Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The window to the left of them let in the most pathetic view; the light was obscured by a sea of clouds, the atmosphere moist and damp, and the chipped brick wall of the building next door would block the view if it were a nice day anyway. While it wasn’t the worst, it was certainly a fitting sight for a bunch of has-beens. Consumed by the mundanity, Yashiro and Chris sat at the table by the Kitchen. Chris scrolled his phone aimlessly, tapping away at different social media while Yashiro sleepily lifted a spoonful of soggy cereal to his mouth.

The rag-tag 'kinda' family found itself complete earlier than normal this morning as Shermie wandered into the room from upstairs, spotting her housemates who were for once awake before her.

“Hey boys.”

Yashiro’s head lifted slightly and he waved a limp hand. “Yo Sherm.” he mumbled, mid mouthful.

It took a little while for Chris to respond as his mind was elsewhere. It took hearing Shermie’s footsteps on the tiles of the floor for him to say “Hey.” somewhat half-heartedly, still only paying attention to his phone.  

She skipped over a little and span herself around the table, nosily trying to get a look at whatever Chris was doing on his phone.

“What’re you doing? Talking to your giiiiirlfrieeeeend ?” she taunted Chris lightheartedly, placing her hands on his shoulders and poking her head forward to get an even closer look at his phone.

The boy defensively swung his phone left and right, trying to make sure she couldn’t see as she tried to sneak a peek. “Ugh, it’s not even like that, Sherm! We’re just friends!”

Shermie got off and giggled a little while Yashiro let out a little amused huff. The embarrassed Chris blushed deeply and buried himself deeper in his phone, curled up on his seat like a little pillbug.

Her perky energy was seemingly drained however as she caught the kitchen counter out of the corner of her eye, to which a mess of mail was spread across unevenly. She walked on over and then one by one, the tops came off as she tore through. She had quite a knack for the rhythm.

“Ugh. Bills, bills, junk mail. Can’t I get a letter from a friend for on-”

Among the layers of disinteresting trash, an all too familiar logo peeked out from one of the letters, it seemed it was trying to stand out from the rest on purpose. It couldn’t be…

“...KOF?”

Like a moth to a flame, the boys darted up from their seats.

“What do you mean, KOF? Wouldn’t we be banned?” Chris pointed out.

She was silent as she scanned the letter top to bottom, taking it all in.

“They invited us to… the official 20th anniversary party!?”

“Bullshit! They don’t even know we’re alive again!” Exclaimed Yashiro.

The fine print was eyeballed up and down by the trio as they all crowded around the counter now. It all seemed official enough to Shermie, who was the only one actually smart enough to judge it.

“Well it does look legit… but why the hell would they invite us after everything that happened?”

Chris and Yashiro were both equally puzzled, but it was unspokenly agreed that the letter was legit- not because they both thought it looked real or anything, but they both were sorely missing KOF.

After momentarily pondering. Chris humored the idea. “What’d be the point in going anyway? Everyone there hates our guts, I bet they’d try to pick a fight if we showed up.”

The boys’ posture fell limp again and they sat back down at the table, the letter feeling like a distant dream dropped down to mock them. Another spoonful made its way towards Yashiro’s mouth. “Yeah… That dick Kusanagi wouldn’t even let us show our faces, let alone through the door.”

Sighing, Shermie pouted and tossed the letter back onto the counter with all the other trash. “I don’t really see much point in it myself. If only we could get a letter about something good , for once.”

The door swung open as she pawed around the inside of the fridge to get some milk, and, like Yashiro, fetched whatever cereal they had on the counter. She settled down at the table and moped looking down at her first meal of the day. It was some sugary garbage, but not even one of the good brands.

“We should be eating actual breakfast, not this processed crap.”

Turning his phone off and putting it into his pocket, Chris got up from his seat and walked around the table, loitering in the kitchen by the front of the counter. “Our last album totally flopped. Not much we can do if we’re not raking in streaming revenue.”

Trying to defend their band, Yashiro interjected. “Still, we got like, what, 13 thousand on it? Thats more than like, 99% of artists on streaming, you know.”

Chris chuckled a little. “You call that successful? Yagami’s band dropped a single yesterday, and it already has 400K. We’re gonna have to get other jobs, or something. Basement shows aren’t cutting it.”

A slideshow of herself at a checkout seemed to play in her head. Shermie shuddered. “I do NOT want to work retail again. That bastard, Iori. Beating the shit out of us and then stealing all our fans…”

The silence that followed the moment prompted Chris to leave, but as Chris was about to go upstairs to his room, Yashiro finished his mouthful and broke the air with a proposition.

“You know… What if we got that redhead on one of our songs?”

Shermie silently stopped eating, and Chris turned back slowly.

As if on cue, they both let out an obnoxious “HUH?!” at the same time. Yashiro couldn’t help but feel embarrassed at their reactions.

“C-come on! Just listen, guys, seriously!”

Facepalming, Shermie put a hand on Yashiro’s shoulder across the table whilst Chris snickered, trying to hide his laughter.

“Lets be real, Yashi. Yagami is the last person who’d ever consider being buddy-buddy with us. I thought you knew that best of us all.”

Yashiro frowned at Shermie a little.

“I know, I know. I hate that shithead more than both of you combined , but you can’t deny that if we CAN get him to collab with us, that’ll be HUGE for CYS! Listen, I’ll handle it. We just need to go to that KOF thing and we’ll be set. Promise!”

Chris walked up to the table behind Yashiro and rested against his chair, looking to Shermie for her response.

A little grin formed on Shermies face, to which Yashiro’s face lit up excitedly.

“Well, I suppose we can go. I’ve been needing an excuse to get out of the house in the first place. Free food would be a nice bonus, too.”

Yashiro pushed up from his seat, with a determined look on his face.

“Shermie, I promise I will make it happen. Seriously!”

His declaration made Shermie chuckle lightly and Chris grin.

“Sure, Yashi, Sure. …You coming, Chris?”

Chris stretched his arms and yawned, seemingly still waking up.

“I mean, I’m not crazy about the idea of a ‘CYSI”... But if you guys are going, I’ll go. Might as well, right?”

Yashiro pumped his fist.

“Awesome! I promise I’ll make it work, really! I’ll even get Tastuuru* back and everything!”

Shermie got out of her chair and smiled at Yashiro.

“Yeah, yeah. We know. There’s no pressure on you to succeed, though. We all know Iori’s a tough customer.”

This all felt great- even if he wasn’t going to get Iori to join CYS, Yashiro thought that Shermie and Chris sorely needed an escape from the house, even more than him. All that was left was to wait for the day.

//

Almost 2 weeks had passed, and it was time to head out. Yashiro had put on his finest (and only) suit, while Shermie chose a deep scarlet colored dress to match with her hair.

A commotion was heard on the other side of Chris’s room. “You done in there, Chris?” Shermie knocked on the door politely as Yashiro stood by the front door at the very end of the hallway, awaiting their departure.

“Coming!” shouted Chris, muffled as he was clearly still putting something on.

After a minute or so, Chris came out of his room to join the others in a little suit of his own.

“Cute.” Shermie remarked.

“Looking handsome, Chris!” added Yashiro.

Chris blushed a little, but smiled as their compliments clearly had an effect on him.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever .” Chris would coyly mumble, looking away as he tried to brush it off.

Shermie and Yashiro flashed a grin at him, and Shermie started to walk towards the door.

“Here, let me fix your hair before you go”

Shermie licked her thumb and used it to mold Yashiro’s hair to look a little less wild.

“C’mon, Sherm, you don’t have to-”

“You’ll thank me later, Yashi.”

She finished fixing his hair, to which Yashiro un-fixed immediately anyway.

Shermie sighed, while Chris laughed.

“Well, we seem about ready. Let's go then, boys!”

The commute there was largely silent, as Chris was in the back on his phone and Shermie had put the radio on as soon as they hit the road, which was typical of her to do. She was the most trustworthy one, and so was decided to be the designated driver in case Yashiro were to drink at the party.

About 15 minutes into the drive however, their silent streak was broken when a song by Konoe Tamina - Iori’s band came on the radio.

Shermie groaned, while Chris laughed. Yashiro huffed a little.

“What timing, huh?” Chris jested.

“His skill is so wasted on those guys.” Yashiro commented.

Shermie scoffed a little.

“They certainly have a ‘ skill ’ to make my ears bleed.”

The rest of the drive was silent, until they landed at the venue where the party was at.

//

They shot up to the very top floor after showing proof of ID at the entrance, and were all surprised to see the inside wasn’t too different to your typical nightclub. pink and blue lights, plenty of seats around & a bar on the opposite end of the elevator. It seemed to be operated by one of the competitors, even.

“That blonde chick… King, right?” Said Shermie as she pointed towards the tomboyish bartender.

Sure enough, it seemed everyone notable was there, but the ‘notable’ names only filled the club to about a third of its full capacity, meaning there was still plenty of space.

As the trio started to try and find a place to sit, they expected to get some side-eyes. Surprisingly, everyone seemed to be either unbothered or didn’t notice them. But not everyone was just twiddling their thumbs going about their own business.

“Yo! You guys made it!”

A voice called out from the left of the group, to which they turned. It was…

“Kusanagi?!” The three practically chimed in tune.

“Yeah, what’s up! I’m super glad to have you guys here!”

Kyo was acting surprisingly friendly considering everything that had happened between them. Shermie tried to jog his memory.

