AN: Mentions of sexual assault in the upcoming chapters.
Sorata's sounds of distress were muffled by Aoyama's lips ramming against his forcefully. He heard the bathroom door lock with a familiar metallic click as he was shoved against the cold tiling by his friend, their faces still connected. The occasional gasps for air gave Sorata a chance to get a few words in, her eyes opening to look into his.
"Aoyama...!," he gasped, a string of saliva separating between their wet lips. "W-What the hell is happening-"
Again she interrupted him with another kiss. "Shut up. I know you want this."
He could only sputter a noise of confusion before she resumed her attack. Granted, it was any teenage boy's dream to make out with an extremely attractive girl, his best friend no less. Her lips were moistened generously by the lust-induced saliva produced in her mouth, and it made kissing feel too good. Sorata's body reacted accordingly, one hundred percent of its attention on the hungry, lustful girl wanting it, and suddenly his pants felt two sizes too tight.
Aoyama finally allowed him to pant for air when she frantically got on her knees and began unbuckling his belt. For a moment, a more rational part of herself rose out of its inactive state after catching a whiff of Mashiro's perfume on his clothes. The expensive perfume which she remembered Mashiro bought specifically to impress the brown-haired boy.
"Wooah...that smells good Mashiro!"
"Y-Yeah."
"What's the occasion? Something professional coming up?"
"No."
"Or is it...someone you wanna impress?~"
Aoyama could never forget the flustered and embarrassed look plastered on Mashiro that day.
"D-D-Don't tell."
"Relax. I won't. Geez...you two are so cute dancing around each other..."
She ignored her conscience pulling her back by the shoulder to get her to stop and focused on Sorata's 'tent' in front of her face. It wasn't the first time she had seen Sorata's boner; several stories of her walking in on him jerking it could be told, but this was the first time she hadn't laughed and walked away at the sight. The first time she hadn't leaned against Sorata's bedroom door, making jokes about his situation while he got his pants up. Instead this time, she felt ravenously hungry, her eyes clouded with lust.
"Aoyama!," Sorata yelled. "Stop it-"
"Shut up!," she barked, cupping her hand over his mouth. She had her other hand welded around Sorata's wrist and pinned to the wall. "You wouldn't be hard if you didn't want it."
Sorata began to panic. It was like he was chained to the wall when he jerked forward, trying to free himself from Aoyama's body and her iron-clad grip. He didn't understand how she could overpower him. It was like she was an entirely different person, what's left of the Aoyama he knew and trusted being her physical body. He had always imagined mostly during lonely nights, that this sort of situation would have a lot more laughing and inside jokes and witty banter and embarrassment and vulnerability. Exactly how two best friends would act in a sexual scene.
Instead she began riding him selfishly without any of that, somehow having gotten his pants and underwear down. She moaned loud and semi-exaggerated in an attempt to arouse what she was riding, but he simply looked at her in shock, having given up trying to escape.
"Come on Kanda-kun~," she breathed seductively in his ear. "Move. Fuck me."
Unlike Aoyama, Sorata was completely motionless and waited for her to finish. He looked at her with worry all this time, having known something was wrong from the moment he returned home with Mashiro after the convention. He wondered why she had ignored him up until she poked her head through his bedroom door and urgently commanded him to come to the bathroom. But she wouldn't budge, giving vague answers like: 'I'm fine' and 'Tired from work'. He had seen her burnout dozens of times before, and even then could she muster a half-hearted joke or two.
She kept her hand over Sorata's mouth while yelling at the person who knocked to go away, not pausing one second to stop riding. It really was like she had been possessed by some kind of animal. One which had no control over itself and acted purely on carnal desires. But Sorata noticed a little bit of Aoyama revealing herself when she stopped staring into his eyes and rested her head against his chest, almost as if she was hugging him.
It didn't take long for her to climax. A short moment of cheap pleasure followed by a long sigh, and she slowly sat down on the toilet.
"Aoyama...," Sorata whispered gently, already dressed. "...you there?"
After a minute, she gave the tiniest of nods with her head buried in her hands, slowly coming to the realization that she had just raped her best friend. She knew he wasn't playing around when he demanded for her to stop. Looking him in the eyes would've crushed her, so she just sat there while Sorata knelt down in front of her.
"What happened just now? Are you okay?"
"I-I-I d-don't know dear God I'm so f-fucking sorry...," she whimpered, her bottom lip quivering with every breath. Her entire body crumbled further and further like she was being crushed with an anvil.
"It's okay, just...Aoyama. Tell me something's wrong."
"NOTHING!," she screamed. "STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT!"
