaaaa chi." And he was pet again. "Tachi Tachi Tachi." Like an adult speaking to a child, a implied " tetch tetch tetch. "
Ma-kun raked Tachi's hair back and kissed his forehead.
Tachi grit his teeth and tried not to jerk away or cry.
"Let's get you fed."
The smell of food in his apartment almost made him sick. It nauseated him and made him feel weak. He forced down some food and forced himself to turn his brain on.
"What are you doing here?" He heard himself say too aggressively.
"Ken-chan said he hadn't seen you in a few days. Thought I'd come over to see if you're ok."
"I'm fine." And he turned his back to Ma-kun, faced the living room. Soda cans and liquor bottles and beer cans and plates of food were piled one on top of another. Dirty laundry seemed to be anywhere and everywhere. He vaguely remembered taking off t-shirts and randomly tossing them to one side, putting dishes and cans wherever there was room. Tachi hadn't bothered to clean up after himself for weeks.
"Yeah, fine." Ma-kun said sarcastically, and turned to do dishes.
"Don't do that." Tachi hissed at him.
"Why not?" Ma-kun started to run the tap. "This place is filthy."
Tachi cringed inwardly, but grit his teeth to avoid looking like he felt hurt. "Well, fuck you, too."
"I'll just do a few."
"You're not my wife."
"Well, you never asked."
"Ma-kun, stop it." He made his voice steel.
Ma-kun glibly ignored him, and proceeded to rinse off Tachi's collection of dirty dishes and place them in the dish washer. "How do you wind up with so many dirty dishes? You do own a dishwasher, you know."
"Ma-kun."
"Ta-chan."
"You're pissing me off."
"You're always pissed off, so that isn't exactly threatening."
Tachi made a hiss sound of annoyance and looked around the room as if for sympathy. Tachi crossed his arms and tilted his head to one side, just watching Ma-kun tidy up his kitchen. He couldn't help but be excessively annoyed. "This is my kitchen, you know."
"Take care of it then."
"Fu-"
"You're too damn predictable." Ma-kun smiled down at his hands, and completely ignored any outward hostility Tachi projected; he knew the difference between Tachi's ineffectual anger and his beat-the-crap-out-of-random-strangers anger.
"-ck you."
"You know what this place needs?" Ma-kun suddenly said, plunk the dish back into the sink without bothering to set it down (a loud clatter is heard).
"What?" Tachi asked sharply, wondered where he put his alcohol.
"Music." And Ma-kun started to the stereo.
"Don't turn that fucking thing on." Tachi blurted.
Ma-kun turned and blinked at him, a little surprised at the vehemence in his voice. "Eh?"
"Just, no music." And Tachi turned his head away, frowning and wanting something safe to settle his eyes on. "Ok?"
"Uh…" Ma-kun's slightly higher voice paused in confusion. "Ok."
Tachi's mouth pulled into a small, unconscious frown, and he looked around his apartment a moment. "It's not so bad in here."
"You hate it here."
"What?" Tachi looked up at Ma-kun by accident.
"You can't lie to me, Tachi, I've known you too long." And Ma-kun smiled large enough to show his teeth. The bruises on his face weren't so awful now, though you could still see them faintly under his skin.
"Does that hurt?"
"Huh?"
Tachi pointed at his own face, traced a "u" shape in front of his mouth, "Smiling. Hurt. Does it?" And he flicked his gaze over to one side, a little bit, feeling awkward even looking at Ma-kun's face, wondering if Ma-kun felt self-conscious with the bruising.
Ma-kun blinked for a second before he totally caught on. "Oh." And he smiled a little less. "Nah. I'm cool." And he looked a little better already. "Just aches, really."
They both resumed their quiet.
Tachi shifted. Tachi felt hung over. Tachi felt awkward. Tachi felt shy. Tachi wanted to go to his bedroom, lay down, fall sleep, and ignore the whole thing. Tachi wanted to apologize.
Ma-kun grabbed a small towel, dried his hands. "Brought my paper."
"Ma-kun -"
"Come on."
"No."
"Why?"
"It's stupid."
"That's your answer for everything." And he grabbed his backpack from next to the door, unzipped it in the same movement, he pulled out a clipboard. "Come on."
"No."
"Humor me."
"Why?"
"… I just got out of the hospital?"
Tachi sighed and Ma-kun won.
They moved to the living room and sat on the same couch. Tachi inhaled and gave Ma-kun an expectant look, and Ma-kun handed Tachi the clipboard and a pen in a grandiose fashion, with one commandment, "Scribble."
