#curious!

It was nowhere near romantic, a rainy day and some dark alley and you’d been doing this for a few weeks— responding to his texts at random times of the day just to meet up and do a whole lot of nothing. 

You shoot teasing banter back and forth, he flusters you every now and then, and you make him laugh. It’s new for him. Refreshing. He comes back for more and more, obsessed with the push and pull.

He invades your personal space to compliment you— caging you in to tell you you’re so pretty under the street lights, or you have the most wonderful laugh, or he loves the way you can make him smile so easily. He gets so close all you can see is him. The vignettes of dark clouds behind him are mostly obscured by black curls, weighed down with raindrops. Every word he says is paired with a dreamy lidded stare into your eyes, and you’re always so sure he’ll lean in. But he whirls around, changing the subject and leaving you blushing, and feeling a little stupid.

When you’ve finally decided he’s just playing with you, leading you on out of boredom and keeping you around as eye candy, it’s nearly impossible to hide your disappointment. He just can’t get a smile out of you, and he wants to smooth out that furrow between your brows. So he does what he does best, staying persistent, poking and prodding at your cheeks, whining and pouting for you to just give him that pretty smile he loves to see.

But your head hangs low, averting your gaze as you start rambling about needing to get home, it’s so late, and the weather’s gonna give you a cold. The last thing he wants is to see you turn your back on him, and he takes hold of your wrist to spin you around, using his other hand to lift your chin.

His sad eyes search yours until they land on the pout of your lips. Always so tempting. He moves without thinking, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips that sends a shiver up your spine— if it’s because of the shock or the cold rain that falls on your head, you can’t tell.

The last thing he expects is the way you kiss him back so desperately. 

Thunder rumbles in the distance as your heart pounds against your ribcage. His kiss is consumption; using the curve of your lips and the slip of your tongue to feed his desires. Even better, you pull him in with hands around his neck. Greed grows as he tastes you, coming back for more and more, feeding off the way you match him. It makes him giddy, so he squeezes at your waist as if to say, thank you for wanting me.

He wishes he could get all his oxygen through you. His lungs almost burn as he pulls away for a breath, ready to dive back in even as his knees wobble, weak and threatening to give out. In a way, it feels good. Endo’s always loved at his own detriment, after all. So he leans in before he’s ready, only to be stopped with a gentle hand to his chest.

“Breathe with me for a second,” you pant.

“It hurts,” he laughs. 

You feel it too, the discomfort of trying to give your lungs air after depriving them. You offer an olive branch. “Wanna stop?”

Lighting strikes. For an instant, the sky shatters into pieces, bright white illuminating just the rims of his cheekbones while his features fall into darkness. An agonizingly slow rumble crackles through the air, and a second of silence passes before it crescendos into a deafening boom. His voice is imperceptible, but the movement of his lips is unmistakable.

Never.

You were comfortable for a long while. How couldn’t you be— he worshipped you. There wasn’t a thing you could’ve asked for that he couldn’t get you, and all he ever asked for in return was affection. To be heard, to be seen, and to be touched. It was easy to listen to him ramble for hours about nothing and everything, and you picked up on what bothers him in no time. You were there to ease the burden on his heart that he tried so hard not to acknowledge. His arms wrapped around you so perfectly you’re sure with enough time, the two of you could have melded into one. 

And in return for your affection, Endo practically kissed the ground you walked on. 

You’d worried from the start that his admiration was too good to be true— a part of you knew you were too vulnerable to get involved with anyone new. Pain once nestled deep in your ribcage, wrapped in vines and thorns to barricade a broken heart, yet seizing your breath with every move. 

It’s why the love he gave you felt so intoxicating, addictive in the way he poured his all into your being without hesitation. Feeling wanted— it’s what you needed at the time. Little did you know that Endo Yamato’s want is more than that; it is all encompassing, it is consumption, it is a trap. 