“You… You remember everything with Orochi, right? And Goenitz?”

Kyo laughed it off.

“Yeah, but that’s in the past! You guys are chill now, right?”

You think coming back to life made us “Chill”?… Thought Chris.

Shermie looked to Yashiro for answers, who looked equally as puzzled. Not turning down hospitality though, he responded politely.

“Oh, yeah, of course! Thank you, really!”

Kyo laughed to which Yashiro awkwardly followed, along with Shermie afterwards. Chris was not feeling it. Kyo’s posture fell, indicating he was about to leave before extending his hospitality one last time.

“Well if you ever need anything here, just talk to me. Later guys!”

Yashiro took a little to respond. “...Uh, Later!”

The group looked at each other for a moment before scouting around for a place to hang. Chris was the first to pop the question.

“What the hell is his deal? Why didn’t he kick the shit out of us?”

Yashiro shrugged.

“One less thorn in our side is always a plus, though.” Shermie says, steering the group towards an empty seating area.

“True that.” Said Yashiro as he fell into his seat with his arms resting high up on the back of it.

The other two would also fall in their seats in the same way to the left and right of Yashiro.

The music selected was your standard pop selection, but CYS found themselves enjoying it in the same way you’d enjoy a bite of some greasy trash burger on an empty stomach.

Shit, that’s right.

The hypnotic colors of the club and the pulsating bass from the music drew Yashiro into a trance briefly, to which he threw himself out of after shaking his head and snapping his fingers once.

“So, should I get us some drinks going or what?” He cocked his head over to Shermie after snapping himself back to reality.

“Sure, yeah. Just fetch me some kind of cocktail. A light one.” Shermie examined her nails closely on each hand and fiddled with them as she spoke. “I’ll drive us home, so I won’t spoil myself tonight.”

He pushed himself back up out of the seat and nodded, cracking his fingers.

“What about you, Chris?” He would add just as he was to leave for the bar.

The boy had a playful spring to him, as he eyed Yashiro with a stupid looking smile. “Can I have one too?”

Yashiro laughed at the cheeky grin Chris had on his face. “Ha! No way. Try orange juice .”

The group spent an hour or so hopping from table to table, slowly easing their way into interactions as Yashiro would indulge in drinks throughout the night. Bog standard party stuff, though having to be straight edge for a night did irritate Shermie a little. She loved a good drinking night.

“I’m gonna get myself another, gimme a sec.” Yashiro fell a little out of his seat, hands grasping wherever there was surface to support himself. He’d clearly had one too many, but Shermie was the last person who’d tell him off for it.

“Go nuts.” She clearly had her mind elsewhere, as Benimaru Nikaido tried his hardest (and lamest) to try and impress her, leaning up to the chair, brushing his hands through his incredibly geometric hair.

As if he were pretending to be drunken, Yashiro ceased his stumbling and stood up straight, eyes wide as he managed to spot a familiar face hidden in the corner by the bar.

There he was. Standing by himself, as Yashiro thought he would. Behind a table lined with drinks, sipping on some kind of liquor, totally away from everyone else.

“That’s right…” He’d accidentally said aloud under his breath. He was here to see Yagami in the first place. At least the alcohol was making him feel less nervous.

While it’s true Iori didn’t seem threatening, he definitely wasn’t trying to communicate any sense of desire to converse. Still, Yashiro carefully began to float his way over to Iori.

There were no obstacles to get in his way, which made the path there seem even more intimidating. Like he was being invited to screw up. He shuffled over awkwardly and as incognito as he could manage, quickly finding himself sweating while he uncomfortably leaned against the wall next to Iori. Maybe he was just a little nervous, but he was too tipsy to realise.

He attempted to take sips of his drink nonchalantly, looking left and right to see if Yagami had noticed him.

Iori purposely ignored him, sipping an expensive brand of vodka right out of the bottle and clearly struggling with it, swallowing with great difficulty after even the tiniest sip and gasping a little after each time. What a weirdo , thought Yashiro. But what came out was-

“-You want something less hard? Some kinda whiskey drink?”

Iori glared at Yashiro as he turned around slowly. The grip on the bottle seemed to tighten, as if he were trying to break it. It’d loosen though as he turned back to face where he was looking, and then took another sip, obviously forcing himself to produce less of a reaction.

“I’m fine.” He breathed through his gasp for air.

The music consumed the atmosphere once more as the two stood silent. Iori started to look to the left instead of the right. Yashiro took the time to fetch a bottle to refill his glass from the table that they stood by instead of going to the bar.

Iori finished his own bottle and quickly got a second one from the table, still paying no mind to Yashiro.

Even in the state he was in, Yashiro could tell that everything Iori did seemed to be in an effort to push people away from him. Not surprising for a psychopath, but walking away would’ve felt less antisocial. At least that would’ve acknowledged that Yashiro was still standing right next to him.

How am I supposed to talk to this asshole?

Yashiro pressed his lips to his own glass and pondered on how to even start the interaction, let alone how he could segue it into the proposition. While his hand lifted the drink to his mouth, Iori turned back to Yashiro after seemingly pretending he wasn’t there for a good 15 seconds.

“Why are you trying to talk to me? I hate you.” Iori spoke his crude claims completely seriously with a face so dead a still image would be akin to a corpse. “And you hate me too. Don’t play dumb.”

Yashiro let only a little bit of liquor slip into his mouth to capitalize on this opportunity. Sure, Iori was being an asshole, as he did, but the chance he wanted presented itself right before him.

He swallowed the small sip haphazardly and shot his best at Iori, hoping to get through to the brick wall he felt like he was conversing with.

“Look, I know we don’t get along, but like, I’m willing to look past that if you help me out with something.”

What little care Iori seemed to have faded away as he downed another sip, gasping for air weakly yet again. “A trade? I’m not interested in what someone like you would have to offer.”

He started to walk away, presumably to find a new corner to huddle up in, to which Yashiro quickly chased after him, halting Iori by forcing himself to act as a roadblock.

“Wait! I get it, but it’s not like that! I was just wondering if you wanted to collaborate with our band!” His hands waved wildly and desperately, making a fool of himself just to get Iori to stay in one place. “You know the band I’m in, right? CYS?”

Sparing Yashiro the humiliation of laughing at him in that grating way of his, Iori just scoffed. Yashiro visibly slumped a little, Iori’s gesture signifying a lack of interest.

“No way. I’d never make music with the likes of you. Especially if you won’t even rake in streams.”

The words made Yashiro seethe a little. They didn’t cut too deeply, but a very thin layer of skin still felt as if it were peeled from his face at his failure. It wasn’t unexpected though. He’d prepared for this response and easily accepted it with a little salt, gripping his glass tightly before downing the rest of it in one fell swoop. The liquid stung his throat, waking him up a little. Of course Iori was gonna say no, that’s what Shermie and Chris said would happen. He tried to scan the room for the two to no avail. Hopefully they’re having fun wherever they are in the party, at least.

Rudely cutting through Yashiro’s somber silence, Iori butted in after prodding his bottle down on the table.

“Hey, give me that glass.”

Yashiro was a little surprised at the sudden request, but he obliged and passed it over. He didn’t care about Iori anymore- it was all a pipe dream.

“Sure, whatever. Here.”

Yagami poured himself his own drink from the same bottle Yashiro poured into his former glass, downing it all at once. It looked quite impressive until he retched whilst covering his mouth afterwards, bordering on just puking it all back out.

“...This tastes like shit.”

Yashiro just scoffed smugly at Iori after he’d almost puked.

“Whatever man, you asked for it.”

A look occurred between the two of them for a moment. Yashiro felt like Iori was always trying to get something out of him.

“Can you leave now?”

The words Iori spoke a minute ago flashed back into Yashiro’s mind. And you hate me too. Don’t play dumb.

Stuck up prick. You’re fuckin’ right I hate you.

But he couldn’t force the words out. Instead, he opted for a far more crude way of berating Yagami. He collected saliva in his mouth briefly, and spat right on Yagami’s shirt, looking blankly at him. He wasn’t about to waste a punch on Iori.

After a couple seconds of pause, Iori produced no reaction, just taking another sip from the bottle. Yashiro couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and turned away to hide it. He was just about to go back to Shermie and Chris to give up on the operation, but he was stopped before he could leave as he felt Iori’s presence start to float towards him, his stance somewhat threatening in his approach. His reflexes were slightly off due to his intoxication, as a fist flew its way into the back of Yashiro’s head with slightly off kilter precision, dizzying him.

After rubbing the zone of impact, Yashiro turned himself around furiously. Iori just stood there. No fighting stance or anything, just staring him down. He was even smiling a little. Yashiro’s fist balled up, and with one abrupt attack fiercely swung his own fist into Iori’s face, sending him smashing against the wall.

A few gasps from around the area were heard, but the noise didn’t die down enough for Yashiro to be concerned about making a big scene here. Iori’s nose was bleeding everywhere, as he slowly pushed himself up. He smiled even harder now, and began to menacingly approach Yashiro, utilising a stance that made the way that he was going to attack unclear to Yashiro.

Is this asshole really still going to try and fight me? , he thought. Yashiro tried to play it cool, reviewing his options. He knew exactly where to strike to restrain him with ease now that he was injured- but his intoxication caused him a late reaction, and Iori leapt forward, pinning Yashiro to the floor. But he didn’t use his fists to attack, as instead his lips pressed up to Yashiro’s.

