#k fic

there’s not a day on campus that goes by that you don’t hear the name koga yudai.

sometimes it’s that he’s the top of the dean’s list at the end of the semester, the picture of academic excellence. other times it’s that him and the alpha delta tau fraternity were able to successfully fundraise and surpass the rest of greek row in their philanthropy efforts. not to mention that he was regularly a champion in regional track and field. he was good at everything and everything seemed to come to him easily, no matter the difficulty.

there was something about him that got under your skin. maybe it was the fact that he rarely had to really try to get anything he wanted, to be everyone’s favorite. or, maybe it was the fact that he knew he was good at just about everything and wasn’t particularly shy about accepting widespread praise.

yudai knew how you felt about him. as biology majors, you were regularly in overlapping classes. not to mention, you’d grown close to a handful of the adt boys and had seen him in passing more times than you needed to. he’d found a game in pushing your buttons, teasing and prodding at you until you’d snap at him and he’d giggle in your face.

“question,” your bioethics professor says during a friday afternoon class, staring back at the near-thirty of you sat before him, “is genetic enhancement morally sound? or, should we leave outcomes for traits like intelligence, physical abilities, appearance to natural variation?”

yudai doesn’t hesitate to share his thoughts first—then again, when does he—with long legs stretched into the aisle beside him. a strand of hair falls over his face as he leans back into his desk chair. “how different is genetic enhancement than anything else we’ve already done? tutors, physical training, cosmetic procedures. it’s the same, if not just earlier intervention.”

you gawk at him in disbelief as he continues, the professor’s eyes locked on his. “banning genetic mutation doesn’t necessarily stop it from happening. it just makes it more inaccessible than it could have been. natural selection clearly doesn’t benefit some more than others, wouldn’t this even the playing field?”

“oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you grumble, drawing long, angry strokes across your notebook with your pen absentmindedly. yudai picks up on your disapproval, cocking a brow as he cranes his head towards you.

“care to counter?” he asks, a slight grin lifting the corner of his mouth. you scoff and set your pen down.

“here they go,” jo mutters behind you, his voice soft but still carrying.

“how is it improving humanity if it becomes a pressure to enhance a person rather than allowing their variation to be accepted? who’s deciding who gets access? won’t it be left up to the elite? not everything needs to be optimized.”

“and where’s the issue in being genetically advantaged?” he asks, his smile growing wider and stirring rage deep within your chest. “enhancement is just logical.”

you nearly throw your pen at his head in retaliation. yudai was one of several descendants of an ancestral line of werewolves. as generations passed, their bloodline evolved from the traditional definition of wolves to something more human, just … superior. their instinct lines still ran strong, with heightened senses and more abled bodies. it was no surprise that he’d be in favor of genetically modifying a weaker race to keep up with him.

“oh, fuck off,” you counter with a scowl in his direction. the professor’s gaze shifts towards you in a silent warning at your language before he intervenes.

“as much as this is stimulating debate,” he says with a glance at the clock, “consider this a precursor to your midterm assignment. i’ll upload the instructions to our class portal and you can reach out to me with any questions.”

everyone files out, more than ready to end their day while you pack away your things into your tote bag. your blood was still boiling at yudai’s need to one-up you and only continued to when he leaned over your desk with a palm pressed against the wood.

“did i upset you?” he asks. if it weren’t for knowing his personality, any passer-by would have assumed he was being sincere. you glare up at him, met with wide brown eyes that are narrowed back at you in amusement.

“just peachy,” you scoff, slinging your bag over your shoulder and pushing past him to head into the hall. the sound of his footsteps trailing just behind you follows you out onto the cobblestone path that winds throughout campus. the late afternoon sun beats down on you, making your skin warm and your vision blurred when you glance over your shoulder at him. “can i help you?”

“are you coming tonight?” you know he’s referring to the frat pregame. nicholas had already texted you earlier begging you to put aside your grudges against yudai for a night of good drinks and dancing with him. it became increasingly hard to say no to him over the years—not that you were about to let this man know that.

“why’s it matter?” you ask, something akin to a smile gracing your features. “you haven’t had enough of me yet?”

“oh, never,” he teases, rocking on his heels with his hands stuffed in his pockets. “seriously, though. you should come out.”

“i’ll think about it.”

“you didn’t tell me to fuck off again, so i’ll consider it progress.” he flashes another grin at you, one that you’re sure would have had you swooning if you were any other girl on campus. he waves you off and heads towards greek row, pulled into passing conversation by another group of girls asking him about the very same party.

“that’s not cute.”

“i’m sorry, are you planning to buy me something new on such short notice?” you yell towards your phone propped up on your bedside table as you sift through your dorm’s closet.

“i would if i wasn’t responsible for setting up the house tonight,” nicholas retorts, frowning at you through the screen while he sets out red solo cups and bottles of liquor on the kitchen counter. “show me what you were thinking of earlier.”

“what, this?” you fish through the growing pile on the closet floor until you produce a worn leather jacket paired with a black miniskirt. nicholas peers back up, his eyes alight with approval. he brushes strands of faded pink hair from his line of sight as he nods once and returns to his task.

“that works. much better than the old shirt-and-oversized-cargos combo.”

“i’m sorry,” you mumble as you put away the rejected clothes, “i could have been the most comfortable one at the pregame.”

“well, you’re not going for comfy,” he laughs, finally picking up his phone to look at you properly. “are you not the same one saying that you’re trying to get your shit rocked?”

“i would never say such a thing,” you reply with mock offense at his vulgarity. he rolls his eyes, his smile not leaving his face.

“hey, if all else fails,” he teases, “you know where to find me.”

“funny.”

by the time you make it to the adt house, the moon hangs full and heavy in the sky and the air is chillier than earlier. the smell of overpowering cologne mingled with smoke trails through the front door when you enter, music blasting against the living room walls and the floors already sticky with spilled drinks. some of the guests call out to you in greeting and you wave them off as you drift into the kitchen for a much-needed drink.

“there’s my girl,” nicholas calls out, his words already slurred as he beckons you over from against the counter. a girl you don’t quite recognize stands against his hip between him and euijoo, but you grin at all of them before reaching for a solo cup.

“god, i need this,” you groan before tilting your head back and downing a long, slow sip of your tequila and lemonade concoction. the familiar burn hits the back of your throat and you hum contentedly before turning to the others. “it’s been a long fucking week.”

“what happened?” the girl asks, her head tilted. there’s not a thought behind her eyes and you’re sure she’s already half-gone, but you indulge her anyways.

“and then,” you continue, your drink nearly empty, “fucking yudai tried to go back and forth with me in class earlier. like, i’m ready for the weekend by this point. the last thing i want is to hear that annoying fucking voice of his—”

“—talking about me, baby girl?”

you whip your head around to find yudai towering over you, his brow arched in amusement as he reaches around you for the bottle of whiskey. nicholas stifles a drunken giggle beside you and you silence him with a smack against his stomach. euijoo and the girl slink away onto the patio, followed closely by nicholas until you’re left alone with yudai.

“yes, actually,” you answer coolly, refilling your own drink. “about how insufferable you are.”

“oh, you don’t mean that,” he chides, pouring brown liquor into his own cup. “not when everyone loves me.”

“humble.” you stop yourself from a dramatic eye roll at his words in exchange for returning to the living room where the party was in full swing when you nearly collide with a girl barreling into the kitchen.

“yudai!” she calls through a hiccup. “are you coming to play with us? i need a partner.”

you glance back at yudai, the grin on his face charming as ever as he approaches the girl with an arm looped around her waist. he doesn’t meet her eyes, his gaze fixated on you when he answers. “of course, doll.”

“whatever,” you grumble, drink in hand as you join the rest of the boys to watch the next game of pong. you don’t notice that yudai’s eyes linger on you just a fraction of a second longer than usual.

“dude, i need to get laid.” nicholas’ voice chirps from beside you later into the night, joining you on the couch while you watched the group grinding on one another at the center of the living room floor. his pink hair falls over his eyes as he leans his head against the cushions, his full lips contorted into a pout that you can’t help but laugh at.

“what, the one girl wasn’t interested?” you ask, the scrunch in his nose a sign that it hadn’t.

“she was definitely more into euijoo.” he runs a palm over his face in frustration and you pat his bicep affectionately, the buzz of liquor thrumming along your veins in a dangerous way. nicholas lowers his hand onto your thigh, opening one eye to peer over at you and the wicked smile that spreads across your face.

“hey, we can still have a little fun,” you offer, leaning into him. part of you was joking, while the other was equally as desperate as nicholas was for some kind of release after pent-up tension all week. he stares at you for a moment, a silent attempt to assess whether or not you were messing with him before his gaze lowers to your lips. you feel your heart hammer against your chest in time to the bass blaring against the walls when he sits up to pull you towards him with a hand pressed to the nape of your neck.

his lips collide with yours hungrily as he groans into your mouth and your eyes flutter shut. you were no stranger to making out with nicholas before. it was a complicated friendship. on one hand, you’d never see yourself dating him. on the other, you were never going to deny that you found him otherworldly attractive, as did he when it came to you. it was a fickle arrangement, an opportunity at the end of the night to let out your frustrations when you both struck out.

only this time, you had a spectator.

you don’t notice yudai standing in the corner of the living room, away from the crowd of girls that were prying for him to join them at the center of the dance floor. he takes the chance to catch his own breath, long fingers gripping the plastic of his solo cup as he fails to tear his eyes away from you. he doesn’t even pay attention to nicholas, only you. the way your lips part with pleasure when nicholas dips his head into the crook of your neck, your manicured fingernails raking through his pink waves and along the fabric between his shoulder blades.

he doesn’t know why he doesn’t look away. he should. he shouldn’t be paying attention to the way nicholas’ hand drifts further up your inner thigh, or the way you pull away with your forehead pressed to his with a knowing glint in your eyes. something stirs deep within him that he doesn’t quite recognize when he makes his way to the center of the living room, the crowd welcoming him with a loud cheer that cuts through the tension between you and nicholas.