Endo had found you beautiful, caught up in your glow until it became blinding— an incandescence that drew him in until his temples throbbed, spots consuming his vision. Stubborn, his palm casted a shadow over the light that blinded him, peeking out between two fingers. 

In his efforts, he only dimmed you down. The pressure was too much, or it didn’t exist at all, you can’t ever be sure.

The two of you often lie in your bed late into the night. Lights off and under covers is how you share thoughts with each other never before shared with anyone else. A confessional, of sorts.

“I hope I can introduce you to Takiishi soon.”

“Why haven’t you?”

He considers it for a few seconds. “I think I’m nervous.”

You roll towards him. It’s dark, and he’s staring up at the ceiling. “Because you want us to get along?”

You sound so hopeful. It makes his heart flutter. He sighs, “He means a lot to me, you know.”

The implications of his statement make your shoulders feel heavy. “I know.”

Ding. Ding. Ding.

From: Endo Yamato Miss you.  Where have you been? Am I gonna have to stop by and see you myself?

You ghosted him a while ago, and you swear you can feel his eyes on you. He hasn’t done anything, but he hasn’t stopped texting you either, and the timing of it seems to always be when you’re feeling your worst. It makes you feel paranoid, haunted, paralyzed. 

It’s silent in your apartment, with the exception of a ticking clock and a leaking faucet. You know you’re alone, but you never really trust what you think you know anymore. 

Flitting your eyes to your phone, you heave a sigh. How did things ever get so complicated?

Endo gives you butterflies, really. Hope sits heavy in your chest, flushes over your cheeks at the thought of being missed. Being wanted. And there he is, enticing as ever, with open arms waiting to sweep you off your feet and spoil you. 

A few months away from him and you were lonely. He’d given you so much, everything you asked for and more; he’d just about smothered you in affection and without him, you felt a void. An emptiness that deemed your own self soothing futile. Isolation forces your hand.

To: Endo Yamato Drop a pin. I’ll be there in 10.

II.

You understood what Endo saw in Takiishi when you met him. 

He was exactly as Endo described him, beautiful, unpredictable, self-serving, and not too big on talking. And yet, Endo yaps his ear off the same as he does to you. You briefly wondered if he ever looks at you the way he looks at Takiishi. 

Playing it safe, you kept your distance. Endo fed the both of you a candlelit dinner of burgers and fries– Takiishi’s favorite– gushing about how excited he was for the both of you to meet. Knowing what you know now, you felt like an intruder in their home. At the same time, it hurt your heart to watch Endo pour his everything into a basin that drains it all out. 

Takiishi knew Endo had been seeing you, and he wasn’t sure he cared. In fact, he rather enjoyed the silence and an entire bed to himself at night. He had access to his card, and Endo kept the kitchen stocked, and he came home almost every day anyway, just to check on him. There was always a mess to clean up after; dirty dishes and trash on the coffee table, used towels on the bathroom floor. Nothing unusual, yet.

Until the day Endo comes home, greeting Takiishi as usual, tainted with your fragrance. Takiishi isn’t sure why he feels such a knot in his gut, but the distance it takes for him to feel the need to swing is cut in half by your lingering scent in the air. A familiar metallic smell fills Endo’s senses. 

You hadn’t expected Endo to come back that night. Opening the door, your heart drops to your gut. Dejected, sad eyes and a bruised nose. You beckon him in, sitting him down and holding him gently until he’s ready to speak.

“...I don’t think Takiishi wants me to go back home anymore.”

You freeze. “What? Why not?”

His voice trembles, “I can’t leave him.”

“You don’t have to, baby. Where’s this coming from?”

He babbles, rambling, taking breaks to sniffle, replaying the scenario from his perspective. Guilt brews inside of you, even more so when you realize you don’t exactly want him going back home to that anymore, either.

“It sounds like he might be jealous, sweetheart.”

He shakes his head no, black tendrils flopping around frantically. “It’s not like that. It’s– he can’t.”

You sigh. “The Endo I know wouldn’t say that. He’d say Takiishi can do anything.”