Yashiro felt great dissonance between what he expected and what had actually happened. He thought the bastard was about to sock him in the face, but this ? This is something he really couldn’t dodge. His immediate reaction was to force himself to stand up and violently rip Iori off of him after Iori had clasped himself to Yashiro, as if he were some kind of tumor. Iori stumbled back a little after being torn off, almost losing his footing. After a pause to catch his breath, Yashiro took a look at Iori again. There was a despondent look in Iori’s eyes that seemed to see beyond Yashiro as he eyed down the mess in front of him. What the hell was his problem? Why did he stop smiling? Yashiro felt a little pitiful looking down on the bloody mess Iori was like this, but his hatred quickly took over as he’d thought of how pathetic of a person Iori was and his brash and impertinent way of acting. He’d never liked him after the shit he pulled in KOF, but this made him feel something new all together. In other words, nothing changed from how Yashiro felt about Iori before and after the party.

Noise around the two now sounded as if it were dying down as it seemed that new pairs of eyes were watching in grim eagerness at the sight of the scene unfolding. Just looking around a little made Yashiro extremely disgruntled. He seemed to scowl under his breath, looking hatefully at Iori. He watched as Iori’s colorless eyes slowly creeped over from staring into the abyss to locking with his own eyes. He touched his face, looking at some of the blood from Iori’s nose that had been forced onto him. Just the sight made him mad.

As Iori continued to pierce through Yashiro with those empty eyes of his, he was ripped out of his disassociation swiftly and violently as Yashiro grasped his collar tightly, hauling him upwards directly towards his face in a rough motion.

His lips once more Locked with Iori’s, his grip around his collar tightening as he fondled around Iori’s mouth with his tongue. The mix of the alcohol the two had made it taste like shit, but that wasn’t a priority thought at this point in time. This was more of a statement than an act of shameless indulgence. Iori initially squirmed a little, but leaned into it as his tongue wrestled with Yashiro’s. Yashiro noticed Iori softening up and once more ripped Iori off of him, still holding him by his collar. A string of saliva between their lips split in half with the motion.

Yashiro took the moment of silence to notice the staring eyes of the other guests. While they weren’t completely surrounding them, he could directly see some people passing judgemental gazes, a few he knew, even.

“Bastard… Think everyone’s just gonna bend to your will? Or you trying to get me to pity you?”

Iori smiled ear to ear exceedingly smugly. He started to trail off into a laugh through his teeth, eventually doing so obnoxiously with his mouth wide open. Some of the blood from his nose had trickled down into his mouth which made his teeth almost completely red.

Fucking creep.

He infuriated Yashiro to no end. Everyone was staring now. His brief scanning even registered Shermie and Chris looking at him from a different table to the one they started on. Though they caught his attention, he could only gaze at them for the slightest second- It only made him more mad to know he was embarrassing himself in front of his closest friends thanks to the laughing delinquent in his grasp. He was ready to knock the bastard out right there and then, but as he clenched his fist his actions were interrupted by Iori’s words.

“You know, I changed my mind. I’ll join your band.”

Eyes widening, Yashiro’s grip seemed to loosen ever so slightly at the words, to which he defensively pulled Iori closer as if he believed Iori would see that brief action as an act of weakness. His face was contorted with furrowed brows but slowly began to bear a grin similar to the one Iori wore on his own face, only a little more insecure, shaky and far more tensed. He was still unbelievably vexed by Iori’s taunts, but still felt like he had the ‘victory’ in persuading Iori over to his side.

“That’s good. We’re glad to have you, Yagami.”

//

The drive home was completely silent. No music, no nothing. They left immediately after the incident. They found themselves caught in heavy traffic for some time, so Chris was fast asleep by the time they came home.

Shermie lifted the resting Chris gently into his bed, pulling a blanket and then quilt over him to tuck him in as the quilt moved up and down slowly with his breathing. He was as innocent as ever.

Yashiro was in the kitchen, resting over the sink in case he had the need to puke as his stomach made noises that were almost alien. Shermie walked out into the kitchen in a way that was less deliberate than the fashion that she walked typically, right up to Yashiro, her hand gripping his shoulder.

“Yashi, what the hell happened? You didn’t answer me back then.”

He rubbed his eyes and hiccupped, making an effort to turn away from Shermie. He didn’t really want to face her. “I’m… I made an ass of myself, I’m sorry Shermie.”

She forcefully swiveled him around by tugging at both of his shoulders now in a somewhat rough motion. “I don’t give a shit about that, I’m asking if you’re okay. Did Yagami try something?”

The motion made him feel a little sick as his insides sloshed around, but he wasn’t about to puke on Shermie so simply swallowed deeply as he covered his mouth. He spoke through his fingers. “I’m fine.”

Shermie sighed and rubbed her eyes a little, pushing herself up to sit on the kitchen counter. She was a little taller than Yashiro when she sat there. “You don’t sound it. What happened between you two? I promise I won’t judge, honest. This is Yagami, after all.”

Yashiro looked at his warped reflection in the sink. His face looked super weird with the way it distorted. What did just happen? I fought him because… He stood over the sink trying to remember every event that happened that night. Entering, finding a seat, drinking, chatting with random people, going to Iori, leaving Iori. …Wait.

Life shocked it’s way into Yashiro, pulling his face out of the sink and turning to Shermie. “I remember now!”

Shermie got off the counter, as it seemed Yashiro was actually lucid and wanted to pay attention to what he had to say. “What? What happened?” she asked with caution.

“We were fighting because I spat on him, but that doesn’t fuckin’ matter. I remembered the actually important thing- Yagami’s gonna join our band!”

“He’s WHAT?”

Chapter Text

What the hell? Thought Yashiro. He locked his sight on Iori from across the changeroom as he haphazardly removed his jacket, pausing to adjust his vision. Through the narrow armhole of the jacket, Iori’s shirtless chest almost looked ghostly - a few bones could be seen faintly, his upper arms boxy and broad. Has he been eating? Hell, Shermie even seemed to have a healthier body fat ratio than CYS’s new de facto bassist. Maybe it’s because of those outfits he wore, thought Yashiro. He’d swaddle so much of himself in fur and feathers that he’d pass better as a bird than as a man. Whatever. Not my problem. Iori might’ve been a band member now, but it wasn’t a status that changed anything about their relationship. It only meant it was unprofessional to lunge for each other’s throats in public, now. Well, provided that was acceptable in the first place.

Iori turned his back to Yashiro as he slid his shirt on, feeling his gaze fixed on him. “Don’t get any ideas about me, freak. I have standards when I’m sober.”

He scowled to himself, adjusting his collar roughly with a dramatic tug. He’d hoped for a reflection of mutual hatred from Yashiro, or at least more reason to justify dismissing him as a perverted degenerate. No such words were spoken though, as he turned to see Yashiro fully dressed, hastily “styling” his hair with a rough scalp massage. 

Am I that insignificant? Iori thought. He stomped towards Yashiro, forcing himself to be as in the way as possible. “Do you understand what I said? Are you TRYING to piss me off?”

Though he was forced to acknowledge Iori, he produced no such satisfying reaction that Iori attempted to get out of him. He stared blankly at Iori’s face, a pause - then his mouth formed a slight smile. Iori’s veins nearly burst as after shining a gentle grin, Yashiro just picked up his guitar case and strolled out of the room unbothered, Chris waddling along to follow him. Once the door had closed, the muted sounds of playful banter between the two were audible to Iori. Someone was laughing about something.

His fingers had subconciously wrung themselves into a fist. 

“Son of a bitch.” He’d cursed under his breath only after he was sure Yashiro couldn’t hear him, but it seemed he still wasn’t quiet enough.

“Now, now. Is that really any way to speak about your bandmate?” Looming over his shoulder was a nosy Shermie who’d just come from her fitting room, speaking in that coquettish voice she put on to please the fans. 

Though flustered and caught off guard, he didn’t possess such little pride to take his words back. “I’ll say what I want. I’m here for the music, not any of you.”

Following in Yashiro’s footsteps, she welcomed herself to the door as well with her keytar in hand. She stopped at the door frame though, and cared to spare some words for the Redhead in the absence of Yashiro’s. Her perky energy dropped completely as her tone briefly gained a calculated and cold cadence.

“I don’t think we’re difficult people, Yagami. I advise you adjust yourself.” She closed the door behind her near noiselessly with those parting words. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, she probably scared him the most out of anyone he’d fought. Well, anyone who’s still alive. Her facade was even thinner than his .

At least he was alone now. He crouched down, slinging his bass over his shoulder. Tonight was the first gig CYS had as a quartet. He had been “part” of the band for only two weeks at this point. He’d show up to rehearsals on time, and was generally cooperative in regards to their musical endeavours, but never really spoke unless it was necessary. His choice to join was less based on wanting to collaborate with them, and more the result of the slow resentment he’d built up towards his former bandmates, and fanbase by extension.

As thoughts of his former band fought for his attention, the cheers of CYS fans were enough of a signal to him that he should probably walk on through the door. He stopped at the frame though as he remembered to hear out for Shermie’s announcement of a new member through the wall. 

God knows why they had to put on such a parade, It was practically a basement show. Figures. Thought Iori. This band was but a shell of their former self, yet they still put in all that effort for the scraps they got back. God, CYS were so extra. Iori recalled watching a recording of their old concert footage - the whole song and dance of making a big scene before a show started made his eyes roll into the back of his skull. He could only hope his introduction as a new member wouldn’t turn the fanbase into a carbon copy of his former band’s.

