Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/6835843.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Ensemble_Stars!_(Video_Game)
  Relationship:
      Itsuki_Shu/Kagehira_Mika, Hibiki_Wataru/Tenshouin_Eichi
  Character:
      Itsuki_Shu, Kagehira_Mika, Hibiki_Wataru, Tenshouin_Eichi, Narukami
      Arashi
  Additional Tags:
      Anxiety, Mental_Health_Issues, Mental_Instability, mentions_of_eating
      disorders, Crossdressing, Anal_Sex, Blow_Jobs
  Series:
      Part 1 of Oddballs_in_Love
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-05-13 Chapters: 6/6 Words: 24336
****** Galatea ******
by daphnerunning, Galiko
Summary
     If there’s one thing Itsuki Shu knows, it’s his own limitations.
     Well, no, if there’s one thing Itsuki Shu knows, it’s how to use
     tissue paper to make hand-sewing chiffon easier, but at least he has
     a passing familiarity with his own mental limitations.
     -
     In which Valkyrie begins to dust off the ashes of their defeat, and
     some dreams are closer to coming to life than ever anticipated.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Today isn’t quite cloud nine, but it’s pretty close.
His bento is as bad as usual, but Kagehira Mika doesn’t care. It reeks of Shu’s
care, after all, and so picking off a few burnt parts and eating the rest isn’t
going to kill him, especially when it’s tempered with rice that isn’t burnt.
Victory makes it sweeter, Nito trying at least half-way nice makes it kind of
bittersweet, and the end result is remembering how happy Shu had looked for the
first time since--
Mika shoves a mound of rice into his mouth, and exhales a long sigh through his
nose.
Winning over Ra*bits is the first step, yeah, but it’s at least a step. As he
peels off another weirdly overcooked piece of rice film off of the top of his
food, he perks up at the sight of Arashi coming into their classroom to eat.
“Hey, Naru-chan! Gimme a bite of one of your meat buns, pleeeeease.”
Arashi slides into his usual seat with a sigh of relief, wriggling his toes a
few times to try and restore some feeling. Getting Knights all fired up to
perform is certainly a double-edged sword, if it means short practices even at
lunch.
If it were anyone else asking for food, he’d probably cling to his meager stash
of meat buns (which isn’t so meager). Mika, however...
Maybe he has a bit of a soft spot for the kid. Someone has to, after all.
“Catch, Mika-chan,” he sing-songs, tossing over a bun and looking mournfully at
the rest of his stack. “Ahh, I probably shouldn’t have any more calories than
this, anyway. Heh, I was lazy. You’re really saving me from myself.”
“I shouldn’t be havin’ a lot of calories either,” Mika cheerfully admits, even
as he takes a huge mouthful and swallows it in about two seconds. “But ‘m
hungry. Ahh, it’s a lot of work gettin’ Oshi-san all fired up again, but I’ve
got this now. We nailed that show and he’s all excited, we’re gonna go fabric
shoppin’ and everything.”
“I heard good things about your live~! I’m glad you could get him all...fired
up.” Is a wink too much? Probably never! “I’m sure your special skills were
useful, hmm, Mika-chan?”
Mika blinks back over at him as he gnaws on his (not burnt) meat bun. “Dunno
what you’re talking about. When it comes to puttin’ on a show, it’s pretty easy
to get him into it. I mean,” he amends, “it used to be.”
Well, Mika has always been a little bit...not exactly quick on the uptake of
his jokes, but at least he usually understands if Arashi is entirely blunt,
which is more than he can say for the rest of his team. And classmates. And
club mates. “But he’s fired up now, you say? That’s good. If Valkyrie is making
a comeback, Knights should be worried, hmm?”
“You’re gonna die,” Mika bluntly says. “Sorry about it, but your music’s like,
really bad.”
“Ouch! You don’t pull your opinions at all, do you?” Arashi laughs to himself,
and makes a mental note not to let Mika hang out with any of his friends. The
kid would get torn apart. “Does Itsuki like to hear your opinions? I was under
the impression he was a bit of a dictator.” That’s putting it very nicely. And
adding ‘tator.’
“He likes it when I have an opinion, yeah.” Mika plops his chin down into one
hand, his eyes lidding as he smiles. “Even if he’s gonna do it his way, I
usually agree, y’know? He knows what he’s doin’ and what he wants. Even if he
was a dictator, though...at least he’s got a vision.” Which is waaay more than
I can say about your unit, geez.
“Even the things you don’t say today sting,” Arashi says with a sigh. He
nibbles on the second meat bun, contemplative. “You’ve got a bento, Mika-chan.
Why not eat that?”
“...Because Oshi-san made it, and I mean, it’s good’n’all, but uhh...” Not so
stealthily, he scoots it to the side. “Ever since he started cookin’ for me, I
put on a lot of weight, y’know, and he still gets mad if I don’t eat all of my
dinner when I get home, so I figure if I kinda...I dunno...space things out a
little...” The slice of cake is still tempting, though, even if it’s burnt.
Arashi picks at some of the dough on the side of his bun, careful not to expose
the meat within. “I thought Valkyrie made new costumes for each performance. So
it shouldn’t be an issue if you can’t fit into the old costumes, right?”
“Well, yeah, but...” Mika fidgets, torn between his previous statements and
what he wants to shove in his mouth now, and he finally gives in, deciding
he’ll work on his self-control later. “I still wanna be cute,” he says around a
mouthful of cake and frosting. “Gettin’ fat wouldn’t be. I think Oshi-san would
get annoyed.”
“You were a bit too skinny before, Mika-chan, don’t you think?” Arashi kicks
back, grabbing his water bottle and chugging a bit to quiet the grumbling of
his stomach. “Maybe he thought so, too. You care a lot about what he thinks of
your body, hmm?”
Mika carefully sections off a piece of the cake that isn’t burnt (and so, most
normal people would think is pretty good) and holds it out on a plastic fork to
Arashi. “Cute girls eat cake,” he points out. “I want Oshi-san to think I’m
cute even if I’m not a girl, but you’ve got a pass and everythin’, so take
advantage.”
“Aren’t you already living in his room?” Arashi points out wryly, taking a
nibble of the cake that...all right, to be honest, it’s not nearly as bad as he
was expecting. Damn, there goes that infernal sweet tooth again! “He must think
you’re cute, hmm? He doesn’t seem like the sort to put up with people he
doesn’t like.”
“I dunno if he thinks I’m that cute,” Mika admits, shrugging dismissively.
“It’s not like he makes me dresses or anything. Then I’d be really cute, I
could wear a dress.”
Arashi’s eyebrows make a permanent home in his hair. “You want to wear dresses,
huh? You’d be awful cute in something big and frilly, with giant skirts? Ah, is
it that it’s the fashion with those poofy ones to cover one eye, is that it?”
Reflexively, Mika lifts a hand to rub at his right eye, and smoothes his hair
over it in the process. “That would be cute, but Oshi-san likes my eyes, which
I think is weird, but whatever. I’d still look cute in a dress like that...but
I’m not good enough t’make it myself, and I don’t think he ever would, not for
me.”
“You would look cute,” Arashi says, with a bit of a nudge to Mika’s shoulder.
“Hey...” No, it’s killing him not to know, he’s got to know. “What are you two,
anyway? You live together, but you swear it’s not anything immoral, that you’re
just his pretty pet, right? But you also want to look cute for him and wear
dresses, so...I’m not being stupid to think you have a crush on him, right?
Like me and Kunugi-sensei?”
Mika sways with the nudge, still distracted by trying to cover up one of his
eyes when his hair isn’t quite long enough to do so. “Of course I like him,” he
mumbles, shuffling his feet slowly against the floor. “But he’s not into me
like that. It’s…he’s…yeah. Other people are way prettier than me, that’s what
he likes.”
What was his name? Nazuma? It’s got to be him, the one that switched to
Ra*bits. Didn’t I hear something about that?Not from Mika, but through the
grapevine, through some of his seriously cute little kouhai. “You think he
wants someone else.”
“Nah. I know he wants someone else.” Mika shrugs again. “It’s fine, but I’m not
gonna like, hover over him and harass him to like me when I know it’s a waste
of time. I’d rather spend my time tryin’ to get better at stuff, so maybe he’ll
eventually see that I’m just as good.”
Arashi sighs, then stands, his complaining feet twinging. “Well, hopefully
you’ll find a way to talk to him soon. Maybe you’re wrong about him, you know.
You didn’t think he’d go perform with you again, right? But he did? Maybe
things aren’t so bad as you think, right?” He squeezes Mika’s shoulder on his
way out, then ruffles his hair. “You’re as cute as any girl in the school,
sweetie.”
“Uugh, I’m not a girl,” Mika complains, half-heartedly swatting Arashi away.
“You’re not listenin’, I don’t think things are that bad! I’m just bein’
realistic, y’know. It’s not like he isn’t awfully nice sometimes.” He heaves a
long sigh, slumping down with a shrug. “You need to wear a dress way more than
me, anyway.”
“Ah, but no one wants to make me pretty clothes.” Arashi winks, and heads off
to his next class, hesitating over the last half meat bun before shoving it in
his mouth at long last.
***** Chapter 2 *****
“Kagehira! Kagehira, where on earth do you think you’ve gone? Ah! I see you,
don’t think you can get away from me that easily!”
Itsuki Shu, absent his beloved Mademoiselle for once, stalks towards the
garbage heap, holding a monogrammed handkerchief over his nose. “You took
another part-time job again? I don’t mind the determination, but if you start
skipping practice for such things, I really don’t know what I’ll do. Probably
fill your empty head with cotton and stitch it up properly!”
“I’m sorry, ‘m sorry! The time got away from me, sorry!”
Mika, up to his knees in recycling bins and plastic bags, heaves a long, heavy
sigh, and straightens to his feet, making a face as he peels his gloves off.
“I’ve been sortin’ all this stuff all day because I thought it would be easier
to find stuffed animals, too, but ‘m out of luck there,” he mournfully says.
“Let me just get cleaned up, and we can go to practice together, okay?”
Shu huffs heavily, stamping one foot as he taps a finger impatiently. “We
weren’t going to practice, Kagehira. We were going shopping. Though now, we
should just stay and practice dancing until our feet bleed.”
“Right, right, sorry, I forgot.” Mika winces, hopping around the garbage and
hoping that he doesn’t reek as much as Shu seems to be implying. He probably
doesn’t, it’s just sorting recycling stuff, but boy, if Shu doesn’t stop making
those faces, that’s going to be a rough shopping trip. “I didn’t know if you
still wanted to do the shoppin’ thing, and I wanted to make sure we had a
little extra money if you did, sorry.”
Shu taps his foot again, scowling around at the dump. “I suppose you don’t
smell too terrible. Follow along.” How long will they go, he wonders, before
Mika realizes they aren’t going by the supermarket, but the fabric store?
“Comin’, comin’.”
Mika fingercombs his hair as he trots after Shu, shedding his paper apron into
another trash bin as he passes it. “Kind of a gross job, but no one bothers me,
y’know? But either way, I got more money put into the budget, so we should have
a lot to spend at the fabr…uhh…wherever we’re going.” Heh. Shit. Assuming stuff
is just going to get him told off, and he’s already too tired to do more than
smile and nod about it.
Shu smiles to himself, and holds out his bag for Mika to carry as sort of a
reward for being quick on the uptake. “Put away your pocket change for practice
sessions next week, Kagehira. Father sent me an allowance for fabrics this
morning.” After Shu had texted him the night before, begging for money after
inspiration had struck for the first time in months, after beating Ra*bits into
the pavement.
Which is how they end up eating croissants before fabric shopping (with Mika
firm about talking to the cashier himself, no matter how it shakes him, and
selecting croissants from the back of the tray that no one has touched), and
being perhaps too close for comfort for the entire shopping trip.
Sewing for hours afterwards, eating Shu’s (questionable) cooking—that’s all
well and good, but the best is when they finally get to curl up in bed
together, and Mika side-eyes Mademoiselle from across the room. “Is Mado-nee
gonna stay in here tonight, or does she get a break from our relaxin’ time?”
“No, no...Mademoiselle wouldn’t be interested in this subject matter. Pick one
of the movies from my relaxing shelf, would you?” There’s all manner of things
on there, from old musicals to documentaries about baking, from leathercrafting
tutorials to trashy historical romances, usually involving Marie Antoinette.
Shu heaves himself up onto the bed facedown, and manages another bite, to stop
Kagehira from bothering him if anything.
“Yep, got it.”
Mika doesn’t particularly try hard to discriminate between the movies, but it
does happen to be a particularly trashy romance that he tosses on--one that he
knows has put Shu to sleep, if nothing else. “There,” he hums, flopping down
onto the bed next to Shu and better arranging the pillows. “Now you can relax,
right? Oshi-san, jus’ remember, the more rice you eat now, the less you’re
gonna be distracted by being hungry tomorrow, too.” He needs to have an arsenal
of croissants ready for lunch.
“Yes, yes, your nagging is unappreciated,” Shu mutters, and stuffs a good half
the bowl into his mouth before giving up, shoving the bowl into Kagehira’s
hands.
The movie is perfect, and he even allows Kagehira to stay on his bed for the
entire thing, though he drifts off to sleep before it’s more than halfway over.
It’s a deep sleep, but he wakes too early, rising with a compulsive need,
jittery and unsettled. Carefully, he disentangles himself from Kagehira--he’s
such a heavy and warm sleeper, wrapped all around him--and makes his way
upstairs on socked feet in his nightshirt, up to his second work room that no
one else is ever allowed in.
There, in the dim lights he has rigged for night sewing, he pulls out the other
dressforms. There are several, but the two he’s working on now are draped in
complex, rococo-style gowns, draped in ruffles and rippling to the floor. Just
looking at them soothes his nerves, and he picks up a hand needle. No machines
on these, not when he’s been working on them for so many years. There are
others hidden back in the recesses of the attic, but the blue one...the blue
one is his masterpiece, a whipped cream fantasy of charm and ruffles and the
ribbons he’d picked out earlier, the ones that match Kagehira’s blue eye to the
exact hue.
This work is soothing, hand stitching each bit of trim, following a pattern
only in his mind, one that he’s only ever created in miniature for one of his
dolls. Seconds tick by into silent minutes, the only sound in the attic the
noise of silk thread drawn through the fabric.
“Oshi-san? Nnn, Oshi-san, why are you up here so late, you’re not sleepwalkin’,
are you...”
Mika, exhausted and still sleep-floppy and really not interested in getting in
trouble (he can always remember that much, even if he’s mostly asleep), barely
cracks open the door, and only sort of nudges at it with one hand covered
mostly in the fabric of his nightshirt. Waking up to an empty bed is no good,
because now he’s cold, but it’s worse when he lies there for a few minutes yet
and Shu doesn’t come back. Maybe he’s being too worried for nothing, but...
“It’s so late, Oshi-san,” he yawns, flopping against the door. “I mean, if you
wanna work, that’s fine, but lemme get you somethin’ to eat or drink or
somethin’...”
Kagehira’s voice should be more startling. Voices usually are, to Shu, but for
some reason...
“I don’t need anything. You should sleep.” He draws the silk thread through the
fabric again, then in a split-second decision, says through the door, “We’ve
had a good day, haven’t we, Mika?” Silk whispers through silk, a filagree
flower coming to life.
“Mmnn, yeah, we have.” Mika flops against the door a little more, and if he
rubs his cheek against it, maybe he can think for a second that it’s Shu that
he’s nuzzling up to again in bed. “But you should sleep, Oshi-san. It’s so
la...”
Mika, he called me Mika.
Coming from anyone else, it’s immediate irritation. Kagehira is at least a
masculine sounding name. Mika is a bad name, written in stupid hiragana, and it
could be made better at least by having kanji, but nope, his parents couldn’t
even bother. His mouth goes dry, and Mika slinks down a bit more, daring to
stick his fingers in through the cracked door, poking at the carpet. “If you’re
not gonna come to bed, then I can keep you company...”
The needle pauses, point embedded in sapphire silk. “You’ll laugh.”
“I won’t.” Mika pokes at the carpet again, sliding more of his hand into the
room. “Whatever it is, I won’t, promise.”
“But it’s...” Shu flaps his hands, waiting for the annoyance, the irritation,
the nervousness to surge up. All that happens is that his knees start aching,
reminding him how long he’s been kneeling on the floor. He sighs, then ties off
the thread, standing and stretching out, then moves to the door. “Move, I’m
coming back to bed.”
Did I do something wrong? The question is on Mika’s tongue even as he hurries
to do as he’s told, scooting away from the door. He hesitates, peering up at
Shu through his tousled bangs. “If you’re making more stuff for Mado-nee, you
know I think that’s cool,” he warily says.
Shu gives his head a distracted little pat and a weary smile. “Just my
foolishness. Indulge me, please, I’m...” Trying.
When is the last time he’d felt this inspired to create, anyway? Longer than
just the time since Tenshouin, since the student council had ruined him. He
remembers--
That day, when Kagehira and Nito had taken his hands, and they’d run around the
school selling tickets. He’d sewn up here until dawn then, on the dress as
golden as dawn, currently gathering dust at the back of the attic.
Shu looks so tired. It’s the middle of the night, admittedly, but he looks
tired beyond that, and Mika bites his lip as he slowly heaves himself to his
feet. “Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s dumb,” he murmurs, hesitating for a
second before he reaches out to gently grab for Shu’s wrist. “Can I see? I
mean, I jus’...your work’s always so nice, and if you’re spendin’ time on it
like this, it’s gotta be worth it, yeah?”
Shu gives Kagehira’s shoulder a squeeze, then a gentle shove, back down the
stairs. “When it’s done, perhaps. I’m actually working again, so...it won’t be
long. Maybe.”
“Ehh? But--” Mika stumbles down the stairs, frowning. “You’re not playin’ fair,
Shu,” he complains, huffing as he stomps down the stairs. “I just wanna see
whatever pretty thing you’re doin’ this time.”
“Hush, fool, I’m not playing at all, stop following me in the middle of the
night.” That feels more familiar, at least, and Shu feels his eyes droop as he
hauls Kagehira into the bedroom. In the middle of the night like this, he
doesn’t even pretend Kagehira is going to sleep on the futon on the floor,
grabbing him by the hand and tugging him into the bed.
“I didn’t follow you, you jus’ got up and left me,” Mika whines, slithering
into bed next to him and immediately snuggling up. Like this, it really feels
like they’re something that they aren’t, but he can’t complain too much when
Shu is immediately pulling him into bed and letting him spoon against him, his
face nuzzled into his hair. “Shuuuu. Whatever it is, finish it already, I wanna
see.”
Shu turns over, feeling Kagehira curling up behind him, and his pulse spikes
for a moment. He really is despicable, enjoying this so much from someone who
is ostensibly in his care. “When did you start calling me that?” Part of him
wants to say stop it immediately, but then it would sound as if he actually
enjoys being called ‘Oshi-san,’ which he isn’t ready to admit. “Don’t do that
in public.”
Mika’s mouth opens, shuts, and he sinks down into the bed a bit more, hoping
the dim light is enough for Shu to not see how nervous he looks. “Just started
a few minutes ago, ‘cuz you called me ‘Mika’,” he mumbles. “If it bugs you, I
won’t. Sorry.”
Shu stuffs his face into the pillow, muffling his speech. “Idiot. Don’t
apologize for things that don’t bother me.”
“Oh.” Even if he’s still wary, Mika can’t quite stop himself from nestling
closer still, his arms daring to curl his way around Shu’s waist. “Then I just
won’t do it in public.” Did he just score proverbial points? Mika thinks he
did. Crushing down the thought of Did Nazuna-nii ever get to call him Shu? is
pretty damn hard, but Mika does try.
***** Chapter 3 *****
Curiosity killed the cat and all that stuff, but Mika figures if he’s careful,
Shu’s not going to notice if he takes just a peek.
For once, he’s home early. They don’t walk home together because Shu’s got an
errand for Mademoiselle, or so he says, and that means that Mika shows up at
Shu’s house all alone, and his mind immediately goes where it goes.
He’s never been more than a hand inside of Shu’s private sewing room. Last
night was even the first time it’s been that much, and so stepping inside feels
like he’s violating some kind of sacred tomb. For a moment, he just has to
pause in the doorway, staring at the dress forms wrapped in some of the
prettiest dresses he’s ever seen--the kind of stuff that you see in paintings,
the kind of stuff that a high school boy doesn’t make, but a long-time
professional makes.
He’s so talented, why is he hiding this kind of stuff?
The first dress is layers of blue and lace and ribbons, and even just touching
