OUTER SCIENCE

A small, soft gasp escapes his throat as the other’s teeth sink into his bottom lip; he tastes blood, undoubtedly his own, and revels in the slight burn the bruise leaves behind. "You should do it more,” he speaks, after a moment, his lips brushing against Kuroha’s. “Mark me, so everyone sees that I belong to you. It’s no fun if we’re just holding hands, you know,” he knows, very well, about Kuroha’s reservations regarding bruises in public, given the scarf he’s currently wearing. Grinning, with a malicious glint in his eye, he leans forward, nipping at the shell of Kuroha’s ear. “I want people to look at us and get offended. Look at us and think about all the horrible things we’re doing when they’re not watching,” he exhales, sharply, against the other boy’s skin, leaning back to watch his reaction. 

As far as shamelessness goes, Add definitely has the upper hand.

“I can’t really bite you, but you can still bruise, right? Somehow,” this isn’t the right time to go on a tangent about how amazing Kuroha’s body is, though – how it never ceases to surprise him, how much he wants to get his fingers beneath the other boy’s skin. Instead, he presses his lips against his throat, now exposed due to the lack of his usual, black accessory, and sucks on the soft skin there. He’s not exactly sure how he knows this will work – point is, the blood vessels beneath the skin rupture if you force them to, and – easily enough – as soon as he stops, a red, clearly visible blemish stains the expanse of Kuroha’s pale skin. “If you cover this up, I’ll be sad,” he throws in, after a moment, nuzzling the android’s cheek affectionately.

Humming contentedly as Kuroha reaches to take the black scarf off his neck, he tips his head up, a little, to force the sore muscle to protest painfully. The incident from before seems hazy, now; almost as if his mind is repressing the memory, instead focusing on how good the other’s fingers feel pressed against the dark bruises. “Yeah, yeah,” he confirms, hastily, shifting in Kuroha’s lap; gasps, though doesn’t appear particularly surprised as the other boy tightens his grip. From the very beginning, this was to be expected – this time, however, the way Kuroha slowly applies pressure against his throat feels different; loving. 

Before he kisses Kuroha again, short, sharp gasps decorating the small space between them, his fingers curl in the android’s shirt, body twitching in desperate need of air. “You’re the only one who I’ll let inside,” it’s a quiet, barely audible whisper exhaled against the other boy’s lips; a sentence uttered somewhere between one whimper and another. Afterwards, he leans forward to press his lips against Kuroha’s – allows the kiss to coax the rest of the air stored in his lungs out, only satisfied once he can feel his ribcage burn. Though he keeps his eyes closed for most of the kiss, once they open, he can’t see properly anymore, anyway – the world covered in dark, blurry stains, one hand wandering up to claw at the android’s wrist instinctively. Between the kisses, he gasps and groans, helplessly, moving frantically both back and forward, conflicted whether he wants to live or stay in his place.

     "I can, somehow." Understanding what Add wants to do, Kuroha instinctively tilts his head up, with a soft sigh; allows his eyes to shut before the sky. Add’s lips against his neck set his skin ablaze, in a way that he’s never felt before; it has him repeatedly shifting beneath the other’s weight on his lap, his breath coming in low groans -- trying, rapidly, to adjust to the unusual burst of adrenaline that rushes through his whole system at once. It’s unprecedented -- like lightning flowing through his veins, a thrill greater than anything he’s ever experienced. In other words, Kuroha hadn’t really bothered with adjusting any accessories that this body had come with--

     --which ends up leaving him with the inability to find out how... sensitive that certain regions of his skin are, before this, and in between long gasps and soft, keening noises, the first half of Add’s name constantly dies on his tongue. When Add stops, his first instinct is to whine, displeased with the absence by his neck -- until he realizes the inevitable, dark mark left beneath his skin, making a face as the other boy nuzzles his cheek. “Do you think that being this cute will make me forgive you?” he protests, but he doesn’t bother with keeping up the act, for long. “I guess... I’ll leave it uncovered -- if that’ll make you happy, if that’s what you want from me. But-- only for a day.”

     Kuroha presses his thumbs more forcefully, encouraged by the confirmation that Add gives him in return, his breaths coming swiftly and shallowly, inhaling air out of Add’s system as if his life depends on it (it doesn’t, he doesn’t require the element of oxygen). “You’re the only one that I want to be inside of,” he whispers in return -- plays along, but only for that moment; while there’s other things that he could say, he decides to save them for later, choosing instead to continue the kiss; runs his tongue over Add’s teeth, distracting him from focusing only on one thing.

     Even though Kuroha knows that Add is entirely willing to let life go, right now (due to the fact that he’d come back, mere seconds later), all humans have a survival instinct that kicks in, that tries to save them regardless of whether they want saving or not -- a final attempt at clinging to life. He’s seen it enough times to recognize when it takes over; smiles, joyfully, at the boy’s feeble attempts to pry insistent fingers away from his neck.

In this position, it’s easy for him to maneuver himself closer to the other; he presses his hips and chest flush against Kuroha’s, wrapping his arms around the android’s neck. As he finishes speaking, Add laughs; both amused and a little manic, his face mere inches away from Kuroha’s. “Aaah, I’m so glad. You’re the only one I’d ever want to share my life with, you know? If anyone ever tries to take you from me, I’ll kill them,” he murmurs, the tone of his voice unwavering; realistically speaking, he had killed for much less. This isn’t anything unexpected.

