l u

seong-je leaned against the chipped iron fence outside her school gate, one boot pressed to the metal, cigarette smoldering between two fingers. his hoodie was pulled up despite the late afternoon heat, casting a shadow over his sharp gaze, which never quite left the screen of his phone. smoke curled lazily around him, drifting into the golden haze of the setting sun.

every so often, a student passing by would glance at him too long. the guys looked cautious. the girls looked curious. no one was dumb enough to approach.

he didn’t notice. or at least, he made damn sure it looked like he didn’t.

his phone buzzed.

baek jin: “she better not be bleeding again. straight to the bowling alley. no stops. no detours. keep her out of trouble for once.”

seong-je scoffed under his breath, thumb hovering over a reply he didn’t bother sending. babysitting. again. he couldn’t decide whether baek jin genuinely trusted him with this task or just liked the idea of him suffering.

then he heard it — the metal creak of the school gate. the click of shoes on pavement. a familiar rhythm, like chaos with too much confidence.

“miss me, pretty boy?”

he glanced up, already exhaling a long plume of smoke — and there she was.

lip split clean down the center, blood dried in the corner. her tie was nowhere to be seen, blazer thrown over her shoulder like it was a fashion statement. there was a fresh bruise forming on her cheek, but the smirk on her face made it look intentional.

trouble. wrapped in plaid skirt and attitude.

she sauntered over like she was walking a runway and not the sidewalk outside a disciplinary office.

“you’re late,” he said, tone flat, eyes lingering on her mouth for a beat too long.

“you’re welcome,” she replied brightly. “figured you’d get all twitchy if you didn’t have time to miss me.”

he didn’t dignify that with an answer. just looked her over with that same clinical coldness he used on enemies.

“what happened?”

she shrugged. “girl got bold. thought she could call me a plastic bitch and live.”

he arched a brow. “and?”

“she’s not living.”

he clicked his tongue and dropped the cigarette, grinding it beneath his heel. “you’re a magnet for lawsuits.”

“i’m a magnet for jealousy,” she corrected, brushing past him so her fingers casually grazed his.

he tensed — not visibly, not obviously — but she felt it. she always did.

“you’ve got blood on your sleeve,” he muttered.

“not mine,” she said cheerfully.

he gave her a look. one of those unreadable, annoyed-but-not-really ones.

“baek jin’s gonna lose it.”

she waved it off. “he always does. it’s his cardio.”

they started walking side by side. or rather, she walked in little bouncing steps that made her ponytail sway, while he matched her pace like he wasn’t watching her every move out the corner of his eye.

“where are we going?” she asked, tugging her blazer around her shoulders.

“bowling alley. your brother’s already there.”

she groaned loudly. “great. a post-fight lecture with pins crashing in the background. peak family bonding.”

he stayed silent.

a group of boys passed them on the sidewalk, loud and laughing until one of them caught sight of her. his eyes lingered. too long.

before she could say something smart, seong-je had already turned his head — just slightly — and stared the guy down like he was planning his funeral.

“something funny?” he asked, voice low and cold.

the boy instantly looked away, mumbling something as he walked faster.

she grinned. “aw. were you jealous?”

he didn’t answer.

“that was hot,” she added, bumping her shoulder into his. “almost made me swoon.”

“try not to swoon into traffic,” he muttered, reaching out — quick and automatic — to guide her by the arm when they stepped off the curb.

she blinked at the contact, warmth shooting through her from the way his hand lingered just a second too long before letting go.

“your love language is showing,” she whispered.

“shut up.”

“no, really,” she teased. “it’s cute. you're like... my grumpy little chauffeur.”

“i’ll throw you into the nearest trash can.”

“you’d miss me.”

he glanced at her then — fast, sharp — like he wanted to say something but didn’t trust it out loud. so instead, he reached over and pulled her blazer back up over her shoulder again. neat. protective.

she let him.

the bowling alley sign flickered in the distance, humming faintly in neon pinks and greens.

she sighed. “so, what do you think the over-under is on how many insults my brother’s gonna throw at me the second we walk in?”

“four, minimum,” seong-je replied.

“i’m betting five. he’s probably already rehearsing them.”

“you gonna behave this time?”

“no.”

he didn’t even blink. “didn’t think so.”

they stopped at the entrance. she turned to him, smirking.