the fabric makes Mika shiver. Too pretty. Way too pretty for someone like him.
Hestares at it for a long time before somehow, his school uniform hits the
floor, and trying it on becomes his next task before he can really think it
through.
A dumb mistake, that, because of course it doesn’t fit, it’s not for him.
Hopefully, it looks as untouched as it had been before when he puts it back on
the dress form, annoyed at himself and the realization that Shu’s definitely
still making things for Nito, not him. Well, that’s fair. Nito’s smaller and
cuter, and he’d look like a real doll in these kinds of things. The other dress
that’s all yellows and golds--well, now he’s just going to put it on out of
spite, honestly, because he’s here and he can.
This one, at least, fits. Mika heaves a long sigh, fingering the lace
underneath his fingertips, and glowering at the blue dress like it has betrayed
him. Maybe he needs to start refusing a few burnt cakes. Then he can sneak up
here again and try it on with greater success.
“Non!”
Shu’s bookbag hits the floor. The look on his face, standing in the doorway of
his attic, is a mixture of horror, embarrassment, and anger. “Take that off!
Take it off immediately, I never said you could wear that!”
Mika sees something like his life flashing before his eyes, brief as it might
have been, and the embarrassment of being caught doing something so stupid, the
worst thing he could be doing because he knows how protective Shu is of this
room, and the things in it--
This is definitely not for me, why would it be, I’ve told him a million times I
think my name is girly and I don’t want to be girly, of course this isn’t for
me, it’s for Nazuma-nii, it’s definitely for Nazuma-nii.
“Sorry, I’m sorry--” What can he even say at this point? His face burns, his
hands shaking as he struggles to shimmy his way out of the dress without
damaging it in any way. “I--” He gulps, blinking back the sharp, salty sting of
tears that suddenly come to his eyes, and scrambles to grab for his own
clothes. Time to start commuting again, time to just quit, I’ll never be in
Valkyrie after this.
“Don’t touch those!”
Shu’s voice is shaking, shrill, and urgent enough to stop a mob in its tracks.
He strides into the room, face pale, and rips the school uniform out of
Kagehira’s hands, throwing it onto the ground.
His basest urge is to lock himself away for another month, nervous to the point
that he makes himself sick every day. The tears in Kagehira’s eyes tell him
clearly--he’s about to lose Kagehira the way he’d lost Nito (beautiful Nito,
Nito that could have been his as long as he had something to want, Nito who was
supposed to be everything and had left him with the echo of a forced smile)--
With a trembling finger, he points at the golden dress on the floor. “That...is
no good. It was never--never right.”
He trails his hands over the shoulders of the sapphire gown, sliding it off the
dressform, and steels himself before handing it over. Don’t go. Don’t refuse.
Don’t turn your back on me, I’ll never leave my house again, I swear it, I’ll
be just like Grandmother alone with my dolls until they find my corpse--
Mika stares back at him, trembling, eyes wide and unsure. “I...I t-tried that
one.” His voice sounds weak, horrendously shaky in the way it always gets
whenever he tries to interview for a stupid job, or when he’s got an audition
that requires actual talking. His accent sounds embarrassingly thick like this,
a million times worse than it usually is, and he wants nothing more than to
crawl into a hole. “It w-wouldn’t fit, ‘m sorry, ’s way too p-pretty for
someone like me--”
“Of course it fits. H-how dare you.” Damn, he’s picking up that stutter. That
kind of nervousness is, apparently, somewhat contagious. Shu tries to walk, and
it takes him a few stuttering tries until he manages, grabbing a black corset
from a hanging rack at the back of the attic. “Arms up. Or, or you can...you
can go. You don’t--have to...”
Mika shakes his head so hard that he feels dizzy, desperate to please at this
point, and not even really seeing what Shu is doing. It doesn’t matter. Arms
up, trying not to shake, he can do that much. “If y’d-don’t want me to go, I
won’t,” he whispers. “M...maybe I was just puttin’ it on wrong? I’ve n-never
seen a dress that pretty before...”
“It’s not done,” Shu protests. He lowers the corset over Kagehira’s arms, mouth
dry. It’s going to work, he can tell. “Breathe out, I’m going to tighten the
strings. It, it gives you a more feminine figure. This dress...it was made f-
for you.”
“Eh?” That comes out as way more of a squeak than Mika wants it to, and his
head snaps up in shock. “B-but--I thought--” No, now is not the time to say
what he thought, that all of this was for Nito, perfect, pretty Nito. He
swallows hard, shutting his eyes as he tries to do as he’s told, breathing out
a long, deep breath.
Shu tightens the strings in a way he wishes was more deft, but in all
reality... “I haven’t done this before,” he mutters, partially to explain the
hesitation in his fingers, partly to disguise the quaver in his voice.
“That...that should be good. The book said the ease could be up to fifteen
centimeters, but I only allotted space for five, so you can...breathe, I hope.
How does it feel?”
“I-it’s fine.” Honestly, he could be entirely unable to breathe and he wouldn’t
complain right now. Mika sucks in a shuddery, unsteady breath, trying not to
fidget where he stands. He must look ridiculous, but for some reason, Shu is
still putting up with him--for some reason. “Tight, but it’s fine,” he quickly,
hurriedly adds to make sure that Shu knows he isn’t complaining.
“Good, good.” He ties off the corset, then lifts the dress, lowering it to
whisper against the ground. “Step in. Carefully, carefully, the embroidery...”
His heart thuds in his chest--if Kagehira hates this, he isn’t sure what his
mind will do.
Summoning every single bit of his grace--which isn’t much in moments like
these, Mika knows, but he’s trying--Mika gingerly steps into the dress, holding
stark-still while he waits for Shu to ease it into place. When he’d tried to
try it on before, it hadn’t worked at all, but maybe, with Shu’s touch, with
the corset...he bites his lip, trying not to stare too much at how the ruffles
move, or how the embroidery practically shines in the dim light. “It’s the most
beautiful dress ‘ve ever seen,” he mumbles. I don’t deserve it, not something
this pretty.
“It--never looked good enough on the form.” The lacings on the back aren’t
exactly period-accurate, but that just means he can do them up more accurately.
The tightest one is a bit of a stretch, but the boning holds everything in
place, and everything else works well enough.
Then, because he can no longer stop them, Shu’s hands drift up into Mika’s
hair, carding through the soft strands. “Back, so I can see your eyes, don’t
you dare hide them from me--and I want to see those earrings of yours, too.”
It’s another long few seconds before he finally lets his hands drop.
Mika swallows audibly. He’s crazy, definitely, to be enjoying this so much. It
feels like a dream--Shu made this dress for him, put him in a corset, laced it
up and wrapped him up in so much finery that he can barely breathe--and now
he’s petting his hair and telling him not to hide his eyes? “T-they don’t
match, though,” he says self-consciously, lifting a hesitant hand to thumb over
the tiny studs in his ears. “And my eyes are just weird, they...they’d make
everyone stare at them instead, that’s no good.”
“Hold still.” Shu moves reluctantly from Mika’s side, to where he’d stashed
what he’d made earlier--little bows from the ribbons, one the color of each
eye. “Now,” he asks softly, pinning up the bangs at each side, “do you believe
I made this for you, and you alone?” He can feel the doubts rolling off of Mika
in a wave. Every nerve he has trembles. He’s never been so honest in his life,
and it’s an utterly terrifying experience.
With the corset, it’s hard for his chest to sort of heave when Shu does that,
but it tries, anyway, and Mika stifles a sniffle as much as he can. Tears prick
at his eyes again, and he hurriedly lifts a hand to scrub at them. “Sorry--
sorry, ‘m not trying to hide them,  j-just trying not to be dumb and cry all
over everything,” he whispers, trying to laugh it off and failing with a
pathetic little hiccup. “It’s so pretty, Sh--O-oshi-san, you didn’t have to.”
He sucks in another desperate breath. “Thank you. So much.”
“Shh.” God, Shu feels like some kind of lame, dumb, helpless fool right now,
every one of his actions clumsy and inept. He touches Mika’s face with a
trembling finger, brushing off a tear, and can’t help but bring it to his lips
to taste it. “Don’t--it makes it so strange when you thank me, I’m just--doing
what I always do, you’re so lovely, I just want you to be as beautiful as
possible, my--my most radiant doll.” The words are almost hollow, as if he
doesn’t believe them himself. “I did this for my sake, stop--you always believe
the best in me, when it isn’t even there, why do you do that--”
Mika shakes his head, and reaches out to grab at Shu’s hand, clinging firmly to
it.  He can hear the rustle of silks, and it makes his face flush further.
“It’s not what you always do, though, you know it. This is special. Like,
really special. N-no one’s ever...ever done something this nice for me before.”
His breath hiccups again, and Mika has to laugh at himself now, sniffling as he
looks aside. “I...I’m not that beautiful, but y’make me feel that way.”
Shu kisses him.
It happens so fast he doesn’t even realize he’s done it until his lips are
pulling away, the taste of Mika lingering on his mouth. “It--it can’t be a
surprise,” he whispers. Can it? He’s always been so sure he’s clear about what
he wants, but...
Mika had thought, he’d assumed, but he’d been unsure the moment he saw these
dresses, but now...
“Thank god,” he groans, lurching forward, grabbing at Shu’s arms and clinging
as he stretches up to kiss him again. “I thought you still--n-never mind, not
important,” Mika murmurs, his face flushed as he holds tight, still afraid that
Shu might bolt at any moment. “I’ve...I’ve always wanted...but I thought...”
Shu bolting isn’t an idle concern. If it hadn’t been for Mika’s hands grabbing
him, he might have run already, retreating to lock himself up again until the
world stops being quite so vulgar and cruel. His legs wobble, and he backs up
until he gets to a high-backed antique wooden chair, tugging Mika down into his
lap, burying his face in his neck, just smelling, just nuzzling. “Let me,” he
whispers. “Just--let me--” One hand starts rucking up the skirts, sliding up
one toned calf, up past the knee.
Oh. Oh. Realization clicks starkly into place the moment Shu pulls him into his
lap, and Mika has to remind himself to shut his own mouth and stop gaping like
a fish out of water. “O...okay,” he exhales, clinging to Shu’s neck, feeling
the skin underneath those long fingers twitching, trembling. “I--I don’t wanna
mess up the dress, though--”
“It’ll be fine. I’ll--I promise, I’ll fix it.” That should be enough for Mika,
because the idea of talking more about this, about what it is he wants to do,
is enough to make Shu want to go running. Instead, his hand travels up, skating
over the smooth warm skin of Mika’s thigh, his breath coming fast and ragged.
His arm rasps over a pale silk flower, and he brushes a soft, eager kiss
against Mika’s neck. His hand splays out over Mika’s upper thigh, wanting more,
still nervous to go any farther when Mika hasn’t asked him to, not really.
Mika’s breath catches up in his throat, his heart feeling like it’s about to
thud through his chest. He’s got to be dreaming, got to be, because in no
universe is Shu this into him, this interested in touching him after dressing
him in something so beautiful—
But here they are, and even if it is a dream, Mika isn’t going to turn down a
chance like this.
He fumbles, grabbing at Shu’s arm underneath all of that hiked up fabric,
urging it upward no matter how his face flushes hotter still. “Please,” he
mumbles, shoving his face into Shu’s hair, shivering with every brush of Shu’s
mouth against his neck. He’s way less embarrassed about…well, all of this, way
more annoyed with himself that he doesn’t have anything pretty underneath, just
boxers that don’t fit the situation at all—but it’s too much to imagine himself
in lingerie for Shu to unwrap on top of this, definitely.
Shu bites down a frantic gasp, muffling the noise into Mika’s neck and shoulder
as his hand brushes against basic stretch cotton, so out of place under the
cacophony of silk ruffles that Shu wants to rip it off and burn it--
Yet it grounds him in the fact that this is Kagehira, this is real, this isn’t
one of his fever dreams. It’s imperfect, the way everything with Mika has been
so far, but that doesn’t mean...Maybe, just maybe, the fact that it’s imperfect
doesn’t mean it isn’t worthwhile.
Because Mika is letting him press urgent kisses to that lovely pale skin (not
too hard, must never tarnish, mustn’t taint, mustn’t bruise), and guiding his
hand up, until it slips under the elastic waistband to curl against his half-
hard length, dragging another embarrassingly eager gasp from his throat as he
starts to stroke in something from his deepest fantasies.
Shu’s hand is ridiculously soft, his fingers long and careful and perfect, and
Mika has a hard time stifling the noises he makes into Shu’s hair.
The second Shu’s fingers curl around his cock, he aches. He bites down on a
whimper, his thighs spreading wider as he shifts and squirms on Shu’s thigh,
his fingers biting into Shu’s shoulders and through his blazer. Mika throws
shame to the wind, no longer concerned with how he’s so hard now that his cock
drips against Shu’s fingers, probably staining fabric, but whatever, it feels
so good that it doesn’t matter.
“Shuuu…” Mika huffs out a hot breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries not
to come immediately, just over a hand on his dick, but that’s easier said than
done when his world narrows to the touch of Shu’s soft, warm palm.
Mika is whining his name, and it doesn’t bother him like he’d thought it would.
Shu has had this fantasy, and he’d thought for certain he’d need his partner to
be absolutely silent during the act. That was supposed to be part of the
fantasy, his elegant, perfect, immobile doll come to life.
As it turns out, the ‘come to life’ part is proving more important than he’d
bargained for, and every time Mika whines and squirms, his breath comes faster
in heated pants against that pale neck. Hearing his own name--that does more
for him than he’d ever expected. He curls his hand, dragging his thumb over the
tip, biting his lip when he feels the slick pearl of liquid beading there. “It
feels good,” he whispers, more to reassure himself than to ask, and he strokes
again, base to tip, base to tip, squeezing the head a little each time.
“Uh huh,” Mika gasps out, his fingers trembling as he clings to Shu’s
shoulders, his toes curling so hard that his legs start to cramp. His cock
jumps in Shu’s hold, and it takes everything in his power to not be gross and
just rut against that hold, to thrust hard against that perfect, elegant hand--
Not that it matters, because it’s only one more twist of Shu’s hand before he
spills with a ragged whine. His vision blurs, and the tremors that sweep down
his spine threaten to make him fall out of Shu’s lap at this rate, so he clings
all the more to Shu’s shoulders, desperately dragging breath in through his
lungs with heavy, needy pants.
“Perfect,” Shu murmurs distractedly, coaxing Mika through the last of the
shakes, until he’s floppy and nuzzling and clinging, and Shu can wrap his left
arm around Mika’s waist, pulling him close. The fabric almost feels alive, so
much lovelier, so much more vibrant than it had been gathering dust on the
dressform, waiting for the ever-farther day when it would be completed. Some of
the tension in his mind, always winding him too-tight, starts to fade.
Well, apparently, with the sweat cooling on Mika’s neck, it’s time to put some
of this into words.
“I’d prefer...to continue this behavior,” Shu says delicately. “T-to kiss you,
when you don’t mind it.”
Mika, unthinkingly, grabs immediately for Shu’s face, hauling him into a kiss
right then and there. “Never gonna mind it,” he mumbles, butting his face
against Shu’s. “So good, that was so good, Osh....Shu. Any time y’want,
please...”
Shu leans into the kiss, lightheaded and...there’s some other distracting
emotion attempting to poke at him, but damned if he can identify it right now.
It’s enough to kiss, to have his perfect doll in his arms, lovely and wanting
him. My Galatea, at last.
He gathers Mika more firmly onto his lap, brushing away the hair in his face
before leaning in to kiss him again. “I...should probably take the corset off
of you,” he admits, loathe as he is to put an end to the fairytale. “If it’s
your first time...breathing...” Where the blasted hell are his words? They
usually come so easily, when nothing else does.
Mika shakes his head firmly, attaching himself tightly to Shu’s neck. “Feels
fine,” he murmurs, face flushed with pleasure. “I can breathe.” Mostly. “Um--
d’you--d’you want me to do you, too? I could, whatever y’want...” He’s still
more than a little wary about trying to grab for Shu’s cock out of the blue--is
this a reciprocal thing? It’s so hard to tell with Shu whether or not he wants
to be touched or not, even if they’re already kissing right now.
The idea is too much, not right at all, and Shu shakes his head firmly. That’s
not how this goes, and reminds him far too much that this lifelike doll isn’t
his immaculate fantasy, but a real person who makes mistakes. How low. Firmly,
he stands Mika up on his feet, taking the opportunity to walk around him,
carefully inspecting. “It looks different when you wear it,” he murmurs to
himself. “I’ll need--you should be wearing makeup. And I’ll want to fix your
hair--and you should be in heels. Can you walk in heels, or do I need to train
you?” He’s never done it himself, but it surely can’t be too hard, if all of
his dolls can do it.
Maybe later, then. Mika doesn’t take offense at the refusal, because that’s
just Shu--he’s that way, and if Mika weren’t used to it by now... “Um, I’ve
never done it in girls’ heels before, but I’ve done it in boots ‘n stuff, so
it’s prolly about the same?” Mika hesitantly says, rocking on his feet as his
legs still threaten to go out from underneath him. Gingerly, he thumbs one of
the flowers on the dress, afraid to touch and pull at much else. “Sorry my hair
isn’t longer, it must look dumb.”
“If I wanted your hair longer, I’d have forbidden you to cut it last year,” Shu
says idly, touching and plucking at the occasional flower. Watching the dress
come alive is magical, and does more for his mental state than he’d expected.
Everything is quiet now, gentle falling water music in his mind. A few ruffles
and folds that hadn’t worked before fall into place now, landing perfectly on
Mika’s hips, draping elegantly to the floor. He moves to an antique armoire,
fishing out a pair of elegant heels that he knows are Mika’s size. “Go on.”
“Oh. Right now.” Geez, Shu could at least wait until his knees didn’t feel like
buckling. Mika tries not to look too grumpy about it, because it’s still a
treat, after all, even though stumbling his way into heels takes effort. He
bends to tug them onto his feet, and manages to only wobble for a second before
righting himself and smoothing the dress down distractedly again. “Ahh...now
I’m almost as tall as you,” he mutters, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“That’s kinda weird.”
Mika’s right. It is weird. “Hmm. I’ll...think about that later.” Not when the
fantasy is so close to being complete and Mika still doesn’t seem like he wants
to leave. He itches to take a picture, or sketch, or something, anything to
preserve the moment...but he can take pictures of the stillest of his dolls.
This one will always be different. And isn’t that why he’d made it this size in
the first place?
With that realization, he lets out a sigh, and waves at Mika to take off the
shoes, moving behind to start unfastening the buttons. “Honestly, Mika. Why you
put up with my whims I’ll never understand. Are you so desperate for my
attention that you would do even this to please me? It isn’t that it’s
unappreciated, of course...”
Mika blinks at him, his head tilting. “Eh? Ah...I mean, I really, really want
you t’pay attention to me,” he admits shamelessly, carefully dropping down into
a chair to toe off his shoes. “But it’s been a dream of mine for y’to make me a
dress,” he says with a self-depreciating laugh. “I never thought you
would...but, ah, I was wrong, and that’s th’ best.”
Shu pauses for a moment, then has to laugh at himself, a soft chuckle that
anyone else would probably think sounds sinister instead of self-deprecating.
It doesn’t matter. It’s only him and Mika here. “I thought you’d hate it,” he
admits. “Because you hate being thought of as girly for your name. I...it’s
important to me. I am not accustomed to caring what people think of me, and--
not that I care what you think of me, of course,” he lies quickly, “but...this
was always supposed to be perfect, and that would have tainted it, and...and
you should always tell me if there’s something you want me to make for you.
What good is an inspiration that’s too shy to come clean, hmm?”
“You’re always so busy, I didn’t wanna say anythin’,” Mika grumbles, pouting as
he slouches forward, his posture definitely too boyish for a dress like this.
“And...and I thought...” He gnaws on his lower lip, glancing aside. “I thought