He gritted his teeth through it all though, as he intently listened to the corny stageshow, keeping an ear out for the words “new member”. It felt like five minutes before everyone shut up; every couple seconds it would be something like “How are we feeling tonight sweethearts?!~”

“God, shut up.” Iori mumbled, still under his breath as if Shermie could hear him. As if she DID hear him though, he heard the magic words through the wall. “We have a very special announcement today, lovelies!~ For the first time in CYS history, a new member will be joining us!” Guess it’s time. The assorted cheers and gossip of fans could be heard as Iori walked through the door and into the hallway where the only thing separating him and the stage was the second door in front of him. Now for Chris. As predicted, the mic switched over to Chris.

“Lets makes some noise for former Konoe Tamina member, Iori Yagamiiiii!!!!”

As the door swung open, the crowd erupted at the sight of him. There would’ve only been a hundred or so people, that's about all that could fit in this room, but Iori could tell they did really care about this band. Their outfits, their energy, their hollering; it was immediately obvious that these people were actually here for CYS, not for appearances. The band’s style might’ve been a little too vanilla for him, but the genuine love they had for their craft was admirable enough for him to cooperate and play along. This is a fresh start.

//

The show went better than expected for Iori – there were no real dramas, with the biggest complaint being that they played literally every song that they had rehearsed with him. His fingers were somewhat worn from all the playing he’d done, but the subtle summer breeze assisted in alleviating the pain.

CYS were at a hotel for the night, and while the place was nicer than theirs, it wasn’t anything to write home about. Iori was on the roof while their room was right beneath, so it was pretty easy to hear the trio chatting below him.

His moment of solitude didn’t last long however, as he heard the door to the roof open behind him. With an already lit cigarette in his mouth, he turned around to see Yashiro. Of course He thought, his shoulders falling limp again.

Yashiro strutted over to see Iori leaning over the guard rail, his face flickering in the night, with the light of his cigarette Illuminating it well enough for Yashiro to see the deep shade of red in his irises once he was closer. As Yashiro would also lean over the guard rail, he fetched his own cigarette from his pocket. Gently slotting it into his lips, he reached for his lighter and pulled it out, but didn’t light his cigarette as if something more important had caught his attention. Iori picked up on this and found Yashiro gazing at him.

“...What.” putting his lighter back into his pocket, Yashiro eased himself to be closer to Iori, with his unlit cigarette pointing towards Iori’s. He put his fingers up to his cigarette, exhaling through his nose slightly as a pert grin found its way onto his face as he mused over Iori’s reaction, catching on to what Yashiro was suggesting. Iori too, exhaled out of his nose, but instead with a slow, unamused sigh.

“Fucking weirdo.” he murmured - but he played along. Leaning in closer now, the tip of Yashiro’s cigarette would gently bridge his with Iori’s, a little bit of ash cracking off as the faint orange glow was shared from one cigarette to the next. Yashiro held it momentarily even though the cigarette had already lit itself, as it provided him with a less shadowed look at Iori’s face up close.

Just a glimpse into those eyes was enough for Yashiro to start thinking lecherously.

Iori was quick to end the moment though with a shove and sudden movement away from Yashiro. In spite of his disinterest in Yashiro’s advances, the light breeze and speckles of light from the few apartments who’s lights remained across the city still managed to soothe him with ease- the sight indicated ‘rest’ to him better than the inside of any cushy hotel room. CYS was already shaping out to be a far less nightmarish experience than being in a mainstream band, but Iori was still too stuck up to sing praise for them out loud. Perhaps it was just nice to go back to the basics of making and playing music, Or perhaps it was that though CYS “pissed him off”, they didn’t make him want to claw out of his own skull.

Shermie’s piano could be heard from the floor below muffledly. Whatever she was practising was quite a beautiful slow tune, certainly not anything he’d heard from CYS. She was probably just practising for the sake of improving. Is she trying to set the scene, or something? Iori joked to himself. It seemed to work though, as it prompted Iori to attempt to start the conversation for once.

“Good setlist today.” Iori seemed to speak with a hushed tone, far less adamant sounding than his typical manner of speaking. Maybe it was just that he was smoking as he spoke, but he sounded breathy and soft. Maybe even like he was actually being genuine as he talked.

Hearing Iori speak in such a calm voice took Yashiro off guard - he didn’t even realise he was talking to him for a good second. It was out of character enough for Yashiro to subconsciously note it, but he attempted to profit off of this favourable social scenario regardless.

“...Yeah. Fun gig, huh?” Yashiro appreciated that Iori wasn’t trying to brush him off for once. He walked back a little pulled out the folding chairs and table that were on the roof over to Iori and patted the seat next to him, offering it to him.

He followed the movement and sat down with a certain degree of grace, preventing accidentally putting out his cigarette. “Yeah. Fun gig.”

The cool night breeze grazing his face gave Yashiro the grand idea of getting some drinks. Nothing was like a nice summer night and that alcoholic buzz to Yashiro - but the idea also partially stemmed from remembering Iori was a drinker too. He was probably easier to open up when he’d gone through a couple drinks - as sketchy as that did sound when worded.

“I’m gonna go fetch us some beer. You want some?” The words came out of his mouth in a big, unnatural exhale that raised momentary questions for Iori. It was ultimately unimportant however as he took his cigarette out of his mouth and leaned back further, the smoke coming out with a soft sigh. “Sure.”

//

They were both a couple drinks deep, but neither had spoken to the other at that point. At least, neither had said anything important. Yashiro just wanted to make the most of the moment - and maybe pacify Iori a little. He didn’t wanna worry about talking well to actually be able to speak with him. Iori cut through the minutes of silence as he gently put his fourth can down on the table.

“I thought you and Shermie were dating.” 

A thin cloud of smoke made its way out of Yashiro’s mouth in a slow and measured way, as his head was completely still and breath completely steady as he prepared a response, already intoxicated enough to not get a reaction from such an out there question.

“No way man. We’re real close, but closer to family than lovers. Kinda like a cousin of mine, y’know?.” The few stars that he could see in the skies of the light polluted city twinkled in the reflection of his eyes as the early days with Shermie and Chris replayed deep in his mind.

Yagami fetched himself another from the table and took a swig that was already a little too much at once. “Like a family. How cliche.” He wheezed through a half-mouthful.

“Deeper than that, man. Had no direction in my life, but she gave me something to live for. Chris too, when we met him. I couldn’t in my right mind look at her in that way. And after all the shit with the Hakkeshu…”

Iori’s eyelids were shut halfway, almost looking like he was going to drift off to sleep. The angle that his eyelids had blocked caused the light of his cigarette no longer reflect in his eyes- the inimitable colour of his irises seemingly absorbing all the light they could catch. Surely he just wore contact lenses to get that colour, right?

“You good, man? Had too much to drink?”

Iori finished the rest of the can in one fell swoop, gasping afterward. He didn’t even put the can on the table, just letting it tumble out of his hand onto the ground.

The way he acted was indicative of exactly what Yashiro had thought of Iori ever since they first met. He was “Tough”, sure, but his facade was about as thin as the crappy ceiling that let them hear Shermie playing piano. Though Yashiro felt a little mean for assuming Iori was a self destructive person just off rip, he felt vindicated seeing him like this. He really was so obvious.

Yashiro watched the can Iori dropped roll slowly and took a final sip of his own before placing his neatly on the table with the rest. With no hesitation, he tried to breathe life into the despondent Iori with a question. “Hey, why don’t we sleep together tonight?”. Maybe it was pity, perhaps just drunken playfulness, or even just the desire to fuck with Iori (both literally and not) - but he did ask with the intention of getting an answer.

The chair to the left of him shuffled a little, Iori struggling to form a sentence as he contemplated getting out of his seat. Was he about to lash out? While Yashiro couldn’t tell, the violent battering of Iori’s eyelashes before he had rubbed them was enough to suggest that Yashiro’s question had a strong effect on him.

He paused for a moment trying to form a confident sounding sentence, but when it came out, he sounded flustered anyway. “I-I’m… What? I beg your pardon? Don’t you- Don’t you remember what I said earlier today?”. He pushed himself up from his seat, and gripped his cigarette tight enough that it had bent upwards.

The sight of the last puff of smoke being forced out of Iori’s cigarette as the cigarette was crumpled gave Yashiro visual encouragement that toying with Iori was working well. He did want to ‘get along’ with Iori, but toying with him was just too easy to pass up on. “Yeah, I do. Load of shit. You were checking me out today.”

Like a snake lunging at its prey, Iori’s hands swiped at Yashiro’s chest, firmly clasping his collar as he yanked him out of his chair up to his face - but to bark, rather than to bite. “You disgusting pervert! I said I’m not like that!”

Shoving him back down before Yashiro could bark or bite back, his own cigarette would fizzle out as it fell out of his hand, feeling a little sad watching the cigarette as he saw its light extinguish before his very eyes.

Yashiro used the moment of silence to quietly push himself back up out of his seat, feeling around his pockets to find his cigarettes and using his own lighter to light it this time. Iori looked to his hand to see his cigarette totally squashed, tossing it aside after a moment of pause and taking a cigarette out of Yashiro’s jacket as if it were his. Yashiro didn’t really seem to care, looking off into the night sky as he smoked. Unexpectedly however, Iori leaned in close to light his cigarette against Yashiro’s - this time of his own volition.