“you’re not gonna tell him about the fight, are you?”

he gave her a long look. “what do i get if i don’t?”

“mm…” she leaned in close, real close, until he could smell the faint perfume on her collar. “a kiss on the cheek?”

he stared at her, jaw clenched.

then: “i’d rather get punched.”

she laughed, soft and delighted. “liar.”

he didn’t deny it.

the hallway behind the bowling lanes was dim and quiet, lit only by the flickering light above baek jin’s office door. the crash of pins and the muffled thump of music faded as they stepped inside.

it was a small, lived-in space. desk cluttered with open books and papers. filing drawers half-shut. a couch squished against one wall, definitely only meant for two if they didn’t mind sitting too close. a low coffee table was stacked with energy drink cans and a single, dying plant.

baek jin sat behind the desk, hunched over his notes, pencil tapping restlessly against the page. he didn’t look up.

“took you long enough,” he muttered.

“she had to beat someone up first,” seong-je said coolly, shutting the door behind them.

the girl breezed in like she owned the place, flopping dramatically onto the small couch. her skirt rode up just enough to get a side-eye from seong-je, who promptly looked away — but not before she caught it and smirked.

“don’t worry, oppa,” she said sweetly to baek jin, “the other girl looks way worse.”

“you’re a walking suspension notice,” baek jin grumbled, eyes still on his work.

she leaned back on the couch, stretching out like a cat, then looked up at seong-je with a slow smile. “sit with me. or are you scared i’ll touch you?”

seong-je gave her a blank look but didn’t argue. he crossed the room and lowered himself beside her, keeping exactly two inches of space between them. she, of course, immediately closed it.

baek jin didn’t look up, but his pencil stopped moving.

“don’t test my patience,” he warned.

“i’m not doing anything,” she said innocently, nudging seong-je’s thigh with her own.

seong-je shifted but didn’t move away. “you’re going to get me murdered,” he muttered.

“please. he likes you more than most people.” she turned to face him fully, propping her chin in her hand. “you look cute today, by the way.”

“you say that every time.”

“because it’s true every time.”

he rolled his eyes, but his ears turned slightly pink.

baek jin sighed, finally glancing up. “can you stop harassing him for five minutes?”

she gasped, offended. “i’m flirting. flirting isn’t a crime.”

“with you, it should be,” seong-je muttered.

“you like it.”

he didn’t answer.

she leaned in just slightly, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “if i kissed you right now, would you die or kiss me back?”

he met her gaze, calm, unreadable. “i’d probably throw you off the couch.”

she grinned. “so you have thought about it.”

behind the desk, baek jin muttered something about losing his mind and went back to his notes.

she shifted even closer, her leg brushing against seong-je’s. “you smell like smoke,” she said, quieter this time.

he glanced at her sideways. “so do you.”

her grin widened. “told you i’m your soulmate.”

“that’s not how that works.”

she bumped his shoulder with hers. “you didn’t tell baek jin i smoke. that’s love.”

“i didn’t tell baek jin because i don’t feel like watching you get disowned in real time.”

“aww,” she purred, drawing out the word like a melody. “you care.”

seong-je didn’t reply — but when she shifted to pull her blazer off again, he automatically reached out, tugging it back over her shoulder without thinking.

she blinked. “you’re so obvious.”

“shut up,” he said, quietly.

baek jin finally stood up from his desk, stretching. “i’m going to grab something from the counter. if either of you is sitting on top of the other when i get back—”

“we’ll be married,” she finished brightly.

seong-je gave her a look.

baek jin groaned and left the room, muttering to himself.

as soon as the door clicked shut, she leaned over to seong-je’s ear. “he hates how much i like you.”

“i hate how much you like me.”

“no you don’t.”

he didn’t argue. he didn’t move away, either.

“seriously,” she whispered, resting her chin on his shoulder for a moment. “what if i kissed you right now?”

he stared ahead at the desk. “you’d miss.”

she laughed, soft and breathy. “that’s not a no.”

“no, it’s a warning.”

she leaned closer still — then stopped, just an inch from his cheek, eyes playful but steady. “one day you’re going to kiss me first.”

he didn’t move.

didn’t speak.

but his hand drifted to her thigh — barely there, fingers resting lightly, like gravity made the choice for him.