“bro, c’mon,” he calls out to nicholas, the younger male looking up with him through hazy eyes before he looks at you with a shrug and lifts himself off of the couch. the scowl that grows on your face, evident with sexual frustration is a sight for his sore eyes when he beams at you and circles an arm around the nearest girl to grind against her.

that night, yudai’s head is spinning from the lingering buzz of liquor and the high of entertaining. he’s not entirely sure all who he danced with or the girl that was last in his lap, but he doesn’t care when his head hits the pillow and a blissful sigh leaves his lips. the house is quiet for the most part, save for whichever of the adt brothers had hookups in their rooms for the night and the lingering guests playing a card game mindlessly downstairs on the dining table.

his mind wanders to you, to that little skirt you wore that rode up your thighs and the way you looked up at him through your lashes. not once in the years that he’s known you has he paid such close attention to you at one of their parties, to the way that your body moved and the way your voice sounded when you snapped back at him. ever since he’s met you, it was like oil and water.

so, why the fuck was his cock so hard at the thought of you?

“what’s wrong, baby?”

your voice cuts through his inner turmoil and his eyes shoot open, met with yours as you look at him from the doorframe. his face contorts with confusion, arousal thrumming in his chest as you approach him and fall into his lap with his head propped up against the headboard. you drag a nail over his chest and he gasps from the friction, shifting his hips beneath you so that his growing erection was wedged against your soaked panties. he watches as you grind against him involuntarily, your back arched and your lips parted.

never once in his fucking life had he expected you to be in his lap. yet, here you were, in his room drunk off of liquor and pure need.

“fuck,” he mutters, his eyes fixated on the way your hips grind against his.

“ngh,” you groan in agreement, cupping your breasts through your bra with your head thrown back. “i need you to fuck me, yudai.”

suddenly, his mind goes blank and a gasp slips past his lips as he shoots up beneath the sheets. sunlight pours through the curtains, the frat house otherwise silent beyond the sound of his attempt to steady his breathing. yudai finally realizes what happened and drags a hand over his face with a groan. his hips are tight, blood rushing between his legs until his cock was painfully rigid.

he doesn’t have the time nor the capacity to process that he’d just had a dream about you. you, the same person whose buttons he loved to push and whose irritation filled him with glee. all he can think about is the fact that he needs to satisfy himself, and he needs to do it soon.

with his eyes falling shut again, yudai lowers a hand beneath the sheets and snakes it between his legs. a whimper slips past his lips and he grimaces at the pathetic sound, his fingers prodding past the hem of his boxers so that he can wrap a fist around his length. as much as he didn’t want to consider what could have led him to dreaming of you, he doesn’t care. all he can focus on is how tight his chest feels and how desperately he needed to think of his cock buried in you while you moaned his name.

the image spurs him on with long, languid strokes that cause his chest to rise and fall in staggered breaths. he shoves the sheets aside, suddenly stifled by how warm and restrictive they feel as he falls into a steady rhythm pumping along his length. his hair falls over his eyes and he squeezes them shut with a string of frustrated grunts through bared teeth. no matter the pace nor the pressure, it just wasn’t satisfying enough. it wasn’t you riding him, grinding against his hips and begging for him to fuck you harder.

and even then, why the fuck was he even thinking of that?

he allows himself to succumb to the fantasy—if only for a moment. he thinks about what you’d sound like with your lips over his cock, the way you’d look up at him through your lashes and your brows would be furrowed from him hitting the back of your throat until you nearly gag.

a heavy pant builds up in his throat as he pumps his hand faster, his fist tightening as he feels pressure build in his stomach. he bites down on his free hand in an attempt to stifle the moan that threatens to escape, a few more strokes leading him to cum in thick, white streaks into the palm of his hand.

yudai finally comes to as he cleans himself up, dissolving into mental turmoil as he shakes his head.

“no fucking way.”

just your luck, you see yudai at the house later that day when you choose to join nicholas in his room so that you could work on your respective assignments together. saturday afternoons were typically quiet at the adt house, with half of the brothers dead asleep and hungover and the others out studying before going out for round two the next night. typically, yudai was one of the latter. you were surprised when he peers through nicholas’ doorframe, looking straight at you.

“what are you doing here?” he asks blankly, his expression unreadable.

“what does it look like?” you ask, gesturing to your laptop on nicholas’ sheets before you. the younger man scoffs and shakes his head as he continues flipping through his textbook. “i’m working.”

“mm,” he answers in a hum, a smug smile forming on his lips. “good luck. guess you’ll need it.”

“go away,” you grumble, averting his gaze and refocusing your attention on the articles you’d pulled up. he doesn’t protest, just slinks down the hall back to his own room. nicholas glances up at you with an amused look plastered across his face and you glare at him next. “what?”

“y’know, i’ve never really gotten why you have beef with him,” he says.

“he’s just so—ugh,” you groan, as if the emphasis would answer his question. you throw your hands above your head in exasperation. “there’s just something so cocky about him i can’t stand. he always gets his way. and he’s always trying to get under my skin. not to mention the fucking werewolf shit.” you look over at nicholas. “you’re also a descendant. you don’t act like a total dick.”

“fair,” nicholas concedes. “it also shows up differently in different bloodlines, i think. yudai’s very … intense. competitive. that’s just how he is.”

“so, what’s the catch with you?” you ask, arching a brow with him.

“irresistibly sexy?” he suggests before you throw a pillow at his face. “i’m not kidding! being charming is a big thing in certain bloodlines.”

“well, consider me charmed,” you retort as you laugh under your breath and return to your assignment. you’re barely another paragraph into your paper when he cuts through your thoughts.

“i’m bored. let’s take a break.”

“bro, we literally just sat down not even an hour ago.”

“and we have a pregame to pregame.” nicholas doesn’t wait for you to say another word, instead hurrying back downstairs into the kitchen and returning with a bottle of tequila and a pair of plastic shot glasses. you glance at the time on your phone in disbelief.

“it’s not even six.”

“and?” he pours you a shot that you down quickly before he immediately refills your cup. he shrugs when you gawk at him and says, “look, you’re super tense and it’s no fun. you’re having a good time tonight. i promise we’ll lock ourselves in the library tomorrow.”

“… fine.”

the pair of you dissolve into a fit of laughter, your laptops stowed away and the tequila bottle halfway empty. you lay with your head on nicholas’ chest, scrolling through your social media and commenting when something catches your interest. you don’t know how long you were laying there for before you hear someone clear their throat.

“nicholas.” yudai taps the doorframe. “we need to talk about our next fundraiser.”

you feel him shift beneath you with an apologetic glance in your direction, leaving you to your devices as he follows the older man back to his room. you assume he isn’t returning anytime soon and collect your things so you can get ready in your own dorm and pick out another outfit for the rest of the night.

by the time you return, the pregame is in full swing. the adt boys had set up games across their backyard, coupled with several coolers of jungle juice and at least a dozen different liquor bottles on the kitchen counters. last night was nothing but a precursor to how hard it seemed they were trying to go tonight. there’s more faces you don’t recognize and a thicker crowd to sift through to make it back into the kitchen.

you don’t find nicholas and join some of the younger brothers sat at the dining table with their drinks in hand. they welcome your company with broad smiles, clinking the rim of their glasses against yours and pulling you into conversation. the circle widens gradually with some other guests you vaguely recognize from other frats. one of them in particular, with feline eyes keeps his gaze fixated on you and you can’t help but notice.

“you come here often?” he asks, finally approaching you from his corner of the kitchen. you shrug, a playful smile resting on your features as you take another sip of your drink.

“often enough that i know i haven’t seen you around here before,” you reply as he chuckles at your comeback. he was undeniably attractive and there was something about him that lured you in. with nicholas nowhere in sight, you assumed he was having the same bout of luck as you and let yourself have a bit of fun for the night.

the two of you find yourselves seated on the couch, indulging in conversation as the party rages on around you. it’s not until you hear one of the adt boys climb onto a folding table and the music’s volume do you look up.

“alright, order your ubers and let’s get the fuck out of here!” yuma hollers before jumping back onto the ground. various groups break apart and head out onto the front lawn in an attempt to make their way to the bars for the rest of the night.