Tachi took the pen and scribbled a mark on the page, and handed Ma-kun the clipboard again. Ma-kun started to sketch around the scribble, and Tachi rested his chin on his palm and just watched. Ma-kun sighed in annoyance.
"What?"
"This is so obviously a crocodile."
"'Bitch. Whine. Moan.'" His Japanese accent carefully tortured the American phrase.
Ma-kun grinned and kept on sketching. "So I won't make it one."
Tachi nodded and didn't know what to say. This is the sort of stuff they did when everything was… normal. When nothing hung in the air. When you didn't just walk in on the other person crying and drinking and dying.
So Tachi guessed they were going to pretend everything was OK.
Ma-kun kept on frowning and flicking his long hair back with a flip of his head. "Fucking hair is in the way."
"Braid it."
"Ken's not here."
"Braid it yourself."
"I don't braid my own hair. I'm a rock star, other people braid it for me." Ma-kun was making fun of Tachi (who was fond of saying "I'm a rock star."). "Do it for me."
"Eh?" Tachi arched an eyebrow. "I don't ever braid your hair."
"Do it this time." And Ma-kun tilted his head to one side, leaned close to him, his hair a fine blonde curtain in front of Tachi.
"What? No." Tachi tried to make his voice sound offended when in fact he was actually a little alarmed.
"Just the one side so it doesn't flop in my face."
"You're a guy."
"You're observant."
And Tachi hesitated, looked at the hair. He finally gave in, and reached forwards, and touched it. He pulled his hands back and shook his head even though Ma-kun couldn't see. "No good. Don't know how."
"Sure you do. You're just chicken." And Ma-kun clucked at him.
Tachi frowned. "That's not going to make me braid your hair."
Ma-kun rolled his eyes, grinned, reached forwards and caught Tachi's hands, "Here, like this." And guided Tachi's hands to a small lock of Ma-kun's hair, and began to show him how to weave three locks into one braid. Tachi jumped at the human contact, tried to jerk his hands away. Ma-kun carried on without a care, forcing him to learn how to braid. "Here…" Ma-kun said, hot hands still holding onto Tachi's uncomfortably, taking one lock and drawing it under the one before it, "And… here…" and taking another lock and weaving it under. Tachi's heart did a funny, frightening flip, and he wasn't exactly sure he liked or disliked the physical contact. Ma-kun's hands were entirely too warm and large. After a moment, Ma-kun let go of Tachi's hands and Tachi was forced to finish the braid himself. When they were done with their little braid fight, Ma-kun had one slightly loose braid on the left side of his head, the other side still loose and flopping around. And Ma-kun started to sketch again.
"You know…" Ma-kun said, thoughtfully, over his clipboard… "What you need."
"No. What do I need?" Tachi said angrily, still annoyed that he'd been 'forced' to braid Ma-kun's hair.
"A party."
"Party."
"Yeah. Get the hell out of this place. Someplace social, ya know?" Ma-kun was focused on the clipboard, and each miniature pause in the conversation was filled with the scratching sounds of his rollerball pen.
"Huh."
"With people."
"Fucking hate people." He glanced around his living room, took in the trashed state one more time, wished that Ma-kun had called in advance.
"Right. Reverse Passion is having their debut party tonight, we should show up."
Tachi turned and looked at Ma-kun, arched an eyebrow. "'Reverse Passion'? That's their god damn name? That's… fucking… stupid."
"Tachi, our band name is 'ASK'."
"Still stupid." Tachi tossed his head by habit, forgetting that his hair was short now. Ma-kun grinned and looked down, recognizing the movement as the force of habit it was. Tachi raked his hand through his black hair, frowned lightly, and flicked his eyes off to one side, simply disliking making eye contact after he'd obviously done something so humanly silly. He didn't look back at Ma-kun for a moment, and when he did Ma-kun was just staring at him. "What?"
"Well?"
He grit his teeth a moment, gave up because he didn't feel like fighting, "Fine. I need to get laid anyways."
It was a party. That was it, really. Some liquor, some drugs, lots of music and hardly enough room for more than one ego let alone the twelve it as accommodating right now. Small party, the band Reverse Passion and the band ASK, and a few fangirls.
Tachi couldn't hear a god damn word they had to say, but he had a cold beer and the rapt attention of a cute little thing with short hair and nice eyes.
"You know." She said inside the quiet lull in between harsh Jrock songs, "If you had an aura, it would be leopard print."
She really was a cute little thing, Tachi decided. The school girl uniform helped. He smiled at her and leaned in close, and very clearly whispered, "meow," at her.
Her cheeks went delicate pink, and she stared up at him like a little mouse -- ready for his playtime and her little death.