“try not to get suspended again,” he murmured, voice low.

she smiled, victorious.

“morning”, you smiled but didn’t turn around. “coffee?”

“morning, pretty”. he stopped right behind you. you figured he was naked — the tip of his cock, hard and rigidly up already, was poking at the small of your back.

a hand slid under the oversized shirt you had quickly tossed on yourself, palming the bare cheeks of your ass — “i want some of that, definitely” — grabbing a handful and squeezing it inside his massive hand.

a hum dragged out of you, body jolting and back arching from the way the squishing caused one of his fingers to graze against your cunt, the tip of it almost prodding at your entrance. “i’m so hard, i can bust any moment”, his voice still low and loaded with sleep. there was something so undeniably sexy about the way he spoke to you in the mornings. drowsy, husky and lower than usual. “but i want it to be in you”

he rested his chin on your shoulder from behind, snaking his other arm around your waist to hold you still while the one between your legs worked the arousal out of you carefully. two digits rubbing against your folds, wiping the insides of your lips with the tips. you could feel a huge portion of your slick gathering at your entrance, threatening to blob on the floor any moment. but his hungry hand went for it first — he used his entire palm to wipe it off and then held it tightly pressed against your cunt for a few moments.

“s-shit”, you hissed, head falling down.

lifting the hem of your shirt you watched as his fingers peeked from in front. it was such an obscene view — your entire pussy inside his massive palm.

“can’t have you making a mess here, my darling. it’s the kitchen after all — it’s where we eat”, he pulled his hand away only to smear your slick all over his cock with a few slow strokes.

“says the man who’s fucked me on every possible surface in this very kitchen”

“almost every surface — i didn’t fuck you by the coffee machine, you see”, the smug in his voice was evident, “gotta fix that now. you just stay still and pretty the way you are”

bending his knees he lowered himself just enough to sneak his cock between the gap of your legs and brought your thighs together with his hands forcing them to clench around him. you smiled after realizing what he was up to. “can you cum from this?”, you looked at him over your shoulder.

“i can cum just by being next to you, my darling”, he breathed out a moan at the friction around his throbbing cock, pushing himself forward and effortlessly sliding across your sopping cunt all thanks to the little prep sesh from before.

“oh, f-fuck—“, satoru quivered when you took his tip poking out from in front and pressed it against your clit. “—fuck”, squeezing your thighs, bringing them more together, he settled into a rhythm of slowly drawing his hips back and forth into the slippery crevasse between your legs. “keep holding it like that… please, my love—it makes your lips kiss my cock”, he groaned through yet another slow thrust forward. the squelching noises, too, they were fucking with his brain. the vast ocean of you was right before him, yet he was only dipping his feet. regardless, it felt so fucking good.

“of course, baby”, you breathed, holding his cock flat against yourself from the underside — helping the upper side grind harder against your pussy, rubbing it on your clit each time he pushed himself forward. you couldn’t help but bite your lip as you watched his cock go in and out of the gap of your thighs swiftly.

“nghh..”, satoru moaned, his breathing now shallow as he felt the tingles at the base of his shaft. the tension rising in his groin rapidly, he wasn’t sure if he could endure a few more strokes without busting his balls out. “i’m sorry, love… don’t think i can hold it back…”, sweat dripping down his face and onto the back of your shoulder, he was desperately trying to keep his load under control as part of him was guilty that he was about to finish first.

“shh”, you hushed, rocking your hips against him to match his pace, to help him out. “you can cum, baby — do it for me”

your words were almost the end of him, but he managed to stop himself and paused his ministrations. pulling back from you slightly to spread his legs a bit more and grab a hold of his throbbing cock to guide it into your entrance and slowly slide it in.

“fuck” — he wasn’t even halfway in when all the tension in his balls suddenly released. he let out a loud groan, body slightly spasming as he shot a hot glob of his cum inside you…

extra:

“see — when i cum there is no mess”, his hands circled around your waist from behind (cock still inside you)

“that’s because you unload inside me. besides you haven’t pulled out yet”, you snorted, placing your hands over his.

“i’m not pulling out, yet”, his lips kissed the top of your head. “but i will ask of you to walk with me to the table”

“hmm, and why would i do that?”

“i am going to eat you there, for breakfast”

“You know I could be of use to you, right?”

