#mikaorga

functionally, their fervent codependence is what tears them apart however it’s also what makes them…. mikaoru so 1. i, personally, wouldnt want to disrupt that and 2. you’re not fucking fixing that if you tried. my attack plan in light of that would be improving quality of life within the context of that hardcoded dynamic, essentially as a form of harm reduction. communication between them would be my foremost area of focus as i think that while their understanding of eachother is immensely pure and guileless, the way they interact with eachother is muddied by social expectations and role performance. you see this specifically when orga tells biscuit that he “always has to be the cool orga” when talking about his responsibility to mika and the weight of his loyalty. it’s that persistent need to front that causes orga to place them and others in danger, and mika feeds into it by letting orga alone call the shots (until he doesnt, cough cough hashmal arc), so i think an earnest conversation about why orga has been deemed the de facto decision maker and if it’s sustainable would do… something. again, i really dont want to fix these guys so my heart wouldnt be in this

now on the mika side, i’d want to work on his emotion identification. i feel like he holds a lot of (justified) anger towards orga that he either suppresses or sublimates until it becomes frankly threatening (“i’m sorry, orga, but i can’t stop”). being able to at least pressure valve that through mika telling orga outright when he’s pissed would go a long way to convey to orga when he’s actually being a failure as opposed to orga’s assumed “all the time.” furthermore, this addresses mika’s impulse to double down on his commitments to orga at the detriment of his own wellbeing after orga fails his end of the bargain which sends crazy mixed signals and is usually rugpulled when some part of mika realizes he regrets this. they both waffle on how dedicated to each other they are, which creates this really interesting/messy picture of constant emotional incentive with no baseline consistency

That expression is an exact replica of the one on the poster, the only difference being that this time he can actually observe Orga’s eyes. His brightened, golden irises appear to be a bit hazy from the intense running, and within those eyes is a look of awkwardness and embarrassment that Mikazuki has never seen before. That strange, perplexing emotion resurfaces and slithers along and up his spine.

Mikazuki’s hand freezes in mid-air.

“I’m sorry, Mika…” Orga’s breathing is still uneven, and so he can only continue in bits and pieces, “Please… that thing you just saw… just… forget about it!”

“Uh…” A troubled expression emerges on Mikazuki’s face. Usually, whatever Orga has asked him to do, he’d try his best to achieve it; however, this time… “I’m sorry, Orga. It seems… I can’t do it.”

“…Eh?” Orga’s mouth widens, speechless.

“That side of Orga… is difficult to forget…” Mikazuki admits in a frank tone, his gaze lowering to the ground.

To be honest, he should be long used to seeing Orga’s naked body — inside the football team’s locker room, whenever they visit the public baths together, in their shared, non-air-conditioned apartment during the hottest summer days. It had been nothing out of the ordinary during those times, but this is something entirely different.

No matter what, he cannot wash away the image of Orga on that advertisement poster from his mind. Is he broken somewhere inside?

Orga’s face displays a hint of despair as he squeezes his eyes close and turns his head away.

“That sort of outrageous and undignified appearance… You must be… pretty damn disappointed, huh?”

“Not at all.” The dark-haired youngster shakes his head fiercely, and his gaze returns to his companion’s face. “It’s just…” He cannot find any fitting words or phrases.

During times like this, he especially admires the way Orga can use such a variety of sentences and adjectives to describe one lively and fascinating story after another, being able to accurately express his characters’ emotions with the most appropriate wording.

Yet it’s impossible for him to even properly describe his current feelings.

“It’s just…” Mikazuki repeats once more, and then pauses. He stares at Orga’s face from the side as he anxiously entangles himself in a game of hide-and-seek with the perfect adjective in his head.

At this moment, Orga turns towards him, his cheeks still tinting red and his topaz irises staring straight at him with deep concern.

Mikazuki gives up on logic and reasoning, just simply reaches out with both of his hands and cradles the other man’s face before pressing his lips against Orga’s.

The moment Mikazuki’s lips touches his own, Orga’s brain crashes for the second time that day.

“That side of Orga is very adorable!” As if he’s stolen Orga’s ability to poetically express himself through the kiss, Mikazuki finally finds the descriptive phrase he’s been searching for, but the way he phrases it is still the typical Mikazuki-style: concise and sharp.

As for the man who’s had his ability stolen, his power to speak has also been lost.

Orga’s memory after that becomes a bit blurry; he has no idea how he got on the public transit, walked up the stairs, and entered their residence.

When they finally return to the small apartment that let them both feel at ease, Orga steps into his bedroom, shuts the door behind him, and gradually slides down onto the floor with his back against the door and his head in his hands. His tall stature curls into a tight ball of nerves, his face burrowed between his knees.

And then he soundlessly screams.