Sorata couldn't grab Aoyama's wrist in time. She practically busted the lock on the door and scrambled to her room upstairs. As if it were staged, Sensei hesitantly ambled into the bathroom to confront the devastated teenage boy on his knees.
Sensei sighed. It was a sigh of both sympathy and annoyance. Sympathy, considering she had remembered screaming like that when several of her lovers got a bit too insensitive, and annoyance, coming from the fact that she just wanted to watch her movie in peace on a Friday night. "Look Sorata," she began. "What'd I say about doing it in the dorm? And I get you're young and stupid and all, but girls don't like it when you're too rough like that."
"It's not that Sensei," he explained worriedly while they followed him up to Aoyama's room. "Something's wrong with Nanami."
"Yeah. You fucked her too hard."
"Sensei. This is serious. I was in my room when she dragged me into the bathroom and started to..."
He trailed off. Sensei's smug smile slowly faded from her face when they stopped in front of Aoyama's room and she got a better view of Sorata's face. There was nothing but concern radiating off him, the same way she imagined her dad would look when she stayed out all night. He was dead serious and so she shed her aloof Friday-night demeanour.
"Aoyama?," Sorata called, knocking on the door gently.
She heard the muffled voice through her door and shouted in response. "Fuck off!"
"Do...you wanna talk?," he nervously asked.
He heard her scoff in anger.
"What the fuck do you think?!"
"You don't have to open the door. Just tell me what's wrong."
Through the thin door they heard a heavy sigh, followed by the ruffling of blankets. "Please just...leave me alone. I-I know you mean well."
It didn't help Sorata's anxiety the way her voice came out all too defeated. After what he had been through this past day he knew that, as cliché as it was, she needed a shoulder to cry on. Or she needed to get yelled at, like Mashiro did to him. He felt as hopeless as Aoyama and rested his forehead on the bedroom door, too concerned to leave her alone. What could he possibly say? Not only was he struggling to stay calm and stop himself from crying, but he also knew that whatever he said would be met with denial from the girl, as stubborn as she was.
He thought about kicking the door in. It would be so easy. The thin door would split in two like cardboard, and he could rush in her room to at least give her a hug. But calmer heads prevailed, knowing that she probably wouldn't appreciate the only space which was hers being invaded like that.
Sensei blinked in shock as she watched Sorata fight to keep his breath under control. It was like he was holding up his lungs with slippery hands and he was about to lose his grip, before it would fall on the ground to cause him to collapse and suffocate. She could feel the pain and anguish punch her in the chest like a truck, and suddenly she felt like running back to her room where it was safe. Where she could kick up her feet and watch her movie. And not feel like she had just been spotted by a hungry lion out in savannah.
Another minute and her gut would explode. She was just about to walk up to him when the door opened, engulfing Sorata inside like a carnivorous pitcher plant before the door shut again. There was no way she could leave it at that with the feeling of anxiety welded to her gut, so once again she sat against the wall and listened through the paper thin walls.
Sorata immediately got up from all fours and embraced Aoyama, her shoulders hunched over and an arm covering her chest. She made an attempt to steady her breathing by trying to focus on the warmth of another human being, but she could only hold it for so long until the tears rushed out like an overflowing dam. The two felt like time had slowed down to a crawl. Sorata hadn't even noticed the minutes going by and the back of his hoodie getting damp with the brunette's tears. He had been too busy petting her on the head whilst gently soothing her with comforting words.
"...there there...," he whispered lovingly. "Let it all out."
Aoyama could barely form a coherent word under all her gasps for air. "I'm...hic!...s-s-s-o...s-sorry..."
For almost an hour, Aoyama and Sorata sat in each other's arms on her bed. Sorata had finally felt at ease once she was in his arms and was more than happy to sit there quietly while Aoyama cried. It was strange. Without a single word spoken between them, he was taken on some kind of rollercoaster ride of emotions. One second she would radiate short bursts of heat in rage, and the next she would be shaking with dread. If only she could share what she was thinking, Sorata would understand completely, but this seemed to be enough for her now. He gently stroked her semi-oily hair over and over again as if he was a dad consoling his daughter, until finally she mustered up enough courage to begin talking.
"Kanda-kun...," she whispered. Her chin was resting on his thigh as she stared at her little trinkets on the shelf.
"Yup?"
"Is Sensei outside?"
He shook his head after getting up and opening the door. She had left half an hour in, trusting that the two could settle it without her intervening. Aoyama breathed in heavily and made herself comfortable on Sorata's lap when he sat cross-legged on the bed again.
"Okay," she exhaled. She sounded like she hadn't spoken in ten years.
One hundred percent of Sorata's attention was placed on his friend's eyes which were darting left and right while she formulated her thoughts.