“How?”

You groan in annoyance, tilting your head back. The sky is clear and the streets are quiet. This doesn’t quite feel like the ultimate perfect ending, it doesn’t quite feel like peace, but it’s a kind of calm you won’t take for granted. You look back up and continue walking.

“You’re missing tons of emotions. Trust me, there’s no one better than me to help you relearn them.” you say, attempting a dramatic salesman kind-of tone but failing miserably. You hear Eunhyuk scoff and think it was a bit of a victory, anyways.

“That sounds believable.”

“It is!” you insist, jogging up to him, “I swear we were dating before you went off and died.”

“I know.”

“That’s insane. You— I mean, you didn’t forget things, so then you must know this isn’t how you treat the person you’re dating after not seeing them for over a year. Surely.”

Eunhyuk turns to look at you. “The person you’re dating? We’re still together?”

“I mean, it’s not like I ever gave up on you.” you say, crossing your arms. He stares at you blankly for a couple more seconds before looking ahead again.

“Sounds like a waste of time.”

You sigh and let your expression fall for a second before fixing it. When your gaze falls on Eunhyuk again, his own expression has changed ever-so-slightly. There’s a crease between his eyebrows and his eyes are squinting a little, with a familiar tilt of his head. Then he blinks and returns to this neutral expression of his. “Is it not?”

“What else do you have to do with your time?”

“Finding others—”

“—Like you. Sixteenth time you say this, by the way,” you scoff, walking ahead of him. “You’re starting to sound like a broken record.”

Your eyes are burning a little bit. No, none of this feels victorious. To hell with a final battle, with everyone escaping, with everything. Nothing has changed. All that’s good is Eunhyuk being alive and he only feels like half of himself.

The worst part is that he acts the same as he used to. To the detail. It’s so obviously him that it almost hurts— All his actions just miss the hidden emotions he always kept close to his heart. Now it all feels empty.

Eunhyuk says your name and your heart feels like it stops. Just for a moment. You turn to see him catch up to you and slow at your side.

“This thing,” he says, and pulls out a necklace from a pocket inside his coat, “It’s yours.”

You blink. “… Yeah. It is.”

He looks at the piece of jewelry, holding it up by the chain like some kind of random thing he found on the street, before tossing it around his hand and grabbing the pendant in his palm.

“She said to use memories to relearn emotions,” he recalls quietly, then turns to look at you, “What do you think?”

“You tell me. Do your memories help?”

“I remember caring about you.”

You stare at him dead in the eye and barely blink at all for a few seconds. He does, and tilts his head again.

“What is it?”

“Why am I the only one still in love? That’s really unfair.” you huff.

“Don’t cry.”

“I’m not.”

“I said I remember everything, why are you trying to fool me? You always made this exact same face when you tried to hold back your tears,” he states, “I know this much.”

You heave a deep sigh and crouch down on the ground, covering your face with your hands. He’s right. It’s starting to make you angry. It really is him. It’s as if part of you was still trying to believe it wasn’t really Eunhyuk, that he was pretending not to feel emotions anymore. But it really hits you this time, that he’s simply lost that part of himself. You should be grateful that’s all he lost in the process of his rebirth, but you miss him. You miss him so much it hurts.

“I told you not to cry,” he sighs, and the closeness of his voice indicates he moved to your level, “What’s the point?”

“I miss you.”

“I’m right here.”

You shake your head.

“…If it’s making you this sad, then alright. Help me relearn them. Emotions,” he says. You take a deep breath and look up slowly. He’s waiting, crouching in front of you, a casual expression on his bloody face. “I’m a quick learner.”

“Okay. I’m bad at teaching though, I totally lied earlier. Promise not to leave me.”

“I have no reason to anymore. Besides…” he trails off, gaze averting. “…”

Lee Eunhyuk is more confused than he’d like to admit. He doesn’t feel emotions anymore, and he doesn’t feel any attachment to them either. There’s little hints of them, however, here and there. He sees you in pain and there’s a slight discomfort in his chest, reminiscent of a time long gone. He sees that necklace and picture and wonders why he bothers carrying them around, still. He sees the road ahead of him and acknowledges that he’s… Just a bit lost.

What now?

“… It’s for the best I stay with you,” he says, blinks, then looks at you again, “I think.”