‘Dear— God —!’

-

Having maintained his cocoon position in the darkened room for god knows how long, Orga hears someone knocking on his door.

Knocking is merely a polite gesture, and since the door is unlocked, it’s pushed open immediately.

Mikazuki sticks his head in to look around, and notices that the light in the bedroom is not on, either.

“Already asleep?” He murmurs to himself, but realizes that the bed is empty. “Eh? Orga?” He blindly searches for the light switch by the door and flicks it on. Only then does he discover the tall young man curled up in one corner of the room, as if he’s pretending to be a silkworm readying himself for metamorphosis.

“Ah… Mika?” The sudden onslaught of brightness momentarily blinds him, and Orga raises his arm to shield his eyes while glancing towards the doorway at his roommate. “You haven’t gone to bed yet?”

It’s probably past midnight now, isn’t it? He looks at the clock, which indicates that it’s fifteen minutes to twelve o’clock.

“You didn’t come out of your room, and I got a bit worried, so I just want to check up on you before going to sleep.” Mikazuki appears to have already washed up, donned in his pajamas and his hair still a bit wet from the shower.

“Uh… It’s nothing, just… I just wanted to calm myself down a bit…” The silver-haired young man rests his head on his knees again and stares at the wall before him. A moment later, he starts, his voice a little coarse, “You know… Mikazuki…”

“What?”

“That… Just now… Was that a joke?” He doesn’t dare look at him, his gaze still firmly focused on a specific spot on the wall as he asks.

“Just now?” Mikazuki blanks out for a second, and then suddenly says, “Oh, you mean when I kissed you?”

For whatever reason, Mikazuki’s easy and casual tone makes Orga feel a slight pang inside, but he nods forcefully regardless.

“It wasn’t a joke,” the dark-haired youth says in a calm yet undeniable voice, and steps into the room. He walks to where Orga is and kneels down before him, “I can’t quite describe it, but Orga, you looked really lovely then.”

The lanky youth who’s just been praised as ‘lovely’ suddenly raises his head, his cheeks quickly tinted red. Slightly frowning, he returns his gaze to the face of the boy before him.

“When Orga looked at me that way, my brain just stopped functioning,” Mikazuki continues, not a trace of hesitation in his blue eyes, “so I just naturally went for the kiss. Is… is that not okay?” When the question comes out, he finally shows a hint of confusion. Things like kissing should only be done between a boy and a girl — Mikazuki still has some common sense in that regard, at least.

Orga’s throat makes a noise, and then he’s hiding his face against his arm while stuttering in a muffled voice. “T-This…”

“But even now, I still have that same feeling…” The young man’s clear voice seems more subdued and hoarser than usual as he leans forward, both hands flanking the sides of Orga’s legs. He shuffles closer, his face nearing Orga’s forehead. “Hey Orga, is there something wrong with me?”

As if an electrifying current has run through his spine, Orga feels his breathing stutter, and when he looks up once more, his gaze meets with Mikazuki’s intensely blue ones. His hair still smells of the lavender shampoo he uses, and his breath has a waft of mint from the toothpaste; the pleasant combination of these scents is enough to intoxicate Orga.

“I’m the one… who has something wrong,” he croaks, lifting his left hand and placing it on Mikazuki’s cheek. There’s only a thin layer of breath between their lips, “I’m really… getting out of line…”

Mikazuki doesn’t wait for him to continue.  

Unlike the mere close-mouthed kiss that they shared on the street from before, his lips are slightly parted as his tongue darts out to lick Mikazuki’s lower lip. Mikazuki understands the implication immediately and opens his mouth in return, allowing the other man to invade the insides with his tongue, suck on his lip, lick against his teeth, his upper jaw, or letting their tongues tangle to invite the other to do the same.

It’s not difficult for Mikazuki, who can quickly learn anything as long as he puts his mind to it, to naturally master such a modest skill. Soon, he’s able to regain the initiative of the kiss; he even presses Orga’s back against the wall behind him.

He doesn’t notice when he has his hands on Orga’s knees as he nudges his legs apart so that it opens up a small gap for his lithe frame to slip in between when he shifts forward. Their bodies lightly brush against each other’s due to their delicate movements; they can both sense each other’s hearts beating and thrumming hard and fast through the contact of their skin.

Settling close, Mikazuki’s hand slides along Orga’s slender legs through the material of his pants until he reaches Orga’s upper thigh.

This movement is going slightly beyond Orga’s limit, and he struggles to grab hold of Mikazuki’s wrist, forcing himself to turn his head away from the kiss and gasping out, “W-wait, Mika.”

“Wait for what?” The passionate kisses paint a shade of pink across Mikazuki’s snowy-white skin. He stares innocently at Orga’s reddened lips, kiss-swollen and wet, before he leans his body forward again, wanting to continue what they’ve been doing.