"You’re mine, and I’m yours. That’s how it’ll always be," he concludes, after a second, feeling the light sensation of Kuroha’s fingers wrapping around his neck. The bruised skin there, even despite being covered, is still sensitive — he groans, more in pleasure than in pain, and leans forward as prompted, pressing his lips against Kuroha’s. Neither of them seems to know much about how these things work — this is his first kiss, his first love, his first everything, and he guesses it’s the same for Kuroha, too. Still, he tries his best to read the mood accurately; remembers to tilt his head this time, though, from time to time, their teeth still bump together awkwardly.

As time passes, he gets a little better — parts his lips, uncertainly, to run his tongue over Kuroha’s. This kiss feels different than the last one; more hungry, more desperate, much deeper, his fingers curling in Kuroha’s hair and shirt. Despite never feeling the need for physical affection — it seemed like something trivial and pointless, after all — he decides that he likes this a lot; whimpers against Kuroha’s lips, pleased, just to part after a few more seconds.

He’s still human, and certain restrictions that don’t apply to the android apply to him — such as running out of breath. Gasping to refill his lungs with oxygen, as the fire beneath his ribs diminishes, he leans forward again; presses his lips against Kuroha’s jaw, nipping at the skin there. Biting would probably be a bad idea — regardless of how real Kuroha’s flesh feels beneath his fingers, he’s still made of metal. It frustrates him, a little; in his irritation, he moves up to kiss Kuroha again, murmuring against his lips:

     In the first few seconds, their blatant inexperience shows, through the way that their teeth meet unexpectedly, but it’s made up for everywhere else, as he feels Add’s fingers curl in his shirt, in his hair, tugging at him this way and that -- and Kuroha figures that it doesn’t matter, if there’s a subtle amount of awkwardness laced behind every action; parts his lips without hesitation, without any second thought, when prompted. To his surprise, it doesn’t bother him: how natural it feels to kiss someone -- and how natural it feels to have Add so close to him, as if it had always meant to be this way, as if centuries of his existence had led up to this moment, this meeting, this permanent intersection of fates.

     For a heartbeat, Kuroha pulls away ever so slightly, to take Add’s bottom lip between his teeth, biting down until it leaves a metallic tang in his mouth, and until it elicits some sort of reaction from Add. Quickly, he takes the opportunity to lift his head again, tilting his head to the side; runs his tongue over the other boy’s -- lets him savor the taste of his own blood, exhaling sharply against his lips. Slowly, his hand goes to reach for a fistful of Add’s dark shirt, tugging it downwards, absentmindedly -- though, that does absolutely nothing; it’s not as if the shirt actually goes anywhere (but he doesn’t mind; he just needs something to hold onto, in the sheer desperation of it all).

     When Add pulls away to inhale (at times, Add is so focused on inhuman abilities that it even slips Kuroha’s mind, that the boy runs on a fragile, human system), he catches his own breath -- attempting to wind down from the exhilaration coursing through his system, but it’s not for long enough (and it ends up being futile altogether), with lips pressing against his jaw, and he gasps at the odd sensation, instinctively tilting his head up. (Though, Add gives up soon enough, probably having figured out that biting him would be nearly impossible, and Kuroha is more than content enough with kissing him; it’s a human action that he could more than get used to, he thinks.)

     "If this is a dream, being with you like this... then, I don’t want to wake up. I want to be destroyed with you -- broken with you, as we are right now.” He lifts his hands behind Add’s head, unclasping the black accessory from his neck; figures, that since there’s no one here, it would be fine, that it wouldn’t be too embarrassing, as he briefly casts the piece of fabric aside, exposing the existing darker marks along the other’s skin. “I’m sure that you feel the same, don’t you?” These, Kuroha specifically places his fingertips on, after carefully repositioning his fingers, so that they’re wrapped around Add’s neck again.

He suspects that he’d say it back immediately, assuming he knew what the word meant (was it the tightness in his chest whenever Kuroha came close? Was it the immense need to make the other happy, no matter what? Was it the way their gazes sought each other, the careful, gentle way every word was spoken?). Kuroha doesn’t strike him as a guy who’d ever loved before — still, he had thousands of years to observe as it grows, flourishes and dies. Add, in the other hand, has been around for barely eighteen, and most of that time, he spent alone — and so, he’s more stunned than anything else, eyes wide and mouth agape.

A few, short seconds later, Kuroha’s lips come close to his damaged eye; he kisses it, first, and Add’s heart skips a beat. This isn’t what he’d expected — acceptance instead of rejection, no judgement, no condemnation. If this is what happiness was, he thinks he’d give his life to preserve this moment (he thinks he loves Kuroha so much he forgot what the disgust for his own self feels like.)

"Cover it? What?" Add can feel the pressure on his collarbones increasing; realizes he’s completely immobile, as his fingers curl in the material of Kuroha’s shirt. He watches, the shock prominent on his face, as Kuroha inhales the dark smoke; runs his tongue over the skin of his eyelid, and the eye itself, creating a strange, burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. The eye is incredibly sensitive, as damaged things tend to be — he shudders and whimpers, helplessly, as every inch of his skin is set ablaze.