“You think?”

“That’s the best I can give you.” He smiles, a bit tightly, and the grimace you make in return before scoffing out a laugh tells him he must not be doing a great job at this whole thing. He gives up for now.

“Let’s find somewhere safe to stay first.”

“Anywhere is safe as long as you stay with me.”

You give him an expression of irritation that he doesn’t really understand and get up, immediately beginning to walk away. “Don’t say things like that! You’re making me hope! Shut up!”

He gets up slowly and follows you. “It’s true, though.”

‘Ran?’ 

A voice pulls him from the darkness, and he rocks forward in his chair, groaning against the anxiety that threatens to climb its way out of his chest as his eyes crack open, squinting at the harsh flare of the lights.

‘Rindou.’ He chews on his lip and makes to pick up his glass again, the condensation wet against his clammy hands. He grips it hard to force down the shaking that snakes along his knuckles. ‘You’re here.’

‘This better be good Ran,’ Rindou says and pulls out a chair opposite, propping his chin up on his palm as he takes in the sight. His Brother’s tired eyes, shadows clinging to the skin underneath, the pinched brows that give him a permanent frown, the matted hair that sticks to his forehead, curling at the nape and around his ears, the sweat that rolls down his temple despite the air conditioning. 

‘Thanks for coming,’ Ran says solemnly, his head hung low, eyes downcast.

Rindou narrows his eyes and reaches into his jacket, fishing around till he feels the sharp metallic edge of his cigarette tin, frowning when Ran’s hands shake as he leans forward to accept the offered cigarette.

‘So what’s this about then?’ Rindou moves the glass from Ran’s reach absent-mindedly, noting the way his Brother’s lips purse as he takes a long drag, holding the smoke in till it burns.

The smoke curls from his mouth, grey against the light. ‘Had a fight with My Girl. A bad one.’ This last part is a barely imperceptible whisper, and Rindou leans in, tucking his hair behind his ears as he strains to listen.

Ah, Rindou thinks, his lips a firm line. He scoots his chair closer around the table till the thump of music gyrates his ears less and gestures with an incline of his head towards the bartender for a drink. Under this light, the shadows under Ran’s eyes and the creases in his otherwise immaculate suit are all the more prominent. As is the shaky exhale when Ran puffs his cigarette.

He knows the wedding band on Ran’s finger is still new, that Ran hasn’t fully adjusted to married life and domestic bliss is a concept he’s not well acquainted with, that it had taken Ran a very long time to persuade himself that he was capable of marriage in the first place.

‘What about? Can’t be that bad.’ Rindou watches as the bartender sets down a jug of iced water and two glasses, backing up when Rindou shoots him a look, bowing profusely. 

He fills a glass, all but thrusting it into his Brother’s hands and Ran doesn’t know if he should be grateful for the action when his hands itch for something dark and strong, and the pounding in his head tells him it can only be lulled by more alcohol.

‘It was bad Rin, don’t think we’ve ever fought like that before.’

It was new and it was ugly and the feelings are still fresh this many hours later as Ran drowns his anxieties for the umpteenth time tonight. 

 It’s not as if the two of you hadn’t fought before. At the beginning, your relationship was fraught with hushed arguments, vitriolic whispers that caught in your throat, words said without meaning, anger and bitterness and negligence thrown back and forth, a sharp word here and there that turned into something else entirely.  Sometimes, not very often, he would say something that cut you, a clean slice through the tendon of your heart, and you’d wonder at what manner of love you had for him that had you constantly crawling back, sniffling down the line as you both whispered your apologies to each other. 

It always ended in love, with you against his chest, your feelings for him, that of tenderness, the need to protect him renewed when he kissed you again and again and again, fervently, desperately, his lips latched onto your neck as you hoisted your legs around his waist.

‘So?’ Rindou fills his own glass and gestures with a hand, tilting his head as Ran curls around his glass of water, an injured animal hunched and hurt, his back and shoulders heavy with an invisible burden.

‘I cancelled our date,’ he starts and his eyes flick to the ceiling. The elaborate and ornate decor seems a mockery right now, and he can practically feel the desperation leaking from his skin. ‘You know how Mikey’s been on my ass lately,’ he says and his eyes move to his boss seated in a booth with his eyes closed, hair fanning the bridge of his nose. 