you only would make dresses for Nazuna-nii, never for someone like me.”
“Stand up,” Shu orders, because he needs to think for a moment before
responding, and takes the opportunity to work on the rest of the buttons, then
the strings of the corset. “I...have made them for him. You...can see that.” He
flaps a hand at the golden gown, gathering dust on his dressform, never to be
worn. His throat locks up for a moment, eyes burning as he guides delicate
buttons through their holes. “But you were both my beautiful dolls.”
How to make Mika understand? How to say what he means, and still be himself?
Shu unties the knot of the corset strings, distressed. “Jealousy is the most
ugly emotion, Mika. Don’t express such disgusting things when you’re wearing
this.” Apparently, he still doesn’t have any kind words, though that’s never
put Mika off before.
Mika exhales a long, full breath once the corset is loosened, more relieved
than he thought he’d be to be released from it. “I’m not jealous,” he says.
“Just statin’ a fact, y’know? But I won’t talk about it when I’m wearin’ this
again, I promise.” He’d rather not talk about the other dress in the corner,
anyway. In his very humble opinion, the one Shu made for him is a million times
prettier.
Shu tugs up the corset over Mika’s head, taking it back to its drawer. He stops
on the way back, staring at the golden gown, emotions flitting through him
faster than he can name them. “It was never right,” he says softly. The
frustrated nights up here number more than he can count, stitching, replacing,
swapping out trims and hems and notions to try and make it correct, to try and
make it measure up to the vision in his head.
The blue dress has never fought him. It had felt like giving up, the first time
he’d started cutting sapphire silk instead of gold. It had felt like
abandonment, stuffing a beloved doll into a storage trunk, never to be attended
to again.
Shu’s knees hit the floor, though he doesn’t remember kneeling, and
frustration, hot and bitter, prickles at his mind until he wrenches it back
from the precipice that feels so familiar. He clears his throat, standing with
some effort, and attempts to pull himself together. “It was never right,” he
says again, and this time, it feels more cleansing.
Mika watches him worriedly for a second before carefully shrugging himself out
of the dress the rest of the way, stepping out of it with care and lifting it
off the floor. “This one’s good, though,” he murmurs, hesitantly handing it
over. “I think it’s perfect. I mean, I know it’s not done yet, but when it is,
I’ll wear it whenever you want. And anythin’ else you want me t’wear, I’ll wear
that, too...”
Shu gives him a tight-lipped smile that doesn’t do much to reveal how he feels.
“I’m taking that as permission to make you things you may not feel you’ve
signed up for,” he warns, mentally sketching out what should really be worn
under a gown like this. That thought leads him to remembering the rasp of
Mika’s underwear under his hand, and more--
Face flushing, he turns aside, carefully placing the dress back on its form. “I
suppose you can come up here whenever you like, now. Just...only touch the ones
I give you permission to touch. This one. For now.”
“Mm, got it! I won’t touch anythin’ else, I promise.”
Mika hops forward, stretching up to hook his chin over Shu’s shoulder with a
beaming smile. Shu did tell him to ask for something if he wanted it, so...
“You could make me somethin’ pretty to wear underneath it...” he wheedles. “I
dunno how cute I’d look, but I could try.”
“Silence, fool, stop spoiling my surprises for you!” Now his face feels
entirely red, and he quickly deflects his embarrassment by storming out of the
attic, calling shrilly over his shoulder, “And come down for dinner, it’s going
to be overcooked because you distracted me!”
“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about, I have noooo idea what you’re gonna make me
next!” Mika calls after him, happily scooping up his school uniform and darting
down the stairs after Shu. As far as he’s concerned, disobeying Shu ended only
in good things, this time.
***** Chapter 4 *****
Chapter Notes
     Note: for the lead-up to this chapter, please check the other story
     in this collection, the Wataru/Eichi story "One Half of Me is Yours,
     The Other Half Yours," though all you need to know is that Wataru and
     Eichi are doin' it.
One week later, Eichi finally is resigned to not being able to stand up to
Wataru’s enthusiasm, and gives up.
That’s how he stumbles into the infirmary with Yuzuru’s help, collapses onto
one of the beds, and passes out to the sound of Yuzuru explaining, no no, he
doesn’t have to go to the hospital, he just needs to rest.
Eichi sleeps the sleep of the dead, and wakes up shivering, aching, and
unhappily aware that he absolutely has some kind of a cold, at the very least.
His head throbs, and he rolls slowly to the side, cracking opening his eyes,
and comes face to face with the stare of a familiar, horrendous doll, seated
upon the small table between the two infirmary beds.
No. No. No no no no no, not right now.
“You’re never actually sick,” he moodily croaks. “Get out.”
“Oh, mon Dieu, not again,” is the miserable reply. Itsuki Shu doesn’t even take
off his eye mask or the bag of ice resting above his head. It’s half-melted by
now, and he appears to have shifted away from it in his fits of blessed
unconsciousness. “Aren’t you far too ill to be in the infirmary? This isn’t a
place for the seriously sick, get out. The stench of you will keep me in here
for another hour at least.”
“Don’t worry, Shu-kun! I’ll take over from here.”
“Non, Mademoiselle, I could never force you to talk to such a horrendous
person.”
“Hush, Shu-kun, you’re too delicate for this. Tenshouin, if you have anything
to say, you can speak to me.”
“The infirmary isn’t for agoraphobes,” Eichi snippily retorts as he huddles
further underneath his blankets. “I’m not talking to your doll, Itsuki. I don’t
even want to talk to you, so do us both a favor a-and—“
Obnoxious, when his lungs decide to do that thing that they do, tightening up
and making him wheeze mid-sentence, and then dissolve into a full-on coughing
fit. Snatching up his inhaler—next to Mademoiselle, how disgusting—he quickly
puts it to use, and sinks down shakily into the bed, clinging to it and
glowering up at the ceiling as he wheezes. If there’s anyone he’d like to look
infallible in front of, it would be this lunatic, but alas, here they are.
“You’ve gotten worse.” Maybe if he turns to face the wall instead of Tenshouin,
it won’t feel awful to talk for himself, instead of relying on Mademoiselle.
For strangers, it’s one thing, but with someone like Tenshouin...
“He’s looking at you like you’re crazy, Shu-kun.”
“I know, Mademoiselle.” His voice is ragged and patchy, and his heart aches as
if it’s been bruised in his chest. Tenshouin can’t be here, he can’t be here,
not in his safe place. It’s just like in first year, when the nurse had joked
all the time about them being infirmary buddies, competing for the best grades
while shooting each other death glares across the borrowed sheets. He’d heard
them remark on it in hushed words when they’d looked like they were sleeping--
‘Isn’t it odd, how of the top two students in the year, one has a strong mind
and weak body, and the other has a strong body and weak mind?’
“Why not just jump out the window and save some medicine for the rest of the
world?”
“Shuu-kun, that isn’t very nice. Sorry, Tenshouin...he just hates you so much,
I’m not sure I can get him to talk nicely to you. He blames you for most of his
problems, you know.”
“I’m not talking to your doll, Itsuki,” Eichi repeats, exasperated, though even
that attempt at talking makes his chest tighten anew. This isn’t his usual
illness, he begrudgingly realizes. Coupled with exhaustion and having long-
reached his pain threshold, it feels a million times worse, and huddling around
his inhaler just makes him angry. “What sent you in here this time?” he
mutters, weakly pawing his glass of water closer as well, and making sure not
to touch the damned doll in the process. He does not want to hear Itsuki Shu’s
shrieking right now. “Are you finally scared of the air around you, too?”
“Shu-kun got--”
“Hush, Mademoiselle, he doesn’t want to hear from you.”
“But he asked a question, it’s rude to ignore him!”
“There’s no such thing as being rude to Tenshouin! Look at him, he’s pure
evil.”
“...I dunno, Shu-kun. He looks pretty bad off. Sicker than usual. I bet he
wouldn’t make fun of you for getting threatened and bullied by a second-year.”
The ice pack is back on his head. “Traitor. Fine, Tenshouin. I had
an...altercation, which resulted in this, my current condition.”
“Ah.” Eichi doesn’t care, not really, but most things are better than silence
and focusing on the too-familiar smell of the infirmary. “Whatever you did, you
pr—“ He sucks in a sharp breath through his nose to stop himself from coughing
yet again,damn it. Is this punishment for being catty and rude? Perhaps it is,
so it’s time to revise. “…Dare I ask why you were, ah. Assaulted?”
This does feel sort of familiar, Shu has to admit. How many times had they been
confined here together, forced to speak to pass the brutal hours until the
nurses deemed them well enough to return to class? He fiddles with the edge of
the sheet, picking at imprecise machine stitching. “Misplaced protective
instinct, I believe. One of my unit members...”
“Shu-kun, Valkyrie only has two members now.”
Shu’s heart hurts anew. “Kagehira, then. One of his friends took issue with my
treatment of him. Preposterous. What does that failure need with friends?”
“Saying things like that is probably why they went after you,” Eichi murmurs,
dropping his head unhappily down onto the meager little pillow at his disposal.
“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been accused of treating someone poorly.”
“The complaints of the vulgar common people have no effect on me,” Shu lies,
closing his eyes again. “Why do you look like you took a trip through a meat
grinder? I thought you were banned from strenuous activity.”
“Wataru exists. If vulgar common people have no effect on you, why are you in
here?”
“You don’t deserve him,” Shu snaps, instead of answering that stupid question.
“Wataru has always been too elevated for someone like you.”
“Ah, cutting right to the chase, are we?” Eichi has no desire to deny his
involvement, and never has, especially if it irritates Itsuki Shu. That’s poor
behavior of him, but oh well. “Wataru is mine, and I’m not interested in what
you think of that. I have yet to be accused of abusing him, at the very least.”
The panic starts to rise in Shu’s chest again, and he breathes as well as he
can, trying to will down another attack after the last one had left him
unconscious on the floor of the hallway. “I’m glad to see you’ve been reaping
the rewards of attaching yourself to the coattails of someone as magnificent as
he. You aren’t even close enough to being able to keep up with him, are you?
You’ll kill yourself trying.”
“Dying in such a magnificent way sounds appealing.” Eichi shoves himself up
onto an elbow, finally summoning the strength to grab his glass of water and
actually drink it instead of just poking at the side of it and glaring at Shu’s
doll. “When you talk about him like that, you sound jealous. That’s not
attractive, especially when we all know he’s not to your taste.”
“I merely know him better than you do, and am reminding you of that,” Shu
snaps. “No matter what you achieve, all your crowning jewels are secondhand
from me--victory in the DreamFes, Wataru at your side--it was all mine first,
Tenshouin.”
The smile Eichi offers him is bored at best. “Itsuki. I don’t care. He’s in my
ensemble, in my bed, and we’re winning everything again.” He flaps a hand
dismissively as he flops onto his back again, stifling a weak, raspy cough.
“Meanwhile, you’re being accosted by second years.”
“Who should mind their manners and learn to respect their betters!”
“Shu-kun, he was just worried about Mika-chan. It was a pretty big hickey...”
“That’s still none of his concern! He had no right to push me into the wall!
It’s just like those abominable brutes from kindergarten all over again...”
Eichi’s eyebrows slowly raise. “Ah. So you’ve not only been accused of abusing
him, but you’ve actually been enjoying his intimate company. What a fascinating
relationship.”
Shu’s voice cuts sharply through the infirmary, and he sits up, back ramrod-
straight. Even now, his hands don’t quiver, trained to absolute immobility for
his sewing. “You don’t know anything about it! He’s--he’s not like that! Keep
your mouth off of him!”
“Shu-kun, the nurse is going to--”
“I don’t care!”
“So explain it, then. God, anything to make you lower your voice, I have such a
headache,” Eichi groans, turning away and twisting himself into a ball as he
hides underneath his pillow. “You gave him a hickey, then what.” The school
nurse is going to know too much about their sex lives by the end of this day.
“Then...” The door is locked, at least, and the lights are off. Slowly, he
subsides back onto the pillow. “I thought I was more careful. His skin is so
delicate--of course, he is one of mine, I should know him better, I should have
been more careful.”
“Shu-kun really likes Mika-chan a lot, you know? Mika-chan is like his safe
person. Sometimes he loses his temper, but Mika-chan is always real generous
about it. He’s a good, sweet person, you know, President-san?”
“Tenshouin doesn’t care, Mademoiselle.”
This is not a conversation Eichi would have planned to have today, not in the
slightest, and it isn’t one he’ll ever care to repeat. Needs must when they’re
essentially captives together, so here they are. “This might come as a surprise
to you, with your limited experience,” he wearily says, “but some people enjoy
receiving hickeys. Did he say he hated it?”
This feels disgustingly familiar, such as when they’d trade notes for class in
their first year, both of them hating it. “...No,” Shu admits. If anything,
Mika had deliberately worn a low-necked shirt. “I thought...he was showing it
off to remind me how careless I’d been.”
“You literally just said that he’s a good, sweet person and that he’s very
generous with you and your horrible personality.”
“Don’t put Mademoiselle’s words in my mouth. I just...” Mika had clung to him,
breathed his name, as if he’s still something worthy. “You wouldn’t understand.
Wataru isn’t human, you couldn’t hurt him if you tried.”
Arguing with the mentally unwell isn’t his forte, so Eichi doesn’t bother.
“You’re being ridiculous. Wataru has a surprisingly delicate nature. Ah, but I
forgot, you know him so much better than I do, don’t you?”
“Well enough that he called me asking for tips on getting over his stage fright
to let you in his pants along with the flock of geese he keeps in there,” Shu
confirms. “You fluster him, certainly, but you could never touch the darkness
he carries. That’s the burden of true genius.”
Eichi’s eyes roll, and he turns his back again, one hand still wrapped firmly
around his inhaler. “I just think it’s funny that you’re criticizing my
relationship on such a level when I’ve been nothing but open and understanding
about yours, but all right. That’s just how you are, I understand.”
Shu huffs, reaching out to touch the ruffles at the bottom of Mademoiselle’s
gown. “I’m saying that you won’t damage him if you tell him to leave you alone
while you recover. Not that I want you to be well, but Wataru is fond of you,
for some reason, and he’d be inconsolable if he put you in the hospital.
Honestly, I shouldn’t have to explain myself, but I suppose you are this
simple.”
“You literally didn’t say anything close to that, but all right. I’ll just
pretend you did, for both of our sakes.” Eichi huffs, shutting his eyes
irritably. “All I have been saying is that I seriously doubt your little pet
takes offense at having your hickeys all over his neck. Calm down and let him
enjoy it.”
“I don’t understand how anyone can enjoy being marred and injured.” The words
are supposed to be sharp, but they sounds soft to his own ears, the kind of
thing Mademoiselle would usually be sweet enough to say for him. “Even a small
imperfection--He fears being stared at almost as much as I do, but to proudly
walk around that way...why?”
“Because it’s the kind of thing people will stare at, but never remark on,
because they are more embarrassed about it than he is.” Eichi stifles another
cough into his pillow, thumping his legs on the bed irritably. “Because to him,
it’s a mark of pride.” Honestly stop being stupid about this for five seconds
is on the tip of his tongue, too, but that’s more talking, and that just seems
to cause problems.
Shu stares at the ceiling, trying to comprehend it. He can imagine Mika being
proud to be in Valkyrie, proud to perform with him, and he should. At least, he
should have, back when Valkyrie was still worth something. But to be proud...to
be with him, romantically? That will take more thought, and likely another deep
conversation with Mademoiselle.
Fine, this deserves some sort of compensation, though he’ll pretend later that
it never happened, and he would never admit that it was with Tenshouin. “Shall
I have a talk with Wataru for you? I’ll remind him of the physical limits of
humans. I assume he still has that embarrassing amount of stamina.”
“What do you know about his stamina? He was a virgin when we—oh, you just mean
in general. Well. Yes, he has a lot of it.” Eichi huffs, annoyed that he’s
begrudgingly considering the offer. Even if he doesn’t want to go there,
perhaps it will continue to…soften the edges of things. Turning over a new leaf
is difficult. “If you see him, you may say something about it, but it isn’t
entirely necssary.” He pauses, and then tiredly adds, “My own preferences
probably mean nothing to you, and for good reason, but it’s my opinion that if
he isn’t hiding whatever marks you leave on him, he must be enjoying it. He’s
bolder than Wataru and I, if you want a comparison.” Wataru sweating off layers
of makeup has now become legendary, and the bruises on his thighs are a
conversation piece…but they still don’t parade it around.
“Or more foolish,” Shu says softly, almost fondly, if someone who knew him well
were to hear the tone. It’s impossible to actually let his guard down around
Tenshouin, of course. The man is singlehandedly responsible for murdering him,
in every way that matters.
Still, if it’s for Wataru...
“I’ll make an effort to call Wataru,” he says with a sigh, and grabs for the
cup-and-string phone by the bed.
“Why are all of you like that?” Eichi groans, flopping over onto his stomach to
suffocate himself before he can start coughing again. “Don’t call him now, not
when I’m in here, it’s like a honing device, he’ll find me.”
I should. Just to serve you right.
In his mind, whenever he closes his eyes and Nito isn’t there, he sees
Tenshouin’s smiling face, thanking him graciously with a steel glint in his
eye. Shu tosses the cup violently to the side, feeling sick again. “Why don’t
you go to the hospital? You sound terrible. I should demand a partition to
avoid your germs. You don’t even wear a mask in public, it’s appalling.”
“If I wore a mask, it would be around as much as that damned doll of yours is,”
Eichi snaps back. “Unlike you, I’d like to have a life, and perhaps not have
people thinking I’m going to self-destruct at any moment.”
“And unlike you, I couldn’t care less what the unwashed masses think of me,”
Shu replies airily. “You’re a hazard to those around you, with that immune
system like Swiss cheese.”
“How am I a hazard to everyone else? I’m not contagious, everyone else is
contagious.” Eichi stifles another round of coughing into his pillow. “You are
probably contagious. Your stupidity better not be. You honestly expect me to
believe that you ‘don’t care what people think of you.’” Ah, yes, they always
end up like this again, which is fine and familiar.
“I don’t care what people think of me!” Shu spits, grabbing at his thin pillow.
“Ugh, would it kill them to invest in some proper Egyptian cotton with a thread
count higher than the average IQ at this school?”
“You care what your little pet thinks of you,” Eichi airily tosses over. “And
for once and only once, I will agree with you that the thread count here is
abysmal. I want to die.”
“Die, then.” Shu flops facedown, longing for his white noise machine...and
possibly the air conditioner, and Mika grabbing him around the waist to pull
him close. “How are students supposed to recover in these conditions?”
“Bring it up at the next student council meeting.”
“I’d rather eat from Rei’s coffin ham refrigerator than willingly step foot
into a student council meeting.”
“I belatedly realized that was in poor taste. Ah, well, my apologies. Egyptian
cotton isn’t what the real aristocracy opts for, anyway.”
“Perhaps the new money thinks differently,” Shu says with a sigh. This is an
old, familiar point of contention between them, at least. “My family respects
the classics.”
Oooh. Oooooooh. It’s so hard to bite his tongue and not throw out half a dozen
catty quips in return. Being nice is no fun, but this is for Wataru. “At least
treat your pet to satin. It’s the least you can do.”
“He’s privileged enough to share my bed instead of the cot in the spare room.
Honestly, he wouldn’t know what to do with satin. It’s hard enough getting him
used to sleeping off of the floor. He’d probably slip off, knowing his
foolishness.”
“…But that sounds charming. Itsuki, it’s typical to talk of one’s, ah,
significant others fondly instead of sounding annoyed, you know.”
“If I’d ever had the slightest desire in my entire existence to be typical, I’d
