#virtue writes

You were probably an idiot for agreeing to a date from the tall man that offered you his jacket, helmet, and a ride home after you missed the last bus. You were probably an idiot to have taken him up on his ride in the first place. Standing (well, hunching) several inches taller than you and hands branded “sin” and “punishment,” it was no shock that this man could have overpowered you in a second, had he wanted to. Contrary to his first impression, he was so wholly disarming in his black jeans and henley, playful smile dancing across his features. He was such a goofy guy. He felt warm. He was more than a little magnetic. When he dropped you off at your building, he wrote his name and number on your hand like a flirtatious teenager.

Hanma Shuji.

That’s how you ended up on the back of his bike for the second time this week, headed to McDonalds for a midnight snack. You two placed an order that would put some stoned teenagers to shame and at the last second Shuji added, “An M&M McFlurry, for the lady,” and handed the cashier his black card. Wait. A black card?

The cashier hesitated. Your jaw dropped. Shuji was unbothered and held out the card a little further.

“Sir…?”

“Maybe you’re new…but this is the part where you take my card and slide it.” Shuji nodded to the cashier and subtly waved the card as if it meant nothing.

“Sir I…uh…can’t swipe that, i-it’s fake.” the cashier stuttered.

“The fuck it is!” Shuji said in exasperated disbelief. “Look I just want my Mc-fuckin-nuggets, can you just let me pay?”

“Can I see some ID, please?”

“Uh…” He pulled out his wallet and showed his license, “there, I made sure the names matched when my buddy printed it.” The cashier paused. You may have only known Shuji for a handful of hours collectively, but you laughed at his joke, “See? She knows it was a joke.”

“I have to get my manager.”

Shuji sighed and turned to you, “This never usually happens.” His cheeks were tinged ever so slightly pink either from embarrassment or frustration. You wouldn’t have noticed in the dingy lighting of the restaurant if it weren’t for the contrast of his signature white Henley. Your lips split into a smile, how many of that exact shirt did he have? Here you were on a date with what you thought was just some cute, edgy part timer or something. For fuck’s sake, he dressed in a shirt he probably got on sale 3 for 10 at Uniqlo, sweats, and slides. Where the hell did he get a black card? “This is so awkward, y/n I-“

You giggled at the absurdity of it all and cut in, “How do you even have one of those Hanma?”

“They offered it to me, and I took it? How does anyone end up with any credit card?”

“Yeah, but-“

“Sir, do you have an alternate form of payment?”

Shuji huffed and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out a 5,000 yen bill and handed it over, “I only carry 5,000 yen bills, is that acceptable?” He sighed the words. They took the bill and inspected it. Hanma leaned in, “Don’t worry, counterfeit isn’t my crime.” He turned back to you and winked.

Just what had you gotten into?

And why was it like kinda cute how he did that?

“You order will be ready soon, thanks for your patience.”

You thanked then and tugged Hanma away out of earshot. “So, what do you do again?”

“Ever heard of Toman?”

You couldn’t help it, you’re eyes went wide. You had caught the eye of an executive of Tokyo’s most notorious and dangerous gangs. “I thought those guys were nocturnal and, like, slept in Armani suits?!” You whisper-shouted at him in amused shock.

He shrugged, “Not really my style. I’ve got a couple for exec meetings if you wanna see that so badly.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. You laughed, trying to stay calm. How was this guy, so chill and relaxed, a yakuza? Your order number was called and you nudged his arm with your shoulder as you walked past him to collect your food.

“For a gangster you’re really a down to earth guy, you know that?”

“You won’t say that when you see my penthouse.” He said with the cheesiest lilt.

“Now you’re just bragging, shut up and eat your Mc-fuckin’-nuggets, Han-”

“Shuji.”

“-Shuji.”

I'm throwin in @bajifuyutorabb bc you got the first bit when i started lol

Months after the initial gift, you were routinely cutting your senior classes to accompany Shuji on trips or getting wrapped into his hijinx to acquire more precious film. You found yourself squatting in alleyways flapping developing film around as if it'd make the image appear faster, laughing with your best friend.