“i can call an uber if you want to head downtown,” the guy beside you offers—was his name yeonjun?—before reaching for his phone before he leans in to speak just loudly enough for you to hear. “unless you want to just head back to our house instead.”

you knew it was never a good idea to act on a whim when you were under the influence. the ache between your legs was becoming harder to ignore and the way that yeonjun was looking at you had you near weak in the knees. still, there was something gnawing at you that it wasn’t the best idea to go back to his place with him, especially when you’d only just started talking.

across the room, yudai is about ready to throw every single bottle lined up on the kitchen counter against the wall. he feels as though every nerve ending on his body is on fire, tuned into the conversation between you and yeonjun on the couch. he grits his teeth, fighting through equal parts irritation and confusion at the fact that he was even so focused on what you were doing. over the years, he’d seen you come and go, flirting and giggling along with plenty of guys he could care less about.

but, something about this was different.

there was a rage building in his chest that was quickly spiraling out of control. the way that he suddenly felt drawn towards you was inexplicable, especially with how angry he was becoming with yeonjun’s body so close to yours. the scent of your perfume was overpowering, notes of jasmine and rose engulfing his senses. every last bit of logic was well out of the window by the time nearly everyone was en route to the bars and he was left to listen to yeonjun’s poor attempts at getting you back in his bed.

“i really wanna go downtown,” you say, but there’s an edge to your voice yudai picks up on immediately. without thinking, he saunters over to you with a slow sip of his own drink when he locks eyes with yeonjun.

“what’s up?” he asks, not bothering to look in your direction.

“nothing,” yeonjun shrugs, draping his arm lazily around your waist. “just tryna figure out where to next.”

“she’s riding with us, actually.” yudai glances at you in a silent plea for you to play along. “fuma already called the last uber. you can head out.”

yeonjun picks up on the way that the older man’s body tenses at the sight of his arm around you and pulls you closer with a devilish glint in his eyes. “i’m cool with calling a separate one for just the two of us. y’all can go ahead.”

“i said, she’s riding with us.”

you can’t help but squint at yudai in confusion before you clear your throat and slip out of yeonjun’s grip. the two men don’t even look in your direction as you take a step away and towards the staircase. “i, uh—i’m going to head up to the bathroom and find nicholas.”

their conversation grows muffled between the walls as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, your cheeks flushed as you try to pull yourself together. if you hadn’t known any better, you’d have assumed they were going at it over you. with a sigh, you reapply lip gloss and prepare to find nicholas downstairs when you hear a screaming match coming from the living room.

you barely step one foot into the hallway when you’re met with euijoo and fuma dragging yudai back towards his room. in the split second that you meet his gaze, you swear you see bright specks of gold in his dilated pupils before they’re able to corral him and shut his door behind them. nicholas comes running up the stairs in a huff, panic written across his face before he sees you and swallows nervously.

“you good?” he asks.

“me?” you gesture towards the room where the other three adt boys continued screaming at one another. “what did i miss?”

“don’t worry about it,” nicholas replies, his shoulders sinking with a deep sigh. “you want me to call us an uber? yeonjun already headed out.”

“actually, i’m down to just head back to my place, honestly.” you grimace at him before donning a remorseful smile. “i’m pretty tired.”

“boo,” nicholas jeers before he outstretches his arm to you. “alright. i’ll walk you back, though.”

at the end of the hall, fuma and euijoo tower over yudai seated at the edge of his bed. his shoulders heave with every breath, his eyes still glowing and piercing his reflection in the mirror.   the pair of them exchange concerned glances before euijoo speaks.

“dude, we can’t start shit with the other frats,” he lectures, “panhellenic council will be on us if we—”

“i fucking know, euijoo,” yudai snaps through gritted teeth. the vice president’s face falls as he sits beside the older man, resting a hand on his shoulder tentatively. “i don’t give a fuck. yeonjun can kiss my ass.”

“what even happened?” fuma asks, crossing broad arms over his torso.

“he was just—i don’t know. he was fucking with some of the girls.”

fuma scoffs, knowing yudai well enough that he was lying through his teeth. “some of the girls, or a girl?” he doesn’t answer.

“it’s definitely something related to your bloodline,” euijoo says, gently inspecting yudai. “your eyes are practically on fire right now. something’s triggering your instincts more than usual.”

they remain silent, deep in thought as yudai wills himself to calm down. he finally gets his hands to stop trembling, his breath to stop racing when fuma clears his throat to capture their attention. the other two look at him expectantly, unnerved by the expression on his face.

“who was yeonjun talking to?” yudai doesn’t answer, leaving euijoo to reply with your name on his behalf. “i—i have a theory. you’re probably not gonna like it, though.” fuma sighs before continuing. “she could be your—”

“no, no, no,” yudai quickly interjects as he lifts himself off of the bed to pace the floor. he brushes a hand through his hair in frustration, praying that the radiance in his eyes would soon wear off. “don’t hit me with any of that mate shit. there’s no way.”

“it’s definitely rare, but it’s not totally impossible—”

“isn’t it also just more of a superstition?” euijoo asks, looking between them nervously. “i mean, i can’t tell you the last time i heard about someone having an actual mate.”

“every bloodline is different,” fuma shrugs. “yudai might be more reactive to his connection to his mate than the rest of us.”

“i’m sorry, there’s no fucking way she of all people is my mate,” yudai laughs, the sound dry and humorless. “she literally can’t stand me. we’ve known each other for years. i feel like that window is beyond closed.”

“you can’t exactly control when your body chooses to react,” fuma replies plainly. “have you been acting differently around her recently?” yudai’s stomach tightens at the thought of his dream about you and it ending with his hand wrapped around his cock panting your name. he swallows, shaking the thought from his mind and brushing a strand of hair from his face.

“no.” he shakes his head again. “literally nothing.”

“mm.” fuma hums, obviously not believing him as he heaves another sigh of his own. “well, get it together. the last thing we need is our president throwing hands with someone.”

you spend most of your time holed up in the library with nicholas, away from the adt house or the dorms in a feeble attempt to stop yourselves from losing motivation to finish working for midterms. you don’t ask him about the night you saw yudai being dragged back to his room. if anything, it would probably just encourage nicholas to insinuate that you cared about him.

you only ever see yudai in passing or during exams. his entire demeanor has shifted ever since that night. there’s no more snide comments, no witty remarks as he flashes you that stupid grin of his. he doesn’t draw attention to himself in his usual fashion, instead remaining bundled in his hoodie and sweats and keeping his head low. you’re almost worried about him.

almost.

after your final shared exam for the week, you make an attempt to joke with yudai on your way out of the classroom. he doesn’t so much as look at you, let alone reply. he just blinks at you, expressionless before he turns on his heel and heads back towards the adt house. you stare after him without another word.

even after spring break and the return to a normal semester schedule, yudai continues acting strange. he doesn’t bother you anymore. doesn’t even seem to care when other people flirt with him or try to get in his good graces.

during class, he doesn’t bother with banter anymore. just jumps the gun entirely and is an absolute dick when you’re answering and he doesn’t agree with you. all he does is sneer with a haughty laugh you don’t recognize from him.

“are you good?” you finally ask him when you have the chance to catch him alone on the way out of class.

“yeah,” he answers, his own face contorted with irritation when you try to stop him. “i’m good.”

“well, you’re acting weird,” you point out. “you have been since before midterms.”

“why do you care?” yudai mutters, an eye roll following before he walks away from you and leaves you with your lips parted and eyes narrowed in confusion.

you’re at the next adt party when you’re sat beside euijoo and nicholas yet again, drink in hand. the three of you stare out from the kitchen archway towards the hall that wraps through the bedrooms, watching as yudai leads another girl into a guest room and locks the door behind him.

“that’s what, the third girl in the last twenty-four hours?” nicholas scoffs with his brow arched in the direction the pair left.

“fourth,” euijoo corrects him, following his gaze. you don’t say anything, let alone mention the fact that yudai had been acting strangely even around you for the last several weeks.

yudai has no idea about your conversation with his brothers in the kitchen, his hips grinding into the girl’s beneath him as she claws across the skin between his shoulder blades. he hisses at the sting and bears his weight down even more, biting down on her collarbone with a groan. he leans back just enough to have her settle into his lap, her high-pitched squeals like nails on a chalkboard. she reaches between her own legs to massage against her clit, rocking her weight against him to coax a moan out of him.

and he says your fucking name.

the girl stills in his lap, as if she was just doused with ice water. she gasps and crawls off of him immediately, hurling a round of expletives at him before storming out of the bedroom. yudai squeezes his eyes shut, pressure building beneath his ribcage. he’d been stifling the idea of you being his mate ever since fuma floated the possibility and it was as if his own body was fighting against him. he threw himself into anything that kept him away from you. extra commitments to greek life, longer hours studying, less time lingering after class. hell, he thought he’d be able to fuck away the idea by hooking up with anyone willing.

clearly, he was wrong.

“trouble in paradise?” you ask in a fit of laughter when yudai walks back out of the room, irritation evident on his face. the two men flanking you don’t say a word, exchanging uneasy glances that you don’t notice. yudai glares down the hall at you, storming into the kitchen to snatch a bottle of vodka.

“fuck off,” he snaps at you, “seriously.”

you stare after him with wide eyes. he’d been sassy with you in the past, but never outright rude. “what’s your fucking problem?” nicholas says your name in warning as you rise to your feet and and ignore him so that you could follow after yudai. you manage to stop him before he scales the staircase and yank his arm to turn him to face you.

“seriously,” you parrot, “what’s your problem?”