The spark of his anger had started small, a flickering flame. You’d huffed and his ears had prickled at the sound and he’d raised his eyebrows as you crossed your arms, glaring at him as he shrugged on his jacket. 

And the minute the complaint had left your lips Ran’s hackles had risen and the flare of his temper had sparked to life and you had cried, left sopping wet stains on the corner of your sleeve as you threw the insults back and forth. What hurt more, you couldn’t tell- the complaint itself or the fact that your complaints had been met by the domineering force of his viciousness, the wall that had slammed down on your voice when he glared, his lavender eyes swirling with rage. Rage at you. 

You’d learned somewhat, to accept that part of him. The larger than life part, the fullness of him, as if he swallowed the light in every room, the ruthlessness that came with that, the cutting edge of his words when they bit into you. But this was different and as he’d towered above you, dragging a hand down his face, you knew it was the smallest he had ever made you feel.

‘Okay and then what?’ Rindou refills the glass and pushes it towards his Brother. 

‘She told me she never got to see me, that she was always fighting to have my attention, that she missed me.’ Ran has never felt so humiliated, and the self loathing wraps its hands around his throat, and the guilt and shame is thick in the blood that floods his ears and head.

Rindou winces and sucks in a breath, the crease in his forehead growing larger as Ran takes another long drag of the quickly burning cigarette. 

‘So what did you do?

‘I yelled at her, told her I had enough, that she was selfish, that she was being a spoiled brat when I was working hard for our future.’ Ran feels small as he says this, judged, even though he knows the opposite is true and even now, replaying his words out loud, he knows how harsh and critical they sound and Rindou only drives the point home unintentionally as his lips part and jaw drops open.

‘In those exact words?’

‘Yeah…Yeah in those exact words.’

‘And then you walked out?’

‘Yeah…’ A whisper against the glass, his hands still shaky, slipping on condensation. 

Rindou purses his lips and pauses momentarily. ‘That was bad nii-chan,’ he says, the childish nickname slipping past his lips with ease. ‘Y’know she hates that stuff the most. It must have hurt her.’

Something in him softens watching Ran’s head tip towards his chest, the sad droop of his eyes, the singular strands of hair out of place around his ears, curling towards his forehead. He knows Ran can be brash and iron-handed and sometimes even cruel. 

But he also knows that Ran loves you, and it’s a simple fact in itself. He knows he loves you as the day loves the night and the sun loves the moon enough to share its light. An indisputable unchangeable fact.

‘I know, I’m an idiot.’ Ran lifts his head, setting the glass down and dragging a hand forlornly across his face. He sniffles, and maybe it's the alcohol coursing through his blood, so much of it that his brain is fuzzy and swimming in his head, or maybe it’s the thoughts of you, your broken sob that died when he slammed the door, the hunched figure alone and left staring at the paint as he drove off to drown his sorrows, but he thinks he’s never felt this wretched or consumed by bitterness at himself for damaging something so precious.

‘Yeah no shit Ran, you messed up big time,’ Rindou says. A fact, not a criticism. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’ 

‘What do you mean?’ 

‘Well you’re going home to talk to her right?

Ran’s lips curve into an ‘o’ and he blinks owlishly, his vision hazy. ‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea.’ Even as he says it, he knows how cowardly that sounds. That he continues to run from confrontation, from difficult arguments and sullen silences, from the clenched jaws and the eyes misty with tears, that it’s a consequence of constantly treading on eggshells in the life he’s chosen, a life of constantly running.

‘You don’t know if that’s a- are you listening to yourself?’ Rindou is incredulous, his glass suspended in the air as he shakes his head. ‘So what, you’re going to sit here all night?’ He scoffs and blows the wisps of hair kissing his eyebrows from his face.

Ran’s head snaps up, his eyes a harsh deep violent and flaring with anger. ‘So what do I do then?’

‘Go and talk to her, obviously!

It’s Ran’s turn to scoff bitterly, despite the fact that he knows Rindou’s right, that running from this conversation only serves to cut through both of you and prolong the pain. ‘I can’t.’ It’s the most shameful thing he’s ever said, the most pathetic.

Rindou only softens in response and while he could berate him and drive home the point of how clueless he thinks he is, he knows this isn’t the time, that Ran needs both his honesty and his brotherhood, the lifeline that connects them.