Tachi smiled, leaned back into the couch and didn't break eye contact with her. At least the party wasn't a total loss.
Just at the edge of his peripheral vision, Tachi saw a flash of a palm. He flicked his eyes over and saw Ma-kun waving at him, jerking his head to one side to follow. Tachi nodded, held up one finger to the cute little thing with the pretty eyes, mouthed, "Right back." She smiled at him with all the gushing sweetness of someone who was utterly star struck. He changed the movement, used the finger to point straight down where she was sitting on the floor at his feet, "Stay, right there." And he got up to leave, follow Ma-kun wherever he was leading.
Ma-kun wound up leading Tachi into the bathroom. It as quieter in there, the music unable to break through walls yet, and Tachi leaned into the bathroom mirror to fix his hair. "Shit, we've been listening to that crappy album of theirs for two hours."
"It's their party." Ma-kun shrugged.
Tachi examined himself in the mirror. Eyeliner, gelled hair, mottled blue/grey and silver snake print shirt caught the light of the bathroom. The bathroom was decorated in industrial styles, statues that made no sense and paintings that were created by splatters and geometric stamps decorated the wall directly behind Tachi, and the effect was displeasing - it didn't match his shirt, or his dark looks. He leaned closer and examined the eyeliner, checking to see if it's blurred yet. It had, and he could have sworn he hadn't touched his eyes all night. He gave up, blurred it a little more, turned on the faucet and wet his hands, tousled his hair. "Rocker." He said and pointed to himself in the mirror. "We get away with anything. Including looking like crap." And he smiled a bit chagrined at Ma-kun in the mirror. "So what'd you bring me in here for?"
"Talk." Ma-kun's voice didn't include hints.
"Oh." Tachi said, frowned at his reflection one more time. The hair didn't look quite right yet, the tousle looking more like actual bed hair than rock-star hair. He re-tousled it. "So what'd you think of that chick?"
"Eh?"
"That girl. Chick. Whatever. I'm not good at P.C."
"She's okay. A bit young, don't you think?"
"She's legal." Tachi re-tousled his hair again, getting frustrated. "I wouldn't mind a ride with that one. Sweet."
Ma-kun was just looking at him in the mirror now. "You realize you sound like a total fucker, don't you?"
Tachi shrugs. "She's just a fucking fangirl. Think she doesn't want a piece of me?" And he frowned, he didn't like being put on the spot. "It's all mutual. I'm using her, she's using me."
"You make it sound disgusting."
Tachi shrugged again, "Whatever." And he was finally satisfied with his hair, with it spiked just so.
"So what is it about you, then?" Ma-kun asked, his voice stronger than usual, almost as if he were demanding some type of justification.
"'What is it about me?'" Tachi asked back at him, turned his head just enough to make eye contact inside the mirror. The ugly painting looked better framing Ma-kun's blonde looks than his dark looks. Tachi didn't mind letting his eyes linger, thinking that the reds looked good next to Ma-kun's platinum blonde hair.
"Yeah. You. About You. What the hell is it?"
"Don't know."
"You've been… "
"I've been --?" Tachi tried to cue him.
"A total fucker lately."
Tachi snorted, and gave up listening to a word Ma-kun said.
"Tachi, listen to me."
"Let's go back to the party." Tachi spun around, and Ma-kun happened to grab his elbow at exactly that time, preventing him from exiting the bathroom.
"No, I think I wanna finish." Tachi half turned around and was forced to quickly look up. There were times when he forgot that Ma-kun was a great deal taller than he was. And Ma-kun's face was a great deal closer than he'd anticipated, after tipping his chin up a little too fast. Ma-kun's eyes reminded Tachi of the Eskimos, reminded him of their exotic husky dogs with white fur and ice blue eyes. He imagined great fields of snow, wind and biting snow flakes slowly numbing cheeks, he imagined dogs curled up in great drifts that looked like white sand, nose to tail, eyes slit open and examining. Ice, ice blue and clear.
"Fine then. Finish." He snapped, and jerked his arm away, a little embarrassed that he'd taken the time to examine Ma-kun's eye color.
"Tachi -" And Ma-kun broke it off, looking like he wasn't as sure now as he was seconds ago. "Shit. Tachi, I think getting famous so young ruined you or something."
"I'm ruined. Wonderful. Supportive. Thanks. Let's go back to the party."
"-- Tachi."
"What?" And once again, he turned around and nearly collided with Ma-kun, who was standing too close.
'I think…" Ma-kun started, and let it trail off. The two of them got silent again, neither of them took a step back this time. "I think…you should behave a little more…"
Tachi got annoyed, "Oh, fuck. Not this."