"Umm...guess I'll tell. B-But don't get upset. And don't tell anyone else. Just...listen."
"Alright."
"So ah...I got raped."
His eyes widened after hearing the words leave her mouth. Slowly, carefully and without any emotion.
"Sorata...I'm sorry for earlier. I mean I didn't know what happened. It was like I didn't have any control over myself and I get it if you'll never forgive me. I know you...you know. With Mashiro and all..."
She heard him audibly stammer in disbelief when she was talking more about him than herself. "Aoyama!," he blurted out. "Enough about me! Y-Y-You-"
"SSSHH!"
She sat up and covered his mouth with her palm. "Don't be too loud...! I don't want anyone else to know about this!"
"Why not?! Do you not understand what happened to you?!," he asked with intense seriousness, matching her hushed volume.
"Yes of course I do! I just don't want anyone to worry about me and especially not you!"
"Christ Aoyama...did you call the police?"
Her lips clamped shut and she looked down with shame. "N-No. No wait!"
She dragged him back down onto the bed just as he was about to reach for Aoyama's phone on her desk.
"What. Are you doing."
"He said that...if I report him then...then he'll ruin me."
"What?!"
"H-He said he has a video. A-And I won't get lead role. And I'll get expelled from SUA."
Sorata was fuming. Both his knuckles were white. It looked like he was ready to punch the living shit out of the wall he was glaring at, like he was the one who had just been violated.
"Kanda!," Aoyama whined. "It's okay! Really! Just-"
"-just what Aoyama?!," he interrupted. "Just let this whole thing go like it never happened?! If he has that video of you then its bound to happen again and by the way who in the actual fuck?! Did this to you?!"
"Relax...! And keep your fucking voice down!"
Sorata didn't care that Hase could hear them from the other room, the paper-thin walls in Sakurasou being one of the most infuriating things about it. He paced back and forth in anger, already plotting his revenge while Aoyama sat on the bed hugging her knees.
"I don't want to say," she sighed hopelessly. "You'll go after him, won't you? Try to get him arrested?"
"Oh I'll do more than that."
"...what if he releases the video?"
Sorata stomped up to Aoyama's desk and began crumpling a plastic bottle to funnel some of his wrath. "Aoyama. Tell me who did this."
Her bottom lip quivered. Her whole body felt cold and lifeless, like it was nothing more than a plaything for the world. She felt the urge to run away as far as her legs could take her when Sorata walked up to her and looked her in the eyes with sheer fury.
She opened her mouth.
"...Fujisawa."
"The End."
Hase's eyes remained fixated on those two words, too afraid to look away.
If she did it would be the end of the week long journey she had just immersed herself in, and she would be thrust back into her reality again. Her sad, boring and meaningless reality. She shuffled a little to the left so that she could read it in the sunlight: short segments of text that she smiled at, that is. Flicking back over the pages like she was reminiscing an old photo album, reading mostly the lovey-dovey stuff between characters that any other hardcore reader of the series would consider filler and skip.
But even when she had placed herself in the shoes of her favourite female character, the glaring realization that it had ended remained stuck on her like an unwanted tattoo, constantly reminding herself that it was time to go home. It was time to stop fantasizing about being a courageous, heroic and not to mention beautiful female protagonist, and return to Hase. And her mundane, high school life.
She got up off the bench and began walking back home to Sakurasou with music blaring through her earphones, half of herself still stuck between the pages of the book.
It was like any other day, and like any other day she was acting on autopilot. She had reserved a tiny proportion of her brain to simply get through the daily routine of her life: wake up, go to school, come home, study, sleep and repeat. The other was lost in a different land, most often indicated when she spent longer than usual gazes outside the windows of her classroom and trains. There she felt as if she was free from the constraints of the outside world. There she could imagine herself in her own stories, act out any scenarios no matter how morally questionable it was, whatever popped into her head at the moment.
The passing of a cherry blossom above her head reminded her of what her seniors were up to. She had always been envious of them. Even from afar she could tell that they were brimming with liveliness. Even when they came home at 2AM drunk as all hell, there was a fire in their eyes driving them forward. It made sense that she wouldn't understand, having spent a short time with her seniors, so for now she could only imagine these wild, risky and lewd adventures that they would go on. Both in real life and online.
"Hase! Come over here and try my hotpot! I added a 'secret' ingredient!," Rita chirped as Hase robotically entered the dorm. She walked to the kitchen and felt the warm liquid run down her throat, not knowing what to say. Was it meant to taste better? Compared to what? It tasted extremely mediocre compared to their usual evening hotpots, but then again she had accidentally chugged it down without bothering to taste it.
She tilted another spoonful of broth into her mouth, closing her eyes to fully taste the flavours. "Mm. It's good," she said out of politeness. Or habit.