Without any warning, he tips his head up; lets Kuroha’s fingertips dig further into the pale skin of his shoulders, as he presses their lips together. It’s a hungry, desperate kiss; he’s not, by any means, experienced (in fact, this has to be the first time he ever kisses anyone; in his haste, he bumps their noses together before realizing he should probably tilt his head to the side.) He tastes like void — the fault of the smoke, without a doubt — like he’d just kissed a galaxy, like the time flowing around them had taken a form.

It doesn’t last long — he breaks the kiss as soon as he initiated it, groaning in slight discomfort. By himself, he wouldn’t be able to push Kuroha off; the android’s weight, combined with his superior physical strength is a barrier Add can’t cross. But, with the magic lurking beneath the slim structure of his dynamo, he can try — raises his arms to push at Kuroha’s shoulders, as the weapon floats forward to assist him. He takes advantage of the other boy’s surprise — flips them over, almost effortlessly, though as soon as the dynamo retreats, the pressure is gone and Kuroha’s free to do as he pleases.

Still, Add sits on his stomach, his palms splayed on both sides of Kuroha’s head, and leans down, brushing their lips together. It’s not another kiss — rather, he starts whispering against the other boy’s skin, moving from his mouth to his cheek and finally to his jawline.

     When Add reaches up to kiss him, Kuroha lets out a sharp, surprised exclamation, resisting the urge that he has to pull himself back; out of pure instinct, more than anything, with a sudden fear of judgment by the other boy, if his own blatant inexperience were to show. Throughout the majority of his centuries, the need to inhabit a human body had not truly risen; even now, the body that he currently exists in is only his second. As a result, there are behaviors that he doesn’t necessarily understand, nor sees the point of -- such as eating, drinking, breathing, and falling in love --

     He soon grows fond of the odd sensation of Add’s lips against his own, reciprocating just as desperately, his fingers leaving messy creases in the other boy’s shirt, from grasping too tightly. (It startles him at first, when Add’s nose bumps against his; but he ends up finding the blunder cute altogether, tilting his head to proceed.) They part with the indescribable taste of galaxies in their mouths -- inhaled wisps of stardust and smoke between their lungs. (The small groan that Add makes after he breaks the kiss doesn’t go unnoticed -- it causes Kuroha to chuckle, just a bit.) 

     Nonetheless, Add being able to push him over in the first place surprises him; leads to him dropping his guard for a moment, but a moment is all that the other boy -- and his dynamo -- requires. His back colliding harshly against the surface of the rock from the impact, Kuroha looks up -- finds two hands pressed against his face, and the other boy existing too close to him again, for all he knows, and he freezes in place, watching, to see what Add would do. (A shiver runs down Kuroha’s spine, as his lips trail across his cheek and down his jawline; it exhilarates him for a reason that he doesn’t know.)

     To say that his heart overflows would be an underestimate; to say that it feels as if it currently feels as if it burst out of his chest and tear out all of his insides, while it’s already at it, would be far more accurate. For one who’s never seen an issue with outliving everything that he’s ever come across, he wants to ask why it matters -- why he matters, why he makes Add happy. Kuroha almost shouts it immediately, that of course he promises, of course -- that he’d do anything, to keep Add with him, that he wants to be with him forever. (But is that too selfish to ask? Snakes grant wishes; making their own is unheard of.)

     With Add sitting the way that he is, Kuroha sits up -- abruptly sliding the boy into his lap; places his arms around his lower back, to hold him there.

     "I promise, that I’ll stay with you forever. If you try to leave, I’ll find you. If you ever think that you can hide from me, you’re mistaken -- no matter what timeline you try to run to, I’ll track you down. If you think that you can exist without me, I’ll break that mentality. I’ll break you. I’ll be the first thing that you see when you wake up, and the last thing that you see when you fall asleep.

     Love me. If you really love me, you’ll be with me forever and ever.      Even if you cry and regret your decision later on, it’ll be too late.        I promise that I'll make it so that you won’t be able to think of anyone else but me.”

"Hey — wait —" but, before he can say anything else — defend himself, since Kuroha just caught him lying — he’s being picked up (rather carelessly, too) and thrown over the android’s shoulder, not unlike a ragdoll. In Kuroha’s arms, it always seems as if he’s weightless — something he doesn’t really mind, considering that every time he’s carried, he gets a chance to touch the other (right now, his desire to do so is less malicious than normally.) This position definitely isn’t the most comfortable to do that, though — he dangles, limply, from Kuroha’s shoulder, immediately aware that any attempts to wriggle out of his tight grip would be pointless.

Once he’s set down on a flat, shaded rock near the water, he pats his waist, the sensation of Kuroha’s touch still lingering (chances are, his skin is reddened from the way the other boy squeezed. For some reason, he wants to grab Kuroha’s arms and wrap them around himself again.) "Aw — kuku, that’s implying I’d ever want to leave you behind in the first place," he hums, pleased when the android leans closer. It’s not an easy decision to make — but, he doesn’t want to cause Kuroha trouble, and he figures it’d take a certain weight off his shoulders, at the risk of condemnation.

After a few minutes of silence, he sighs; shrugs his jacket off, thin arms wandering up to grab ahold of the eyepatch. It’s clasped, tightly, around his head to ensure it doesn’t slip off — he rarely ever takes it off in the first place, not even to bed. And so, it takes him a moment of struggle to get it to loosen up; after he’s done, he peels the material off his face, blinking a few times to adjust to the light.