“why do you care?” yudai lets a laugh slip past his lips and you feel your blood boil when he turns his back to you and heads upstairs, anyway. with a frustrated groan, you shake your head and head back into the kitchen in defeat.

“i’m going home,” you grumble, ignoring the way nicholas and euijoo make an attempt to calm you down. “i’m not sticking around here if he wants to act like that.”

you slam the front door behind you and can still hear a muffled round of questions as to what was wrong. the cool night air kisses your skin and you wrap your arms around yourself as you walk back towards the dorms. you glance up at the night sky, as if the full moon held the answers you were looking for.

“bro, you need to get it together,” nicholas snaps at yudai when he corners him back in his room upstairs.

“i’m fine,” he slurs, bottle of vodka in hand as he falls back onto his bed with a huff.

“no, you’re not,” the younger man tears the bottle away from him and slams it onto his dresser. “you’re acting like a fucking freshman.”

“so what?” yudai asks, sober as ever as he sits up with a glare. “i’m showing up for the boys. i’m not out here getting into fights or some shit. i have it under control.”

“oh, i’m sorry,” nicholas scoffs, “is rejecting your mate bond until you drive yourself fucking insane also a part of that? especially when it’s a full moon and you’re losing it?” he doesn’t answer. “if you can’t figure it out, stop blaming her. she doesn’t even know and it’s not fair.”

you make it back to your dorm when you feel your phone vibrate against your hip.

[from: yudai] can we talk?

a strange anxiety rises beneath your skin, one you don’t quite recognize considering yudai’s never tried to speak to you in this way before. your blink at your phone screen, as if clearing your vision enough would make sense of the message. with a sigh, you thumb a quick reply and throw your phone onto your bed.

[to: yudai] you can come over

you don’t find it in yourself whatsoever to relax before yudai replies that he’s at your dorm entrance. you let him in wordlessly, leading him up to your room and staring at him expectantly. his eyes dart around the room, from your bed to the window where the moonlight filtered in. his hands clench and unclench into fists at his sides, something clearly eating away at him.

“talk,” you urge him.

yudai still doesn’t say anything. he just looks at you, that familiar ember glint in his eyes as his brows furrow in thought. his lips part every time he’s about to say something until he purses them shut. he remains silent for long enough that you exhale and move towards your door.

“if you’re not gonna say anything, then just go—”

“give me a fucking second,” he snaps, frustration evident in his voice. his body trembles at the mere proximity to you after weeks of trying his best to push you away. “i don’t even know how to tell you this.”

“well, i’m all ears,” you say, deadpan.

“you’re—” he stops himself. “look, you know that i’m a descendant.”

“uh huh.”

“and you know that there’s a lot that goes on for us genetically that we can’t control.”

“dude, if you came up here to discuss bioethics with me at almost fucking midnight, i—”

“you’re my mate,” yudai spits out in a single breath and the room becomes deadly silent. you stare at him, wide-eyed as you try to wrap your mind around his confession. you were aware of the superstitions surrounding werewolves over time and the way that their bodies succumb to their mate.

still, you chose not to believe him. “yeah, okay.”

“i’m serious,” he assures you, nothing in his face leading you to believe otherwise. you don’t manage to get a word in before he frowns and shakes his head, muttering to himself. “don’t even worry about it. i’ll just figure it out.”

“you’re not lying.” yudai turns back to you and watches as realization dawns on your face.

“why the fuck would i come here in the middle of the night if i was lying?” he counters.

“then, let’s say i believe you.” you fold your arms over your torso and stare at him. “what am i supposed to do in this situation?”

“i—nothing,” yudai answers, obviously frustrated. “i figured just ignoring you would be enough.”

“yeah?” you arch a brow at him. for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks unlike himself. there’s no confidence in his demeanor, no twinkle in those big, brown eyes of his. he just looks defeated, desperate for something you don’t quite recognize. “and how’s that working out for you?”

he doesn’t answer and you study him carefully for a moment. his body is rigid, tense enough that you can notice even in the dim lighting. you take a tentative step towards him, one that causes him to back away from you instinctively.

“don’t,” he warns, averting your gaze.

“indulge me,” you ask, remaining in place. “what happens when you’re mated to someone?”

yudai swallows, his eyes fixated on your bed and his fingers twitching. “it’s torture.”

“torture?”

“i knew a little about mate bonds from some of my relatives, but this is so much worse than i expected,” he rasps. “i can’t—i can’t think straight. the moment you’re around me, it feels like i can’t breathe. it’s like all i can focus on is you. the way you smell, the way you sound. it makes me feel insane and i can’t stand it.”

“because of the way it makes you feel, or because of the fact that it’s me?” you ask pointedly.

“i don’t know,” he answers, “at this point, i just wish it would stop.”

you don’t know what compels you, but you take another step towards him and he flinches away from you for the second time.

“don’t,” he warns again, more sternly this time.

“why?” the way he looks away from you and color flushes his cheeks catches your attention until you feel a wicked smile cross your face. “oh, you want to fuck me.”

“no, i don’t,” he mumbles. the air becomes thick with tension, the heat radiating from your bodies suddenly becoming all too noticeable. “just don’t touch me.”

“does it feel good?”

“h-huh?” yudai’s eyes widen at your question when he finally looks at you. like before, you see the flicker of embers across his pupils that are blown wide.

“mm,” you hum, as if he’d answered you already. “you can’t even handle if i lay a finger on you.”

“that’s not true.”

“isn’t it?” as much as your mind was reeling from a myriad of emotions towards yudai’s confession, you chose to ignore it in exchange for the rare opportunity to get under his skin as much as he did to you in the past. you arch a brow, reaching for his wrist to brush your thumb against his skin. he tenses beneath your touch, a shaky breath slipping past his lips.

yudai’s anxiety shifts to a familiar irritation you hadn’t seen from him in some time as he holds your gaze. “don’t fuck with me.”

“or what?” you ask. you’re close enough now that you can feel his breath against your own. you trail your hand along his forearm until you’re able to trace your nails across his collarbone. he whimpers beneath the contact, the sound filling your chest with pride as your smile grows wider. “you want to tell me that doesn’t make you feel good?”

“it doesn’t,” he lies as he tries to turn his body away from you. a scoff escapes your lips as you rake your nails down his chest, low enough until you’re able to graze along the waistband of his boxers. he nearly buckles over, his hand jutting out to steady himself with the edge of your desk. his knuckles are white from how hard he grips the wooden surface.

“tell me to stop, then,” you mutter between breaths. you’re not entirely sure what’s left of your logic at this point. the rational part of you warned you to stop, to not indulge him in what he wanted—or, needed, it seemed—while there was a sudden ache between your legs you were struggling to ignore with every passing second.

yudai looks at you in a way he never has before, his eyes hooded with lust and his brows knitted in frustration. “i—you should—i can’t—”

“tell me what you really want, yudai,” you press, his body twitching at the way his name rolls of of your tongue. a surprised gasp slips out of you when he juts his hand out to capture your throat between his fingers as he holds your gaze.

“you sure?” he asks huskily, the last thread of his resolve snapping when you respond with a  nod. “i don’t—i can’t promise that it’ll be gentle.”

“i don’t care.” that does it.

yudai groans before he brings his lips to yours in a feral kiss filled with desperation. you feel his body finally relax under your touch, his hand still at your throat as he snakes his tongue into your mouth. you nearly collapse from the pleasure that surges through you. of everyone you’d ever hooked up with, yudai was the last person you’d expected to make you feel this way. years of pent-up tension between you came crashing down in waves, satisfied noises muffled against his lips as you claw at his shoulders.

he trails his lips along your jaw, along the crook of your neck until he drags the tip of his tongue along your pulse point with a hum. you cry out when he sinks his teeth into your earlobe and arch against him enough so that he could hoist you up by your thighs and wrap your legs around his waist. he carries you to the bed, your back hitting the sheets with his lips still latched onto your neck.

you watch as he pulls away for a split second to swallow down air. like before, his eyes reflect that bright gold you’d seen earlier. only this time, there was something pained in his expression that you couldn’t understand. the way his hands tremble as he slides them up your thighs to hold your waist confirm your suspicions that he was becoming overstimulated from finally touching you.

“fuck,” he mumbles with a shake of his head, as if it would clear his thoughts.

“you alright?” you tease, pressing a heel into the small of his back so that you could close the distance again.

the pressure building in his chest was becoming unbearable and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could pace himself. his hand moves to between your legs so that he can press a large palm against your clothed entrance. he shivers when he feels how soaked you are beneath your skirt already and you gasp when you hear the fabric tear and a cool rush of air brushes against your skin.

“already so wet for me, baby girl,” he praises against the shell of your ear with long fingers gliding along your folds. you don’t reply right away and a half-grin forms on his face when he shoves two fingers into you without warning and you gasp.

there’s still a small part of you that refuses to admit that you were equally as needy for him in that moment. it was a futile attempt, considering yudai was able to quite literally smell the way your body craved his touch. the scent nearly drives him mad as he slips his fingers back out of you and brings them to his lips. you watch as his eyes nearly roll back from the taste of you and hook a finger through his chain to draw him back in.

“where’d that little attitude of yours go?” you tease. you fight to regain control, raking your fingernails more rigidly against his skin this time. pain mixes with pleasure and he hisses until your hand settles at his waistband again. before you can dip any lower, he grabs your wrists to pin them above your head and sinks his weight fully onto you so that you could feel every inch of him against your now-exposed entrance.