“B-Before we do something like this, we should… um… should, that’s right, we should first calm down,” he mumbles incoherently, his hands braced on Mikazuki’s shoulders to make sure he remains at arm’s length.

“…Impossible.” Mikazuki attempts to adjust his breathing, but his body is like a wind-up string on a bow, and so he won’t be able to comply with Orga’s request.

“Let me finish first…” the silver-haired youth steadfastly grips onto the other man’s shoulders and ducks his head, “I still…”

“Do you not like this, Orga?” he freezes, and his gaze drops down in dismay.

“No, that’s not it,” Orga shakes his head in chagrin. Speaking of body reactions, his current situation isn’t any better, but… “I don’t know… how I should face you if we were to keep going with this.”

“Why?” Mikazuki’s eyes widen, glancing at him with a perplexed expression.

“That advertisement — that sort of ridiculous and shameful appearance… I didn’t plan on letting you see that side of me at all…” Orga retrieves one of his hands and covers his face, his gaze straying away from Mikazuki’s face. He can’t possibly look directly into the other man’s eyes while he’s saying these words. “That… image was the photographer’s deliberate intent to evoke the audiences’ feelings. So, if you wanted… to do that now… um… there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s my fault.”

“Orga…”

“However, if this is merely your momentary desire…” his shoulders become taut and rigid as he bites his lip, desperate fingers seizing his own hair, “after that, I have absolutely no idea… what kind of an expression I should confront you with in the end…”

Mikazuki’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He hasn’t even considered this kind of question before, let alone being able to give a reply.

He shuffles back and sits on his heels, allowing his lust-addled brain to calm down a little.  

The atmosphere in the room becomes stiflingly heavy.

The first to interrupt this silence is the clock’s clang signifying midnight.

“It’s already Christmas, huh?” Orga lifts his head to glance at the clock on the wall, and feeling a sense of guilt, he returns his gaze back to Mikazuki, who remains seated on the floor, his head lowered in deep thought. It’s all because of his immaturity that causes Mikazuki to fall into such a dilemma. “Sorry, Mika,” he apologizes in a pained tone. Under normal circumstances, he would already be ruffling his hair or enveloping him in an embrace, but now, he’s afraid to initiate the simplest of physical contacts. “I’ve screwed up this Christmas eve. I’m really sorry. You should go back to your room and sleep.”

“Orga,” Mikazuki lifts his head, his face returning to his usual impassiveness, but his irises contain a different array of colours, “I want you, Orga, and it’s not just a momentary desire either.”

“Eh…?” The silver-haired youth’s body stiffens.

“I’ve always wanted you — always. But I’ve been so stupid and never realized,” his eyes are half-masted, the shadows of his lashes darkening the blue of his irises, “You’ve always been by my side, smiling at me, satisfying my every whim, and forgiving me even when I’ve done stupid things… And so it becomes natural to feel that Orga belongs to me and I thought that I understand everything about you.”

Orga wants to say something, but discovers that his voice has stopped working again.

“So, the moment I saw that photo… at first, I was really shocked, and then I was a bit… pissed off?” He tilts his head slightly to the side, trying to think of a more appropriate word.

“Pissed off… huh?” Orga lowers his head and heaves a sigh, “of course, that sort of shameful appearance has disappointed you, hasn’t it?”

“No way! It’s because… no one has ever seen that side of Orga before, and I wasn’t the first to get to see you that way, even though I’m the one closest to you…” As he’s telling him this, Mikazuki gradually relaxes his fingers from the fist he’s formed. “After that, my brain started acting very strangely…” He puts his hand on the floor and braces himself as he leans forward, quietly approaching Orga.

“I… want you, Orga,” he murmurs once more, one hand placed on the young man’s knee, “If I’ve realized this sooner, I would’ve been the first person to see that side of Orga…” At this point, his tone has become that of a child’s whiny complaint.

But with every sentence and every word culminating into heat that gathers in Orga’s abdomen, his breathing quickens and becomes uneven.

“Hey, Orga…” Mikazuki’s voice is coming from somewhere too close, his hands are already braced against the other man’s chest, the blue in his eyes darkening from desire, “…can we?”

Orga breathes in deeply, burying his face in his palms.

‘I’m such an idiot!’ he scolds himself silently.

When he pulls his hands away from his face, he sees Mikazuki staring at him, his face uncharacteristically nervous. He wants to say something, yet every time he tries to open his mouth, nothing intelligible will come out. Seeing as Mikazuki grows more and more uneasy almost to the point of looking like he’s in despair, Orga finally clenches his jaw and points a finger at the bed adjacent to them.

