ハチワメイ

he is my world guys 😔

It starts, as many disasters do, with Idia Shroud being too smart for his own good.

More specifically: too smart to turn down a request from Malleus Draconia when it’s framed as academic curiosity.

“I was informed,” Malleus says, standing in Ignihyde’s lounge like he belongs there (he does not), “that you possess an extensive archive of interactive simulations.”

Idia squints at him from behind his screen. “You mean video games.”

“Yes.”

“…You could’ve just said that.”

Malleus inclines his head. “I am still learning the terminology.”

That should’ve been the end of it.

Instead, twenty minutes later, Malleus is seated far too close beside him, watching the screen with quiet fascination while Idia Shroud tries very hard to ignore how aware he is of… everything. The proximity. The attention. The fact that Malleus actually listens.

“This creature appears hostile,” Malleus remarks.

“That’s a slime. It literally exists to die.”

“…Fascinating.”

Idia snorts despite himself.

Time passes. The tension doesn’t leave—it just softens into something easier. Familiar, almost. Malleus leans closer at some point, one hand braced against the back of Idia’s chair, close enough that Idia can feel it without looking.

“You reacted earlier,” Malleus says, thoughtful. “When I adjusted your sleeve.”

Idia freezes. “…Did I.”

“Yes.”

“It was a reflex.”

“A reflex,” Malleus repeats, like he’s tasting the word.

Idia waves a hand. “Yeah, you know, like— nerves. People have those. It’s not a thing.”

Malleus studies him. Idia immediately regrets everything.

“May I test this?” Malleus asks.

“Nope.”

Malleus does not move.

“…You’re gonna do it anyway,” Idia mutters.

“Only with your permission.”

There’s a pause. A terrible, fatal pause.

Idia exhales sharply. “…Just— don’t make it weird.”

Malleus’s fingers brush his wrist.

Light. Curious.

Idia jolts with a sharp, startled, “H-hey!” a breathy laugh slipping out before he can stop it as he yanks his arm back. “D-don’t—!”

Malleus immediately withdraws. “My apologies.”

“No, it’s— it’s fine, just—See? Reflex!” Idia tugs his sleeve down like that fixes anything. “Told you.”

Malleus hums.

He does not look convinced. 

“So this is the nature of it,” he murmurs. “You are ticklish.”

Idia’s brain short-circuits. “D—don’t say it like that!”

“Ticklish,” Malleus repeats, just to watch him react.

Idia shoots to his feet. “We’re done. Session over. You’re banned—!”

The chair wobbles. Malleus reaches out to steady it—

—and his fingers brush Idia’s side.

Everything goes downhill. Idia’s laugh breaks out of him in a startled, helpless burst. “A—ah—! W—wait—!”

Malleus stills for half a second, eyes lighting with realization. “…Ah.”

“Oh no,” Idia breathes, already backing up. “Don’t—don’t you dare!”

Malleus steps forward instead, slow and deliberate, like approaching something fascinating rather than cornering someone.

“I shall proceed gently,” he says.

“That’s worse—!”

Malleus’s hands find his sides again—light, barely-there scribbles through the fabric of his hoodie.

Idia folds.

“H-HAH—! N-no! D-don’t—!” His hands snap down to grab at Malleus’s wrists, laughter spilling out in uneven bursts. “I- I can’t! Thahahat’s—!”

Malleus’s touch is careful, exploratory—fingers tracing, pausing, then returning just enough to keep Idia laughing without overwhelming him.

“You are remarkably reactive,” Malleus notes, amused.

“S-shuhut up—! Y-you're doihing thahat on puhurpose—!” Idia gasps between laughs, shoulders hunching as he tries (and fails) to curl away. “D-don’t— n-not th-there—!”

“Here?” Malleus tests lightly along his side again.

Idia squeaks, laughter pitching higher. “NO—! N-nohoho—! Stahap—! I meheant— hah—not thahat—!”

“Ah. Then perhaps…”

Malleus’s fingers shift slightly higher.

Idia jerks with a sharp, breathless laugh, nearly losing his grip. “A—AH—! Malleus-ssi—! D-dohohon’t—! I swehehear—!”

Malleus pauses just enough for him to suck in a breath and then resumes, softer this time, almost absent-minded in how he traces little patterns against Idia’s sides.

Idia’s laughter dissolves into a string of helpless giggles. “I- I- cahan’t—! Y-you're gohohonna k-kill me—!”

“I assure you, I am not,” Malleus says calmly. “Though your reaction is… captivating.”

“Y-yeah? W-well— y-you're teherrible—!” Idia tries to glare, but it collapses into another burst of laughter when Malleus’s fingers lightly scribble again. “N-nohoho— plehehease—!”

“Are you requesting that I stop?”

“Y-yes! No—! I- I dohon’t—know—!” Idia wheezes, mortified, laughter still bubbling out of him. “J—just— hah—give me— a sehec—!”

Malleus withdraws immediately.

The absence of touch is almost as jarring as the tickling itself.

Idia stumbles back against his desk, breathing hard, face burning as he drags his sleeve over his mouth. “…You’re the worst.”

Malleus watches him with quiet interest—and something softer.

“Your laughter,” he says, gentler now, “is quite different from your usual disposition.”

Idia groans. “If you ever tell anyone—”

“I would not,” Malleus replies easily, then pausing for a moment. “…Though I will admit,” he adds, a faint smile returning, “I am tempted to continue my research.”

Idia immediately recoils. “Absolutely not!”

Malleus laughs, low and warm, and lifts his hands in surrender.

“For now,” he concedes.

Idia narrows his eyes, still flushed, still catching his breath. “…You’re banned from touching me ever again.”

“I shall endeavor to remember that,” Malleus says.

The way he says it makes it very clear he will not.

Idia sinks back into his chair, hiding his face. “…I hate this. I hate you. I hate that I let you in here.”

Malleus glances around the lounge, then back at him.

“I am glad you did.”

Idia peeks through his fingers, expression softening despite himself.

“…Yeah,” he mutters.