“i need to fuck you,” yudai chides, as if he hadn’t heard a word from you just now. it was as if he was possessed, his only relief the chance he had to fuck you until you were as senseless as he was.

“work for it, then,” you order, trying to keep your voice steady despite the way the feeling of him grinding against you was making your head spin.

“seriously?” he glares down at you, his grip still firm on your wrists against the sheets. you nod once, watching as inner conflict registers across his face before he shuts his eyes with a sigh and lowers his lips back to your ear. his voice rumbles low against your skin but there’s a strain to it that causes you to arch your back.

“you’re driving me fucking crazy,” he laments. “i need to see what you look like when every inch of my cock is stretching you out. what you sound like when—ngh—when i fuck that pretty little mouth of yours.” not once since you’ve known him had you heard yudai talk like this.

then again, you weren’t mad about it.

yudai reclaims your lips in another messy kiss before he lowers his free hand to unfasten his jeans and shove them onto the floor. you allow him to flip you over so that you were face-down onto the sheets and peer over your shoulder as he drops to his knees and positions himself at your entrance. he flattens his tongue against your clit before sucking on it harshly enough that you ball the sheets into tight fists.

you let out a string of expletives as he devours you with hungry, animalistic groans against your core. the vibrations from his voice against your skin send a shiver up your spine. his name finally falls from your lips and he smacks your ass approvingly, earning another moan in reply.

“you taste so fucking good,” he whines, a sound that you reciprocate as your body buckles onto the sheets.

you feel your stomach tighten from an impending rush of pleasure, your orgasm quickly approaching when he reinserts a pair of fingers into you to match the pace of his mouth. he curls them against your walls, somehow instinctively knowing just where you needed to feel him. he lets out a satisfied exhale when you clench around his fingers to draw him in deeper.

“yudai—!” you nearly scream as he drags you to your climax. he doesn’t let up, instead picking up the pace to have you ride out your high. you tremble beneath him, the tightness in your core slowly releasing as you swallow down deep breaths while he stands upright.

there’s not a moment for you to steady yourself when you feel the tip of his cock brush against your entrance. the friction coaxes another needy whimper from him and he buries himself inside of you in one swift thrust. you cry out from the sudden fullness as he loops an arm around your torso and hoists you up so that he was able to press another string of kisses along your neck. he bites down on your shoulder hard enough that you’re sure he’d leave a mark and you yelp from the sting.

“mm, i love the way you scream my name,” he hums, soothing the bite on your shoulder with another lap of his tongue. “such a fucking good girl.”

you can barely register his words as he begins to rock his hips into you, the length of his cock brushing against your walls. you aren’t quite sure how you’d managed to lose control over yudai, but he picks up on it instantly and threads a hand through your hair to yank your head back against his chest.

“tell me how it feels, baby,” yudai lilts, his tone mirroring yours from teasing him earlier.

“really—ah—really fucking good,” you manage through broken gasps. your body tenses against his, a firm grip still on your hair while he pounds into you relentlessly. you groan through gritted teeth at his size. you assumed he was big, but he was well past your expectations. you sink your nails into the flesh of his thigh and he bites down on his lip with another groan.

he presses his palm against the small of your back to lower you back onto the sheets, slowing his pace only for a moment to say, “hold onto the headboard.” you obey, fingers wrapped tightly around wooden slats when he slams back into you fully. his pace is more relentless than before and you can feel the shift in how he holds you when he succumbs to the unabashed need that was spurring him on.

the bed rocks beneath you hard enough that you’re sure the legs will snap. the sound of skin on skin fills the room, coupled with the way you bite down on one of your pillows to stifle a scream until yudai’s hand connects with the back of your thigh.

“let me hear how good it makes you feel,” he commands breathlessly. you defy him and bite down harder on the sheets, your screams growing increasingly muffled. he lets out an exasperated grunt and yanks you upright again, only this time with his hand back around your throat. “i said—” he pauses, long enough to press his fingers into your jaw so that your mouth falls open with a pathetic whimper, “—let me fucking hear it, baby girl.”

“i—” you pant in an effort to steady your breathing. “i’m gonna—i’m—” yudai understands immediately and snakes his hand down your torso so that he could massage circles against your already sensitive clit. your body contorts against him, your mind hazy with lust from a second orgasm threatening to spill over.

in seconds, you come undone on his cock and the wetness that engulfs him only spurs him on further. he feels himself drowning in pleasure from finally, finally allowing himself to lean into the need that had been gnawing at him for weeks. he doesn’t pay heed to the way your moans become broken and desperate for him to stop, overstimulation grinding against every nerve ending in your body as he remains focused on the way his cock feels buried deep inside of you.

“y-yudai,” you gasp, reaching blindly for his bicep to slow his pace.

“you can take more,” he assures you, keeping up his rhythm as he stretches you out even further. he was too far gone at this point, drunk off of his high as he felt his own release on the horizon. he relishes in the sound of him still being able to get under your skin, your body trembling from too much as he buries his face in your neck with a strained, drawn-out whimper.

he thrusts into you once, twice more before he shudders, his cock twitching inside of you until you’re filled to the brim with his cum. thick, white streaks drip down the back of your legs as he pulls out, his chest heaving in an attempt to steady his breathing. you back up onto the floor to stand upright and whimper at the way your thighs trembled from the residual tension.

the room falls silent, with yudai running into your bathroom to collect washcloths while you stare out the window absentmindedly. you slowly come to, becoming painfully aware of the fact that he’d walked into your dorm not more than an hour ago to tell you that you were his mate. the man you swore up and down was the bane of your existence was just responsible for fucking you into your mattress to the point that you were seeing stars.

“so, what now?” you ask, glancing at yudai as he recollects himself. he meets your eyes again, the gold flecks gone and returned to his usual deep brown. he purses his lips, caught between answering and remaining wrapped up in his thoughts until he lets out a low exhale.

“i don’t know,” he answers honestly. you frown at the dissatisfaction of his answer, a heavy feeling beginning to settle in your stomach as you wonder if it was a good idea to give into your own desperate need for release with how complex this was about to become.

still, you approach him with a teasing smile, one he’s seen over the years that brings him a strange sense of comfort amidst the stress of navigating your newfound bond. he arches a brow, watching as you tap a finger against your bottom lip and shrug.

“maybe we don’t have to know right this second,” you say, “but, if we need to do that again, i won’t say no.”

“really?” yudai asks, mirroring your grin.

“really.” you nod. “for research purposes, of course.”

a knock sounded against the doorframe before it pushed open slightly.

“hey.”

ej leaned against the doorway, arms crossed loosely. his expression shifted almost immediately when he saw nicholas sitting there in the dark.

“you didn’t eat again?”

nicholas shrugged without looking up. “not hungry.”

“that’s what you said yesterday.”

“and the day before,” k added as he appeared behind ej, carrying a convenience store bag. “at this point it’s getting annoying.”

nicholas huffed a weak laugh through his nose, but it died quickly.

k stepped into the room anyway and tossed a drink onto the bed beside him. “you look terrible.”

“thanks.”

“you’re welcome.”

for a second, none of them said anything.

ej glanced around the room carefully, like he was trying to check how bad things had gotten without making it obvious. clothes half-folded. empty water bottles. a hoodie tossed over the lamp. the kind of mess that happens when someone stops caring little by little instead of all at once.

“have you talked to her?” ej asked carefully.

nicholas shook his head.

“did she text?”

another shake.

k sighed quietly and sat on the floor near the bed. “you’re seriously just gonna rot in here forever?”

“maybe.”

“that’s dramatic.”

“i’m literally heartbroken.”

“you’re also irritating.”

that got another tiny laugh out of him.

tiny. brief. gone again.

k and ej exchanged a look.

“come eat with us later,” ej said softly. “even if you don’t feel like talking.”

nicholas nodded vaguely, though all three of them knew it probably meant no.

the door clicked shut behind them after a few more minutes, leaving the room silent again.

too silent.

nicholas rubbed both hands over his face before finally forcing himself to move. he bent down beside the bed, reaching for his charger that had fallen between a stack of boxes.

that’s when he saw it.

a dark blue scrapbook tucked halfway underneath one of them.

his stomach dropped instantly.

no.

slowly, carefully, he pulled it out.

the edges were worn from being opened too many times. little stickers still clung crookedly to the cover, and in faded silver marker were the words:

“3 years with you ♡”

his chest physically hurt.

he swallowed hard and opened it anyway.

the first page was messy and overdecorated in the way you always liked—tiny notes in the corners, ticket stubs taped beside pictures, little arrows pointing to inside jokes only the two of you understood.

his thumb brushed over one photo.

a park bench at night.

both of you were mid-laugh, posed horribly off-center because you’d been running against a timer.

and suddenly—

—

“wait, wait, it’s counting!”

“i know it’s counting!”

“you pushed the button too early!”

“run faster then!”

nicholas nearly tripped over the curb trying to sprint back toward the bench while you were already doubled over laughing beside him.

the phone balanced dangerously against your drink cup on the pavement, timer flashing down.

3… 2…

he threw himself onto the bench dramatically at the last second, grabbing your shoulders to yank you into frame.

the picture snapped right as you both burst into laughter.