It was a little shocking to even Yashiro as he was now, but he was more than happy let it happen. He savoured the brief bridge between their mouths, but savoured the closer view of Iori’s face even more. As soon as Iori noticed his cigarette had lit fully, he lightly pushed Yashiro by the side to get a personal-space-respecting distance away from him. “...Look. I might…” 

He thought of turning back to face Yashiro in the moment of having a heart-to-heart, but sharply huffed out a breath of smoke at the thought of his stupid face smiling the whole way through. “...I might connect with you, I guess. I feel like I understand you. But I’m not going to fuck you.”

Yashiro pressed his back against the railing, as opposed to leaning over it, shuffling to get closer to Iori. “So you like me?” - the words came out slightly murmured as his lips held the cigarette in his mouth in the absence of fingers to support it.

Iori flicked his hair in such a way that it covered the eye that Yashiro could see. “Shut up, would you.”

The other man hollered obnoxiously, head leaning back far over the railing. Catching his breath, he took another puff and edged slightly closer yet again. “Why now? Your old crush turn you down?”

He took note of Iori shuffling himself around to face him, and briefly considered the possibility that Iori was going to force him away again, or just up and leave, but was surprised when Iori continued to turn in order to lean against the railing with his back as Yashiro did. “...I didn’t say I liked you, asshole. And that’s none of your business.”

It could have just been the fact that Yashiro was naturally a happy drunk, but this gesture towards him made him smile with genuine fondness for Iori. “Whatever you say Iori~n .” He put on his best Shermie impression as he jested.

Yashiro’s smile irked Iori. Mentally, he couldn’t grapple with the Idea that Yashiro was good company. He didn’t like feeling comfortable around Yashiro, but he wasn’t moving. Layers of metacognition about how he should be reacting to this situation made his head hurt, and the soothing night air felt more like a bitter chill.

But, even in the absence of real warmth, he couldn’t help but feel his face settle at a comfortable degree of warmth as he continued to share the night with him.

Damn you. He was blushing.

After a little sigh he put his cigarette out on the railing, his breath notably shaky as he did so. Maybe he’s not a TOTAL creep. As he replayed this thought back, he began to make himself uncomfortable with how soft he was becoming.

A soft exhale made its way out of Yashiro’s nose. “Done for the night?”

Iori pushed his way off the bar, not looking back at Yashiro as he headed for the staircase. “I’m freezing. I’m going inside.”

He didn’t stop him, just exhaling one of the last few puffs left of his cigarette and watching him close the door behind himself. In the brief moments he spent alone before following, he felt a little mad at himself. He didn’t really know why, but tried to brush it off as the alcohol messing with his head.

Once he’d headed inside, he saw a plate waiting on the table for him. Scanning the room, Shermie and Chris were eating at the dining table, while Iori was eating on the couch in the connected living room. He swooped on over to the table and set himself down.

“Heya. who made dinner tonight?” After a little adjustment he’d made himself comfortable on his seat. Chris pointed to himself while chewing with a full mouth. “Thanks kid, love ya.”

Chris grinned triumphantly, everyone fully engrossed in eating their meals for a solid while. Shermie swallowed and stepped up to be the first to start a conversation. “So um, what were you two talking about?”

It took a moment for Yashiro to realise she was talking to him, heaving his mouthful down his throat in an all-too-hasty manner. “Nothing too interesting. Just relationship stuff. Why, did he say something?”

She poked around her meal with her fork, toying with it as she spoke. “No, no, he just seems a little less… …You know.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Angry?”

He stared idly at her, before continuing his meal silently. Really? Probably just the drinks. He thought.

Chris spoke up as he noticed Yashiro’s lack of response. “I asked if he wanted to sit at the table and he said- ‘no thanks’. Wonder if it’s cause’ he’s tired after today’s show.”

A few minutes had passed, and as the founding members of CYS were still eating, Iori had finished his dish early - walking over to the sink to wash his plate and utensils. Though they were trying to not be obvious about it, all of them were staring somewhat curiously. As he was on his way out, he spared some gratitude for Chris. “Thank you.”

It took Chris a moment to realise Iori was speaking to him - he’d never heard him speak with such a benign tone. He forced down his mouthful, accidentally gasping a little. “Ah. Uh- …no problem.”

Eager to follow along, Yashiro scarfed down the last couple bits of his dinner in a hurry and tossed his dishes straight into the dishwasher, clanking loudly against themselves. He was caught leaving midway through the hallway, stumbling as Shermie called for him. “Where are you going, Yashi?”

He pressed his hand to the side of the wall, and half turned his head to look back at her. “Well I was… just… gonna…” Why was he leaving to see Iori anyway? He didn’t think he cared, but he didn’t feel like attempting to understand or vocalise what he was really feeling. “Just gonna see if Iori’s okay.”

Though not visible, Shermie raised her brow slightly, before dropping the expression for a warm smile to reassure Yashiro. “Okay. Just wondering.”

Once he’d made his way to his shared room with Iori, he gave the door a gentle nudge to see if Iori was inside. He wasn’t sitting on his bed, so Yashiro, rubbing his eyes, began to walk to his own bed. As his vision adjusted however, he saw Iori sitting there instead. He was shirtless, his stare fixated on Yashiro’s eyes. “Yagami? You…”

He couldn’t just pretend like he saw nothing, and found himself staring back. The sight of Iori’s waist exposed just above his jeans made a warm lump form in Yashiro’s throat. He swallowed, looking back briefly to see if anyone was in the hallway, and shut it behind him silently as he looked over again. “…You alright?”

Yashiro sat down next to Iori on the bed, feeling a little tense as he’d made himself comfortable. The liquor wasn’t taking any of it off, he felt. Just as he was about to speak though, Iori’s hand had moved to Yashiro’s thigh. This is happening? Yashiro couldn’t help but stutter a little as the hand then slid up his side, and cupped his left pec. His face felt like it was on fire, but he played it as smooth as he could, whispering in Iori’s ear as he leant close. “Yagami.”

Gently, he pushed Iori onto the bed and got on top of him. He wrapped one arm around Iori’s waist, and dedicated another to groping Iori’s chest as their lips first made contact. Iori almost immediately wrapped his arms tightly around Yashiro, lightly panting through the brief moments that their lips weren’t connected

Now that Yashiro was the one in control, he began to grind on top of Iori. Iori’s cock was already fully hard, but a moan that made its way out of Iori’s mouth made Yashiro realise he was getting hard too.

Now conscious of his erection, he felt a switch flick when their eyes met once more. Almost falling onto him, his mouth locked with Iori’s supple skin, sloppily attempting to devour his side. Heavy huffs blew into the pale flush skin of Iori’s shoulder, tasting as much as he could of his delicate body, biting and tonguing up and down. The taste was so overbearingly exquisite that he immediately had to have more - Yashiro’s free hand jerkily attempted to tear off Iori’s pants while he still ravaged his neck and shoulder. He whispered into it, making an effort to be quiet. “I knew you wanted me.”

Iori vocalised weak, sharp breaths for each point in his neck and shoulder that was grazed by Yashiro’s teeth, or roughly fondled by his tongue. He caught wind of Yashiro taking his pants off, simultaneously exciting him and concerning him. As it slowly made its way down his legs, his body twitched ever more easily as more skin was exposed to the air, amplifying Yashiro’s firm, uncouth love. He couldn’t help but let out a grunt at the full removal, using his own free arm to try and wrestle Yashiro’s away. “Gh…”

Yashiro’s fingers managed to wrap their way around Iori’s cock over the top of his underwear, caressing it whilst Iori tried tearing his arm away. Unsuccessful, Iori thrashed about, and ended up shoving Yashiro off of the bed and tumbling onto the ground. He shouted as he pushed him down. “Stop, fuck!”

Looking up on Iori as he rubbed his head, he groaned to himself. He actually felt more sad than angry, though that’s not what he let on with his facial expression.

Towering over Yashiro, his bulge was easily visible, as his pants were pulled down to his ankles. Noticing this, he yanked them up violently, scowling.

Yashiro pushed himself up only slightly off the ground with his hand. “What? What the fuck? Weren’t we doing it?”

After those words came out of his mouth, a horrible piercing feeling struck Yashiro’s stomach. He didn’t want to believe it was guilt, though. Iori turnt away from him, pacing the room with his hands on his face. “Fucking… on my terms, okay? I’m not ready for anything like that.”

He wanted to respond physically, but he knew this wasn’t the time for it. He wasn’t about to make Shermie and Chris break up a fight in a hotel room, so he instead opted to try say the most hurtful thing he could imagine at the time. “Oh, but you’d do anything to fuck that loser Kyo. Faggot .”

Iori’s hand almost looked like it was going to stab through Yashiro’s heart with the way it shot to snatch his shirt’s collar, jerking him upwards mere inches away from his face. “What the FUCK are you talking about? I’m not some kind of sex obsessed FREAK like you, alright? You didn’t have to make this weird!” He panted for a moment, teeth clenched, before trying to sock Yashiro in the face with his other hand. Yashiro managed to catch his fist with ease though, wary of Iori’s movements.

He frowned momentarily as he focused on catching the fist, but then smiled widely in Iori’s face. Iori couldn’t even bear to look into Yashiro’s eyes, but Yashiro couldn’t get enough of his. He dropped him on the ground, landing on his rear. Iori headed towards the bathroom that was connected to their joint room to take a shower, as Yashiro pushed himself up properly finally, watching him close the door behind him.