You gifted him the camera not knowing what it'd do to his life. Not realizing it'd give him a purpose and an outlet. You gave it to him as a joke of a gift never expecting anything to come of it and certainly expecting nothing in return.

A year to the day, however, your best friend handed you a little bundle of photos tied together with a length of twine. Unravelling his scant wrapping, you were met with white plastic lined square photos of your likeness...

Your head rested on your folded forearms and all that was visible of your face was a slight pout and your closed eye. Sunlight washed over your napping form and bathed you in a romantic glow.

A photo of your face scrunched up with Shuji's hand imprinted with punishment pinching your cheek like a proud father, smoke curling all around you after your bestie had blown it in your face.

Your back, arms spread wide and chest puffed to the sky with accomplishment as you stood a top a cliff.

A hazy photo, half blocked by two of your fingers though traces of doubles of the image further obscure your face. Your nose is scrunched in annoyance, eyes narrowed as you try and snatch Shuji's camera. You swear you can hear his laugh.

At the bottom of the last photo in the collection of candids, in Shuji's signature scrawl you read: still doesn't last long enough.

You couldn't help the way warmth creeped from your cheeks to your ears. This was a surprise. It shouldn't have been, you supposed, not with how Shuji's eyes were always glued to you, or given how inseparable you lot were. You knew the pair of you were close, even had an inkling that you loved each other but neither of you would say it in so many words. You'd never crossed that line.

The beat-up chaise lounge was comforting and warm as you shifted and sunk ever so slightly into it. You hummed and pulled the blanket crumpled at your feet over your lap. The steady throb of music is a constant companion in Shuji’s place. It feels familiar and safe and like home. Your dumbass of a best friend might not have a dining room table, or more than two mismatched table settings, but his investment in that speaker was perfectly on brand. You tip your head back into well-worn cushions and feel yourself slipping into the messy clash of symbols and the bass solo you’ve heard a thousand times before. The shift of the cushion barely registers until the gentle plop of a pillow on your lap catches your attention. Moments later Shuji is on his side, head in your lap, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

You exhale a content sigh. These were always your favorite moments. Sure, the adrenaline laden nights running from cops or sneaking into abandoned buildings had their place in your friendship, but the most precious time you spent with Shuji were these quiet moments between the chaos. The moments where he could be vulnerable, where he could lean into your touch without a second thought.

Mindlessly, your fingers found their way to his scalp, carding through dark locks still soft and damp from his shower. You swiped his hair to one side, then the other. When you tired of twirling his locks around your fingers, you massaged the soft pads of your fingers into his scalp.

“Mmmmm…” Shuji hummed, pulling your attention from your ministrations. Shuji’s phone screen had gone blank, and you half laughed, knowing his eyes had closed.

“Feel that good down there?” Your tone was teasing as you pulled a hand from his hair to playfully tap his cheek. You were quickly met with a groan in response, though you could see the smile that danced across his lips, whether he’d own up to it or not.

“Shut up and keep going,” he grumbled as he caught your hand on his cheek with his own ice cold one. You gasped and withdrew your hand.

“Fuck! Shuji you’re like ice, what the hell?” A lazy shrug. “C’mere.” You nudged him to lay flat, took his right hand and pressed it gently into the warmth of the back of your neck. His eyes met yours lazily. Your lips flickered into a smile. “What’s that look for? M’I flustering the big scary gangster?”

And suddenly a pressure on the nape of your neck was tugging you downwards. Shuji met you halfway, craning his neck slightly. His slightly parted lips nestled lopsidedly around your bottom lip in a surprisingly sweet kiss that you melted immediately into. You could feel Shuji’s trademark shit-eating grin widen at your compliance. His teeth trapped your lower lip between them playfully as he pulled away to settle back in your lap. He chuckled at your slack jawed expression.

“What were you saying, doll?”