thank you for that comment. Unfortunately, I am not so base nor vulgar.” Shu
scowls around at the infirmary. “Would it kill them to put a bakery nearby? A
measly patisserie?”
“I’m starting to understand why another second year tried to punch you.”
“I’ve heard things about your penchant for scones! As usual, you have no room
to judge me!”
“The difference is I have no desire for a bakery in the infirmary, or anywhere
close to it. That sounds dreadful. The other difference is I don’t live off of
scones, and I think it would be cute if Wataru slid off of satin, so it seems,
yet again, that I am—“ ‘Superior’ is the last word of that, but a hacking cough
doesn’t quite let him go for the final blow.
“Dying, and not soon enough,” Shu finishes for him irritably, and grabs his
jacket, then Mademoiselle. “Thank you for making what should have been a
recuperative stay in the infirmary an intolerable one. It is a pleasure to know
that some things never change. Terrible things.”
“Superior, I was going to say superior,” Eichi irritably rasps, thumping a hand
in frustration against his bed. Get back here and fight me! is on the tip of
his tongue, but instead, he glowers after Shu, resentful of his soon-to-be
freedom. “I’ve changed,” he adds defensively. “You’re the one that refuses to
move on. When I—when that night happened, the least you could have done is
picked yourself back up again and fought me.”
Shu freezes, in the process of slinging his bag over his shoulder. He stares at
the awful bedspread for a moment--
“They can’t even sing together!”
“I only came to see fine...”
“Was it all a recording?”
“Valkyrie? What a joke!”
“They sound so bad!”
“Isn’t Valkyrie a unit that used to be successful? No one has heard of them in
a long time...”
“Get off the stage if you can’t sing or dance!”
“God, I’d kill myself if I was up there.”
“This sucks, I thought they were supposed to be good!”
“How embarrassing. Boo!”
“That night didn’t happen, Tenshouin,” he says, voice shaking. “Things happen
on accident. You--you ruined my life, on purpose, because you were so jealous.
And now you alternate between being beaten on stage and dying in the hospital,
and I couldn’t be happier.”
“I pulled the plug, but you were the reason there was a plug in the first
place,” Eichi immediately shoots back, flopping himself down again without
another glance in Shu’s direction. “Introduce yourselves as Valkyrie again soon
so we can crush you with a live orchestra instead of a lousy recording.”
“Haven’t you heard?” Shu asks, rolling up his cuffs with something closer to
determination than he’s felt in weeks--so at least he can give Tenshouin credit
for that. “We had a live last week, and dominated. fine would do well to
prepare.”
“You defeated Ra*bits,” Eichi replies with a roll of his eyes that Shu can’t
see, but can definitely hear. “Talk to me when you crush a real unit and don’t
make little boys cry.”
The first instinct Shu has is to curl around that flare of pain; he’d been the
best, everyone had recognized his talent, the world had swirled in front of
him, ripe fruit that he only had to pluck to savor. Tenshouin had ruined it
all, forced him to become this broken, incapable, ruined wreck, this shell of a
person. Every word drives the nails in deeper, until it’s agony in his mind and
he feels his gorge rise.
And below it, somewhere deep, something he hasn’t felt for months sparks to
life.
How had he forgotten that flame of competition, burning bright? That urge to
dominate, to be the one climbing to the top over the wretched corpses of his
enemies? To defeat not only the weak (Ra*bits are weak, it’s obvious, he’d done
nothing but school a few impudent children playing on an adult’s playground),
but the strongest as well, because his own skills were so surpassing?
“The next time fine wants to lose, challenge Valkyrie,” he says, shocked to
hear his own words. “We will accept.”
“Shu-kun! Are you sure? Your dancing still isn’t--”
“Then we had better go and practice, Mademoiselle, non? Vite, vite!”
For the first time in over a year, there’s a new melody threading through the
cacophony of his mind.
***** Chapter 5 *****
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
“Mika-chaaaan~! Don’t run away, wait up for me, okay?”
Narukami Arashi isn’t at all shy about grabbing Mika’s arm when the bell rings
for lunch, tugging him back from the crowds. “You’ve been avoiding me~,” he
sing-songs, planting Mika firmly in a desk chair. “I know you eat a bento, so
why are you running to the cafeteria so fast, hmm?” A few of their classmates
cast glances behind at them. Hopefully, they’ll gossip about this, so Mika can
ride some of his popularity and people will think he’s harmlessly cute, instead
of the weirdo with the arm covers that sorts through garbage and used to be
part of a popular unit.
Mika’s hesitation to explain is palpable, and he fidgets, throwing a wary
glance back to the crowds in question. It isn’t like he wants to go dive head-
first into them, but he has a mission. “W-well…” he hedges, shifting again. “If
I don’t go now, then I’ll miss my chance to get a few croissants for Oshi-
san…they never have any left when the third years get there, and he never wants
t’fight with the crowds, so…”
Arashi bites back a retort into a smile, then loops his arm through Mika’s
instead, tugging him towards the cafeteria. “Fine, then we’ll go there
together. You do better in crowds if you have someone with you, right? And I’m
tall enough to see over them.”
The sigh of relief that Mika breathes is enough to form a small hurricane, and
he clings tightly to Arashi’s arm. “Ahhh, you’re the best,Naru-chan. I promise
it won’t take long, they know me, y’know? I always try to come earlier, but…” I
lost track of time, thinking about Shu and how he’s seemed weird and mad at me
since the other day.
“And he’ll be cross with you if you don’t do it right, hmm?” Arashi had been
more than content enough to let Mika have his little crush before. It had
seemed harmless, even if Itsuki seems like kind of the worst person in the
world, and Mika had never seemed daunted by his rages and fits. Now, though,
he’s been downcast for almost a week, and Arashi isn’t stupid enough to have
missed the hickey on Mika’s neck that coincided.
“Eh?” Mika blinks up at him, then shakes his head firmly. “He doesn’t get mad
about this kinda thing. I mean, I’m sure he’d be sad if I didn’t get him a
croissant, but that’s just because he won’t eat anythin’ else during th’ day
and that’d be bad.” Another student pushes into him, and Mika clings harder to
Arashi. He hates crowds normally, but he’s been trying to get better at it, and
lately, he’s had a grip on it—but this past week, not so much. I really am a
failure, huh?
He’s not going to say anything. No, absolutely not. He’s not going to--
“You know, I’ve only got one brother.” Apparently, he is. “He doesn’t take up
too much space, and he knows to stay out of a girl’s room. So if you need
somewhere to stay that isn’t with Itsuki, you’re not stuck going back to
Kansai.”
“…Umm…I mean, thanks, Naru-chan, but I don’t need another place to stay?” Maybe
he’s just not following along. When did the conversation head in that
direction? “Oshi-san’s…he’s a lot sometimes, but he doesn’t mean to be, not
really. Ah, there’s only a couple left, hold on—“
He releases Arashi’s arm, darting away to the counter no matter how diving
through the crowd makes his heart leap up into his throat. He fumbles for his
change a couple of times, miscounting twice, but comes away successful, with a
little white bag clutched in his hand. “Okay, mission accomplished! Sorry for
makin’ you come in here, Naru-chan.”
“It’s fine, I like it here. But come back to the classroom so we can talk
privately, hmm?” It’s when they’re back in the classroom that he hops up on the
desk, sitting in front of Mika, chin cradled in his hands. “So? I’m a little
hurt you didn’t tell me when things changed, Mika-chan. I’d tell you if things
ever got heated up between me and Kunugi-sensei. We girls have to stick
together, right?”
Mika immediately feels his face flushing hot, and he shrugs awkwardly, glancing
aside. “I’m not a girl,” he mumbles in half-hearted protest, because it always
sounds so harmless coming out of Arashi’s mouth. “I…I didn’t tell ya because I
thought…I dunno. I don’t think much has changed, I guess.”
Considering Shu won’t talk about it, barely wants to touch him, barely seems to
want to look at him, Mika is pretty sure things have gotten worse, and he has
no idea how to fix it.
“Except that you used to have the cutest smile,” Arashi prods, and flicks a
piece of rice at Mika. “And now you’re being troublesome by not even telling me
things. Ahh, I don’t like it when my friends are in trouble, you know.” Is now
the time to tell Mika he’d had a little ‘talk’ with Itsuki, warning him about
what would happen if he kept messing with Mika’s feelings? Nah, that’s not
something he needs to know about. “If he’s bothering you and making you do
things you don’t want to, Big Sister will always help.”
Mika’s head tilts nearly entirely sideways. “…Oshi-san’s not makin’ me do
anythin’ I don’t wanna do. If anything, I’m the one making him do stuff,” he
laments, flopping slowly back into his chair. “I ruin everything, and now he
doesn’t even wanna look at me.”
Ooh. That’s juicy...and not at all what he’d expected. “Hmm. I thought you were
in a funk because he forced you and wasn’t gentle, Mika-chan.” Whoops. Perhaps
he shouldn’t have slammed the wall next to Itsuki’s head so hard, though it had
felt rather satisfying to see him pass out from fright in the hallway, his doll
clutched to his chest.
“W-what?!” Mika jerks upright again, his eyes wide. “No, Oshi-san would never
do anythin’ like that! I-if anything, he was too gentle, and he wouldn’t even
let me do anything for him…” Slowly, he slumps again, his expression becoming
more sulky by the minute. “I shouldn’t’ve asked. It was my fault in th’ first
place, I went and tried on all that pretty stuff and then he got upset about it
and even if he said it was for me I bet he was lyin’ to make me feel better
about Nazuna-nii…no one would ever make me somethin’ that pretty…”
This is a bit more than Arashi had expected, and to be honest, Arashi has a lot
less confidence in his ability to give advice to relationships that have
already started rather than beautiful, tragically unrequited love (his
specialty). “He made you pretty things to wear? Ahh, I’ve heard about how he is
with Nazuna-sempai. But he doesn’t live with Itsuki, right? So you’re still
ahead there?” Right? For all he knows all of Valkyrie has a weird sex cult
house. They certainly seem the most like the type, though he’d floated the idea
before and Ritsu had not been receptive to the concept.
Mika lets out a groan that sounds like a cat dying, and slowly slinks further
down into his chair. “I guess. But now he’s all weird with me and doesn’t wanna
look at me and I don’t know what I did. I jus’ thought I was makin’ him happy
but now I’m pretty sure it’s because I saw th’ dress before it was ready, or
messed it up, or made him feel bad about it somehow, I dunno…Naru-chan, I wanna
die…”
Arashi reaches over, patting Mika’s head. “There, there. Ah, your hair is so
soft, that’s nice. Right, well, we’ll come up with a plan of attack. The first
thing you should--”
“Kagehira! You’d better be in here--am I meant to be the only one in the
handicrafts club?” Itsuki Shu’s voice echoes through the hallways, a moment
before the door to Classroom 2B opens. His face is flushed, though his eyes go
wide at the sight of Arashi perched above Mika.
“Ah! Shu-kun, it’s the boy that bullied you earlier!”
Mika immediately feels himself start to sweat. That’s not cute, but he’s got a
mission still, and he stumbles out of his seat, fumbling with the hem of his
shirt in the process of grabbing the bag of croissants he bought for Shu. “S-s-
sorry, Oshi-san! I forgot, I got distracted, b-but I got your lunch, so please
eat it!!”
Arashi hops off the desk and to the floor, arms swinging. “Ah, well, I’ll leave
you to your hard-won croissants. He worked hard to get you those, you know.”
His eyes glint slightly as he looks at Itsuki, who, he’s pleased to see, backs
up a little. Good. “Be safe, Mika-chan! Call Big Sister if you need me!”
When the door shuts, Shu puts a hand to his chest, calming his racing heart. “A
croissant...would be lovely, Mika,” he manages, trying to recall the motivation
he’d felt earlier and not just hightail it back to the infirmary.
Unthinkingly, Mika pulls out one of the croissants to pass it over to Shu.
“Sorry,” he defeatedly says. “I’ve been messin’ up a lot lately, I know. But at
least I got your croissants.”
Shu takes a bite, and feels the unaccustomed prickling of guilt in his stomach.
“Talk to him, Shu-kun,” Mademoiselle urges. “Sorry, Mika-chan, he’s being
pouty. He’s not mad at you, you know.”
The croissant is buttery, flaky, and light--Mika had gotten one of the first
batch. “Mademoiselle is correct,” he says quietly, looking anywhere but at
Mika. “I fear I’ve been...misunderstood. I’ve been dreadfully angry with myself
for a few days.”
Mika flops back down into his chair, shaking his head. “You’re being awfully
nice, Oshi-san, but you don’t have t’say stuff like that. I know I really
freaked you out when I went and tried on those dresses, and…y-yeah, that’s it,
I guess.” The hickey on his neck has mostly faded now, but he lifts a hand to
rub at it distractedly. “I must’ve made it weird for you. I’m sorry.”
Shu moves swiftly, taking Mika’s hand and moving it to brush his fingertips
over the unsightly bruise on Mika’s neck. It’s nearly faded now, but the marred
flesh still serves as a reminder, makes his stomach churn. “I am usually very
careful,” he says, voice bitter at himself, the light brush of his fingertips
so gentle it’s hardly felt. “I...lost control. I should be better than this. It
was unforgivable.”
“…Eh?” Mika stares up at him, confusion clear on his face. “Oshi-san…what’re
you talkin’ about? I…um…y’know I like marks like that, right…?”
“When I tell you not to tell me unnecessary things, Kagehira, don’t you think
that means you should tell me necessary things?” Shu’s voice is shrill, and he
folds his arms in a huff, arranging Mademoiselle’s skirts. “I’ve always been
careful in playing with my dolls. Discovering that I am apparently capable of
making such errors...”
“He’s kinda scared to touch you, Mika-chan,” Mademoiselle confides, when Shu
can’t go on. She doesn’t talk to Mika much, even if it would be more
convenient. “Because you’re special to him, you know?”
“I thought it might gross you out.” Mika scoots back nervously, drawing a knee
up to his chest. “I thought…I thought I was doin’ something wrong, because when
I wanted to touch you, you wouldn’t let me. I mean, you don’t have to let me, I
know that, but I’d do stuff, whatever you wanted.” He swallows hard, looking up
through his bangs to try and catch Shu’s eyes. “Oshi-san, I know you won’t hurt
me.”
Why do you put up with me?
Shu has wondered some variation of it for a long time, but has never been able
to find a satisfactory answer. Mika is the only one that still sees something
worthy in him, as an idol, as a person, and it’s...overwhelming. This, however,
might not be overwhelming in the worst way.
Without thinking too much about it, he jerks forward, sealing his lips to
Mika’s, grabbing for his hand to squeeze it gently. In his other hand,
Mademoiselle tactfully turns away. “Perhaps...I should put myself in your care
in these matters, Mika. You seem to be more competent than I, in this.”
Mika blinks rapidly, his cheeks flushing even as he clutches tightly to Shu’s
hand. “I…I really don’t know nothin’, but I’m tryin’,” he says with a nervous
laugh. “I jus’ wanna make you happy, and for you to smile when you’re around
me, that’s all. I really thought you were upset with me, and that felt like I
was gonna die.”
“Don’t do things that end up so stressful for both of us,” Shu lectures softly,
resting his forehead against Mika’s. “I depend on your idiot’s tolerance of my
moods and whims. Without that, it’s just me and Mademoiselle.” Don’t leave me.
You’re the only one left.“What kind of disobedient doll would you be then?”
Mika bites his lip, nodding carefully and refusing to release Shu’s hand.
“Oshi-san,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna say something that might get you upset,
okay? But I gotta.” He sucks in a slow breath. “I’m not a doll. I’m not even
good at pretendin’ to be one. You can dress me up however you want and I’ll try
to be pretty like a doll, but I really suck at being an actual doll.”
“Yes, Mika, I’m well aware of your failings,” Shu says fondly, setting
Mademoiselle on the desk and tucking a strand of hair behind Mika’s ear. “I...”
He looks away, unable to meet the honesty in that gaze. “I will continue to
refer to you however I choose, of course.”
“Jus’ so long as you know,” Mika insists, grabbing at Shu’s hand again. “‘Cuz I
don’t wanna…I don’t wanna disappoint you. But I really wanna be able to touch
you when we’re doin’ stuff, Shu, and dolls don’t do that, and I think that’s
why you got weirded out last time, s-so I wanna—I just wanna make sure you
know. So then I can touch you.”
“Fine, fine!” How does Mika always manage to make him capitulate? It had been
just the same with the Live against Ra*bits--he’d looked up with those shining
mismatched eyes, urgent and so full of belief, and Shu is so weak to him,
somehow. “Do as you like, I suppose!”
It isn’t as if he hadn’t wanted to perform the Live. It isn’t as if he doesn’t
want Mika’s hands on him. It’s his own narcissism, his own insecurities that
prevent him from accepting the offers that lure him so. With anyone else, he’d
need to rely on Mademoiselle to make the difficult decisions. Why doesn’t she
ever talk as much when Mika is here, forcing him to acquiesce in his own voice?
Mika beams, bringing Shu’s hand to his lips to plant a kiss upon it before
stuffing the other croissant into it instantly. “First things first, finish
your lunch, Oshi-san. You gotta stay healthy so we can win everything together
again!”
“Of course.” It’s easier to say things like that when he has a croissant, which
he savors with his eyes half-closed. “Ah...your ambitions for the rest of the
evening may have to be postponed until long after dark, Mika. I hope you’re in
good condition. I...may have challenged fine to a Live in the near future.
Needless to say, we have a long and grueling practice ahead of us.”
“Good!” Mika’s eyes are shining, and he tries not to bounce up from his chair,
and fails. “I’ll practice as long as y’want, Oshi-san! Ahhh, I can’t wait to
beat them again, we’re gonna crush them. Oshi-saaan, we have to still work on
our new outfits!”
“Leave the outfits to me, fool! Have I ever given you reason to believe I
cannot make all of Valkyrie’s outfits at my own expense? You just focus on your
singing and dancing, I shall not be tolerant of mistakes!” Good lord, Mika
looking so fired up drags him forcibly into such an emotional state himself.
“I’ve already booked the practice room, so you’ll need to hand over the money
from working your after-school jobs. Bring your heeled boots to practice.”
“Ah, yeah, yeah, I got it! I’ve been practicing lots, I can’t wait to show
you!” Mika grabs hold of Shu’s arm again, clinging as he beams up at him. “I’ve
gotten better at high-heels. I’ve been practicin’ that, too, heh.”
The door to the classroom opens, then closes swiftly enough that Shu doesn’t
get a glimpse of the person behind it. “Hm, someone is afraid to infiltrate the
practice of the soon-to-be-feared-once-more Valkyrie, hah! We’ll make them all
respect us once more, Mika. Never bow, never concede, never acquiesce. Ah, I’m
feeling in better condition than in months.” He lifts Mademoiselle, then
brushes a kiss to Mika’s cheek.
Mika glances at the door, then sure that no one’s going to open it again, takes
a risk in grabbing Shu by the frills of his shirt, and hauls him down into a
proper kiss. “I’ll practice all day if you want, Oshi-san,” he breathes. “We’re
always gonna be the best.”
Shu’s hands flutter for a moment, in sudden (enthusiastic) distress. “Kagehira,
you fool! You miserable mistake!” He presses the back of his hand to his
forehead, aghast. “How am I supposed to compose our next song and sit through
my next few classes now, when all I want to do is spend time with you? You’ll
take full responsibility for this later, I swear it!”
“We could skip class,” Mika unhelpfully, but sweetly suggests. “And be bad, and
sit in our practice room and make out—“
“Shu-kun, you’re blushing a lot. Ehh, are you actually considering skipping
class?”
“Of course not! You see, Kagehira? You’ve put bad ideas in Mademoiselle’s
head!” And with a last hungry, needy kiss to Mika’s sweet mouth, Shu sweeps out
of the room, flushed red to the tips of his ears. “Be at practice promptly!
Don’t make me come find you, or you will not enjoy it!”
Chapter End Notes
     Note: I'm not trying to make a statement about Arashi's gender or
     anything and fully support anyone who wants to use she/her pronouns!!
     All I'll say is that for the purposes of this fic I'm using he/him
     pronouns, given that to me personally it just seems like Arashi is
     embracing the Japanese "onee character culture," so I'm using these
     pronouns, but again, it's not meant to be a statement of any kind!
***** Chapter 6 *****
To: Naru-chan
Subject: HHHHELP??
Hahahaaaaa sorry about earlier but now I need help!!! i thought?? i had ideas
but i don’t think sso. oshi-san really does like me and kissed me and
everything?? you ahve experience right? i just wanna be perfect ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄ ⌓
˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚
 