“...Whatever, man.” he spoke to himself, as if reassuring himself.

After his shower was done, Iori had come back into the room in just a pair of pants. Iori threw himself onto his own mattress, scrolling social media as Yashiro lay across from him, doing the same. He looked over to Iori and felt that same piercing feeling from before, which urged him to speak. He actually did feel guilty now, but it was probably too late. 

Should he even say anything? The word stuck inside of his throat enough for him to stammer out loud, which Iori took note of and interrogated as he still scrolled.

“What is it.”

Yashiro turned his phone off and rolled over, avoiding the sight of Iori.

“I’m sorry.”

Iori clicked off his phone and slipped it into his pocket, then rubbing his eyes. Yashiro thought he rubbed them like he was trying to tear them out. “It’s whatever. I don’t care.”

He forcefully pushed himself off of the bed, and swiftly donned a singlet he scooped up from off the ground. “I’m going home.”

He left, taking only his bass and suitcase with him, and leaving the door open. Yashiro rolled back over again, facing the empty bed that Iori had laid in. He remembered how just earlier that night, their cigarettes touched so tenderly.

The light that crept through the slightly opened door irritated him, but he hadn’t the drive to close it.

Clearly you do care.

Chapter Text

https://images.squidge.org/image/jPBKAB

Chapter Text

Three weeks.

It had been three weeks since any of the original three members of CYS had heard from Iori, and the band was thrown into a minor state of peril over the sudden disappearance of their new member that was, frankly, netting them most of their current fame. Well, MOST of the band was concerned with the matter.

“Fuck him.” Yashiro’s feet were up on the coffee table, one foot impatiently bobbing up and down so he could divert his energy somewhere. “We do music for the love of it, not to feed the Yagami fan club. We’ll just tell the fans he left the band, and that’ll be that. Simple”

Shermie sat on the kitchen counter across the room, drumming her fingers behind her as Yashiro’s attitude began to grate on her. “Of course we play for the band, but wasn’t this your whole idea to keep us afloat in the first place?” She took a long drag from her cigarette with her other hand and turned her body, abjectly gazing out of the window. The forlorn view from their D-list apartment just served as another reminder regarding the reality of CYS’s chance at having a future. Another grey morning, drab and dull, nothing hopeful in sight. “I don’t care about whatever dramas occurred between the two of you, but if you really care about our band then stop… pretending this isn’t even a problem. You always do this.” She caught wind of her own reflection in the window, causing her to ponder her own words for a moment and feeling a fleeting, small waft of guilt at how she was accusing him. “Look… I don’t want to pressure you, really, but you’re the only one who can really do anything about it. We need him. You know well that T-shirt sales aren’t gonna last us very long.”

She lifted the cigarette to her mouth once more, as she looked down at her hand that rested on the counter with sad eyes. “I want to keep playing music. I know you do too.”

Objectively she was right, they needed Iori if they still wanted to play music for a living. But Yashiro wasn’t in a reasonable enough mood to look past her tone, or the correct guess that this was his fault. He let out a huff and let his feet down from the table, one hand wiping down his face. He looked at Shermie, and spent a moment in thought. The band was more than an outlet, it was his home, his raison d’etre. The thought of Iori’s face made his stomach churn, but Shermie and Chris were bigger than that, better than that. So in spite of how the thought of Iori made him want to run away, Yashiro stood up and swallowed the concoction of feelings that built inside of him, making an attempt to be the kind of person that Shermie and Chris were. “Okay. I’ll figure something out.”

The smell of smoke kept the apartment filled with unspoken tension, keeping the three quiet as they minded their own business in their separate corners. Miraculously, Chris’ phone buzzed as if it had detected the aura in the air and decided to break the ice. He checked it and typed in a few things before slotting it back into his pocket. Pushing himself up from the couch, he went to lean against the wall by the front door. “Um, I’m gonna be gone from like, 12 to… 4? If that’s okay with you guys.”

Yashiro let out a little laugh and lifted his head to smile to Chris. “Hey, go for it. We’re not your parents, you do what you want. But try and get home in time for dinner at least.”

Following his lead, Shermie hopped off of the counter, the cigarette still in her mouth. “But be good to her, okay?” She took an opportunity for a brief drag of the cigarette in between sentences. “Not that I think our Chris could ever be a heartbreaker, of course.” She giggled knowing it embarrassed Chris to even so much as hint towards his romantic endeavors.

“I-I never said it was a date! I’m just hanging out with her, it’s not the same thing!” Chris tried his best to be meek about it, but it was the first time he’d ever had a connection like this in his life, so he secretly appreciated having Shermie and Yashiro’s support, even if they did poke fun at him from time to time.

The other two laughed to each other, Shermie passing by and ruffling Chris’ hair to which he patted back into shape. “Well, as it happens I’ve gotta be off now too. I’ve got a checkup soon, mostly just so I can restock my prescriptions though.” She made her way to the front door and turned around, waving to Yashiro. “Hey. Like I said, I don’t want to put any pressure, okay? Just let me know what happens. Don’t stress and take care, Yashi!” Her smile was reassuring, and put Yashiro at ease.

“Yeah, you too. I’ll be in touch.” He smiled back as to reflect that same level of trust she put in him, but also because of a sense of gratitude that her words instilled in him. The door closed behind her and Yashiro exhaled, stretching a little before he got ready to be on his way. “Welp, you got the house to yourself for a bit if you plan on sticking around til your date. I gotta hit the streets for Yagami.”

As he found his way to the door, he stopped as Chris called to him. “Yo, Yashiro.” Putting his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the wall by Chris to hear him out. “What’s up? Need something while I’m out?” Chris’ head leaned back against the wall now. “No, no, just, like… I dunno, I feel like you shouldn’t be worrying about this. Not to say he’s a lost cause, but if money keeps being a problem I’m sure we can all-”

Before Chris could finish his sentence, Yashiro cut him off with a little sparkle in his eye. “Don’t be silly.” Chris tilted his head a little at the sudden cut off. “This isn’t about money anymore. He’s a member of the band, right? I’m just taking responsibility.” With those words and a comforting smile, Yashiro left without any of Chris’s protest. Chris pondered for a moment, sighing. He really didn’t like the idea of Yashiro getting into trouble again, but that man was far too dead set on his goals to ever get him to budge once he’d made a decision. All he could do was hope he came home with good news at the end of the day.

//

Out and about, he spent nearly the whole day asking around for Iori. His first instinct was to ask folks who he assumed were fans at different hotels that were holding music venues - and while his intuition was typically right when clocking them, they had nothing useful. He checked hotel to hotel, even apartment block to block with no results even after hours of searching. Why was he making such a fuss over it? It wasn’t because Shermie pressured him, no, she seemed pretty passive about it too after they’d discussed it a little. Really, it was because he was worried. The only thing he’d managed to confirm was that Iori was probably not dead at least, after he’d asked if a missing person’s report had been filed at the local police station to which they promptly confirmed had not happened, but that still left him feeling uneasy. 

His mind constantly drifted to thoughts of Iori doing heinous things in the name of what Yashiro had done to him, playing out the worst possible events though he knew they could never truly unfold. Yashiro thought Iori to be far weaker mentally than he ever let on, and so as he continued to struggle for answers he only continued to dread what Iori may have felt that night, and how he may have reacted in isolation.

He’d tried to push back the memory of the last night that he and Iori talked, but it wasn’t easy when the number one topic on the band’s mind was his whereabouts. He thought about their rooftop conversation, and then their interaction in their bedroom. The more he reviewed it, the sicker he felt. Maybe Iori was right to call him a perverted freak, even his drunken self should have known better, right? No… No, it wasn’t just his fault, Yashiro repeated to himself. Iori not only lead him on that night, but even if it was a non=consensual advance, it wasn’t like Iori didn’t try something similar on him back at that party, right? No, it's not right to compare that... It was all just too much to think about for Yashiro, and he wished more than anything that Iori could come back just to break up with the band - break up with the band so that this stupid plan of Yashiro’s could be deemed a failure and that he didn’t have to worry about the wellbeing of someone who clearly had no interest in reciprocating that. He hated letting those eyes bore into his skull. 

Right, the band. Get it together. He doesn’t care, and you don’t either. This is about the band.

Later that night, around 9:30, Yashiro found himself at a bar. It was a rather tucked in place in an alleyway that often had musicians playing, but no one was playing tonight. He sat at the very front and ordered himself a cocktail, attempting to reward himself for at least trying and perhaps dull the whirlpool of dread that built in his mind, but he still couldn’t help but think of Iori. It wasn’t like the apartment was a long walk away from here, so why not? Spotting the place earlier, he thought he might as well go on later tonight to lift some of the weight off of his shoulders, indulging himself in his preferred poison as he did whenever he had nothing better to do. 

As he was handed his drink, he looked around the bar to see the cast of characters decorating the scene tonight. It wasn’t particularly packed, but was far from empty either. A few people were sitting at the front alongside him, mostly older men, and a group of young boys sat at a table way off in the corner, surprisingly quiet. A couple women sat separate from each other littered around the bar, and everyone seemed to be rather content with what they were doing. He took sips from his drink and looked down onto the table, almost seeing his reflection in the excessively polished wood. Alcohol was normally the one place Yashiro felt safe to turn to, but he didn’t know if he had the life in him to get properly wasted tonight. He felt a little stupid for trying at all, and more than out of place in an environment filled with all these happy people. He downed the rest of the drink in silence once he’d decided he wasn’t in the mood to hang around in a bar tonight, but as he set down the glass and got up to leave…

“Wait.”