"Ta-"
"What, you got something against me getting laid now?"
"No."'
"So what's the big deal? You were never bothered by this before. I'm just flirting. Christ, I haven't even screwed her yet. Just told her she was cute."
"Well, we all know what that leads to, with you."
"So much god damn faith in me."
"Well, it's not like you've proven you're even worth faith." Ma-kun hissed at him.
And Tachi stopped moving. His insides stopped moving. He stopped digesting food, stopped pumping blood. He stopped existing. For at least two seconds, he felt an intense amount of pain. And then he laughed a little raggedly, shook his head, "I've been waiting for you to do this to me for years now." And he sighed, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand in a habitual nervous tick. "About god damn time." And Tachi took a step backwards, and Ma-kun reached out as Tachi took that one step and clenched Tachi's arms tightly, preventing him from pulling completely away. Tachi looked down at Ma-kun's hands, briefly, flicked his eyes back up to examine Ma-kun's face.
"Tachi…" And Ma-kun's eyebrows knit as he looked at Tachi, a frown moved across his lips lightly, and he looked uncomfortable and he looked raw, and he looked….
Oh, shit.
Before he could pull away, a hand touched his cheek and a thumb brushed against his skin.
"Tachi…"
He should do something. He should move. He should unfreeze. He should push Ma-kun away.
"Tachi, I…. I …." And Ma-kun leaned forwards so that his forehead was touching Tachi's forehead. "I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to say."
And he couldn't figure out how to move his body. He couldn't unfreeze his brain. He was suddenly excessively aware about how close they were. How close their lips suddenly where, suddenly aware that Ma-kun had been drifting closer all this time and he hadn't even noticed. He could feel Ma-kun's breath against his lips. They were both very still. Ma-kun's hand felt large and hot on his face. And all Tachi was aware of was the beating of his own heart - mentally he kept on asking himself, 'Is it beating faster? Faster? Faster? God, no, it can't be.' And he was aware of his own breathing patterns - mentally dissecting it, was he breathing harder? Was he breathing slower? Deeper? (A small perverse pleasure as his brain associated those words with sex.)
The nearness and warmth of a person made him extremely self-aware.
And Ma-kun started to push him backwards so that he was against the wall. Ma-kun's dog-blue eyes had gone all pupil now, and he was leaning into Tachi, and then Ma-kun closed his eyes, and tilted his chin so that their lower lips touched.
"Ma-kun."
"Ta-chan." He whispered back at him, leaned in closer, an almost kiss there until Tachi turned his head.
[i]"Ma-kun."[/i] He stressed, finally made it sound like an objection.
Ma-kun stopped moving..
"Don't." And he closed his eyes. He waited for Ma-kun to disregard what he'd just said and kiss him anyways. "Don't… do that." And he was embarrassed at how shaky his voice was. "Please."
And he waited for Ma-kun to do it anyways. And their lower lips were still touching, and as Tachi exhaled Ma-kun inhaled, and the warmth of each other's exhales sent a chill across each other's faces. And after a while, Tachi became utterly without thought. It was all breath. It was all inhale and exhale, that tiny thrill across his cheeks as the warm air stirred the fine hairs that lived there.
They did not kiss.
"We…" Ma-kun said, sounding like he had absolutely no desire to speak, "better go back to the party."
Tachi nodded, "Yeah." And he hated that he wasn't sure if he was escaping or if he'd lost.
The ride home was awkward and quiet. They took Ma-kun's car, and Tachi did not have the girl with him. Tachi had refused to let Ma-kun put Reverse Passion's album in the stereo, stating that if he heard it one more time he'd force the car off the road.
So for now it was quiet. And Tachi wasn't at all interested in small talk.
They reached his apartment after an eternity of silence.
They sat in the parked car for a moment, and they both flicked a look at each other, the two of them unsure of what to do next.
Ma-kun pushed his hair back and laughed once and said, "Sorry."
"Nah." Tachi answered as flip as possible. "Don't worry about it." And they both sat there for a little while longer. "Just don't like guys."
And it got deadly quiet again, the sound of the car engine running the only sound left in the car.
"So…" Ma-kun started, and then let it drift off again, his voice edged with hesitation... "Shindou -"
"Fuck you." Tachi snapped. "Go to hell and die." And he got out of the car, slammed the door, and stalked to his apartment.
Ma-kun sat in front of the apartment for a few seconds longer, before he smiled a bit sideways and said, "Yeah, I guess you don't actually have to die to go to hell, huh?" And drove away.