He perks up just a bit at that, a forced smile wobbling onto his lips. 

“But…there is one thing he can’t do, in my opinion.”

He sniffles, glossy eyes meeting yours expectantly.

You want to tell him it’s for the best, to stay with you, and leave Takiishi to his own devices. You just can’t bring yourself to remove a piece of your lover’s own heart. So you indulge him, “He can’t live without you.”

Endo chokes on a sob, heels of his palm buried in his eyes. You rub his shoulders as they shake, as his heart splits in two.

You and Takiishi stare at each other, face to face. As much as you want this to work out for Endo’s sake, the way Takiishi looks at you makes you feel small. Determined, you step aside, walking right past him. “Excuse me.” You feel his stare even as your back is turned.

Though your house hasn’t been sold yet, Endo helps you move most of your things into your new bedroom at his shared home with Takiishi. He stays out of the way for the most part, holed up in his own bedroom or out doing what you assume to be nefarious things. One day, you think you see him leave with fireworks in hand. 

The plan to share a living space with Endo’s boyfriend who isn’t fond of you, to say the least, clears up a few issues. They can spend time together until Takiishi inevitably gets overstimulated, smacking Endo away so he trails into your room like a sad puppydog. It means that you and Takiishi both get reasonable amounts of alone time, and Endo can spend as much time as he wants with his two favorite people. In a perfect world, it could’ve worked out this way forever. 

The summer months are an illusion of bliss. The little moments you share help you hold it together; keep you sane.

“Yamato, quit!” you giggle, lightly sputtering as he presses a dripping ice cream cone against your lips. 

“You wanted some though, didn’t you? Don’t be shy, have some more!” 

“It’s— stop! It’s getting all over me!” With all your might, you push against his forearms as sticky vanilla seeps through the linen of your pants. 

His smarmy smile breaks through, a glint in his narrowed eyes, “Is it just me or have we had this conversation before? I’m getting deja vu.” 

You glare. He giggles. Takiishi’s in some other world. 

It’s nearly the same as when you first met, but the lightheartedness is only temporary; a breath of fresh air that threatens to run out, leaving you suffocating and begging for help.

You have to walk on eggshells a bit with Takiishi.

You’ve seen the way his mood swings with Endo, who is admittedly a lot less careful than you in general, and from what you’ve seen, you really don’t want to be on Takiishi’s bad side.

Endo left ages ago to pick up Takiishi’s favorite food on the other side of town, leaving you two alone in the house together. It’s been quiet since the second the front door closed on Endo’s way out. But you know Takiishi is patching up his jacket in the spare room, meticulously sewing a hole shut that he obtained in a scuffle with some randoms he picked a fight with last week.

The room he works in is on your way to the living room, and to your surprise, he never really closes the door. You can’t help but take a peek at him every time you pass, but he never looks up. 

Today, you walk slow, feeling nosy. He’s hunched over the desk, working a needle through fabric with a carefulness you didn’t know he had. It’s easy to tell when his hair is air dried, red locks fluffy and light, ruffled and framing his face. The golden tips are loosely tied up in a messy bun, tendrils sticking out around the nape of his neck. You swear you catch the beginning of his eyes flitting towards you the second you pass the doorframe, and you wonder if he always notices your staring.

“Hey.” You freeze. A beat passes. You take a step back, just enough to peek at him from around the doorway. He doesn’t look up from what he’s doing, and he doesn’t say a word. You almost wonder if you were hearing things. When you open your mouth to ask what he wants, he stands, taking one step towards you and yanking you into the room with him.

You yelp, his grip on your wrist tight as he twists you so your back faces him. Suddenly, his chest is pressed against you, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other sweeps his sewing supplies across the table. 

“Takiishi— wh–” 

“I’m bored. Endo’s been gone too long.” With one finger, he pulls at the hem of your sweats until they sit just below the curve of your ass. A calloused palm smooths over you, slapping hard enough to leave a handprint when you flinch away from his grasp. His hand travels up, pressing an arch into your back and smoothing up your spine, stopping when his fingers reach the base of your neck. 