‘Nii-chan…’ Rindou swallows and takes a breath, hot and heavy in this cloistered atmosphere. ‘If you’re not going to listen to her or give her what she deserves, then leave her, because she deserves someone who will.’ 

It isn’t laced with hatred, bitterness, jealousy or resentment, and the softness, the low cadence of his Brother’s voice only tells Ran that he is being given a rare truth, that Rindou wouldn’t say it if he didn’t care. As pathetic as he feels, with anger and tension and cynicism rolling in waves under his skin, he understands the gravity of what he is being given, the weight of what the consequences are. 

The thought itself however, is practically inconceivable. It’s another irrefutable fact that  you have made him the man he is, at least to him. You have chased away the days spent tossing in a cold bed, sheets wrinkled as he turned in his sleep, nightmares hooking claws into his back. You tore down those walls he had so painstakingly built as a nest around himself, believing he could never be hurt if he never loved.

Ran closes his eyes and his clenched jaw is a knife simmering on the precipice. 

‘And if she doesn’t want to listen?’

Rindou shrugs. ‘Then listen to her instead,’ he says, as if it’s the simplest concept. ‘And don’t get angry if she tells you things you don’t want to hear.’ She only does it because she loves you, he adds as a mental afterthought, a fact that he knows from experience and one he took too long to come to terms with.

Ran nods, his eyes fixed on a speck on the mahogany table and Rindou only hopes his words aren’t floating into the ether, that Ran’s addled state still allows him to grasp the gravity of them.

‘I’ll try.’ The words come out broken and cracked, his voice hitching as the breath forms a lump in his throat.

Rindou pats his Brother on the back. ‘Relationships are all about communication but it stands for nothing if there’s no comprehension involved too,’ he says. ‘It’s all well and good saying you want to talk to each other but are the both of you willing to listen? That’s what matters.’

A strange sense of pride tickles Ran’s chest as Rindou speaks. Pride in his Brother, in the way he raised him, in the way Rindou snatched a life worth living in a lifestyle that was less so and refused to allow it to break his spirit completely. Ran makes fun of him yeah sure, for the fact that Rindou is so homely and soft, tender and caring and embarrassed to hear it, but he’s also proud beyond belief, that Rindou had found something he loved so completely, or someone rather. Something that was so directly in contrast to the vicious and violent Brother he knew, raised and watched crack bones on a daily basis.

Underneath that pride comes the tendrils of love for you, the shame at having walked out on you when you had tried to talk to him, the renewed hope that perhaps he can fix his own mistake.

For the first time that night, Ran allows himself to roll the tension from his shoulder, his neck prickling as the coil of anxiety dissipates a little through the soles of his feet. He downs a full glass of ice water, the sharp sting a welcome sensation against the murkiness of his head. He winces as the cold rushes down his chest, cools the pulse of anxiety simmering in his belly.

‘How come you’re so good at this relationship stuff?’ 

Rindou chuckles and the faint warmth kissing his cheeks tickles the base of his neck as he hangs his head ‘It’s just experience. I had to work through this too, remember?’

Ran can’t help but smirk knowingly as the heat prickling his skin begins to ebb, leaving behind a strange tranquillity and it’s the calmest he’s felt all night since he slammed the front door. He knows he has a lot to make up for, that you’ve every right not to take him back, but he hopes the vigour of his efforts when he returns home will be enough to assuage the anger you no doubt have for him.

‘How is she?’ Ran asks, if only just to see the wistfulness in his Brother’s gaze, the glaze of his eyes when he stares at the glass in front of him, trying and failing to pull back the smile. 

Rindou’s lips curve into a grin and the tint on his cheeks only grows tenfold. ‘She’s good. You and your girl should come when you get time.’ 

‘And the baby?’ 

‘Also great. Still a little soon to be buying baby things though.’

Rindou smiles sheepishly, his leg bouncing with excitement and Ran basks in the wonderment of Rindou’s happiness, returning the easy smiles, his heart settling back in his chest. Perhaps it’s because they’re older now, no longer so naive and arrogant and flighty, consumed by distaste for the world around them, but they no longer find themselves retorting with quips wrapped in jealousy, with anger or bitterness. Things are easy between them and when they glance at each other in that unspoken way that siblings often do, it is always with love and brotherhood, memories of running through alleyways laughing as the rain comes down in droves.