He turned to see the bartender, back turned as he was pouring up a glass for someone else. “Oh, uh, what’s up? I paid already.”

The bartender briefly checked behind him as if to verify who he’d seen, scanning Yashiro from top to bottom before turning back. “You ain’t in some kinda band, right?”

Yashiro used the seat behind him to turn himself to face the bartender. “Oh, uh, yeah, CYS.” After the surprise of being recognised, he lifted a hand to his chin to pose and put on his ‘star face’. “ I assume you’re not a fan if you don’t know the name tied to this handsome face, though. What’s up?”

The bartender, clearly not impressed, paused expressionlessly for a moment before handing the customer their drink and facing back to Yashiro . “Well, no, I can’t say I’m exactly interested in some random boy band, but there’s someone who’s been here asking for you. Apparently he saw you drinking here one time. Told him you’re not a regular from what I remember, but he’s been coming every other day anyway without ordering, and it’s been a real pain in my ass.” The older man crossed his arms and wore a frown. “If you’re really his idol or whatever, get him the hell outta here. The weird little creep is bad for business.”

Brow furrowing, Yashiro sat back down, resting his head against his hand. “First of all, not a boy band. Never heard of something like that happening before though.” He began daydreaming while pondering the situation, smiling to himself. “Ahh man… Think it’s our first psycho fanboy? Man, maybe we are making a resurgence! But that sucks.” He laughed a little under his breath and drummed his fingers on the table. “What’s he look like? I’ll deal with it, if you’re really that hard pressed about it.”

Providing a refill to another customer, the bartender spoke while not facing Yashiro. “He’s a crazy lookin’ kid. Wearin’ all these weird clothes, and some side swept long hair. It’s all dyed red, he looks like a total freak.”

The light sleepiness that the cocktail’s buzz instilled in Yashiro dissipated immediately at these words, his eyes widening and his heart rate jumping as he pushed himself from the table suddenly, chair screeching behind him. The bartender jumped a little, almost spilling the drink he was passing to the other customer. “Shit- For real?”

Annoyed, the bartender swiped Yashiro’s empty glass off the table. “Yeah, what? Look, I don’t know what the deal you two got goin’ on is, but just get him outta here.”

Sticking his head over the counter, Yashiro pleaded rather demandingly. “Did you ever catch where he lived? Or- or get any kind of read on even just like, the street he’s on?”

The bartender sighed, clearly just as annoyed by Yashiro’s presence now as he was that man’s. “Jesus.” He bent down, searching underneath the front bar reaching through various miscellaneous items before finding a slip of paper hidden among everything. “This is what he told me to give to whoever asks. I’d be careful, though. Guy seems sketchy.” He presented it to Yashiro in one hand.

Snatching it immediately, Yashiro took a moment to analyse the paper before shouting his regards. “Y-you’re a lifesaver, pops!” Dashing off before the bartender could even interrupt, he tripped across multiple chairs and tables whilst still managing to stay on his feet, rushing out the door.

//

It was quite a walk to get there, surprisingly. But it gave him time to think about it all again, so maybe it wasn’t so bad that he was going to be alone with his thoughts for some time. Looking down at the paper, he had no idea what to think. Did Iori really want to see him? Or was this some kind of elaborate setup? He had faith that it was the right thing to at least go and check, if anything. He didn’t want to ignore what could be an attempt at making up, and he also had a personal desire to make things right regardless of what Iori would want out of them meeting up again. God, why was he the only thing on his mind? He didn’t want to be so dictated by Iori, but he just worried and worried. Up the street to the building, up the steps to the room, he couldn’t quell the sinking feeling in his stomach even as he knocked on the door meekly.

He waited, and there was no response.

Slightly panicked, he turned around to text Iori before he heard the door open behind him. His lips opened without any thought before he had even turned to see him.

“Yagami.”

There he stood, in all his gracefulness. His hair still textured like silk, his body still sculpted like marble, and his eyes still forever captivating in their haunting crimson gaze. He didn’t really seem to be in a bad state, from what Yashiro could tell, which quelled his dread a significant amount. His body was still lanky and rather underweight, but it was no different from how Yashiro had seen him in CYS. Dressed in just a bathrobe, the small glimpses of his skin peeked out from the collar, smooth like porcelain.

“Come, close the door behind you.”

Hearing him speak again was surreal. His body once again seemed to act automatically, shuffling inside and gently closing the door behind him. Hearing the soft click of the door, he looked back to Iori. He was presumably wearing nothing else, his thin frame accentuated by the robe that clung to him. He felt a warmth build up in his chest at the sight, but swallowed before he thought of doing anything impulsive. It felt like a mirror of that night at the hotel, but he wasn’t about to let this end that badly or do anything stupid again. 

With a heavy exhale, he stepped inside and took in the scenery of what he assumed was Iori’s apartment. The place wasn’t amazingly well kept, but it wasn’t the filthiest thing he’d ever seen either, so he was inclined to believe it was his. There were a few bottles of miscellaneous alcohol on each table, and a few trash bags that were full, but an absence of trash or dirty clothing on the floor.

Whilst taking in the scenery, he heard the sound of a kettle that had finished boiling lifted up, and then the sound of scalding fluid poured deliberately into a cup. Yashiro was so caught up on trying to get a read on Iori based on his apartment, that Iori had enough time to get himself tea from the kitchen. He slowly sat himself down on the sole armchair in the living room, setting down his cup on the table that was between his armchair and a large leather sofa. As Iori placed his cup, Yashiro took that as a cue to cease standing around aimlessly and take his own seat on the black sofa.

Yashiro watched Iori slowly lift his cup to his mouth, taking a drawn out sip of the still steaming tea and not flinching despite the fact it was clearly still far too hot. While he still continued to sip, Yashiro took the opportunity to try and begin the conversation. “So, uh, Yagami… Are-” -but, as if Iori were looking into the future, he placed his cup back down and answered the exact question Yashiro was going to ask.

“I’ll join the band again, if that’s what you’re interested in.” He didn’t say it hesitantly, but there wasn’t exactly a real hint of enthusiasm either, taking another long sip after the words had sunk in a little. It caused a stir inside of Yashiro, that surprisingly wasn’t an entirely joyful or relieving feeling. The cadence that Iori spoke with was just as monotone as ever, so though he felt somewhat glad to hear what he ‘came for’, his mind was still set on who he came for. Why did it have to come down to fighting or relying on booze to get Iori to be straightforward with him? He hated that he couldn’t get a read on him, that he was seemingly so level headed and collected right now.

Yashiro wanted to ask, but hadn’t a clue how to approach Iori, not after everything. Iori took note of how Yashiro closed up, staring down at the table, fingers folded, and broke the silence to taunt him slightly whilst still expressing how he felt. “I won’t apologise for my sudden leave. You acted in a manner I couldn’t just overlook, and so I reacted accordingly.”

It hurt to hear. His heart didn’t quite clench, but he did become conscious of the dull aches in his body, around his joints and head at the words, as if they had forced Yashiro to become more aware. “I…” He knew that saying how he felt wouldn’t end well, but he chose to speak anyway. He wanted to be crystal clear with Iori in the same way Iori was with him, to-

“Now. Don’t play dumb. I also called you here because of that.” Before Yashiro could finish his thought, Iori made a proposition. His eyes seemed rather serious, only adding to the tension in the air as he’d cut off Yashiro before Yashiro could say how he felt. He opted to play along though, not wanting to stir any ill will with Iori.

“...What do you mean, ‘that’?” Iori took a last, large sip of his tea before putting it back down on the table, clearing his throat before he spoke. He pushed himself up off of the seat with one hand to stand up, looking down at Yashiro.

“As in, the way you acted, like the pervert you are.” A breath. “I pondered entertaining your fantasy of fucking me. And I decided I want to. Right now.” Iori took note of Yashiro’s eyes widening at the words, watching his fingers unfold as he seemed to think about the right response to say.

Yashiro swallowed hard, feeling his face heat up and fingers sweat. They folded out flat on the table, blinking at Iori before thinking of what to say before saying it to avoid stuttering. What the hell? Why was he getting at this now? It didn’t really feel like the time - but he didn’t want to say anything like that. “You’re, uh, sure? Like, really sure?” Despite how hard he attempted to collect himself, he still fumbled over his words clumsily as a million questions raced through his mind. “A-and how the hell did you know I’d find you?”

Iori took a couple paces around the table and then looked to the ground. His bathrobe slid off of his naked body with the slightest tug from one of his hands, slowly trailing off of his skin before lightly pooling at his feet. The way it unravelled around his body when he undid it almost made it look as if it were caressing him from top to bottom, feeling up the work of art that it had wrapped itself around before. He looked back up to Yashiro once it had been fully undone, and gave a small smile with unclear intent. Despite not being able to help eyeing him down, Yashiro didn’t know how to feel - as much as he felt like he wanted to trace the same path the robe had taken, going straight into this felt counter productive when considering amending things with Iori. Before him stood a sly fox, his role as the hunter or the hunted blurring.