In retrospect, sending such a frantic text was probably not necessary, but the
longer Mika sits and thinks during class about what might happen after
practice, the more nervous he gets. His only hope is Arashi, which is why he
clings to his phone uncertainly even when he finishes his afternoon job of
sorting trash, peering down at it every few seconds.
Arashi is busy, obviously, which is why Mika hurries to pay off their practice
room before the time limit expires, feeling no small amount of satisfaction in
that. He lingers after that, going through his bag and staring down the pair of
heeled boots that he knows Shu wants him to wear, regarding them with a hefty
degree of wariness. Maybe Arashi has tips for these, too. Arashi’s a girl for
real. He just likes wearing dresses, that’s a lot different.
“You’re early.”
Shu’s voice is surprised, but pleased, and he shuts the door behind himself,
locking it to thwart any prying, spying eyes. Mademoiselle is also wearing her
practice clothes, a loose flowing gown with a flowing embroidered M on the
lower part of the skirt in colors that match Shu’s own practice clothes. This
part, he admits, he’s neglected to a horrific degree. Mademoiselle takes a seat
on her practice pouf, and Shu loads his music player into the sound system.
“The boots are perfect, ah, yes, I can see the steps already. Don’t think I’ll
go soft on you just because you’re enjoying a favored place in my affections,”
he warns, plucking familiarly at Mika’s clothes, tugging them into place.
Thwarted! He might have practiced a lot lately, but that doesn’t mean he’s
perfect, and it makes Mika immediately nervous.Dang it, Naru-chan. “I’d never
want you t’go soft on me, Oshi-san,” he admits all the same, letting Shu pick
and preen at him and his clothes all he wants. “I don’t wanna disappoint you. I
brought another croissant, just in case you get hungry, by the way.”
“Yes, yes, you’re always fussing over me,” Shu mutters, fussing over Mika to a
ridiculous extent, fixing his shirt, his cuffs, his hair. “Leave it by
Mademoiselle, I’ll eat it when we take a break. I confess, I’m much hungrier
than usual today.” Without quite meaning to, he touches Mika softly on the
chin, then the nose, then straightens up, switching on the music. “You remember
the warm-up routine, I assume? Or has it flown out of your brain completely?”
His own legs nearly tremble with nervous energy--when is the last time he’d
gone through a full Valkyrie-style practice?--as he takes the floor, head down,
shoulders loose, legs slightly parted. “Keep up.”
Keep up, said like it’s so easy. Mika has always felt like the odd one out of
Valkyrie, the one that never can keep up, because when it was the three of
them, he was the one that was always scolded and put to the side, while Nito
was perfect, and Shu was more than perfect.
Which is why it’s kind of weird when he can keep up, and actually ends up far
less out of breath by the end of Shu’s nitpicking and lecturing. The heels are
the worst, though. He doesn’t miss a step in them, but his feet hurt, and when
Shu finally gives him a moment’s reprieve to stuff his croissant down his
throat, Mika flops onto the ground, legs splayed and a bottle of water pressed
to his forehead as he checks his phone.
 