His vision, with the eye exposed, is deranged — in one hand, he can see the flow of time; how it hugs his frame, as well as everything around him. In the other, the world fades to a dull color; sometimes, it’s consumed by black spots (he’s not sure whether it’s the eye, or merely space cracking around certain objects.) Still, when he looks at Kuroha, the yellow in his eyes is just as prominent as always — even through the small cloud of dark, yet shimmering smoke.

"It’s cause of this," he explains, forcing indifference; the last thing he wants is for Kuroha to know just how terrified he is. “I don’t like taking my eyepatch off, and I don’t want it to get wet, so —” he cuts off, gaze studying Kuroha’s features (he wants to know how he feels; needs it for his own peace of mind.)

     As the small piece of black fabric is cast aside, there’s a small cloud of smoke that begins to generate in front of Add’s eye. It doesn’t seem to pose an immediate harm to him, though -- that much, his system informs him, but it fails in telling him the type of gases that are present in the vapor (otherworldly, it seems). When Add finally talks again, there’s a sharp pain in his chest -- as if something twists, uncomfortably; the inability to register the feeling immediately leaves him frustrated, for a reason that he can’t identify. 

     Rising from his sitting position, he pushes his weight to his knees -- swings a leg over Add’s lap before the other can complain, though he doesn’t sit down entirely. (Kuroha figures that if he did, Add's fragile frame would snap beneath the weight of his artificial body; it’s not damage that he wants to inflict, not right now.) His hands slowly curve against Add’s collarbones, bony and jutting out from beneath his skin, pulling him closer.

     "Stupid. You’re so stupid.” Shaking his head, he whispers the word in the narrow space between them, digits gripping the boy’s shoulders more tightly. “In my lifetime, the humans that I’ve seen... I’ve seen them enter the world and exit just the same -- it’s a most boring process.” It feels like freezing the television on the same channel, for a whole century, and his life had been all too grey, black, white -- red. “But then, I met you. You, who questions the whole flow of human nature, of your own kind.” Yellow eyes narrow, in a squint, questioning him further. “Do you think something like your eye could disgust me, at all?”

     “In case you weren’t aware -- no, it doesn’t. There’s nothing about you that could make me love you any less.” Leaning in, he gently bumps his forehead against Add’s, before lifting his head, to press his lips against the source of the smoke. For a moment, he questions the sanity of his planned actions -- but everything in his his head, by now, feels oddly light and hazy; this whole day has been like that.

By 東雲みなと

"Huh? I —" he glances towards the water, narrowing his eyes slightly. It’s not the water that bothers him about this — it’s not the sun, either, considering he could easily stay in the shadows and still get deep enough to enjoy the sea. It’s himself, really — because, as soon as he realizes that swimming requires taking his clothes off, he quickly decides that it’s impossible.

Normally, he’s not really self-conscious about… well, anything. With speech laced with arrogance, it’s only natural for him to ooze confidence; he’s never had trouble with being cocky, prideful or even vain. Today, though, a quiet voice assures him that he doesn’t want to show Kuroha anything negative about himself; anything that could make him leave, as it’s the last thing Add wants. His body has never been anything special, given how he lived — but it’s only after he’d discovered time-travel that it destroyed itself completely, leaving him a wreck.

Needless to say, he’s ashamed of the way his ribs protrude from beneath his skin; ashamed of his thin arms, ashamed of the way his stomach concaves, ashamed of the sickly color of his skin. But, most of all, he’s ashamed of his eye — getting into the water would require taking off his eyepatch, as getting it wet and sticky is the last thing he wants, and that would mean showing Kuroha the one thing he’d hoped he’ll never have to show anyone.

Truth be told, even after all these months of attempting to figure it out, he’s still not one hundred percent sure as to what, exactly, happened to his sclera. It’s the liquid’s fault — that much is obvious, as drinking it only made his body worse, but why, exactly, did it attack that eye in particular, Add doesn’t know. The point is, white turned to black, which turned to dark, void-like smoke occasionally escaping from beneath his eyelids (the blood that sometimes stains his face also turns black; so do tears, and everything else that the eye produces.) It’s not pleasant to look at — hence the eyepatch, as even he can hardly tolerate it (it’d provide a nice shock factor for his enemies, but he’s willing to give that up for his own peace of mind.)

"I’ll be… I’ll wait for you here, it’s fine. I’m not really that good at swimming," he shrugs, forcing himself into his usual indifference; it comes out as fake as he’d expected, and it seems like his ability to lie to Kuroha has been reduced to dust. "Anyway, if by any chance you malfunction, I need to be here to repair you, right? So it’s best if I stay," he adds after a moment, reluctantly letting go of Kuroha’s hand. He then swats at the boy a few times, mouth curving in a hesitant grin.

     There’s something about Add’s response that causes Kuroha some degree of concern -- at first, it’s more of a sensory thing, than anything: the odd, disappointed feeling that Add’s display leaves at the pit of his stomach. Here, he ponders his options -- asking directly would definitely guarantee no answers, and an insistent denial altogether. Therefore, his final decision is to tap into something that he rarely touches, and one of the many things that he apparently owns, that Add so covets.