“Besides,” he starts, warm breath on your spine as he grinds against you, “I’ve been wondering what he finds so interesting about you.”

You didn’t intend for Endo to see you packing an overnight bag. 

“...Whatcha up to?” 

His voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin. You shoot forward, whirling around with wide eyes. How did he walk up behind you without a sound? “Yamato, fuck, you scared the shit out of me.”

His eyes flit behind you. “Going somewhere?”

You sigh, “I…think I’m just going to go home for a few days. Feeling a little homesick, I guess.” 

Panic takes over his features for a split second. It’s like he forgets to breathe before he speaks.

“Home? You don’t feel at home enough here? Your old house is empty, baby. You don’t really wanna go back there, right?”

“Well, it’s not like that, I just—”

“Then what? Is it Takiishi? You know he’s not mad, it’s just how he is. Don’t let it get to your pretty little head.” His feet are inches from yours now. He won’t let you get a word in. Vines tighten in your chest. He rambles on. “C’mon, let’s put these down.” Snatching your bags from your hands and placing them on the bed, he removes your things as hastily as you’d packed them away.

You breathe in deep. “No, stop, listen, I just want to be alone for a while, I’ll come back–”

He interrupts you. His soft, reassuring tone replaced with something stern, “That’s not good for you and you know it.”

“Don’t tell me what’s good for me like you know,” you snap.

He freezes, meeting your eyes. His features twist even as his eyes widen. “So what, all of a sudden I don’t know you?” He scoffs, standing upright. It’s not often you see him like this, intimidating, towering above you. He tsks, “Sweetheart, please. Don’t look at me like you’re scared. C’mere.” It seems like he waits for you to open your mouth before moving behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist as the other sits atop your head, gently scratching just the way you like. You can’t help but melt into his palm for a moment, even though your shoulders tense up. 

“There, there, that’s better. See, I know just the way to calm you down, right baby?” His voice is low as he leans down to speak against your ear, “Now tell me, who is it that knows you better than I do?”

You tug against his hold. “Endo, nobody, this is what I mean, I just need to—”

“You need some rest, I know, I know. Come lay down with me.” 

He takes you with him as he falls back onto the bed, cradling you and petting you until a silent tear falls down your cheek. Defeated.

You’d never deny the way Endo makes you feel worshipped. Sinking into you with a look of awe as you molded perfectly to fit him inside, “L-love you. Love you so much, I can’t— fuuuck!” Endo’s voice is often laced with such desperation, breathy and whiny as if a second of proximity was lost, he’d fall apart. He clings to you tightly as though the slick sweat on your bodies threatens to let you slip past his grasp. 

Though you’re sure it was for you, how could you ever be certain when Takiishi’s in the room, too? 

Takiishi truly creates the rhythm, teeth latched to the muscle of Endo's shoulder as he thrusts into him. Warm tears fall against your chest, and the weight on top of you is nearly suffocating. The way Endo whines and sobs, throbbing inside you makes up for it. He’s delirious with pleasure, sandwiched between his lovers, and you wonder how someone so enveloped in love can be so miserable sometimes.

You suppose he’s not the best at picking them, but your gratitude for the view above you outweighs your judgment. 

Takiishi is rough, a knee knocking into your side when he readjusts for leverage. Suddenly, you’re no longer caged in, Takiishi having snatched Endo’s arms to hold behind his back. You watch his eyes roll back into his head before Takiishi thrusts hard enough to knock the wind out of both of you. You roll your own hips up, teaming up to match his pace and ruin Endo in the process. He babbles how he can’t take it, it’s too much, but Takiishi shuts him up with an arm around his neck, capturing him in a chokehold and rolling his hips against him. The strangled groans and depraved loll of his tongue is enough to do you in.