To: Mika-chan
 ☆⌒  ( ≧▽ ° )
HIYA sorry was C= C= C= C=┌(  ｀ー  ´)┘ That’s good, right???? NEE-CHAN IS SO
HAPPY FOR YOU and tell your bf that im <(_ _)> if he asks heehee. u need
condom??
 
Mika hopes his face isn’t turning as bright red as he fears.
 
To: Naru-chan
D:
i??? was just gonna ask about how to walk in girl high heels omg naru-chan
 
To: Mika-chan
WHOOPSIES nee-chan misunderstood lol. heel-toe!! Just like regular shoes but
save ur weight for the instep, spread ur toes. Ahhh im jealous, no one makes me
pretty things or wants me to wear heels!!!  ｡：ﾟ  (  ｡ﾉ  ω  ＼｡  )  ﾟ･｡
 
“Brass, I think.” Shu, for his part, is doing what he hopes is a game attempt
not to look winded. He takes advantage of the break to sketch out costume
ideas, absently wiping off croissant crumbs. “And leather. Ah, It’s been so
long since I worked with leather, but it can’t be helped.” He casts a sideways
look at Mika, flashing for a moment to a vision of Mika in a leather corset
with brass buckles, standing at his side on stage. Ah. Perhaps when Valkyrie is
back on top, and he can get away with letting his vision take center stage once
again. As an auteur, he can get away with anything. “If your singing has
improved as much as your stamina, perhaps I’ll...write you in a solo part. Not
that you’re good enough yet, but by the time Tenshouin schedules a Live...”
 
To: Naru-chan
uggghhhhhghhh i’m so bad at it why aren’t you here to help me??
 
………….also can u leave a condom in my locker just in case so i dont’ have to go
buy any i think i’d die  ｡ﾟ･（  >  ﹏  <  ）･ﾟ｡
 
“I can sing a solo part!” Mika hastens to reply, pausing to look up from his
phone and rub at his sore ankles. “I’ll try real hard, and with your help,
Oshi-san, I swear I’ll sound good.”
“Yes, you don’t need as much of a tune-up as I’d feared. Just a bit of oiling--
you haven’t been rusting all this time, have you? Ah, or perhaps it’s merely my
condition deteriorating to the point that even you can keep up with me. No, no,
you’ve been trying hard, haven’t you?” Shu gives his head a fond pat, then nods
at the phone. “Put it up, we have another hour left in here. We didn’t rent the
room for your texting. On your feet, let’s see how many scales are still stuck
in the cotton fluff of your head!”
 
To: Mika-chan
Did it! Expecting to see you v sparkly 2morrow!!!  ☆  *: .  ｡  . o( ≧▽≦ )o .  ｡
.:*  ☆
 
To: Naru-chan
you’re the beeeeeesssssstttt
 
“I’m up, I’m up!” Mika hurriedly moves to comply, no matter how his feet twinge
and his legs ache. Maybe he’s been practicing a lot, but practicing in
heels…yeah, he needs to do that more to get used to it. “Oshi-saaan, wearing
heels is hard, and now I’m definitely as tall as you and it’s weird. I could
kabedon you and everything.”
“Tch.” Shu turns away, lips pressed primly together. “You’re so close to my
height now. I’m planning on going for a matching look, though still suited for
our individual gifts.” He hesitates, then adds, looking anywhere but at Mika,
“And if you were to do such a thing, don’t slap the wall hard. It causes me a
fright.”
“…Naru-chan says she’s sorry, by the way,” Mika sheepishly offers at that,
trying not to look too pleased at the idea of a kabedon where he’s taller.
Maybe high heels are pretty cool after all. “I don’t think they meant t’scare
you so much—I think they were just bein’ protective…”
Shu folds his arms, then flips the music back on, channeling his humiliation
and terror of earlier into anticipation, into something that will help him
dance even slightly as well as he used to. “As if I require an apology from
such a person. Though it would be appreciated if further incidents
were...avoided. Perhaps conducted through paper correspondence.”
His tongue sticks on the next thing he wants to say, but fortunately,
Mademoiselle is there to help him out. “Shu-kun isn’t upset that you have a
friend who wants to protect you, Mika. He’s just kinda timid when it comes to
being confronted by a scary person, you know?”
“That’s enough of that, Mademoiselle. Come, Mika. Five, six, seven, eight!”
Complaining about too much work never ends well, and it’s not like he wants to
complain, anyway. They’ve gotta make the most of the practice room, and Mika
worked hardfor the money to pay for it. That’s why he ends up sweaty and
extremely tired, swaying a little on his booted feet, and wanting nothing more
than to kick them off and return to the world of being normal and shorter than
Shu by a good margin.
…Exceeeept…
“…Hey, Oshi-san,” Mika hums, sidling over as he watches the sweat trickle down
from Shu’s hairline, too, and the way he’s flushed, more winded than Mika is
for a change. All the more reason to keep feeding him and helping him get back
on his feet, then, but first things first…
He plants a hand directly against the wall next to Shu’s head, careful not to
slam it down, and with the advance warning, hopefully Shu’s not too spooked.
“You shoulda told me about how fun wearing heels was earlier.”
Shu’s heart rate usually quiets quickly after practice, but with Mika suddenly
looming in front of him, looking far taller, stronger, and more capable than
usual, it spikes again quickly. Even the loose practice clothes feel too warm,
and his shoulders press back against the wall.
It isn’t a bad feeling.
Hesitantly, one of Shu’s hands comes up to rest on Mika’s chest. He doesn’t
look like a doll now--he looks like a tall young man, talented and fit and more
than a match for him, none of which are things he’s used to thinking about
Kagehira Mika. But like this...
“You...look nice up there,” he manages, fingers curling in the cheap cotton of
Mika’s practice clothes, tugging him close. Mika, apparently, has ideas, and
Shu finds himself rather amenable to this first one.
Mika hopes his heart doesn’t thud its way out of his chest, but it’s anyone’s
guess at this point, especially when Shu tugs him in. It’s one thing to think
about this whole thing, another thing to actually do it, and for a moment, Mika
scrambles to remember what else he wanted to do when he’s, essentially, in
charge.
Until he figures it out, kissing sounds awfully nice.
Shu pulls him in, and Mika lurches forward to kiss him, thorough and deep.
Stepping forward to be closer still is the best decision he’s had in awhile,
especially when his thigh slips between Shu’s, and his hands come to plant on
either side of Shu’s head.
You can’t, I’m not in perfect condition, I’ll disappoint you, the last person
who cares about me is going to--
He can’t, he can’t run away now, not when Mika is so enthusiastic, when he’s
pressed up against him in a way that makes his pulse pound so much lower than
usual and actually wants him. Mika’s kiss tastes like Pocari Sweat, and Shu’s
hands come up, clutching at the back of Mika’s shirt, pulling him in close.
Slowly, hesitantly, his feet shift apart, letting Mika’s thigh between his
legs, a low whimper escaping through his nose.
Odd--he’d thought this would be more frightening. Instead, his breath stutters,
he clutches harder, and his hips rut up, rubbing needy circles against Mika’s
thigh like some kind of animal.
This is a lot different than last time, but at least it serves to disintegrate
every single worry that Mika had. Does he only want me if I’m dressed like a
girl? Am I not allowed to touch him ever? Is he gonna get mad if I’m the one
that starts stuff, does he not really want me at all?
Mika stifles a desperate little noise in the back of his throat, his fingers
curling against the wall as he presses forward eagerly, letting his thigh press
firmly between Shu’s legs when he arches up against him. The way he kisses is
probably not to Shu’s liking—sloppy, too much tongue, not the delicacy that Shu
always seems to impart upon him—but Mika can’t bring himself to care, not when
Shu is hard against him.
A shaky exhale escapes through his nose, and Mika draws back, licking his lips,
tasting where Shu just was before slinking down, dropping wordlessly to his
knees. He grabs for the waistband of Shu’s workout clothes, glancing up only
once through his bangs, wanting that last little bit of approval before he does
what he’s been thinking about for…ugh, so long now.
“Mon Dieu,” Shu breathes weakly, and clutches at the wall, glad that he’s not
the one in heels, not with how his knees want to buckle already. No, the wall
is absurdly inferior to setting a hand on Mika’s silky hair, petting as much as
he’s encouraging. With the other hand, he tugs down his shorts, letting them
fall to his ankles, exposing everything to Mika’s hungry gaze.
Is it because your eyes are mismatched? Is that why I can feel you look at me
and not want to run away, when anyone else looking at me is enough to make me
weak? Why is it you, that I’ve treated worse than anyone, that still wants me?
“Please,” he breathes, because none of his blood is in his brain anymore,
reminding him that for all his eccentricities, he’s far more human than he’d
like to admit. “M-Mika--”
The hand in his hair is just as much encouragement as the plea from Shu’s lips,
and Mika doesn’t hesitate. His fingers shake a little as they splay over Shu’s
hips, bracing himself as much as he holds Shu in place when he presses his lips
to the inside of one of those lean thighs, tasting pale skin and feeling the
pound of his pulse hard and fast even there.
Of course Shu’s cock is as beautiful as the rest of him, which is daunting—or
it would be, if Mika weren’t so eager. His last bit of hesitation is to curl
his fingers around the base of Shu’s cock, feeling that silky-soft skin and the
heat of it against his palm, and to lean in, daring his first taste with a lap
of his tongue.
It’s sweeter than he thought it would be, but still kind of watery and bitter,
and it goes straight to his own cock, making him stifle a whimper into the back
of his throat. Just that one taste makes Mika hungrier, and he wraps his lips
around the head, his breath ragged as he feels Shu drip onto his tongue.
Shu claps a hand over his mouth, stifling what he’s sure are horrifically
embarrassing noises--before he remembers that the paid practice rooms are
soundproof by design. His hand drops, and both of them thread through Mika’s
hair, seeking some kind of stability when it feels like Mika’s sucking his soul
out.
Well, if it feels like this, maybe his soul deserves to be sucked out.
His breath comes in hurried, eager pants, toes curling as he groans, every part
of him tingling and spasming already. Mika’s mouth is hot and wet and sinful,
narrowing his focus, making him forget everything but the slick drag of that
tongue, of those soft lips. “Mika, Mika, God, don’t stop, please, don’t stop, I
need--”
He’s never been so hard, leaking over Mika’s tongue, his heart thudding against
his ribcage with every aching beat.
He’s gotta be doing something right if Shu is making all of those noises, if
he’s clinging to his hair like that. It’s the encouragement Mika needs, and he
eagerly swallows more of Shu down, only stopping when he chokes, stifling a
cough and taking it more slowly because he needs to have Shu in his mouth.
He doesn’t stop until he can nuzzle against Shu’s belly, until Mika can feel
him deep down his throat, and he shivers down to his toes, only drawing back to
better taste Shu on his tongue again. Ahhh, he’s probably being too messy about
this, but the way Shu throbs against his tongue with every bob of his head
makes him drool, and he can’t help it.
Shu makes the critical mistake of looking down at Mika with his cock deep in
his throat, and lets out a whimper. He loses his focus instantly, voice spiking
high and thready, then dropping suddenly low into a heartwrenching groan,
rutting mindlessly against Mika’s face for a few heady, incredible seconds,
spilling messy and wet into his mouth without warning. He can’t even fumble for
words of an apology, because his knees are buckling, making him sag to the
floor with his arms locked around Mika’s neck, pulling him close as he trembles
and shivers.
His mind fumbles for a judgment--to tell him he’s behaved well, performed well,
but all that comes out of his mouth is, “Perfect, Mika, perfect, perfect, I c-
can’t--”
Mika coughs into his own hand, peripherally aware that he’s made a mess of
himself like this, but oh well. The taste of Shu is so heady on his tongue, way
stronger than just the stuff that dripped on his tongue at first, and it makes
him whimper, shaky and overstimulated as he butts his head against Shu’s
shoulder with a ragged exhale.
“W-was it that good?” he whispers hoarsely, rubbing up close and clinging to
Shu’s shirt with a happy, shivery little sigh. “Nnn…Shuuuu…you taste so goood,
I wanna do it again…”
“I...I don’t have the words,” Shu admits helplessly. Not in Japanese, at least,
though French is probably far more suitable for this kind of thing, though
damned if he can remember any French right now. He can barely remember his own
name, every part of his body singing, sweat cooling on his skin as his heart
rate returns to normal. “Ah, you can...we can keep...”
He buries his face in Mika’s hair. “If you have more ideas,” he manages
finally. “I’m...amenable.”
Mika doesn’t have a ton of ideas, truthfully, but Shu saying that makes him
want to have at least half a dozen more. “I’ll think of stuff,” he breathes,
snuggling close and pawing at Shu’s chest. “Shu…Shu, you’re the best, I’ll do
that whenever you want.”
There’s the impulse to give Mika a deep kiss, but Shu balks at that, knowing
where his mouth has so recently been. Instead, he presses his lips to that
soft, wavy hair. “We’re almost out of time in here. Ah, how lewd of us. I
wonder how many units have used these rooms for such purposes? They are
soundproof, and it’s an all-boys school, after all...”
“Hopefully no one we don’t like,” Mika hums, prying himself away with great
effort. He starts to climb to his feet, but his knees buckle, and he flops
right back down, stretching out on the floor. “Ahh…I’ll jus’ live here now, my
feet hurt so much…”
Shu bends, unlacing the boots and pulling them off of Mika’s feet. “You wore
them for longer than I expected, for your first time practicing in them. That
isn’t an invitation to slack off in other practices, you know, but...you did
well, today. Better than I, I fear.”
It’s hard to feel less than good about the practice when his blood is still
thrumming, and Shu hums a little to himself as he picks himself off the floor,
tugging up his shorts.
Mika wiggles his toes half-heartedly. “You’re always perfect, Oshi-san,” he
murmurs, deciding to lie on the floor for a little while longer and watch Shu
through his lashes. “I’m not gonna slack off, I promise, but you gotta eat
more, then you’ll be back in fightin’ shape again. I’ll keep bringing you
croissants.”
Shu pauses for a moment, then sighs. “No, no, that’s no good. One croissant per
day, that’s the ticket. I’ll start preparing nutritious meals for myself as
well. If I want Valkyrie to stand on top again, there’s no getting around the
fact that this paltry human form requires protein, hmm?”
“Shu-kun, you’ve got more color in your cheeks than you have for a while.”
“Mademoiselle! Don’t tell me you were watching!”
“Hehehehe, I’m always watching, Shu-kun! Mika-chan is very talented, isn’t he?
Yay, Mika-chan!”
“Mado-nee’s a bit of a pervert, ain’t she?” Mika laughs, slowly picking himself
up off the ground. Minus those heels, he’s back to being shorter again, which
is for the best, or else they’ll just get nothing done. “I’ll eat healthy with
you, Oshi-san. If you make lists for me, I’ll do the shoppin’, it won’t be a
big deal.”
“That is likely a good use of our time, with me cooking and you shopping,” Shu
muses, tapping a finger against his chin as he gathers their things. Finally,
he shoulders his bag, taking Mademoiselle in his other hand, and she turns to
face Mika.
“You should bend him over next time, Mika-chin. I bet Shu-kun would like it.”
“That’s quite enough out of you, troublesome little doll!”
“Shu-kun would love it! He thinks about it all the--”
For the first time he remembers, Shu grabs Mademoiselle by the face, his cheeks
burning red. “W-we should go, Mika! Carry my bags!”
“Got it~!” Armed with this fun new bit of knowledge and spurred on by the
height of his current successes, Mika cheerfully scoops up the bags in
questions, stuffing his boots into his own and toeing his loafers on before
trotting after Shu. He’s gonna have to tell Arashi later—and swing by his
locker on a day that he knows they don’t have extra practices planned.
 