The penthouse apartment Ran and Rindou shared was full tonight. Expensive booze lined the bar and LED strip lights had the room lit a dim, moody purple perfectly on brand for the brother duo. A bunch of the recently named Bonten Execs were pregaming there, planning to hit their newest nightclub acquisition and celebrate the new milestone for the gang. The sprawling couch was occupied by Rin, Ran, and Kakucho, hyper focused on the fighting game streaming on the absurdly large flat screen mounted to the wall. Sanzu was mixing himself another drink, probably to wash down his first pill of the night. Takeomi, Kokonoi, and Mochi were on the balcony separated from the group only by sliding screen doors, probably talking business as the eldest man smoked like a chimney.

The plan was for everyone to meet up, get a little buzzed and loosened up, play some video games, and get ready for a night of celebration their bodies would want to forget. The plan was not for you to have a date that ran suspiciously long and hold everyone else up from the group shots that Bonten outings always started with. And yet, it was 10 and you were nowhere to be found. Sanzu, ever impatient, piped up from the bar where he was eyeing a fresh handle of tequila.

“Rin when the fuck is y/n gonna get here? We can’t start shots without everybody.”

“Said she’d be late. Got held up getting her nails done or something.” Rindou’s focus may have been on the screen and the controller in his hand, but the poorly thought out lie spilled past his lips with ease.

“What the hell kind of nail place is open this late?” Ran quirked an eyebrow as his character grappled Rin’s. Rin didn’t even register the ding of his phone signaling a text from you because he was busy getting his ass beat in the game. He also hadn’t heard Sanzu approach, grab your phone and perch on the arm of the couch. It wasn’t until Ran said, “Passcode’s y/n’s birthday,” that it registered to Rin that Sanzu was going through his and your messages.

The room erupted in laughs and whistles at Rin’s choice of passcode. Rindou groaned and slammed down the controller, about to snatch his phone back when Takeomi’s hand clapped Rindou’s back. “You got it real fuckin bad kid, don’cha?”

Rindou shook the hand off his shoulder and shot the older man a look that could kill before reaching to snatch his phone from Sanzu. Sanzu promptly jumped off the arm of the couch and skittered away, prize in hand. “Give me my fuckin phone Sanzu you little shi-“

“Were the nails,” He stressed the word and made sure his tone was purely sarcastic, teasing Rin again for his lie, “for her date then?” The room quieted down quickly after that, buzzed young men curious about the on-going rom-com chase Rindou had going.

“Rin you haven’t locked y/n down yet?” Mochi asked, genuinely shocked. It had been clear from the beginning to them how bad he had it for you. It wasn’t lost on them how many meetings he left early because he was your ride from your day job, or how often they called his phone only for you to answer because you two were together so often. Of course, you both swore up and down that you were just friends, best friends. And what exactly was abnormal about hanging out with your best friend a lot? With offering help when they needed it? With smiling down at his phone because banter with you was his favorite thing. With learning about each other’s hobbies just by proximity, even if it ended up with Rindou letting you slather charcoal face masks on you from time to time? What was wrong with being a shoulder to cry on and staying up all night talking? With moaning her name when he - wait - with maybe finding a friend attractive?

“Fuck off, you know we’re just friends. And I was letting her keep that from you fuckers. She’s entitled to her privacy. I know what you’re assumi-“

The door flung open to reveal your party dress clad body, breathing heavily. “God, fuck, sorry I’m late my stupid fucking date’s car battery died at the restaurant.” Rin clenched his jaw as every set of eyes went to him. He could practically hear them jeering at him for his second white lie about your privacy when you clearly didn’t care who knew you were out on a date. You felt the tension in the room and let out a hoarse chuckle, “Okay anyone gonna enlighten me on what the fuck I just walked into?”

“Just Rindou finally admitting he’s hot for ya,” Sanzu said, tapping the last shot glass in sequence and pouring the first round of shots down a straight line. He held his up with a shit eating grin before taking it and slamming the glass down.

You and Rindou rolled your eyes.

“He’s my best friend.”

“She’s my best friend.”

Rin just about winced at your identical, exasperated tone as you spoke in unison.

Ran laughed, “Yeah we’ve heard that one before, just fuckin’ kiss her, man.”

“Yeah, show us how you two don’t have a thing going.” Kakucho piped up.

“Do you guys think we’re fucking or something?” You narrowed your eyes.