“oh my god,” you wheezed immediately, grabbing the phone. “you look insane.”

“you blinked!”

“because you elbowed me in the face!”

“that sounds like a you problem.”

you gasped in fake offense before shoving him hard enough to make him slide sideways on the bench.

the night air had been cold enough to turn your noses pink, but neither of you cared. you both stayed there for almost an hour taking increasingly worse timer photos.

one where he fell mid-run.

one where you laughed so hard you disappeared entirely from frame.

one blurry picture where he was kissing your cheek while you looked at the camera with wide, betrayed eyes.

“i’m putting this one in the scrapbook,” you announced proudly.

“delete that immediately.”

“never.”

“people will think i’m in love with you.”

you smiled then.

soft. easy. certain.

“you are.”

and god, he was.

—

nicholas blinked hard and looked away from the photo.

his chest tightened painfully.

he turned the page.

another picture.

this one quieter.

the two of you sitting on the floor of your apartment surrounded by half-finished takeout containers and fairy lights. you’d fallen asleep against his shoulder while he looked down at you with that unconscious softness people only have when they don’t realize they’re being watched.

his throat closed.

—

he flipped to another page.

this one was different.

a rooftop.

—

city lights stretching endlessly below you both, the night wind tugging at your hair and making the world feel like it belonged to only the two of you for a little while. you were wrapped in his jacket, sleeves swallowed past your hands, while he stood behind you pretending not to notice how you kept leaning back into him for warmth.

his arms wrapped around your waist from behind, firm in the way of something familiar. his chin rested lightly near your shoulder, and his hands stayed locked around you like they belonged there.

“you’re gonna get sick out here,” he muttered.

“you always say that when we’re here, and guess what? i never do,” you said, smiling a little as you nudged him playfully.

he scoffed, but still adjusted the jacket tighter around your waist without thinking.

you went quiet after a moment, resting your elbows on the edge of the roof and looking out over the city.

“it feels like everything’s so big from up here,” you said softly.

nicholas followed your gaze. “yeah.”

a pause.

then, quieter:

“but it doesn’t feel as scary.”

that made him look at you instead of the city.

you were smiling a little, not the loud kind this time. something steadier.

“you know,” you added, “i think if i ever feel lost, i’d still find my way back to you.”

his breath caught slightly at that.

“that’s a lot of pressure,” he said, trying to keep it light.

you turned toward him fully, the wind pushing your hair across your face.

“no,” you said simply. “it’s just where i want to end up.”

he didn’t answer right away.

he just looked at you like he was trying to memorize something he already knew he’d never forget.

then, quieter than everything else:

“i could do forever with you.”

you blinked at him, surprised by the honesty.

then you smiled—slow, certain, devastating in its softness.

“good,” you said. “because i already planned on it.”

—

nicholas shut the scrapbook suddenly.

too fast.

his breathing had gone uneven.

he stared at the cover for a long moment before pressing the heel of his hand hard against his eyes.

because the worst part wasn’t missing you.

it was knowing you had loved him that deeply once.

and somehow he still let things fall apart.

a knock sounded again before the door cracked open.

k peeked in first this time. “you alive?”

nicholas didn’t answer immediately.

ej appeared beside him—and both of them stopped when they noticed the scrapbook sitting in his lap.

the room went quiet.

“oh,” ej said softly.

nicholas looked down at it again.

at the stupid stickers.

the bent corners.

the memories you had carefully glued together because you thought you’d have forever to keep adding more.

something in him snapped into place all at once.

not painfully.

clearly.

he stood up so abruptly both ej and k startled.

“nicholas—?”

he shoved the scrapbook carefully back into its box before grabbing his jacket from the chair.

k blinked. “wait, where are you going?”

nicholas was already pulling on a hat, grabbing his keys off the desk.

ej stared at him for a second before realization slowly spread across his face.

and for the first time in weeks, nicholas actually looked awake.

terrified, maybe.

but awake.

he opened the bedroom door and finally said,

“i’m getting my person back.”

ii.

The loud crunch when the alien-rabbit’s neck broke was wholly satisfying, yet it did not ease the pain at all. Yata still felt like falling to the ground, screaming and crying and hitting his fists on the concrete until the street was smeared with blood. But it wasn’t his own blood that needed to be spilt, and that fact alone kept him up. That, and the rigid back of Suoh Mikoto as he crushed the disgusting little liar against the brick wall.

Kusanagi stood in front of Anna, his body in the way of her seeing the white fur going red and the eyes of Kyubey losing its’ unnatural shine. Kusanagi didn’t waver, he watched it all, and the rest of Homura stood silent as Mikoto threw the thing as far as he could. They didn’t say anything, but their bodies shook with barely concealed rage, their eyes wet and jaws so clenched that it hurt.

“So it’s true, then?” Yata kept his eyes on Mikoto, even when Kamamoto started talking. “About… about the witches and-“

Totsuka-san.

Yata tore away from watching Mikoto’s shoulders – going up and down in sync with laboured breath – to look at Kusanagi and Anna. The panic and horror when seeing Anna’s pale hands clenching around Kusanagi’s dark jacket almost broke him, her red eyes wide, unblinking and staring right ahead.

She would end up like them too. They all would. They’d been tricked, played for fools. Cold still trickled in Yata’s veins from when the cool suspicion had turned into cold facts. Weeks ago, they hadn’t been made heroes.

They’d been made sacrifices.

iii.

Yata flew across the long bridge, leading right into the large school surrounded by dark trees whose shadows stretched ominously across the grass. When Yata raced past them they shrank away from the light. They disappeared completely closer to the large, white building. The school was empty; its students hiding in the City Hall, the stadium, or in their homes to escape the ongoing storm. Lucky for them. A light – an extraordinary fire – pressed up towards the dark sky. As if wanting the burn the stars themselves away.

If it was Mikoto-san, Yata was sure he actually could do it.

There.

A figure stood in front of the onslaught of fire, deathly still. One couldn’t see his features. Not like Yata needed to.

“Mikoto-san!” He cried and jumped of his board, started to run the last few metres stretching between them.

A wave of relief and happiness hit him as the man winced and turned around to watch Yata’s arrival.

iv.

“Colorless is predicted to reach this town in just a couple of days.”

Yata frowned. His baseball bat was heavy and comfortable in his hand as he looked at the visitors through narrowed eyes.

He deliberately avoided the blue-clad leader’s left side, where he stood. Without a doubt watching Yata and trying to tease him.

The leader pushed up his glasses and gave Mikoto a meaning look that he just answered with a shrug.

“So? Deal with it yourself if you want to.”

Kusanagi leaned against the wall smiling gently against the woman by Munakata Reisi’s side while listening closely. Totsuka stood next to him with his hands crossed, head tilted and a slightly worried smile on his otherwise freely optimistic lips.

“I’m quite sure we have the capacity to take care of it,” Munakata closed the file he was holding, “we merely decided to inform you should there be need for-“

“Assistance?” Kusanagi said.

“Preparations.” Munakata slides the file containing the information over the table, Mikoto doesn’t even glance at it. “And simple precaution.”

“As you might know, Colorless is known for conquering large areas. The city would be at risk should we let it roam free.” The woman’s voice was steady and cool as she gave the opposing side a condensing look.

Fushimi clicks his tongue. Yata has to rein himself in less he hits the smug bastard in his stupid face.

“Do whatever you want.” Mikoto seemed to finally have had enough and put out his cigarette on the table before throwing it carelessly to the floor. When he rose Yata, Kusanagi, and Totsuka followed behind. When he reached the door, Mikoto looked over his shoulder and smirked.

“If the witch reaches our turf I’ll burn it. Until then I leave it in your capable hands, Munakata.”

v.

“Mikoto-san!”

“…Yata.” Mikoto’s voice was raspy, as he’d been shouting. Or as if he was tired.

(Yata could feel it. A deep, heavy weight in his bones, it all flowing to rest in the Gem placed in his pocket by the collarbone. Pulling him down.

He ignored it. Had got used to ignoring it by now.)

Finally, finally reaching him, Yata allowed himself to stop. The beat of his heart soared. His skin was damp with sweat after rushing through the city in search of Mikoto, and now Yata’d finally got here. He had half a mind to call up Kusanagi, tell that they were both waiting at the school, that they were both okay. Yata didn’t, and perhaps that was the first telltale sign that something seemed wrong. Odd. Like a fire without smoke. Like a sky without stars.

vi.

The thought of people- no, those he loved, his mother or siblings or friends, wearing a Witch’s Kiss was enough to startle the ever burning sparks inside Yata’s chest. Instead, there were now the lurking danger – the surety – that his comrades would either end up dead because of a witch like Totsuka or dead by becoming one, like the boy from Blues’.

The fact was as crushing as it was agitating.

vii.

“Mikoto-san?”

Yata steps closer, reach out a hand to- lay it on Mikoto’s shoulder? Hold him? He wanted to have Mikoto close. The omnipresent urge to be as close as possible ever so strong.

But Mikoto took a step back and Yata froze, hand still hovering awkwardly in the air before he raised it to scratch his neck instead. Yata chuckled quietly and tried to smile, but Mikoto still didn’t say anything. His shoulders sagged and he looked at Yata with inexplicably empty eyes. A trickle of fear leapt down his spine. Yata quickly erased whatever worried frown that surely graced his face with a larger grin.