    “Calculating discrepancy rate from the norm, using today’s inputted behavior. Rate: 52.72%. ...Due to this high discrepancy rate, it is difficult to conclude that you are telling the full truth.” When his system finishes, he opens his eyes, looking in Add’s direction; even without numbers, he’s perceptive enough to detect the higher lilt in the boy’s voice, the way that his expression looks as if it could crack, at any moment.

    "You’re terrible, you know? It’s not even that deep.” Even if he’s figured out that lack of swimming knowledge isn’t necessarily the reason behind it, he ends up sighing, slowly taking in the words of the output. It’s safe to say that no amount of urging would convince Add to take a step closer to the water, so he resorts to abusing the strength that comes with his body, picking the other boy up with one arm and hanging him over his shoulder -- holds him tight enough to make sure that escaping is impossible.

His hand lingers on the boy’s stomach for just a second too long — he grins, mischievously, as Kuroha scrambles to get it off, grabbing his wrist and bringing it up to his face instead. "Are you sure this isn’t going to make it worse? Your face is really hot, you know," but, he complies, rubbing his thumbs over the other boy’s skin in hopes of comforting him, if only a little. This is the first time he gets to touch Kuroha so freely — he makes sure to memorize, thoroughly, how he feels beneath his fingertips, how his cheekbones curve, how the odd, yellow mark under his eye causes friction when rubbed. It’s nice, and for once, his thoughts aren’t occupied by how much he wants to take the other apart; rather, he’d prefer to have him whole, only to himself, forever.

"Uh-huh. According to the dynamo’s terrain scan, there are some small cliffs by the sea nearby — we can probably find shade underneath those," he announces, intertwining his fingers with Kuroha’s contentedly. It feels a little cheesy, but he moves closer to lean his head against the other boy’s arm; hums, his second hand wandering over to one of the dynamos following him around. "Yup! It’ll lead the way, so let’s just follow the directions."

The dynamo doesn’t fail him — they find the cliffs soon enough, connected to a small piece of beach and covering a good half of it in pleasant shade. “According to my calculations, the wind here is approximately 30 kilometers per second stronger than in the city, so you should cool off soon." He doesn’t want to sit out in the sun, either — with skin so pale, burns and discolorations are too common of an occurrence. Instead, he leads Kuroha towards the cliffs, hiding in their shadow; finds a good spot to sit down, their hands still connected.

     Having run out of other options, he does his best to stand still, fearing that if he over-fidgets, Add would immediately let go of his face; and in between the oddly soothing feeling that it gives him, he lets out a soft whine, glancing up into the boy’s eyes, instead, to distract himself. (There’s something there, something warm and fond looking back at him, but he doesn’t know the word all too well; what he does know, however, is that it leaves him with butterflies in his stomach and another wave of heat across his expression). 

     With Add’s confirmation, he follows the dynamo as it zips through the air in front of them; with how the light glints off of its clear edges, it’s surprisingly easy to keep track of, navigating between trees and various kinds of foliage. (Mid-way there, he notices more pressure on his arm; he tilts his head towards him in return.) It leads them towards a quieter section of the beach, away from the chaos of the more populated side, and he’s grateful for the consideration; though, if anything, Kuroha is sure that for the most part, Add has as little interest in humans as he does himself. He mentally gives credit to the boy’s technological development, at least, even down to the specific digit -- the wind ruffles his hair, blows across his face, and it’s a pleasant feeling. (Today is full of emotions that usually make him want to hurl, and he likes it.)

     After they sit down, he takes a look at the specifics of the location: the small (but decent) line of sand at the foot of the cliffs, enough for them to sit on; the shade that blankets a good part of the shore, leaving a line in the water where the sun begins. Throughout this, Add still doesn’t let his hand go -- but, by now, he’s not about to complain. Inhaling contently at the cooler sea breeze, he goes silent for a minute or two, appreciating the rapid cooldown that it provides, before speaking up. "I do, thanks.” He’s glad, both for the privacy and for the wind, though he’s sure that he’s leaning more towards the former. “Swimming? I haven’t tried it before, but I think I can...” 

As he’s grabbed, his frame shaking violently for a few seconds, a short, amused laugh escapes his lips — while Kuroha freaks out, Add enjoys the warmth the potion provides. It’s not the kind that touches the skin; rather, it sets his insides on fire, and only multiplies when pink gaze finds Kuroha, focusing on the boy’s angered face. “It’s fine, it’s fiiine! You know I can’t die, and I won’t let you die, either, so what’s the problem? Just a harmless potion,” he hums, contentedly, holding the half-full bottle in his hand. He’ll have to research what it’s made from later; for the time being, he pours the rest of the liquid into empty vials and throws the container away.

The feeling seems almost nostalgic — brings him back to the times before he obtained this power, before he became a slave, before he’s been trapped in an ancient library for many years to come. It’s almost breathtaking, and he’s not sure why, but it twists inside of his stomach every time he glances at Kuroha; who, in the other hand, seems to be sulking.

"Huh? Overheating? If you didn’t overheat back in the engine room, it’s pretty impossible here, you know!" But he steps forward, regardless, one hand wandering up to press against Kuroha’s warm cheek. It does feel a little hotter than usual — but, out of curiosity, he sneaks his free palm underneath Kuroha’s shirt, splaying it over his stomach. "Pfft — your temperature is totally normal here, but not up there. What do you want me to do about that?" Slim fingers trace the curve of the taller boy’s cheekbone, and he brushes a few, stray bangs away from his forehead, smiling fondly.