“Y/n’s already got this new guy on call for that.” Rindou spat. He was fucking pissed. He was infuriated that you even went on a date with another guy. He was livid at the guys having called him out and brought attention to his jealousy. He shouldn’t have said it, but he did. And he wasn’t sure he regretted it, either. He was already spiraling in his anger, too far gone to feel guilty.

You spun on Rindou immediately in disbelief stepping closer to your short tempered friend, “I’m sorry, I think I missed that, Rin-chancare to repeat that?”

“I said you got that handled.” He closed the distance.

You half laughed, half scoffed, “That’s rich, Rindou. You’re fucking jealous.”

“Why the hell would I be jealous of some broke prick trying to get in your pants?” He barked back.

“Because you wish it were you!” Sanzu called from the other side of the room encouraging a few snickers from the others.

“Shut it, Sanzu.” You and Rindou snapped at the same time not bothering to look away from each other to see Sanzu’s hands shoot up in mock surrender.

“We get it, we get it. You’re friends,” Ran said, “Humor us. Prove you don’t feel anything for each other, then. What’s a little kiss between besties?” Ran goaded, knowing full well his brother was at his breaking point.

The words had barely left his brother’s mouth when Rindou was on you. His grip on your jaw was firm but not bruising as he pulled your face to his in a surprisingly natural, yet searing kiss. You couldn’t even register the whistles and hollers from the guys because Rindou took over your senses. He trapped your upper lip with his and his tongue stroked the underside of it. Suddenly you were drunk on his clean woodsy scent and eager to taste whatever drink he’d had before you arrived. Luckily, as usual you were on the same wavelength and the kiss deepened. It was effortless, familiar, like you already knew each other inside and out. Rindou’s other hand snaked around your waist and pulled you flush against him. Your arms tensed a little around where they rested behind his neck, a hand firmly gripping his hair. His hand gripped your ass suddenly, eliciting a yelp turned moan that only encouraged him to drive his tongue deeper in your mouth. His forearm slipped under your thigh to hike your leg up on his hip. You obliged.

A hand clapped on Rindou’s shoulder and when he pulled away lazily to glare at his brother, you followed his lips. You saw the faint reddening of Rindou’s cheeks in the glow of the purple light, and was sure it was half embarrassment for forgetting he had an audience and half rage at having been interrupted. “I think we all know your answer. We’ll be back in the morning, you have fun, ya crazy kids.” Ran smirked and patted his brother’s back again. Ran put a hand to the side of his mouth teasingly acting like you wouldn’t hear it when he loudly whispered to his brother to use protection and not stain the new sofa. You laughed and knotted your fists in the neck of Rindou’s shirt for stability and to deter him from beating the shit out of his brother who was heading to the door with the rest of the guys.

Sanzu was the last out looking longingly through dilated pupils at the pair of you, still wrapped up in each other, “Man, I sure fuckin’ hope my dick gets wet tonight too.”

@adviswhore @softbajis @girl-by-the-lake thanks for making sure i wouldn't embarrass myself. I think this is more clear. Now that I'm writing a bit more should i...try the taglist thing,,,idk virtue shut up the fic is over the theatre is empty stop talking to yourself

The bathroom tiles were stinging cold against Sanzu’s thighs and the porcelain rim of the tub dug painfully into his neck. He’d be rather uncomfortable, that is, if he could process his sense of touch properly right now. His ears throbbed with his heartbeat as his eyes desperately darted around the room, past empty capsules and ground pills, discarded bottles, and the shower curtain he’d ripped down in a manic fit.

He squinted as if it’d make his wobbling vision any clearer, as if it’d summon what he needed most. But of course, the large house was empty. Like a prisoner, he confined himself to this place that once represented the happiness he never thought he’d deserve, let alone have. He stumbled through the halls unsteadily, praying to gods he didn’t believe in just to see wisps of your form, hear your laugh even if he knew it was a trick of the substance of the hour.