As Rindou babbles about his wife and the baby soon to come, Ran’s mind drifts. He thinks of you, of your belly swelling with his child, of your quick smiles, the lazy Sunday mornings under the covers, him tracing patterns on the sliver of skin under your collarbones, his thumb brushing over the hollow in your throat. He thinks of all he stands to lose if he can’t fix his own mistakes.

Haitani Ran knows he is not a good person, he doesn’t expect to be called one. He knows he has the ability to be callous, pretentious, even downright selfish and he knows that the less than savoury aspects of who he is flare to the surface at the worst of times, that he bites at you, makes you cry. Domineering and cruel and unrelenting. 

But he also knows another indisputable fact. That he loves you, that he’d walk barefoot in the desert, the hot sand licking at his heels just for a glimpse of you in a mirage, that he, the unredeemable, is redeemed by the two people who love him the most despite his severity. 

And you, you love him too. You know you’ve forgiven him already, that the sharp and jagged edges of his cutting words have softened now and all you want is to bury your head on the smooth planes of his chest, your hand on his stomach as it flexes underneath you. You wonder if you can keep going like that, arguing and making up, the constant back and forth, torn between love and anger. For him, you would bear it all, the full force of his will. 

‘Ran?’ Rindou’s voice tears him from his thoughts and he shakes his head as the alcohol begins to loosen its grip on him.

‘Hm? Sorry, what did you say?’ 

‘I said, shall we go? I’ll drive you home.’ Rindou is already shrugging his jacket back on, leaning back to down the rest of his ice water. He looks at Ran expectantly, his clear violet eyes flashing under the sickly artificial lights.

‘Yeah…yeah let’s go.’ Ran stands and as he slips into Rindou’s car, he thinks again of your hair against his chin, your lips on his, needy and tender all at once, the way your teeth graze against his tattoo and his stomach jumps with the sensation it sends across his skin. He thinks of his hand tilting your chin up, kissing the sharp point of your lips, your pout that only makes him laugh fondly.

And as Rindou drives, he finds for the first time tonight that he is less scared and anxious about returning home, that instead he can only count the seconds till he can press his mouth to your neck, hear your giggle as you swat at him. 

You are his, and he is yours, and that is the way he likes it. 

a/n: happy birthday to my darling <3

honda’s love language is a mix between quality time and physical touch.

quality time with you is how he recharges after a rough day. there’s something about listening to you tell him all about your day or how much you missed him that makes his stomach flutter.

honda can and will happily do anything if it involves you. therefore, he just follows you around like a lovesick puppy as you move throughout your shared apartment. even if it’s just chores, he doesn’t mind giving you a helping hand at all.

the type of boyfriend that will love joining you as you do your nightly skincare routine. he will sit on the ledge of the bathtub as you apply a clay mask to his tanned but unblemished skin, telling him to stay still as you do. he signs whilst laughing quietly, “it tickles.”

honda insists on a regular date nights every friday night. it’s the day he looks forward to the most, purely so he can take you out on a romantic date and spoil you with his undivided attention. he can’t help the grin that tugs at the corners of his lips when he sees you dressed up, telling you “i’m so lucky to have you, baby.”

your touch reassures him more than you’ll ever know. he just melts into you when he returns home, he physically goes limp in your arms as you rub circles into his back — it’s the first thing honda does when you finally reunite after a tiring day’s work.

naturally, he doesn’t want to loosen his grip on you. so he will pull you onto the nearby couch and into his arms, trapping you in his hold. you could easily stay in this position for hours, your fingers running through his hair and pressing gentle kisses against his skin.

showering together is something that occurs every other day. usually one starts the shower without the other, until the other undresses and joins them. honda takes you by surprise when he enters and instantly pulls your wet body to his, under the running water. you laugh as he nuzzles his face into your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of your body wash. he’ll sign, “i missed you.” before kissing you, enjoying the way your hands find their way into his black strands and slightly tugging them.

he always has his hands on you, it’s a rarity for him to not be touching you in some way or another like his hand resting on your lower back guiding you along when you’re out, wrapping his arms around your waist with his head resting on your shoulder as you cook, and patting the top of your head affectionately.