#izamu

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It was all a game.

One big test.

Mucho was constantly walking on eggshells.

He was never sure of how to exist.

Who he could trust.

He could trust Izana, right?

Of course, he could trust him. He could trust him as long as he could see him. He could trust him if he was awake.

But when he turned his back…

“You love me. Don’t you, Yasuhiro?”

He did. He absolutely did. Mucho loved him more than words could express, or actions could show.

Maybe that was why Izana always questioned him. Always desired to reinforce his loyalty and dedication. Asked him things that caught him off guard.

Asked him to do things that he wouldn’t do for anyone else.

“What if I told you that I hated something about you? Your hair or cologne?”

Mucho would change it in a heartbeat. Physical things were temporary. What Izana wanted mattered more to him than a hairstyle.

“Yasuhiro…sneak out tonight… meet me in the building with the broken windows.”

It hadn’t mattered that he was already on house arrest - legally and by his parents. Mucho could evade the officers who were hunting him down for tampering with his ankle monitor. Seeing Izana for a few moments… was more important than the night spent in custody.

“Yasu… bring me some cigarettes.”

Steal them. An unspoken command. Cigarettes from the corner store. Whiskey from his dad’s liquor cabinet. Petty theft turning into things more serious. Shaking down a guy on the street for something Izana wanted, hunting down a man who could sell Izana a gun.

Whatever he wanted.

Whatever he needed.

Mucho would find it.

“What would you do if I asked you to kill someone for me?”

Kill someone? It wouldn’t be exactly the first time…but it also wouldn’t be easy. Did Izana have a reason for such a request? Surely he did, but did he need one for Mucho to perk his ears up and listen?

No.

Of course not.

Mucho would do it with no hesitation.

The question still hit him in the chest like a ton of bricks. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want to do it. Wouldn’t enjoy it. But what he would enjoy was Izana’s satisfaction. His praises, handed out so sparingly, as if they would lose their meaning if said too often.

Mucho would just have to work harder.

Do more to stand out among the crowd of other whipped fools who kissed the ground Izana walked on.

He reveled in the attention on the days when he was Izana’s favorite.

When he passed the test, and Izana whispered words of affirmation and love against his lips, Mucho could convince himself that this was real.

That he mattered to the angry little man that got off on controlling those around him. That Izana meant the words he said. That he was right to trust him.

“You know I love you, right?”

Right. That’s what Mucho would believe, because that’s what he wanted.

If he wanted it badly enough…if he drew the words from Izana’s mouth enough times, then it had to be true, right?

Right.

Because otherwise, he would go insane.

The back and forth. It would have broken a weaker man years ago.

One minute, Izana loved him, and would melt against his chest and in his hands and act as if there was nowhere else he would rather be.

The next, Izana looked down on him in scorn. His lips pulled back into a sneer, he reminded Mucho of one thing.

“You’d have done it right if you really loved me.”

What was he missing? What was he doing wrong?

Of course, he couldn’t always address Izana’s requests. Sometimes, he could, but not fast enough.

He could bend over backwards, crawl on his hands and knees, lick the dirt off Izana’s pristine white shoes.

It would never be enough.

Never. And he knew that. He tried to deny it, but he knew.

Izana was a man who would never be satisfied. Always craving for more than what he had, and never ever happy with what he got.

Mucho was a simple man. He only had enough. Never more, only less.

It would be so easy to stop trying. He would probably be happier if he did.

But what if true happiness was just out of reach? What if all it took was one more task…one more test?

Would it ever be enough? Would he ever pass to Izana’s standards, graduate from this perpetual hot and cold mind game that left Mucho exhausted?

Probably not. That was an unrealistic goal.

But how would Izana ever understand how significant he was if Mucho gave up on him?

How would he know that Mucho was honest when he said he loved him?

That he had always loved him.

From the moment they met when they were 13.

When he was there, a looming presence that consumed Mucho’s common sense.

When Mucho couldn’t find him, searching for him in the faces on the street, hoping to see him again, knowing Izana would be found if he wished it to be so.

He missed him when he was away, and missed him even more when he was beside him, knowing that Izana was mentally a million miles away.

He would do anything to reach him.

“I want you to die for me, Yasuhiro.”

Those words, spoken against the hollow of his throat, made his heart pound. Mucho knew Izana could feel it, lying against his chest as he was, but Izana didn’t acknowledge it.

That heart was his, so of course Izana neglected it.

Lifting his head, Izana stared down at him, purple eyes cold and expecting an answer.

Well? What’s it going to be?

Now? No, not now, Izana promised.

Just, give me everything.

Everything that made him human. Everything that he regretted. Everything that made him strong.

It was Izana’s.

“I’m all yours.”

He always had been.

Had all of the tests and games and challenges not proven that?

His answer wasn’t satisfactory, Mucho discovered.

A knife to his throat when he woke was a stronger caffeine than any coffee. The cold metal bit into his skin, burning where it touched. But nothing was more scathing than the look Izana gave him.

Watching him. Seeing what he would do.

Would he fight back? Kick Izana off of himself and walk away?

Mucho did neither, meeting Izana’s eyes as he forced his face to remain stoic. He was sure the blade had nicked him, but he would not complain if his blood stained his sheets.

All he could hope was that Izana wouldn’t press down another inch to further cut into his skin. But if he chose to, he would allow Izana to tear him in two.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

Izana responded with a mocking tone, echoing his cadence and rumble. His lips curled up into a wicked smile. He pulled back briefly to set the knife to the side, before rewarding Mucho with a closed lips kiss.

A little crumb.

Enough to make his mouth water and keep him craving more.

A deep ache sat in his chest where his heart should be, but instead, it beat away in the closet where Izana kept it for when he felt like playing games again.

It was just a test, after all.

A test he couldn’t pass, no matter how hard he studied.

A test that he couldn’t opt out of.

He didn’t have a choice. He never did.

All he could do was keep trying. Keep shooting for that high score.

He would be what Izana wanted one day.

Even if it killed him.

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A/N :I have been such in an Izana spiral.... I used to write in this sort of format all of the time, so I decided to play with it again when I got the idea of Mucho waking up with a knife to his throat. Love how toxic they are <3

Twitter : @_dreyars