To: Mika-chan
?????????????????????????????????????????????? status
report???????????????????? don’t make me drag it out of you again
 
To: Naru-chan
ohhhh my godddddd(  ♥  ω  ♥  ) ~♪
 
To: Mika-chan
 ┬┴┬┴┤  (  ･  _  ├┬┴┬┴  nee-chan REQUIRES details!!!!! do u need more
condoms???
 
To: Naru-chan
I??? might later??? i didn’t get around to grabbing the ones you left sorry??
apparently i’m GREAT at blowjobs though and i got to kabedon him and EVERYTHING
 
To: Naru-chan
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh (((o(*  ﾟ▽ﾟ  *)o)))
 
To: Mika-chan
SCANDALOUS!!!!!! AHHH MY LITTLE SISTER IS ALL GROWN UP (/  ▽＼  *)  ｡  o  ○   ♡
 
“Mika, put that thing on vibrate, your text tone is giving me a headache.”
“Sorry!” Mika squeaks, immediately hurrying to do as he’s told before Shu gets
annoyed.
 
To: Naru-chan
AND HE KEEPS CALLING ME MIKA IM GONNA DIE
 
To: Mika-chan
Mika-chan is in LOOOOOOVE!!!! (*˘  ︶  ˘*).  ｡  .:*  ♡  Go be a huge pervert for
me! NEE-CHAN SERIOUSLY NEEDS DETAILS AT SCHOOL TOMORROW. Go get some!!! take
advantage of your immoral living situation!!!  ٩  (  ♡  ε  ♡  )  ۶
Shu clears his throat slightly, then threads his fingers through Mika’s, paying
no heed to the passersby on the street. “The costumes will be finished within
the week, if I stick to my practice schedule,” he says, as if he isn’t holding
another boy’s hand in the middle of a big city street. Then again, he’s
carrying an antique doll in the other hand.
Mika’s face heats up immediately, and he shoves his phone into his pocket. He
spares a wary glance around, pretty sure all eyes are suddenly on them, but
it’s no more than usual, at least, and he relaxes somewhat, rocking back onto
his heels. “You’re so fast. I wish I could sew as fast as you, but I’d mess up
more than usual.”
“There’s no need for you to try and do something you’re incapable of,” Shu
says, sighing as they turn onto the street where his house sits. “If I want to
reap the reward of being the sole designer and director, it’s only natural that
I take all of the work upon myself. You just worry about keeping me entertained
while I work.”
An innocent bat of his eyelashes follows. “But if I’m too entertainin’, you’ll
never get anything done.” Mika blames the mental screensaver of what Shu looks
like when he orgasms for that kind of remark.
“F-fool! Give you an inch, and you take a mile!” Shu hesitates before his front
door, neither wanting to let go of Mika’s hand or shift Mademoiselle. “Mika,
take my key out of my pocket and let us in.”
Dutifully, Mika does as he’s told, feeling around for the key and humming as he
opens the door. “You’re the only one that calls me by that name and doesn’t
make me wanna die,” he cheerfully says. “I mean, Naru-chan, too, but girls are
different.”
“I’ll call you as I like,” Shu says with a huff, looking around the house and
pursing his lips. “I’m starting supper. Put water on for tea. And if...if
there’s music you want to listen to, you know where the player is.” He’s never
invited Mika to play his own music before while they’re at home, but, well.
Certain activities deserve special consideration, after all.
“What if I just wanna sit and keep you company?” Mika immediately moves to turn
the kettle on, and then plops down at the small kitchen table, swinging his
feet. “I like watchin’ you cook.”
Shu turns away from Mika, busying himself with vegetables and a filet of salmon
that someone has put in the refrigerator. One of his mother’s whims, no doubt;
sometimes she has someone come by to “look in” on him, though they rarely come
when he’s home. His hand closes around the handle of the chef’s knife, and for
a wild moment it feels like a microphone again, like he’s ready to walk onto
the stage again. “I want so much more for Valkyrie,” he says softly, staring at
the cutting board, seeing the audience once more. “I want to be worthy of that
acclaim and prestige again. I want to stand on that stage and be worthy of
being your leader again.”
“You already are, y’know.” Mika plants his chin into his hands, watching Shu’s
back. “I never thought y’weren’t. Stuff happens, Shu. We’re already awesome, we
just gotta get our confidence back, yeah? What happened…that was really bad and
scary, but we’re already recoverin’.”
“It was all my fault, you know.” An eggplant meets its demise under the sharp
glint of steel. “Oh, I’ll blame Tenshouin and hate him until I die, but he
never should have had that opportunity. I’ll never understand why you don’t
blame me.”
Mika’s lips purse, and he scuffs his foot against the floor slowly. “‘cuz we
all were in it together, and we all agreed to it, and so that’s that,” he says.
He pauses, then adds against his better judgement, “Also, I think Nazuna-nii is
way too mean to you about it, so I gotta even it out.”
The next cut into an onion goes slightly sideways. Usually his hands are
perfectly steady even in the worst situations, and Shu bites his lip.
“Mika-chan,” the high, sweet voice of Mademoiselle asks, “are you jealous of
Nito-chan? Is it because Shu-kun was in love with him?”
“I’m not jealous of him,” Mika sulkily retorts. “Not even a little bit. Okay, I
mean, I guess I was when I realized that dress was for him, but my dress is way
prettier, so I got over that pretty fast.” He frowns, glancing down at the
table. “I don’t think there’s much point in bein’ jealous over somethin’ that’s
over. Besides, I love you back, so I figure I’ve already got a leg up.”
Shu throws the chopped vegetables into the simmering pot with more force than
is truly necessary. The thought that he isn’t worthy of Mika isn’t one he
enjoys, but it’s a persistent one lately. Well, then he’ll just have to be
better. He’s been better before. With a reason like this, he can do it again.
“I’m going to make you delicious meat and potatoes!” he half-shrieks. “So enjoy
them and eat everything!”
Mika bolts upright, sharply nodding. “Uh—yeah! Of course, I’ll eat everythin’,
Oshi-san! I love your cooking!!” Why are they yelling?!
“We can eat together!! God, you fool, go pick out a movie!!!”
“Shu-kun, you’re being really loud and embarrassing.”
Shu lets out a shrill click of his tongue, then lifts Mademoiselle gently,
striding from the room with long, purposeful strides to place her on her
special chair in a glass case, locking it against marauders. “Mademoiselle has
business to attend to elsewhere,” he announces, and promptly straddles Mika’s
lap, cupping his face in his hands and kissing him suddenly. It’s not fair to
make you make every first move. You’ve been so brave, but you don’t have to
keep being brave for me to want you.
If he were a better person, he could say things like this, but if there’s one
thing Itsuki Shu knows, it’s his own limitations.
Well, no, if there’s one thing Itsuki Shu knows, it’s how to use tissue paper
to make hand-sewing chiffon easier, but at least he has a passing familiarity
with his own mental limitations.
Mika is thankful for being kissed, because that at least stifles the little
sound of surprise that escapes from his tongue. Reflex makes him surge up to
kiss back, and he automatically grabs at Shu’s back, pulling him down and
closer. Whatever brought this on, he should do it again—no, that was a lot of
underhanded sulkiness about Nito and stuff, so that couldn’t be it.
Shu makes a little distressed noise in his throat--but if his stamina and
talent are good for anything, it should be good enough for this. It isn’t as if
he hasn’t spent a significant amount of time touching the bodies of other boys,
of course, but this is rather different from taking measurements or fitting
costumes. That’s close enough to dressing a doll that he can do it easily,
maybe too easily, but this...no, he can be better. He can do this right, too.
Maybe no one else would think this has anything to do with work, but they don’t
know how hard he works at being passingly normal every day.
He fumbles with words for a moment, but there’s no Mademoiselle now, no one to
say the things that are too difficult for him to admit, so it’s just him,
clutching at Mika’s shirt, bowing his head, admitting in a hushed, low tone, “I
want you, Mika.”
“A-already?” Mika manages on a fluttery laugh, surprise coloring his tone more
than he’d like, but….there’s no way he could be this lucky in one day, right?
He squirms underneath Shu’s weight, petting a hand slowly down his back. “You
mean, like…like the way y’mentioned earlier?” he whispers. “‘cuz Naru-chan got
condoms for me, but I forgot ‘em—I m-mean, if you really want me to do it
anyway, I will, but…”
“I want you to.” If he doesn’t look at Mika when he says it, it’s easier. He
threads his fingers into Mika’s hair, is getting addicted to touching his hair,
and rocks forward on his lap. “You know I don’t like anything that smells like
medicine anyway. Don’t make me ask for it.” God, he’s in such a state that he
probably would ask for it, as humiliating as that sounds. One touch beneath the
skirts, one blowjob in a practice room, and he’s become as insatiable as a
regular teenage boy, how common.
Mika gulps, the sudden responsibility placed before him daunting…and incredibly
exhilarating. “Okay,” he murmurs, shifting underneath Shu’s weight, and giving
him the gentlest push imaginable. “We shouldn’t—not here. If we’re gonna do it,
it should be on your bed, right?”
Shu stands, the tips of his ears tinged as pink as his hair, and nods once.
“I...will take a shower,” he says, leaning over to turn the potatoes and meat
down to a simmer. “And meet you in the bedroom in eleven minutes. I expect you
to be, ah, ready.”
Mika nods rapidly, and tries not to fall out of his chair. “Yeah, I’ve got
this. I’ll—yeah.”
At least he’s conscientious enough to wait until Shu leaves the room to pull
out his phone and text in a panic.
 
To: Naru-chan
AHHHHHHHH WE’RE GONNA DO IT IN LIKE 10 MINS I DON’T WANNA MESS UP
GHHHGHGHGAJKDDKJASF
 
To: Mika-chan
OMG???? do you need to call me??? you got the condom rite????? MIKA-CHAN UR
ABOUT TO BECOME A WOMAN!!!!!!!!!  ヽ  (  ♡  ‿  ♡  )  ノ
 
To: Naru-chan
IF I CALL U HE’LL TOTALLY HEAR IT AND GET EMBARRASSED THAT’S BAD
 
To: Naru-chan
AM I STILL GONNA BE THE GIRL IF IM PUTTING IT IN????? IS THT HOW IT WORKS BC MY
NAME IS THAT WAY  （  >  ﹏  <  ）
 
To: Mika-chan
OMG HE’S GONNA LET YOU PUT IT IN??? that’s not even FAIR u kno!!!!
 
To: Mika-chan
all jealousy aside lucky you!!!! if u dont hae condom make sure u have lube!!!
otherwise he’ll bleed and he seems like the kind to scream so (  ⇀  ‸  ↼  ‶) b
careful!!
 
To: Naru-chan
youre scarin me so much im gonna die
 
To: Mika-chan
Nee-chan is sorry!!! just make him all slippery itll go rite in!! u kno where
it goes rite??
 