     He moves his head back, ever so slightly, when Add reaches to brush his bangs from his face -- though, the action is involuntary (what’s it like, standing so close to someone?), and he ends up regretting it a split second later; gasping, when Add’s other hand slides beneath the hem of his shirt. "What do you think you’re-- stop, you’re making it worse--!” In his efforts to shove Add’s hand away from his stomach, Kuroha scrambles, ignoring how he’s sure he feels like he’s been through death and back, death by embarrassment, death by apparent system failure, death by what seems to be the cutest smile he’s ever seen, and death by how positively mad it makes him. Grabbing Add’s wrist instead, he carefully positions the other hand on his other cheek, now holding both of the boy’s hands to his face.

     “I want you to...” His voice falters, and he draws a breath, digits grasping the edges of Add’s hands tighter. “Keep your hands here, for a bit...... please...” The last word is more of a breath than it is a syllable; etiquette is not something that he’d started out with, nor was it something that he’d ever picked up, but this time, the plea had slipped past his lips unknowingly, the result of his desperation. Inevitably, the action -- and the request -- only further contributes to his current dilemma (at this rate, he wonders if he’ll burn Add’s hands, by accident; he finds that it worries him far more than it should), but it leaves a warm sort of sensation in his chest -- the same feeling that he’d mocked and jeered at for centuries. (Though, he supposes, the years have made him lonely; he wasn’t aware that it was a feeling that he craved so much.)

Kuroha accompanies him again, albeit under one condition — hiding his bruised neck in public. Add doesn’t really understand why (a bruise is a bruise, after all), but he doesn’t mind, either; he wears a collar, of sorts, anyway — this isn’t so different. Plus, it’s probably the nicest thing Kuroha had ever done for him. If it was anyone else, Add would laugh and refuse — but since it’s Kuroha, who’s an android, he’s more giddy instead. In the end, he guesses the less attention, the better, if he wants to snatch one of these creatures and take it back to the hotel room.

"Hmm… yeah! I want one of these animalistic ones. I’m sure something interesting could be found beneath their skin," he decides, when Kuroha asks, glancing around the colorful stands. One, in particular, catches his attention; it seems to be selling various liquids, and Add doesn’t expect them to be of the usual sort. The vials by his belt contain a bright, pink mixture, and the liquid of an identical color can be spotted on the stand; driven by something akin to desperation, he almost runs up to the masked youkai, pointing at it inquisitively.

The youkai takes a second to answer, its gaze falling on both of them; it’s almost as if it analyzes his customers beforehand, finally answering: “It’s an elixir made from wishes. It’ll bring you, and your companion, good health and fortune, assuming both of you drink it at the same time." 

It’s not what he’d wanted it to be, but ‘wishes’ does catch his attention — isn’t that what Kuroha eats? "Let’s take a bottle," he decides, finally, throwing the youkai some change before snatching the container from the stand. "I have some empty vials, so we can drink it at the same time — since it’s supposedly wishes, you should be fine, right?” With a snicker, he pours the liquid into a vial and hands it to Kuroha, keeping the bottle open for himself. After a second of thought, he reaches to link their arms together; leans back, a little, bringing the container to his lips.

     "Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine.” The brief worry of what consumption will do to his body crosses his mind, but it doesn’t look as if it’ll corrode him from the inside out. Accepting the vial, he discovers that the attempt to pull his arm away is futile; it makes lifting his arm awkward, though, connecting their movements together, and after the final count, he tips his head back, shuddering at the sensation of the vial’s contents coursing through his system.

     As soon as he can, he detangles himself from the bizarre armlock that Add had insisted on keeping him in, during that -- doing it just like the Vine, or something like that? -- but he doesn’t back away, necessarily, as he normally would, observing the other boy’s reaction. Running a tongue over his own lips, he doesn’t detect a taste; nor can he, but even so, he thought it'd be more filling, if it truly lived up to its label. “That’s odd; I don’t... feel any less hungry,” he mentions, tapping a finger against his mouth.

     It doesn’t take him long to put two and two together, his heart nearly dropping into the pit of his stomach, to conclude that whatever they’d just ingested was far from what they’d been told. “You stupid piece of shit..." he hisses lowly, suddenly turning to the side and placing hands on the other boy’s shoulders to shake him. “Do you realize what you’ve just done, dumbass? What did we just drink? What if it’s lethal??? You know, I really won’t forgive you if this kills you-- I mean, me, I mean... Just.” 

"That’s cool, and all, but can you actually use their powers, or did you take them just for shits and giggles?" It seems kind of pointless — stealing someone’s power simply for the sake of showing off, instead of using it for practical purposes. Still, he’s not going to question Kuroha’s actions; it’s quite obvious that their sanity is a nonexistent concept (not anymore, anyway, but since Kuroha’s older than anyone Add has ever known, he’s not about to take a wild guess on how long he’s been like this, nor why.) He perks up, a little, after his next words — it’s the only power that interests him, from all the stuff Kuroha listed, mostly because everything else was easily attainable.

Everything, except this.