“The- the witch is gone, right? The others will be here soon, I sort of ran ahead but they-“ Yata choked on his own words as Mikoto closed his eyes, his features twisting a little as if annoyed. Or in pain.

“- they’ll be here soon…” His mouth felt dry, Mikoto just stood there, the still bristling flames behind him illuminating his face.

“Yata…”

Ah, he was looking at him now. Yata took a step closer. “Mikoto-“

“You need to leave.” Mikoto sounded too calm, behind the words there were hints of strength, of ongoing battle and already predicted loss. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Yata blinked. Confused. He stepped closer and Mikoto finally – finally – touched him: taking hold of Yata’s shoulder to make him stop. To not get any closer. Mikoto was breathing hard now. Yata could feel the heat of his palms through the jumper.

Hadn’t it been so strange, Yata would’ve acknowledged the smoke accompanying Mikoto’s breath. As it was, it seemed oddly fitting with the flashing background. Mikoto looked every inch a king. As always.

“Yata.” Mikoto said again, and Yata’s head spun. Still not completely over how his name sounded in Mikoto’s mouth. Despite all this time. “Yata.” Mikoto stroke his rough thumb over his jawbone and Yata unconsciously leaned against it.

“I’m not gonna leave!” Yata reached up to grabble at Mikoto’s arm. “Why is-? What’s going on, Mikoto-san?”

Yata couldn’t help the small traces of panic starting to show. Why hadn’t the fire subsided yet? Why didn’t Mikoto-

Yata looked away from Mikoto’s face, to his hand where he suddenly held up something, something small and familiar. The realisation felt like stone. Stone in his belly, stone in his lungs, cold and hard and ugly. Mikoto’s Soul Gem, usually so intense and shimmering, was pitch black.

viii.

“Something’s happened.” Kusanagi’s voice cut through the somber atmosphere in the bar, and Yata looked up from where he’d been resting his head between his arms.

Kusanagi lowered the hand holding his phone.

“One of the Blues’ Soul Gem broke.”

ix.

“The Grief Seed!” Yata bellowed, head twisting furiously around the yard, “where is Colorless’ Seed!?”

Yata hadn’t taken any of the Seeds harvested with him. Too busy and panicked with finding Mikoto to care.

Idiot.

Mikoto just shook his head, holding Yata still with a firm grip on his shoulders.

“It’s too late,” he said, and Yata watched his Soul Gem crack, the darkness inside of it twisting and turning like dark, mindless worms.

Yata felt sick.

“No!” He took a hold of Mikoto’s shirt, stretching it taut as he pulled himself close enough to feel Mikoto’s breath against his nose and mouth. “There is a way! There must be a way to fix this somehow!”

“I’m afraid there isn’t.”

Yata jumped, turning but not letting go of Mikoto to stare in desperation as Munakata walked closer. Hand on his sword.

Without noticing it Yata started to shake his head, glaring at the advancing man with a hostile expression.

“No.”

“Yata…”

“No!” He turned back to Mikoto, his fingers turning white with how hard he held the other man’s shirt. “No.” He said, quieter this time.

He knew what happened to the guy. The guy from Blues’. No details but he didn’t need those...!

In a sudden fit of motion, Mikoto pulled Yata close and tucked his head beneath his chin. Yata’s arms uselessly against his sides first, then he hugged Mikoto back hard, pressing as close as he could. Skin against skin, Yata finally noticed how hot Mikoto was. His skin felt almost scorching against his. Mikoto had always been warm, but not like this.

Another crack, this time Yata felt it against his back where the Gem lay in Mikoto’s fist, and he clenched his teeth less he started screaming out loud. For now his mind was howling enough, and Yata’s lips were pressed hard against the thin skin just over Mikoto’s collarbone.

“Mikoto.” Yata said anyway, sounding muffled.

“I’m sorry,” Mikoto held him completely still, his hand coming up to cup around Yata’s head as the other tightened around his waist, “tell Anna that I’m sorry.”

You should tell her yourself. His mind was in hysterics, yet Yata couldn’t move, could barely think outside the feel of Mikoto’s boiling skin under his lips, the feel of strong arms around him.

The thought of Mikoto disappearing.

“It’s not over yet.” Yata got out and heard a defeated sound coming from Munakata behind him.

But Mikoto shakes his head. He pushes Yata back far enough so that he can get a clear view on his face.

“The point of no return,” Mikoto said, smiling now, his eyes black coal and red embers at his lips, “I already passed that long ago.”

Mikoto leans down and press their lips together. 

Oh.

Hot, dry, holding no promises but an end in fire. Yata could forget about the pain burning against his lips should Mikoto keep kissing him, instead he was shoved back against Munakata, stumbling until he hit the other man’s chest.

“Take him away from here,” Mikoto said, and despite Yata’s thundering “NO” Munakata nodded.

“Fushimi-kun, take Yata Misaki as far away as you can.” Yata hadn’t even noticed, but Saruhiko quickly stepped closer, his eyes flickering from the fire, to Yata, to Mikoto, and to Yata again before settling on Munakata, a stern expression on his face.

“Understood.”

“You got a couple of minutes, at most.”

“Stop it! I’m not leaving!” Yata yelled as Munakata kept him from running back to Mikoto.

Without a word, Saruhiko pulled at his arm and Munakata let go. Yata tried to break free but Saruhiko’s thin arms were surprisingly durable, holding him back. The exhaustion from the sprint here, and everything that happened in the minutes between, made it hard to move. Yata was adamant to fight back anyway.

“Don’t be foolish!” Saruhiko hissed, but his voice lacked its’ usual bite, and with that he finally managed to throw Yata of his footing, and started to run in the direction of the gate. Away from the blazing inferno that only seemed to grow bigger and bigger.

Even through all the noise, the sound of Munakata drawing his sword was deafening.

“Mikoto-san!”

xi.

“Totsuka-san!” Yata cried out.

Just as the witch’s sharp teeth snapped down around Totsuka’s soft neck.

xi.

Kusanagi didn’t want him to go, Yata remembered as he was forcibly pulled away by Saruhiko. He threw Yata like a sack over his shoulder and started to run.

Did Kusanagi-san know?

They were over the bridge now, and with a practiced jump and a surge of blue power Saruhiko brought them both over to the roof of an abandoned building. For the first time Saruhiko looked back towards the school, just in time for the roaring stream of fire to explode. The school building disappeared immediately behind blazing light, for a moment it seemed like the night turned to day. Then the light sank back, dripping down from where it shot off high in the sky.

It looked like the stars were

falling.

Yata hadn’t stopped screaming since Mikoto’d let him go, now it was sharply cut of as there was no air in his lungs, no beat left in his heart. There was a fire, an explosion, then it was all quickly cut of, leaving nothing but silence and cold behind.

In the distance, Yata thought he could her Anna’s shrill scream echo in the coming dawn.

xii.

Dusk. The air started to turn chill as the streetlamps was turned on one by one. The main streets were emptying, but the alleys which Yata moved through were already deserted save from rats and one or two shady characters sneaking around. Yata moved quietly, and without missing a beat leaping up a rusty ladder screwed tight into the concrete wall. He climbed fast, reaching the roof in no time. The night was coming quickly. His Soul Gem seemed to gleam in the increasing darkness before Yata pocketed it.

He ran to the other side of the roof. Peering down, he saw the girl hiding behind a trash can. She was looking in the direction of one of the busier streets, eyes trailed on the food stands a little further down. She didn’t even notice him watching her.

With a snap of his fingers, a rod appeared. Yata took a hold of it firmly and made himself ready. The girl had gone tense, obviously noticing the sound with her sensitive ears. It was her, no doubt. Her dress was white, just about covering her thighs with lace and frills. No gloves, no shoes or hair ornaments, but a long, white tail trailed behind her, now completely stiff as she listened closely.

“Hey.” Yata said, because he was not about to do a surprise attack on a younger girl.

And even if she ran, he would follow.

She jumped and whipped her head to look at him. Her eyes wide, taking in all details while her stance immediately turned defensive. But Yata simply stared back, weighing the rod in his hand while leaning to rest on his knee, stopping just before tipping over the edge.

yudai "it doesn't matter anymore."

ex!yudai would be more distraught than you are. of course, that's not something that you'd ever find out. he's always the one that's put together, the one with the meticulously planned out schedule and the mood maker amongst your friends. it'd be crazy for him to ever be irrationally upset about something.

of course, yudai wasn't about to stop you from breaking up with him. your lives were in entirely different places and you were never going to be able to keep up with him. you knew it'd be ridiculous to ice him out, especially with mutual friends. you were willing to close that chapter and keep things cordial for everyone's sake.

so was yudai—or, at least, that's what he told himself.

"it doesn't matter anymore," he'd tell himself when he's looking at old pictures of you together while he's in bed and unable to fall asleep.

"it doesn't matter anymore," he'd remind himself when he'd see you excited over being asked out by someone while you were out with your friends.