“L-let’s get on the bed,” his face reddens and says, abashed, “the floor is too hard…”

-

Using a huge chunk of the paycheque he’s received, Orga orders a computer with a set of advance hardware that Mikazuki has been thinking of buying for the longest time; he’s also purchased a Christmas tree and some decoration trinkets, which they have never had a chance to acquire in previous years. Even after his uncharacteristic shopping splurge, there’s still an excessive amount left.

So he decides to make a reservation at a rather classy restaurant that has been rated fairly well online and has an excellent dinner with Mikazuki on Christmas evening.

Stepping out from the restaurant, the two of them stroll shoulder-to-shoulder along the street filled richly with the atmosphere of the holiday season. As he observes the pairs of pedestrians that come and go, Mikazuki suddenly exclaims, “From a glance, don’t we also seem like a pair of lovers?”

“Wha––“ Orga chokes on his own spit and coughs for an embarrassingly long while before he can breathe normally again, and he stares horrifyingly at the youngster beside him. “There are things you shouldn’t joke about, Mika!”

Despite what he’s said, his brain can only insistently remember the words of that photographer woman in the studio at the time, ‘Make an all-out effort at Christmas!’

‘Whatever!’ He can’t help but mutter angrily at himself.

“But you’ve put in a lot of effort this Christmas, Orga. It almost seems suspicious, as if you have some ulterior motives…” Mikazuki looks towards him with a small smile.

“Well you know, it’s because I’ve received a good amount of royalties this month. Our financial situation has always been dreadful and we couldn’t spend much over the last couple of Christmases, so I thought I’d just recompense all that this year.” Orga’s face reddens slightly, and then turns his head to the side to look at the shop windows on the other side of the street, pretending to be interested in whatever’s happening behind the glass display.

“Mm, I feel really happy this Christmas, and the food was delicious.” Mikazuki senses the other man’s bashfulness, and so he, too, retracts his penetrating gaze and glances towards the busy traffic on the road, “But as long as Orga is by my side, I’ll feel happy every Christmas.”

Ah… This kind of atmosphere between them now – it’s not any more different than with those shared between lovers, Orga can’t help but think as he looks at the image of the two of them together through the blurry reflection on the display windows.

‘Make an all-out effort at Christmas!’ Merribit’s devilish voice echoes within his mind again. He squeezes his eyes close and takes in a deep breath – he needs to be as calm as the mirror surface of a lake.

At this exact moment, Mikazuki’s hand suddenly holds on to Orga’s own by his side. The contact startles him.

“Orga, hey, Orga,” Mikazuki’s voice seems slightly different than usual, which causes Orga to turn and look at his face properly. Then, he discovers that Mikazuki’s usually impassive face is covered with an astounded expression, “That… is that you, Orga?” He asks this strange question as he points towards the center of the road.

“Huh?” Orga, with a sense of peculiarity, looks towards the direction that the other man is pointing at.

Along the road and among the slow-moving traffic, there’s a double-decker bus that has caught their attention.

On top of the blue-black paint job of the vehicle is a gigantic printed advertisement.

“Eh?” Orga blinks.

To be precise, that advertisement is marketing undergarments.

“Ehhh?”

To be even more precise, it’s an advertisement marketing male undergarments – the advertisement for the new posh brand within the realm of undergarment fashion.

“Ehhhhhh––!”

With the blue-black background as its backdrop, a tanned-skinned model donning only a pair of black briefs is standing with his back and right hand pressed up against the wall, his left hand having lifted up to cover his face. The lines of his muscles along his body, stretched by the placement of his arms, elegantly run down to his waist where, along with his Adonis belt, they disappear behind the irritating piece of clothing. As for the model’s face, though the upper half has been blocked by his left arm, but the strong line of his jaw, those slightly parted lips, and the cheeks that have been darkened by blush all contribute to a sense of coyness that encourages viewers’ wild imagination.

The physique is that of a mature man’s, yet through the half-shown flushed face, displaying the impression of bashfulness that makes the audiences’ blood run hotly, the advertisement has created a wave of excitement for the viewers.

That’s correct. It just has to be the undergarment advertisement that Orga, having casted away his dignity, participated in so that he could earn some quick money.

“That’s… definitely… Orga, isn’t it?” Mikazuki’s shocked gaze flickers between the ad on the bus and his companion standing by his side. The way the model’s left arm is angled doesn’t allow Mikazuki to see whether or not his bicep bears the same scar that Orga has, but even without the scar, Mikazuki can recognize the body of his roommate. And in combination with Orga’s stiffened reaction, Mikazuki is even more certain of his conclusion.

“Hadn’t it been agreed upon that they’ll only print it in magazines!?” After the initial shock and when he can think clearly again, Orga’s extremely painful and sorrowful cries resound through the streets.

-