He collapses on top of you when he comes undone, whispering declarations of love into your skin. Pushing away sweaty locks of hair, you press barely-there kisses onto his forehead. His entire body twitches, so overstimulated you almost feel bad for him. The proximity lets you hear his voice clearly, even as he pants between each broken sentence, “...Love you. S’much. ‘S so good. Love you. Love you.”

Takiishi flops down next to you to take a breather. He glistens with sweat. He’s beautiful and confusing to you, and you wish you understood where you stand with him. 

Endo’s head lifts weakly when he feels the bed dip, meeting his eyes. You feel like an outsider watching something you shouldn’t intrude on as they stare at one another, panting. Takiishi moves to press an unexpectedly lingering kiss to Endo’s cheek before standing to clean himself up.

You wonder how many times Endo has told Takiishi he loves him in secret. He never said it out loud, but you saw him mouth it on his skin, letting his tongue tease the soft skin of his neck in doing so, I love you. I love you.

Takiishi warms up to you— in his own way. He’s realized you keep Endo out of his space more than usual, which is…mostly fine. Sometimes, he’ll pop in when he’s feeling bored, staring at the two of you from the doorway for a while. His presence is hard to ignore, to say the least. You startle when you feel it, alerting Endo. Usually, he would notice first, had he not been giggling and pressing kisses into your neck.

“Takiishi!” His eyes always sparkle when he sees him. “Need somethin’?”

He blinks. “What are you doing.” You know he’s genuinely asking, but his questions sound like statements. His eyes flit to you before going back to Endo.

“Giving each other manicures! You want one? I’m not the best, but…” He nudges you, lopsided smile and raised eyebrows like a cartoon character. 

To your surprise, Takiishi checks his nails, considering them for a few moments before he walks in. He stands above the two of you, staring, like he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Here! Sit. I’ll get us drinks,” Endo chirps, letting Takiishi take his spot on the floor pillow. 

“Yamato, your nails aren’t dry, sit down.” He ignores you, flashing a reassuring smile and a careful thumbs up when you look at him in a panic for leaving you alone with Takiishi.

You turn around to meet the intense gaze boring into you, hands laid out on the small tray between you. You take a moment to observe them. They’re a lot less battered than you would have thought, soft in appearance despite the obvious worn and reddened knuckles, scars from split skin riddled about. It all suits him, you think. His nails are only slightly chipped, but a few are broken, presumably from throwing punches, but maybe also from his aggressive approach to opening snacks and jars. 

Motioning to his choice of lacquer colors, you twist to grab the polish remover, hearing a few small thunks of glass bottles on the table. When you turn, you find he’s picked a few colors, and he’s rummaging through your bag of nail charms and stickers. 

Endo returns with a full heart seeing the two of you together, matching polish to chrome powder as Takiishi nods along to your suggestions.

Endo stills, spilling into you, groaning in pleasure as you roll your eyes. As he trembles, panting and boneless from the aftershocks, you get an idea. Hooking a leg around his waist, you use the leverage to push him off, flipping the position so you’re on top. 

His eyes are wider than ever while yours remain low, an almost bored expression that makes his dick twitch. 

His mouth opens and closes as he stammers, shocked by your overtaking. He doesn’t get a word out before he’s hissing at the sensation of your palm wrapping around him and pressing him into your warm center. 

“Ngh— hah! Oh— oh fuck b-baby…” he babbles. You’ve always been fond of the way he sounds overstimulated. Being the one in control this time, though, is new territory for both of you.

Using him to work yourself closer and closer to your orgasm, an overwhelming pleasure builds up in your core that you haven’t felt in months. Adrenaline courses through your veins as Endo lays limp below you, practically melted. Messy black locks spread out on the pillow and his lidded eyes gloss over with lust and adoration. How long has it been since you’ve had the upper hand? Have you ever? 

The thought alone makes your stomach twist, chest suddenly tight as you feel the need to gasp for air. It’s strange, you think, how you simultaneously feel euphoric, so, so close to coming undone. 