To: Mika-chan
~~~dont forget 2 reacharound if u want him 2 b happy, everyone is happy w/
a handie!!! (  ･  ω<)  ☆
 
To: Mika-chan
sry for spelling im trying to typefast!!!!
The shower creaks off, pipes squeaking to a halt as the hot water ceases, and
the sound of wet feet on the floor of the bathroom echoes in the silent room. A
few moments later, the soft strains of French opera start playing, some of
Shu’s favorite calming music threading through the downstairs. “Mika? Are
you...all right for me to come in?”
Mika bolts upright, hurriedly shucking his shirt and throwing himself headlong
into Shu’s room and right onto the bed. He does his best not to look as nervous
as he definitely feels, because Arashi is so not helpful, of course he knows
where it goes, but that’s not the point—
Fortunately, Shu is the kind of nighttime-prissy that keeps a bottle of lotion
next to the bed, and Mika makes a quick note of that before shoving his phone
underneath a pillow. “Y-yeah. You’re sure this is still okay?”
Shu holds himself up to his full height as he enters the room, shutting and
locking the door behind him. There’s a small towel wrapped around his waist,
but nothing else. The lingering thought that this would be easier with
Mademoiselle here clashes with his certainty that this kind of thing is better
without an audience. “Only if you want to,” he says quietly, eyes trailing over
the room he’s lived in since infancy, about to be the set of a brand new stage
of his life. “You don’t have to. I don’t know if that’s even--something you--if
you’re the kind of man that...” Words! About! Sex! Are! Difficult!
“Um. Shu. I definitelygave you a blowjob earlier, I think I’m the kinda guy
that likes doing this kinda stuff,” Mika says with a nervous giggle, shoving
himself upright onto the bed and reaching out for Shu. “I mean—I’ve never…done
this kinda thing before, so I’m really sorry if I’m bad at it, but I promise
I’ll try to make it feel good.”
Shu lets himself be tugged, kneeling on the bed, eyes intent, urgent as he
crawls over to Mika. They’ve been in this same bed together so many times, but
never quite like this, and it’s never felt anywhere close to this. “Even I am
not so much a perfectionist that I require flawless performance the first
time,” he says, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. “You don’t--mind, it
being this way? I know I’m older, I’m your leader...”
“…Wouldn’t it be weirder the other way?” Mika hedges, gnawing on his lower lip
as he runs his fingers down Shu’s damp back, along the line of his spine. His
fingers trail down to the towel, gently pulling on it. “You told me you wanted
it one way, so that’s good. You always tell me what t’do, anyway. I figure this
is no different, heh.”
Even if they’d had their moment in the practice room earlier, it’s different
from being entirely nude. Shu looks away when Mika takes the towel, then shifts
closer, enough to straddle Mika’s hips, looking down into those singular,
mismatched eyes. “Do you want me to direct the whole thing?” he asks, watching
droplets of water drip from his hair to Mika’s face, wiping them gently away
with the tips of his fingers. “Or...if you have your own ideas, I’ll be, ah, in
your care.”
“So long as you were serious about th’ way you wanted it earlier…” Mika exhales
a soft breath, and then rolls them, pinning Shu underneath his weight. He
swallows, his face heating up from his own boldness, and he glances aside as he
fumbles with tugging his own pants down. “I just wanna make sure you really
enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”
Shu sucks in a breath, turning his head to the side to muffle a squeak into the
pillow. The feeling of Mika above him, pressing him down, does more for him
than he’d like to admit, and his thighs fall apart as easy as a doll’s floppy
limbs when the strings are cut. He reaches up, slinging his arms low around
Mika’s waist, and tugs him mutely down. “It’s you and me,” he says quietly,
eyes trailing down, raking hungrily over Mika’s chest, his abs, the little
trail of hair dipping down to where it meets the rest of it, and the flushed
hardening length of his cock. “We’re Valkyrie. How bad could we possibly be?”
At that, Mika laughs, and buries his face briefly into Shu’s neck. “I mean,
fair enough,” he murmurs. It’s not like he doesn’t know Shu better than anyone
(at least, he’s pretty sure of that) or that he hasn’t spent so much time
around Shu that he can’t read him at the drop of a hat…
He huffs out a breath, kicking his pants aside entirely, and grabs for the
lotion before he gets way too excited about it. “I know you wanna do it…the way
you said,” he hesitantly begins, “b-but…is it okay if I…if we…stay like this
when I finger you?” Oh god, how did he manage to get that out of his mouth?
Mika’s face is hot, and his hands tremble. “I wanna see your face, just for a
little…”
“Sh-shameless!” Shu throws an arm over his eyes, chest heaving. For a moment,
it sounds very attractive to see Mika as nothing more than the defective doll
he’d thought him, telling him not to move on his own, threatening to replace
his eyes with glittering jewels. But then Mika wouldn’t be above him, saying
things that make his skin prickle with arousal, doing things that make him
spread his legs further in a way anyone else would laugh at.
“I...suppose,” he manages. God, but it’s for the best that Mika seems to have
educated himself, since Shu knows he’d fumble his way through these steps to an
abominable level. “Do it properly, at least.”
Mika has no choice but to nod, trying to will his hands to stop shaking when
he’s now nervous and aroused. “I’ll try,” he mumbles, lurching up to plant a
kiss to Shu’s neck. “I promise, it’ll feel good.”
Reading up on this stuff and doing it are two separate beasts, but if he
doesn’t do it right, Shu will probably never let him again. That threat
hovering over him makes him triple-check the amount of lotion he uses, but he’s
prettysure it’s enough, and he hopes it’s not cold when he pets the inside of
one of Shu’s thighs with his other hand, and carefully rubs one finger against
that tight hole.
Shu is tense enough that it makes Mika’s breath hiccup when he eases that
finger inside, and he bites his lip hard, twisting it inside to the second
knuckle. “I…is that…” Too much? Not good? Yell at me to stop if it’s horrible,
anything you want.
Shu kicks his feet involuntarily, letting out a startled whine at the first
intrusion into his body. The perfectionist part of him (a good 95% of his
mental state on any given day) warns him that he should have practiced more by
himself in the shower, rather than just enough to know that this is what he
wants.
He takes a deep breath, then reaches down to grab his own knees, trying to keep
himself from kicking Mika involuntarily. “This is--why I wanted to be the other
way,” he mutters, squirming on that finger. It’s not bad, just unusual,
different from when he’s done it himself, more exciting, more immediate. “Don’t
want to kick you.”
You kick me sooo much harder at night. Mika bites his tongue about that, and
instead scoots closer, bracing a hand against one of Shu’s thighs as he
carefully twists his hand and pulls it back, making it all the easier to get
that second finger in. “You can kick me,” he murmurs instead, his breath coming
a little faster. It’s worth getting kicked, it really is, especially if Shu
keeps making those noises. “I really don’t mind.”
Shu isn’t expecting the way his voice drops, into a helpless groan that sounds
so typically male it startles him. That’s an extremely secondary concern,
however, to the burning stretch of Mika’s fingers inside of him, making room,
opening him up like a--his mind says finger puppet, but that’s not really an
image he wants to associate with a feeling like this.
At least he’s flexible. That helps him pin his knees wide apart to the bed,
restraining himself mostly with force of will from kicking abominably. No
matter if Mika is a flesh and blood human and not a doll--Shu considers himself
the kind of person who doesn’t injure his lover any more than his precious
antiques, though this is the first time he’s been able to put that idea to the
test.
He heaves a breath, another low groan when those wriggling fingers brush over
something sweet and sparking-hot inside of him, making him bite his lip and
squirm down, forgetting about hiding his face so he can clutch at Mika’s
shoulders. “D-don’t stop, oh God, sacre bleu...”
Mika’s face lights up as he surges forward, eagerly fastening his mouth to
Shu’s neck to leave an affectionate, sucking kiss as his fingers curl in that
same direction again, pressing deep and stroking carefully. “Like that?” he
breathes, shoving a hand between his own legs to wrap his fingers around his
cock, squeezing to calm himself down, just a little, because otherwise, he’s
done for. Shu looks like he’s really enjoying himself, and ruining that with
his own pleasure seems like a huge mistake.
“It--it’s very unfair that you seem to be a prodigy in this, of all things!”
Unfair, but certainly lucky for Shu. Mika’s fingers drag pleasure out of his
body, making him writhe in a most inelegant way, so good that he forgets about
how he looks, forgets about everything but Mika touching him so intimately that
colors explode behind his eyelids. His breath hitches, and he gulps for air,
fingers digging into Mika’s shoulders.
“Sorry, not sorry,” Mika distractedly murmurs, biting his lip as he draws back
his hand, carefully, carefullyworking to wriggle a third finger inside, and
grabs for Shu’s hips, gently tugging him down onto them as he curls his fingers
in deep. Shu is so tight and trembly, and just feeling how he squeezes around
his fingers makes his vision blur. “You l-look so good, Shu—“
How do you know exactly how to do this?Shu wants to level some kind of
accusation about private practice, but the words won’t come. All that comes out
is more gasping, more helpless whimpers and moans, squeezing and spasming down
on Mika’s fingers. Three feels like...quite a bit. It makes his skin tighten,
sweat beading at the back of his hairline, his nipples tingling as his cock
swells. He makes the glorious mistake of looking down, and has to bite his lip
at the sight of Mika palming himself.
Inaccurately, he grabs at Mika’s cock, world narrowed to the burning,
stretching ache of fulness inside of him, demanding more. “N-now. Don’t--don’t
stop yourself.”
For anyone that says Shu isn’t good and merciful and generous, they’d be wrong.
Mika hurriedly nods, shakily withdrawing his hand and fumbling for the lotion
again, his hands not really working when Shu grabs at his cock like that. He’s
amazed his mind still is, honestly. “Turn over,” he rasps, swallowing hard.
“You still wanna do it like that, r-right?”
“Don’t care,” Shu mutters, yanking Mika down to kiss him hard, clinging to him
as if he’s the only thing that matters. “I, I just want you, honestly.” He
buries his face in Mika’s shoulder, the prickle of tears stinging his eyes from
how overwhelming all of it is already, how close to his fantasies, but better,
better at every turn than he’d dared to imagine, warm and strong and alive and
for some stupid reason, wanting him back.
If it means he gets to keep kissing Shu and having Shu cling to him like that,
there’s no way Mika can make Shu turn over, not now. He grabs Shu’s face,
kissing him again, his breath catching up in his chest when his cock rubs
eagerly against the inside of Shu’s thigh.
Just touching himself long enough to put more lotion on his cock is torture,
and it’s why Mika can’t wait anymore. He bites and sucks at the side of Shu’s
neck, not really thinking about whether or not he shouldn’t leave marks when
his cock rubs against that hole, and Mika guides himself inside, his voice
breaking on a ragged, eager groan at that first, tight push, the slick heat
making it feel like he’s melting at the edges as he paws and clings to Shu’s
sides. “T-tell me—if you need me to stop—“ Please don’t, I don’t think I really
can.
A string of French curses leaves Shu’s mouth, an incoherent stream of vulgarity
he probably couldn’t translate to Japanese if he tried. The feeling of Mika
kneeling between his legs, driving up into him hard and hot and impossibly
thick, is enough to steal any senses he has, to make him alternate between
hiccupping stillness and frantic clinging.
His body can’t quite decide what signals to send to his brain. They ricochet
wildly between Too much, get it out, not supposed to be there!!and more more
more more more more--
He gulps for breath, bearing down a little, easing into the second sensation
while his eyes flutter. It’s so much, but it’s so much of something he wants,
and he isn’t gentle when he lurches up, biting Mika’s lip with his next kiss.
“J-just like this, don’t stop, just--don’t stop, mon Dieu--Mika--”
Mika just nods, as if he gets what Shu is asking for, and he does, when Shu is
grabbing at him like that, biting him and clinging and squeezing around his
cock like he can’t stoppulling him in. He stifles a whimper into to Shu’s neck
as he rocks forward, sinking in deeper still, and his fingers squeeze and pull
at Shu’s hips, helping himself to thrust in as deep as he can.
“You feel so good,” Mika whispers, biting his own lip and tasting blood when he
plants a hand next to Shu’s head, bracing to get a better rhythm going. He’s
gonna die like this, he’s sure of it.
“Does it?”
Shu grabs at Mika’s chest, clutches at his face, eyes searching. “It’s--it’s
good?” he asks uncertainly. “You like me, like this?” It’s almost pleading,
almost desperate, as he wraps his legs around Mika’s waist, unwilling to let go
even for a second.
“You’re perfect,” Mika mutters, scooting his knees up closer and groaning into
Shu’s neck when his face drops back down into the curve of his shoulder. “’s
not fair, how are you—how are you so good? Shuuu…” Distractedly, he paws
between them, grabbing for Shu’s cock. “I wanna come inside you,” he breathes
against Shu’s ear. “I…is that okay? Or should I—“
The words are the most powerful thing, but the grab at his cock is the final
straw, grabbing him over the edge and sending him into oblivion. Shu hears
himself let out a scream, probably in Mika’s ear, when his whole body
convulses, squeezing and spasming down around the thick cock inside him. His
nails dig in deep, scoring over Mika’s shoulders, legs trembling and tight
around Mika’s waist, not letting him go even if he’d wanted to pull out.
If there was any option before, there certainly isn’t now—and it has nothing to
do with how tightly Shu holds onto him, and everything to do with how his mind
surrenders helplessly to the way Shu feels when he comes, tight and trembly and
helplessly overwhelmed. Mika stuffs his face into his Shu’s neck, stifling the
noises he’s making when he grinds in hard, helpless to do anything but have Shu
until he’s lost, buried inside as deeply as he can be when he comes, gasping
and panting into Shu’s shoulder.
This is too much.
Shu buries his face in Mika’s shoulder when the tears hit, clinging to his back
as he tries to stifle the sobs wracking their way out of his body. “N-not mad,”
he gasps, not wanting Mika to misunderstand. “N-not hurt, just--”
“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine—“ Mika’s mind is still delightfully fuzzy, but
that doesn’t mean he can’t pet and smooth Shu’s sweaty hair, his face nuzzling
into the side of his neck. “I get it,” he mumbles, his own voice hiccuping a
little. “I get it, ’s fine.” He’s pretty sure he’s not equipped to deal with
this kinda thing, but who else would be better at it? Ahh, he’s gotta keep
leveling up, at this rate.
Shu is pretty sure that if it were anyone else, he’d be inconsolable for the
better part of an hour. With Mika reassuring him, petting him and murmuring
gently in his ear, he feels the tears stop in just a few minutes, leaving him
pleasantly exhausted and deliciously boneless, limbs dropping down to the bed.
“I don’t know why you put up with me,” he whispers, tracing his fingers over
Mika’s palm, then his wrist. “I’m...grateful. That you’re here. With me, like
this.”
“’s not puttin’ up with someone if you love ‘em,” Mika contently sighs,
flopping himself down on top of Shu unrepentantly. If Shu wants him to move,
he’ll tell him, but right now, he’s staying put, even if everything sticky is
cooling and sticking them together. “Shuuuu…you’re the best.Can we do that all
the time?”
“Don’t ask obvious questions,” Shu murmurs, bringing a hand up to stroke Mika’s
sweaty hair. “Mm, I’ve read that frequent sexual intercourse improves stamina
and decreases anxiety. We could likely both use a bit more of that, hmm?”
“That sounds good,” Mika breathes, nosing against Shu’s neck. “We’ve definitely
gotta do it all the time. And before Lives, ‘specially.”
“Oh, three or four times before a Live, I expect.”
“…Is that blowjobs or stuff like this, ‘cuz, uh, Shu, you still gotta be able
t’move.”
“How dare you question my stamina? I’ll do it as often as I like, and be all
the more radiant for it. Ah, don’t squirm like that, I’ll die!”
Mika decides not to remark on how he’s barely moving at all and Shu is still
shrieking like he’s going to die. “Whatever y’want, Oshi-san,” he hums. “You’re
the expert!”
For the first time, Shu understands why Tenshouin looks as if he were hit by a
train after putting up with Wataru’s exuberance. Mika is no Wataru, and Shu
still feels as if he’s accomplished a great feat of strength by making it
through this alive. “When you’re feeling up to it,” he says, stroking a hand
down Mika’s spine, “we should bathe. Shit, the meat! How long has it--”
He checks the clock, and his cheeks color. “Ah. I thought that lasted longer.”
“We were pretty quick about it,” Mika admits without any ounce of shame.
Slowly, carefully, he peels himself off of Shu, grimacing at the stickiness and
how weird it feels to finally pull out, bleck. “Do you need help gettin’ to the
shower? I’ll strip the bed and get laundry started, if you want…”
“How dare you? I don’t need any help!” Shu’s legs wobble from the unfamiliar
movements, but he manages to stand, bracing himself on the bed. “Ah, I’ve never
been so pleased that the rest of my family wants nothing to do with the
ancestral home. More for us, eh? Come bathe with me, you can do the laundry
afterwards while I’m cooking.”
“Coming, coming,” Mika hums, slowly rolling his way out of bed, and trying not
to look too pleased with himself at how wobbly Shu looks. He needs to get
better at hiding that kind of face, or else Shu’s gonna start getting really
aggravated him (but it’s not his fault that Shu looks this cute!).
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