#aresei

No one can take care of him like Aresh can.

Sex doesn't have to necessarily be deeply meaningful or cathartic. It can just be a physical act to get off (which, in itself, still matters and has emotion behind it: the act of insisting there is no emotion involved has baggage). But this weird idea that "the relationship is what happens outside the sex" is just... what even? Do you know how scary touching someone can be? Disrobing, even partially? People have trauma, people are shy, people are nervous of screwing up, of hurting and being hurt, of wanting things to go well, of being too excited or not excited enough, of doing such things in societies where it's dangerous, etc. It takes courage. Have you ever been that close with a person? Not just being sexual with them, but skin to skin, face to face. It's confrontational, it's hot, it's heavy, it's scary, it's thrilling, it's messy, it's ridiculous, it's so many things. Even doing that alone can be terrifying (because most societies like when we hate our bodies and don't self-pleasure, because it makes us biddable drones), but adding one more person (or more) into the mix and things get even more complicated. In a society of body shaming, showing yours to others even in small ways can be terrifying. Add queer people to the mix and you've got the difficulty of navigating homophobic persecution, not just in physicality between people, but that is focused in particular on queer people being together, physically. Being together physically is itself an act of rebellion, especially as governments and private corporations rush to censor out even the chastest of moments.

Take The Other World's Books Depend on the Bean Counter, for example. Yes, it's funny that it's fuck or die. Sometimes you have to stick people in a funny situation to get them to interact with each other in media, usually because they wouldn't otherwise interact much if at all. But insisting that the "real" relationship is what happens outside the physicality is ignoring the actual narrative, how people work, and also just bizarre. Prior to this, Seiichirou wasn't seeing a doctor. He wasn't talking to anyone about his mental or physical health (he was not being honest to Norbert or about to change his habits, despite Norbert's comments). He had a series of failed relationships due to his workaholism. Aresh was also not isolated, exactly, but he wasn't involved in a romantic and/or physical relationship with anyone and viewed those relationships at a distance. Aresh and Seiichirou do more than just physicality, but the physicality gets Seiichirou to pull his head out of work and address his health problems. It reminds him he's not waking up alone, that he has someone to go home to, to spend time with, who cares whether he's around or not and who won't give up on him despite himself. It makes Aresh realize he enjoys being physical with a partner and taking care of someone in and out of bed, and when someone at home looks forward to his return. It brings out his passion, and also Seiichirou's (in the light novel, Seiichirou suggests certain positions/actions). It turns otherwise mundane moments into more intense ones.

Also, ignoring the homophobia and racism in the background of Game Changers/Heated Rivalry and assuming the sex doesn't matter, that what the characters do with each other's bodies in that story isn't important, especially to their relationships, is bizarre. It's present in Ilya and Shane's story (like it's part of why they're so sneaky about their relationship: two male hockey players, especially famous ones, being in a physicality relationship and potentially a romantic one? That's risky, especially for Shane, who has to navigate the difficulty of being a popular mixed-race player, and the responsibility that brings, or Ilya, coming from a country where he could be put in prison or worse for his feelings and actions, and where even his attempts to move to other countries is stymied by racist immigration policies), but homophobia as an important part of the world-building is also intensely present in the first book in the series, Game Changer. It's a big reason Scott acts the way he does (not out of homophobia, but in large part because he doesn't want Kip attacked for being involved with him), and is a central conflict between him and Kip. It's why the kiss on the ice matters and why Scott makes that speech. Being physical with each other is an act of liberation for all the characters, like... Scott and Kip in particular go at it for days (so do Ilya and Shane, but Game Changer was first), and they love being given that freedom, being allowed that fun, that vulnerability, with someone who cares for them and loves them for who they are in return.

I know part of this is an adaptation first/only audience issue: that the manga and anime removed nearly all the sex from Iseshachi, while Game Changer (book 1) was trimmed down and massively modified for TV, and we haven't gotten an adaptation of Tough Guy (book 3), which is even more about how physicality in particular matters to certain people and relationships, as both Ryan and Fabian have complex relationships with physicality and the partners they have, Ryan because of his anxiety about his looks and reputation, and particularly how his needed medications interfere with his ability to come, which he badly misses and is a painful difficulty for him to navigate, and Fabian because his partners of choice are not healthy for him, but he still wants sex and enjoys being sexual. And okay, fine, adaptation only audiences are missing a lot of this, but not all of it. The vulnerability, the nervousness, the energy is still there in what relationships we see on-screen, tied deeply to their physicality.