In that moment, Endo brings a hand up to your hips, squeezing hard enough to make you jolt and ruin your rhythm. Goddamn him. Such a small change in pace and you’re back to where you started, high you worked so hard to chase dissipating into frustration. And yet he still looks at you with those eyes. 

With such a lost faith in him, you can’t imagine he didn’t do it on purpose. You feel as though he read your mind, got a keen sense that you felt some sort of power over him and he just had to remind you— to keep you in check. His palm feels like it’s burning through your skin, setting every nerve alight with lividity. How can he give you everything and take everything from you all at once?

You don’t even think before it happens. 

Smack. 

Everything stops. 

Your hips come to a halt, holding your breath. He isn’t touching you anymore, fingers hovering just above your hot skin as if he’d burned himself. Only the side of his face is visible to you, and you see pinpricks of blood rushing under the surface of his skin in the shape of your hand on his cheek. He lies there, still for what feels like a lifetime, just blinking in shock. 

Your mouth is dry. You stammer, “Yamato, I—“

“Do it again.”

He slowly rolls his neck so you’re face to face again, an eerily calm air in his demeanor. A look that says, trust me. You know you shouldn’t; you know that you don’t. 

But you raise the same hand, backhanding the opposite cheek, and he moans this time, dick twitching inside you. A giddy giggle makes its way through your bitten lips, hips slowly grinding again as you swing your hand across his cheek once more. 

The sting on your hand feels good. He chokes on his breath, writhing, hips bucking. You slap him again, speaking through a smile, “Quit moving.” 

It’s the most thrill you’ve felt in months.

III.

You can’t remember why you ever went back. Had you blocked Endo’s contact in the first place, you never would’ve ended up as the shadow of the person your lover loves most.

Endo picks up on it, of course. Nothing gets past him. The dark circles don’t go unnoticed, nor does the half finished food on your plate or the laundry piled up on the floor. He takes care of it all for you, like he always does. To take the burden off your shoulders, he’d do absolutely anything— with the exception of letting you go.

Hot, soapy water sloshes around you as Endo’s large hands work shampoo into your hair. His thighs cage you in, extra warm and slick against your skin. You sigh, exhausted, nearly sinking below the bubbles as you nod off against his chest. 

He frowns. “Just a little longer, sweetheart. Here–” he hooks a strong arm around your stomach, holding you upright, “How’s that? Comfy?” 

You huff in response. He feels so nice, but your chest hurts. Tight with the pressure of heartstrings that threaten to snap. You’re stuck– empty with him, empty without him. The stream of water against your skull quiets your thoughts for a few seconds. He feels like sobbing, squeezing you tight, head to his heart so you can hear the way it beats for you. 

Your entire being has grown dim. He no longer has to peek through his fingers to bear your light; instead, he shivers, reaching out to cling to you in hopes to feel the warmth you once engulfed him in.

Steam floats around the bathroom like a sauna as he wraps you up in a warm towel, sitting you on the counter so he can dry your hair, too. “We’re going out today. Just you and me. Anything in particular you wanna wear? I’ll bring it to you.”

He isn’t even sure you heard him. 

He drives you up to a mountain that overlooks the sea, cool air and wildflowers, your favorite spot since before the two of you even met. When you’d shown him originally, the first thing he thought of, of course, was Takiishi. He gushed to you how Takiishi loved high places too, and that you’d all have to come here together sometime. Somewhere along the way, your life before Endo and Takiishi was erased, replaced, as if there’s not a thing you could have just for yourself. 

The view brings tears to your eyes, but it doesn’t mean the same to you anymore.

The sight makes him smile. The sparkle has always been so beautiful on you, and he’s relieved to see you’re still capable of feeling anything. He works at the peel of a tangerine, citrus and sea salt filling his senses as he tries to steady his breath. Juice drips down his wrist as his trembling hand lifts a slice to your mouth, only then noticing the darkness of the sky. 

A total solar eclipse. The moon blocks the light of the sun, casting a shadow on earth. 

It hurts to look.