It seems like asking about it will have to wait, though — before long, he’s on his knees, a foot resting on his shoulder (Kuroha’s heavy — even if he’s not leaning his weight on Add, an android body is naturally heavier than any human could be.) This struggle has been pointless from the very beginning; he knows, but he does it more to provoke than win, constantly testing the limits of Kuroha’s patience and strength. They’re separated before he can blink, or do anything about the snakes coiling around his neck; his feet barely touch the ground as he raises his arms to claw at them, breathing reduced to short, desperate gasps.

As their grip tightens, his eyes flutter shut, mouth agape in fruitless attempts to breathe in. At this point, it’s useless; he knows Kuroha enough to know that he won’t let go, and he knows himself enough to realize that dying is the easier option. Groaning in strain, one of his arms falls to his side — he grabs the first dynamo he can find, fingers tightening around it as life slowly slips between his fingers. It only takes a few more seconds for his body to go limp — he breathes out, stuttering Kuroha’s name, and then it’s done.

… well, technically.

As soon as the snakes let go, lithe frame falling to the ground, he opens his eyes, coughing up a few, small spatters of blood. The time seal is a curious thing — it won’t really heal your body, nor will it provide protection, but it does and will revert the second of your death back. If anyone next to him died around this time, they would have been resurrected, too, if Add had wished for it; this time, though, it’s just him, pushing himself up to his knees with extreme effort (his ribcage feels like it’s been crushed, relentless fire burning inside of his lungs.) His neck hurts like it was broken — and, who knows, maybe it was? At any rate, it doesn’t matter now — what matters is, he can breathe again (even though his throat stings — his neck will bruise, that’s for sure), glancing up at the other boy.

"It hurts, you know? You should be more gentle with your husband," it’s an empty complaint, as one of his hands traces the darkening skin just above his collarbone. If his hands were cold, it’d provide some sort of comfort — but this place is way too hot for that, and he figures it’s about time they left. He can come back later, alone, to gather necessary samples; when Kuroha accompanies him, things tend to get out of hand. With a strained whimper, he reaches up to fix his eyepatch, then pushes himself up to stand; sways, uncertainly, one hand reaching up to lean on Kuroha’s shoulder. He doesn’t expect help, but without any, it might be tough to get back to the cabin in a somewhat timely fashion.

     He understands that most of Add’s interest in him lies in the android body that he’s come to occupy, and not himself, per se. Though, it’s not as if he’s been in it for long; Kuroha knows the way around the coveted codes and whatnot, but it’s not his native tongue. (But there’s a part of him that worries about losing that interest, of losing something that he’s never felt the need to have before, and instead of saying something along the lines of, I’m the same as them, he opts for something else.) "My master’s orders,” is what he ends up responding with, once he manages to, reluctantly.

     To him, there’s nothing interesting, anymore, about watching someone struggle -- especially when he’s witnessed it more times than he can count (call him a professional, if you will). He keeps his gaze fixed; sees his job to the end, watching the life in Add’s eyes slowly fade to a dull, pink color, before they close entirely. As his body falls with a thud against the floor, the snakes let go, and Kuroha pauses to stare, as cords retract underneath his shirt. But he’ll admit that he jumps back, startled, when the other boy opens his eyes again, slowly taking a footstep back.

     "Aah, what a troublesome power... And here I was, thinking that I’d seen the end of self-resurrecting kids.” He doesn’t bother with trying to hide his flat lack of surprise -- mostly because he’s used to seeing time rewind, over and over and over again; it just irritates him, that someone so close to him has to exhibit the similar sort of annoying pattern. “Like I care if you’re hurt. ‘Husband’? Don’t joke. That’s disgusting, like you.” Tilting his head to the side, he glances at Add’s neckline, eyeing the discoloration blooming beneath his skin. Terms used mostly to define human relations feel... odd, when used with him, and it makes his skin crawl.

Though, that does seem a little too excessive. Who else would he amuse himself with if Kuroha were gone? It’s almost self-destructive, in a way that’d rot him from inside out; he’s never been very well accustomed to boredom, and while loneliness is something he’d grown with, there’s always been a goal in his mind — without that, he’d probably lose whatever sanity he’s got left.

"It’s not about the quantity, but the quality! What can your snakes do, aside from being annoying? Can they travel through various timelines?" If they did, he’d take more of an interest in them — as things are right now, though, they’re more of an extra; an odd power Kuroha possesses, so unlike the one Nasod queen does. "Repairs and upgrades,” the same liquid that had damaged his eye courses through the strangely-shaped dynamo; it requires constant maintenance, given its dangerous nature, and especially here, in a world that doesn’t quite support its qualities.

The limited space of the cabin successfully robs him of any way to maneuver himself out of the kick — if he’d thrown his body recklessly to whichever side, the burns he’d receive wouldn’t be worth it. Instead, he moves barely an inch to the right — lets the impact land on the delicate piece of bone connecting his pelvis to inner thigh, and groans, a strained kind of sound, wondering if it’d be better to stay still rather than move at all. His legs give in quickly, and he lands on his knees, letting the vial hit the floor with a dull thud — it doesn’t break, but the hot liquid spills, a cacophony of acidic sounds coming from where it touched the floor. 

     In response to his question, Kuroha generates a fistful of slippery strands from his side in his hand, pointing the ends towards Add. "Ah, well — you see," he begins. "They're difficult to harvest, you know. One snake host per body, usually... and they were all kids around your age, I think. Anyway, this one grants invisibility, and this one lets you read minds, and this one lets you create illusions to yourself, or something." He tugs on the head of each snake as he names it off, like a small show-and-tell, allowing them to return beneath his skin after he does so. "There's also one that does what you said — that whole timeline shit. But... that's a story for later, don't you think?"