"it doesn't matter anymore," he'd tell himself with every flight he boarded, every schedule he accepted while you wished him luck like the good person that you were.

everything would go according to plan until he finally cracks and combusts over how much not being with you was actually destroying him and how much he knew it was a bad idea to try again knowing it would fall apart in the end.

fuma "what's the big deal?"

ex!fuma would quite possibly drive you to the brink of insanity. you had been growing apart for some time and it just wasn't ... there anymore. you couldn't even be upset with him over how he handled the breakup. he was rational, only wishing the best for you and assuring you that you'd still be friends and that there were no hard feelings.

what you could be upset about was the fact that he acted like nothing ever happened. and treated you like an absolute stranger.

it was like night and day with him. one minute, he spends the night fucking you into the sheets and whispering sweet nothings against the shell of your ear. the next, he's sat on the furthest end of the table when you're out at the bar with friends and doesn't so much as look in your direction. he smiles, laughs, drinks with everyone—everyone but you. he doesn't even flirt with anyone or try to date again, just ... acts as though you and him never existed. you'd let it drag on, days turning into weeks and weeks nearly turning into months when you finally snap and confront him about it.

"what is your problem?" you'd shout at him, ready to pull your hair out at the way he just stares at you blankly.

"everything's fine," he'd scoff. "we're good."

"then stop acting like this never happened," you'd snap back at him, beyond frustrated at the fact that your emotions were spilling over while he seemed to feel nothing. stone-faced, expressionless, unmoved by the fact that you were unraveling right before his every eyes. he'd think that he's doing what's best for you, no matter how much you try to get him to react in the way that you wanted him to.

nicholas "does he fuck you like this?"

ex!nicholas knows exactly how to get under your skin. every time you tell him you've had enough of the push-and-pull and that you're ready to call it quits, he finds a way to draw you back in. the worst part of it is ... you like it. you wouldn't have it any other way.

right when you've had enough of him, you let your friends drag you out for the night in an attempt to meet someone new. you drink, you flirt, but none of it lights the same fire within you that he does. and he knows it, too. you'd post a picture from the club and he'd reply near-instantly, tempting you to return back to his apartment so he could remind you of what you're missing.

and you'd bite, taking the first uber back to his place just so that he could have you pinned under him while he says the filthiest things to you.

"does he fuck you like this? you make the same pretty little noises for him?"

when it's over, neither of you talk about the arguments or the fact that you swear up and down that it's the last time. it's like it never even happened. needless to say, the following weekend looks nearly exactly the same. rinse and repeat.

that's not to say that nicholas doesn't care about your feelings. when you finally seem like you're really at your breaking point, he knows exactly how to comfort you and all of the right things to say so that you could calm down and work things out with him.

euijoo" maybe it's for the best."

you and euijoo were never supposed to date. you'd been friends for who-knows-how-long. you knew each other inside and out and you'd seen each other through so many phases of life. even when your friends would pitch the idea of dating, you both were quick to shut it down.

until that one night.

one drunken night of sex led to the greatest panic you'd ever felt—you were sure to ruin the friendship now. there was no way you'd go back to the way things were. there was no way to act like nothing happened.

until euijoo offers a compromise for you to try dating. just you and him, no telling anyone else. just to feel it out.

much to your disappointment, it doesn't work out the way you'd hoped. even then, you love euijoo too much as a friend to let him go and the pair of you agree to do just that—act like nothing happened. it feels ... okay, for the most part.

"maybe it's for the best."

And you just had to come to him during all of it, too. Yudai felt guilty some days. Today was one of those days. Because he was busy chasing his dreams, working as hard as he could to take risks and see the payoff, he felt like he was neglecting you.

He rarely had time to take you on dates, or even spend quality time together. He always came home tired from work, crashing next to you after quick showers and lazily applied skincare. You always said you didn’t mind, that you understood how hard he was working, that you would always be there to support him in everything. But Yudai felt like you deserved more. He wanted to give you more of his time, devote more of his energy to you, and less to fragile dreams that could fall apart at any moment. 

Photoshoots, choreography lessons, live stages, TV show appearances, and interviews— Yudai’s days were filled to the brim with work. He was exhausted by the end of it, stretched so thin that he had no more rope to give to you. He questioned if it was worth it, if he wouldn’t regret even more later for how little time he was able to spend with you. If, maybe, he should give up on the opportunities he was pursuing and dedicate more time to the one person keeping him sane in all the madness. 

You wouldn’t have this, though. You watched Yudai looking out at the rain. You knew his mind was just as clouded and dark as the sky. You could see right through him.

“Yudai.”

He turned to you at the sound of your voice, eyes brightening, smile lifting.

“Let’s go out in the rain,” he said.

“What? But you hate the rain—“

“I need to see if it’s really as bad as I think it is. Or if it might be better as long as I’m not alone.” He smiled at you. Although you were still confused about what he was talking about, you let your boyfriend drag you outside into the rain, now pouring a little heavier than the drizzle before.

The air was fresh and there was a gentle breeze accompanying the water drops that fell. Yudai held onto your hand with one of his, and caught the water in his palm with the other.

“I like the rain. It’s refreshing. And look! There’s a puddle,” you said, pointing to a divet in the road. You approached it, stomping down with your rain boot-clad feet, letting the water splash up from the impact. Yudai laughed, starting to see the charm of the unsavoury weather. 

He tried splashing next, and soon you were chasing him around, not caring how wet either of you got. Yudai eventually caught you in his arms, rainwater dripping from his hair and down his cheeks. You smiled up at him, eyes shining brightly.

“I think… maybe the rain isn’t so bad after all,” he whispered, a breathless smile on his face. You nodded, cupping his cheeks, brushing the water off of them. He bent down and captured your lips, letting the rain envelope you two together, holding you close. 

When he pulled apart, the rain was pouring down harder than before. You lead the way back inside, intent on warming up with a bath. Yudai followed, finding his mind more at peace after the moment than ever before. Instead of clouding his brain with overwhelming thoughts, the rain seemed to have washed them all away, creating a clean slate. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad after all.

&team taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @kpoprhia,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,,

@seunghancore,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @talking-saxy,,

No, it wasn’t from the dried blood on his hands or the messy hair that made him look even more attractive than he already was. It was the wetness on his cheeks; the tears that had already escaped his eyes to slide slowly down until they hit the sand. 

“I just don’t think it’s safe anymore.” He whispered. His voice was choked up and a little raspy.

“W-we were doing fine, though. We were holding on.” You tried to argue with him, but you knew it would be of little use. The past few months had been less than ideal, especially for the younger boys. You just couldn’t think of accepting whatever Yudai was suggesting. 

“We weren’t— We aren’t. We’re not okay, Y/n. You know we’re not.” He let out a heavy sigh and brushed the tears off his cheeks. “I can’t keep asking Yuma to go on food duty. He flinches if he even sees a bug. If we keep this up, they’re all going to be traumatized. I don’t want them to live like this.”

“I know. But don’t you think it’s too extreme? Isn’t there any other way?”

“No one is going to mess with you once I’m gone. You know they’re only after me in the first place.” He reasoned. You knew he was right. He was always right— always sensible while you were selfish.

“I don’t want to go on without you.” You said, a single tear slipping out.

He looked away from you, back at the water lapping at the shore and the moon shining brightly against the sand.

“I’ll find you again. Once I get them, I’ll find you again.” He muttered. You reached for his hand weakly. You knew you shouldn’t. Any amount of contact with him would make it a million times harder for both of you, but you couldn’t stand it. You couldn’t stand being right next to him and not embracing him; not touching him in some way, providing any comfort that you could. You knew he desperately needed it.

He didn’t shake off your hand, which was what you were most afraid of. The fact that he still held you with the same warmth simultaneously made it better and so much worse. You weren’t sure how you would survive for any amount of time without him.

“What if you can’t find me again?” You whispered your worry aloud and Yudai squeezed your hand. His hand was cold despite the warmth of his love. His fingers were practically icicles and the dried blood still stuck to them didn’t help. You didn’t mind the cold or the blood. All you wanted was one last chance to hold him.

“I will find you. I promise.” He assured you, resting his forehead against yours. A tear fell from his eyes and landed on your cheek. You reached up one of your hands to cup his face.

“I’ll wait for you. Even if it takes 10 years, or 20, or 50— I’ll still be waiting.” You promised him back.

He nodded, silently agreeing that he would also wait for you. His breath was cold hitting your lips; so cold that the thought of hypothermia crossed your mind. But you knew you had no time to ask about it or to worry. You had seen him get through worse; a bit of exposure to the chill of the winter wouldn’t be the end of him.

Though his lips were cold, the kiss was warm. You hoped it warmed his body as much as it warmed yours. It spread from your heart to your stomach and up your neck to your head. You felt light as if you were floating. The dread that was weighing in your stomach for so long lessened as you thought of his promise.

This wasn’t the end. It was just a pause. He was going to find you again.

When he broke off the kiss, you knew you didn’t have much time left, so you pulled him close into your arms for your last hug. He hugged you tightly, as if you were the one disappearing and not him. And as soon as he started pulling away again you wanted to cry, or pull him back, or try to think of a better solution— anything to not watch him walking away from you.

But you stayed silent. You had already been selfish; wanting one last touch, one last hug, one last kiss. You should have let him go without the promises and without the tears. Watching him disappear before your eyes, giving you one last look before escaping into the trees was like a stab to your heart. You dropped to the sand in tears. The hurt seeped into every part of your body, an ache, a stab, a lurch; it was overpowering.

Surely, the pain would be bearable if you had only loved him less?