"Would you like to know what the secret ingredient is?~," she sang into Hase's ear.
"Not really."
"It's...love...!"
"Love?"
"Love! 500mg, distilled and fermented from the one and only Ryuunosuke himself!"
Upon hearing this, he ran downstairs to begin verbally sparring with Rita, not one of them missing a beat. Ryuunosuke was more aloof and playful compared to his usual self, and he had lost the nervous stammer he once had when talking to his love interest.
"Seems like they're getting along well...," Hase thought as she placed the ladle back into the pot and walked upstairs. "I'll leave them be."
A quick shower later and back again she was in her all too bland looking room. There were books scattered everywhere which made it easier for her switch storylines whenever the current one she was reading got a bit too bland. It was her version of keeping a hundred plus tabs open on her browser.
She collapsed onto her bed with a novel above her face, but her arms struggled to stay up. In fact, her entire body felt like it was made out of lead. Everyday for as long as she could remember, despite her eating well and sleeping lots, she tired far quicker than she would've liked. The inadequacy was one of the reasons why she started to despise the people around her waving their energy in front of her face like they were showing off. Misaki, Rita, Aoyama and Himemiya.
Speaking of, he slowly opened the door to her room without knocking and his head poked out like a whack-a-mole.
"Don't you know how to knock?," Hase nagged with books strewn to the left and right of her pillow. "I could've been...whatever."
"I just want to remind you that you are ugly," he blandly stated before barging into her room. He acted like an older sibling, the way he would touch her stuff and sit on her chair in a carefree and casual way.
"Mhm. What do you want?"
"I want your attention Hase!," he mock-pouted.
She rolled her eyes and flopped her head back onto her pillow, burying her face in a book. Himemiya nibbled on a stale potato chip as he watched her try to read, but clearly waiting for him to talk over the silence. After determining that Hase had finished her school stuff by the fact that she was reading, he blurted out whatever popped into his mind.
"Let's go out!"
Hase lowered the book slightly and raised her eyebrows. The thought didn't entirely disgust her surprisingly. She had always hated travelling away from her room to do stuff she could've done...in her room. Case in point, to watch a movie as Himemiya excitedly proposed. Why bother paying ludicrous amounts of money on a movie, snacks and travel, dealing with other people and being too far away or too close to the screen, when she could just watch it at home?
"No," she simply murmured, returning to her book.
"Ehh? Why?"
"It's too...'peopley' out there."
"Let's do something then! It's a Friday night, I'm bored and you're bored too! Wanna play a board game?"
Hase internally wretched, but chose to keep a neutral expression as to not dispirit Himemiya. She just wanted to be left alone and read in peace but she couldn't find it in herself to tell him for some reason, despite it being perfectly reasonable.
"A board game? Wow, I-"
Her distaste for his idea was interrupted by the sound of a male voice yelling next door. It was Sorata, obviously, his voice muffled as if his face were buried in a pillow. Hase and Himemiya perked up, trying to make out what the two were arguing about.
"Lover's quarrel?," Himemiya sang. The yelling had quietened down to a muffled conversation.
"Don't care," Hase deadpanned. "Seniors."
"You don't think its weird that Aoyama and Sorata are in the same room so late at night?"
Hase grumbled in frustration, burying herself under the covers. The constant reminder that there were people around her was beginning to get on her nerves.
"Arggh. Go. Away!"
He sighed away his playful demeanour to reveal a more dejected side of him.
"Man...and here I thought you seemed kinda lonely. Fine. I'll get out of your hair then."
She slowly lifted her head out of her blankets after hearing carpeted footsteps leave her room and shut the door. For a second she felt a tinge of guilt, imagining what he must've looked like after getting brushed aside like that, but she rationalized it by telling herself that he had lots of other friends to go watch the movie with. And that they could compliment his extroverted personality much better than she ever could. Just picturing the two of them side by side at the theatre made her cringe. There would be lots of awkward silences after he noticed that he was the only one talking.
But Himemiya was right. Hase was tremendously bored, having already finished the novel in her hands at least three times. It seemed like reading anything was the only way she could get that little dopamine hit in her brain.
Anything else and she would feel empty inside. She had a laptop to play video games on, but all of the games in her library bored her to bits, much to Sorata's shock. Anime and movies were too long. Misaki was equally as horrified when she found out that Hase would rather read the synopsis than watch the full thing.
Exercise, banal studying, porn...she went down the list of things to do on a Friday night that didn't involve other people, and found all of them to be much too bothersome. For now, she just laid there in her bed, her eyes fixated on a particular dent in her ceiling that stood out from the empty canvas of white.