     His immediate reaction is a smile — despite landing an inch away from the most critical human weakness. While he hasn't resided in this android body for long, it's self-sustaining, eliminating most of the bother of occupying a human one. He lifts a foot, casually resting the bottom of his shoe against the curve of Add's collarbone, watching as the contents of the shattered vial narrowly miss splattering on both of them. (The wooden boards next to them sizzle, and he gulps.)

     He freezes, as Add lunges up — feels himself being tugged downwards with the force of his shirt being pulled, and when he blinks again, there's a hand fastened around his neck accessory, a hand yanking his hair back, tipping his face up. For a moment, his thoughts race frantically; emitting a low, dissatisfied snarl, Kuroha digs his nails into what he can find, curling digits around Add's forearm in desperation, trying to pull it away from himself (though, his struggling isn't needed; androids don't need oxygen to survive). A flick of his finger, and thick black coils instantly encircle the other boy's throat until it's almost like a collar, from the bottom of his chin to his shoulders, until Kuroha is absolutely sure that even if it doesn't prove fatal, that it'll end up leaving dark bruises along his pale neck. (It'll suit him beautifully, he thinks; Add has never been a sore sight.) Drawing his thumb back, he orders the cords to tighten, when he utters the word.

     His issued command is a single, rasped syllable.

As Kuroha speaks, his free hand wanders up to tap the snake coiled around his wrist, poking it relentlessly until its grip lessens, if only a little. "If you melted right now, that’d just prove you aren’t worth my time, kuku," he hums, sneering — if he recalls correctly, the Nasod queen could withstand high temperatures, albeit with a certain level of discomfort. If Kuroha couldn’t, dumping him to the bottom of the ocean wouldn’t be that bad of an idea.

"I dunno, I’m already haunted enough for one lifetime. Besides, if I’m gone, so is my ability to reset and rewrite time — do you think dynamo would ever listen to an impostor?” It’s close enough to an AI to be called intelligent — even if he’d never bothered with an actual AI chip (perhaps in a different timeline, where his research focused more on the drones rather than defying space.)

     But, similarly — he's not interested in an entire fight at the moment, so when Add taps a finger against the snake around his wrist, Kuroha lets it go, retracting it back beneath his sleeve. "Considering that that did less damage than I expected... I'd say I'm well worth your time, aren't I?" While he hasn't been in an environment like this before, the result of Konoha's desires (a strong body, a wish that isn't within Kuroha's current records) has to have some degree of endurance, right?

     "Why would I want your dynamo, when you only have six of them?" It's something that's caught his interest (for being so impractical in number) for a while, and with a shrug, he comments, "You have to repair each one yourself — that's a waste of time." Late hours and the lights on at odd hours of the night have seen Add work on machinery that Kuroha has never really understood; considering that having an infinite amount of summons at his own disposal is a frequent, frequent thing, a six-piece set of floating metal doesn't seem useful to him.

Under any normal circumstances, Add wouldn’t go — this entire cruise seems like a joke, after all, meant to amuse and entertain people with little to no brains. It’s not the prospect of potential, shallow entertainment nor the promise of well-kept company that makes him go — it’s the yacht itself, enormous and ever-working, that he’s mildly curious about. To power a thing this huge, a huge engine is in order — and, as soon as he gets relatively cozy, he wanders over to find the engineering room.

Naturally, he drags his so-called husband along with him — Kuroha’s an android, as he finds out one day, and since then, he rarely ever separates from the boy, curious about his inner workings. He’s not a nasod, that much is obvious; nevertheless, it’s a project to focus on, now that he’s short on materials to further his space-time continuum exploration. Needless to say, Kuroha’s much more troublesome of a potential subject than Eve was — but, it’s a work in progress.

The inside of the room is as hot as the engine itself; thick clouds of steam limiting any sort of vision. Yet, none of this is enough to deter him from putting his hands all over the enormous piece of hot metal, as he slowly begins to unscrew certain parts to get a glance of what’s inside.

"Keke! I hope you can swim — if it explodes, the ship will go down in minutes," he throws over his shoulder, grabbing one of vials attached to his belt. Without any hesitation, he reaches inside of the engine — gets just enough of the hot oil to fill the vial, then backs away, heading towards Kuroha instead.

     "Shit — fuck off!" In his haste, he grabs Add's wrists, carefully prying the one with the oil out of his mouth and away from his face; but not without some spillage — the vial had been filled to the brim, after all, and he winces, as some of it splashes onto his cheek. (If he had a heart, it would be racing, by now.) Summoning is a split-second command, and a split-second execution — Kuroha only lessens his grip when black, hissing cords shoot out from beneath his sleeve, taking the place of where his fingers had once been — tightening, wrapping around one of Add's arms; enough, for now.

     With his own hands free, and his safety secured — if only for a few, quick seconds — he pauses to take a slow breath; practically glares daggers into the boy across from him. "I really wouldn't do that, if I were you." Wiping his face with an additional snake, he continues — a bit incredulously, at first. "If I melt, right now, first of all — that just makes you seem like the biggest fucking idiot, for dumping all of your research plans down the drain."