Sanzu dragged his hand down his face and saw it glisten in the fluorescent light with tears he didn’t know he was crying. There was a steady drip in the back of his mind. Each drop falling through the clouds of his mind and down his back. He shivered involuntarily. Looking down at his hands again, the puddle he was sat in suddenly flooded his spotty senses.

Right. The water was on. After a moment of willing his heavy body to move, he reached to stop the flow of water. He stood and lowered himself t-shirt and boxer clad in the lukewarm water as the displaced fluid cascaded over the edge and flooded the room. Powders scattered on the floor dissolved into the discarded water that swept bits of tinfoil away.

Sanzu sniffed tears away and swiped at his nose to leave a bright red streak. Copper tinged his tongue. He sunk suddenly in the water, shirt billowing up and water spilling loudly over. Before he knew it, he was screaming half underwater but through it all that’s when he heard it. It was soft. Ethereal.

“Zuzu?”

But it wasn’t real. He knew by now that no matter how high he got he’d never hear that voice again. It was a trick of the mind, conjuring what he craved to further torment himself at the loss that plagued him daily.

“Zuzu?!”

Sputtering, he came up for air. It was so clear. Too clear. The panic in your voice was so evident. Fuck, fuckfuckfcuk, had it done it? Had he crossed the divide to see you one last time?

A featherlight touch, radiant like a sun ray graced his cheek and Sanzu looked up into ethereal orbs full to the brim with raw fear. “Zu what are you doing?” He was fully sobbing now. Pressing a soaking hand over the sensation on his cheek, he choked on another sob.

Sanzu was stunned to silence, save the body wracking breaths he heaved. Specter-like eyes softened in understanding. “Haru…” He reached for your figment, tears mixed with the blood from his nose and ran into his mouth. Your apparition tried to wipe the mixture away with an unmistakable expression of heartbreak on your face.

“I…you…I’did it. You’re ‘ere…” His voice broke. “You’re finally here…” He slurred the words.

I’ve missed you every second, with every part of me. It felt like my soul was ripped from my body when you left. I can’t live without you. I couldn’t stand to live without you. I had to see you again. I had to. I had to see you. My everything, the angel that saved me…it should have been me, y/n. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.

He wanted to chant the words, say all the things he couldn’t when you were here with him. He needed to sob his ‘sorry’s and ‘thank you’s into your soft hair one last time. But the words wouldn’t come.

“Baby, you shouldn’t have done this for me,” The voice crackled with emotion like a staticky radio in his ears. Sanzu felt warmth where the ghost of a kiss met his forehead, “You’re not supposed to follow me like this, Haru.”

“Donn leavf…” Black spots prickled in his sight as everything faded. “B’by…no’gain”

“Zuzu, hey! Haru stay with me?” Your panicked voice was fading. Everything sounded as if it were underwater. Warbled and marbled, like dust swirling at the surface, too light to sink and never quite making it to him. Sanzu was plunging into blackness, sinking from the anchor in his chest, the heavy words sitting in his lungs that he’d never be able to tell you.

“Haru! Oi, Haru!”

“S’far ‘way, cmback…” Sanzu’s sight had fully blackened. Too far gone to either feel or hear the garbled words he spoke into the now bloodied water pinking the bath, he steadily sunk as your form of light faded with his consciousness.

The sound of the door being slammed open minutes ago and the feeling of his ragdoll body being hoisted from the water was lost on him. “Haruchiyo, you bastard, stay with me!” Kakucho’s voice, gruff with shock pleaded at the motionless figure. Kakucho rolled the limp man on his side and let water flow from the smaller man’s mouth. His friend was hardly breathing, if he was at all. Kakucho couldn’t hear much outside of the adrenaline forcing his heart to beat resoundingly in his ears. His knees were soaked in cooling water, pink from Sanzu’s still bleeding nose. “Oi, Sanzu!” He shouted this time, beginning to search for a pulse. “You fucking idiot, you can’t die on me!”

No pulse.

Fuck.

“Haru, she’d never forgive me. You can’t die like this.”

...

Ye um here's the finished thing and, uh fuck it @sano-obsessed i sent you the draft in the middle of the night, here's the ending. I hope it lived up to yesterday's sanzu angst-pocalypse.