As he saw Yashiro dumbfounded, Iori scoffed, pressing his right hand to his upper chest. Seeing Yashiro’s eyes follow his hand’s path filled him with a feeling he couldn’t pinpoint, somewhere in between hatred and lust - but very much proud at the feeling of being in control. One thing was for sure, that it brought life to him, and sexual gratification at that. “Of course I’m fucking sure. Do I look drunk? What, are you too pussy?”

He looked back down at his hands on the table. He sweated more now. Yashiro replayed Iori’s words in his mind, and lingered on the thought of turning him down to say what he wanted to say. It felt like the ‘right’ thing to do, but his uncertainty made it the harder option now. It made more sense just to go ahead with this for now - the main problem of not being in contact with Iori was already solved. And, after all, He did want this too. Right? He recalled his envy for Iori’s success, the band back home, the thousands of years of history that the Yagami clan feuded with the Hakkeshu, the look in Iori’s eyes. 

He was still, catching his breath for a moment before he’d forced himself to make up his mind. He pushed himself off the couch, cracking his neck to look confident as he swallowed his feelings of doubt, then glaring at Iori. Iori smiled gleefully at the fierce look Yashiro donned. Swiping at Iori’s face, Yashiro clutched him by the jaw roughly and spat back in the same vile tone Iori had just used with him. “Alright then, bitch. You wanna play? Sure I’m not too big for you?”

//

Whilst making their rendezvous to Iori’s bedroom, Yashiro had hastily torn off his clothes and ditched them wherever he pleased across the room, arms roaming across Iori’s body while they both made their way to the bed, finally pushing him down onto the soft sheets and looming over him. As he lay beneath him, vulnerable, Iori’s right hand outstretched, grasping Yashiro by the chin. His expression was flat, but his eyes had a clear intent whilst his other hand reached for Yashiro’s already hardened cock, and adjusted it to be pressing up to his hole.

As Yashiro adjusted his position and prepared to slide in slowly, Iori suddenly wrapped his arms behind Yashiro’s back and, with a rough motion, slashed at him with his long nails, only drawing a very faint amount of blood, but inducing enough pain to shock Yashiro into jerking forward. Without any lube or anything of the sort, his cock had already forced itself halfway into Iori’s ass, forcing an exhale out of the two of them at the same time. Yashiro moved his right hand from the bedsheets to Iori’s shoulder, supporting himself as his face contorted.

Looking down, Iori was smug in spite of how tensed all the muscles in his body were at the intrusion of his asshole. He trailed his nails further along Yashiro’s back, scraping and then pulling back in an attempt to get a rise of him. It was clear he wanted to get serious about this fast. “Bastard.” Yashiro murmured, clutching Iori’s shoulder with his tough grip as he slowly continued forward. Iori’s face didn’t twitch or change much, but he grunted lowly whilst his nails were still digging into Yashiro’s skin.

“This must be all you think about. You fucking loser .” There was a venom in Iori’s tone potent enough to kill. He clearly wanted some kind of outlet, as he took more pleasure in berating Yashiro than the sensation of his cock fully entering him, molding the shape into his insides. Iori lifted his hands up once more and dragged down Yashiro’s back in a quick swipe, sneering at him, urging him to bite back. His left eye twitched slightly, not expecting the sudden sensation he began to feel as Yashiro began to start moving back and forth at a steady pace.

Yashiro adjusted his fingers and then moved his hand from Ioris shoulder to clutching his neck, with a grasp not tight enough to keep him from speaking, but just firm enough to keep his head pinned down to the bed. The force at which he exerted caused the nails on his thumb and index finger to dig into Iori’s skin, smiling back down on Iori once he saw the little red marks beneath him. “Only because you want my dick so bad.” The words got an amused huff out of Iori - each thrust pushing Yashiro’s hand against Iori’s neck, nails engraving the marks deeper each time. Noticing that Yashiro was marking him too, Iori readjusted his own hands to scratch at Yashiro’s upper back, cutting with each intrusion as he was determined to mark him with the savage passion that burned inside of him.

Growling, Yashiro paused, adjusting his body forward so he could pick up the pace in an attempt to tame Iori. His body slammed forward shoving his cock deep into Iori’s hole, laughing quietly as he felt Iori’s attempts to tear at him become more scattered as he struggled to maintain his devilish smile. He felt his own blood starting to trail down his back, and so began to treat Iori more roughly in an attempt to overindulge himself in the violent pleasure they shared, savouring the wounds Iori so fervently painted on the canvas that was his skin. The idea of being rough wasn’t alien to him, but something like this was exciting and fresh - it appealed to a side of Yashiro he didn’t realise that he had.

“You like my dick, bitch?” he whispered, his breath only barely being caught after he paused his hip movement to get close and still to Iori’s face. He groaned frustratedly at Yashiro for having such a smug grin as he had his way with him. He clasped his claws firmly at the irritated, scarred skin of Yashiro’s back, clenching his teeth as he yanked Yashiro down to his face roughly. “Do me harder, cunt.” The last word caused a little bit of spit to flick into Yashiro’s face, which Yashiro promptly licked off.

His taunts made Yashiro smile with his teeth now, and tightened his grip on Iori’s throat. Iori coughed a little at the sudden hard press, but mimicking Yashiro he licked the saliva around his lips and started to grin in a proud way of his own. As tough as he was trying to act, his mind started to race as he suddenly realised how this must look. He was getting totally manhandled to the verge of tears, letting Yashiro pleasure himself with Iori as if he were a toy. And what was worse was that truth be told, he didn’t mind it. The taunt he’d just thrown was probably the last insult he could throw before he’d accidentally slip up and whimper as he tried to vocalise something. Isn’t he close yet? He thought as his eyes began to water ever so slightly.

After a few more seconds, Yashiro took his hand off of Iori’s throat and started to reposition himself. Iori loosened his vicious grasp on Yashiro’s back as he managed to catch his breath, his fingers now splayed gently across Yashiro’s red, aching skin. As Yashiro fiddled with his position, Iori prayed to god he was just going to make him suck his dick - or something that wouldn’t directly make him cum, because he felt lightheaded and weaker by the moment. He fell flush again though, his wish not granted as Yashiro finished his breather and slid his dick back into Iori’s asshole slowly. Once he’d finished using his hands to carefully insert his cock, he reached them underneath Iori’s armpits and leaned down on top of him whilst pulling him a little closer. Iori rather awkwardly wrapped his hands around Yashiro, not having enough energy or drive to properly cut him up. 

Once they had locked in this embrace, Yashiro looked Iori in the eyes, to which Iori scowled. He only gave Iori a sly, but trusting grin, moving his head to Iori’s shoulder and pressing a kiss to it. Iori tore a streak across Yashiro’s back as if to signify him to be rougher, but was halted half way through the motion as he felt a slight pressure weigh into his shoulder. Yashiro had began to gnaw gently at his skin, biting and tonguing his neck and shoulder. Iori automatically tugged at Yashiro as he did this while he started to slowly thrust again, picking up the pace as he indulged in Iori’s bewitchingly smooth skin. he noise came out loudly and pathetically with a fragmented tone - his arms tensing to pull Yashiro deeper inside as he did so. 

He stopped making out with his neck to catch his breath so that he could make sure to call attention to the whimper Iori had let out. He teased him with a voice not too dissimilar from the one Shermie would put on for the fans. “What’s the matter, sweetie? Do you want me to slow down?”. Yashiro’s mocking damaged Iori’s ego enough that he hadn’t thought to be careful with his voice before he attempted to sling a taunt back at him. The mix of ecstatic stimulation he experienced interrupted his sentence almost immediately. “N-not- HA-Augh!~…”

Though he was already unbelievably embarrassed by even just being the one receiving between the two, the noise he made shut down Iori’s act completely - he felt utterly pathetic before Yashiro. He expected Yashiro to ridicule him yet again for his own pleasure, but the noise just made Yashiro exhale deeply through his nose, as if it had made it harder for him to keep his own composure. He made an effort to bite down harder into Iori’s neck and gnaw around his lower shoulder too, now drawing blood to which Iori winced slightly, squeaking quietly into Yashiro’s shoulder. The noise sent a jolt through Yashiro again, he couldn’t help but want to grope and tongue every inch of Iori’s body, getting up a little to get a look at Iori’s face as he still drilled him down below. As hard as he tried not to, Yashiro found it difficult to keep his own smugness, too. Following a moan that was comparatively much softer to the way he’d panted in Iori’s face, he couldn’t stop words from slipping out of his mouth.

“Fuck, Iori…” 

The way Yashiro grabbed Iori’s waist was best described as “desperation tinged with despise” - He yearned for him, yearned to destroy him, but also yearned to make him his own. He’d caused so many problems for him as a former opponent and now as a band member, but he did still want him, in whatever way he could. Back and forth, the desire to break or take all of Iori battled, his mind drifting to the heinous fantasy about killing Iori here. Choking him to death, bleeding him dry, beating him unconscious. As pleasure began to build up within him, he snarled under his own breath once he caught wind of such a cruel thought, focusing on diverting his primal sexual urges to gnawing Iori’s shoulder. Though his desire to destroy the Yagami clan as a member of the Hakkeshu was almost entirely subconscious at this point, there was something primal within him that shot such violent sexual thoughts to the very front of his mind. As unbelievable as it was, those thoughts did not come from hatred, but a deep possessiveness.

There was a similar internal battle going on inside of Iori, as the way Yashiro’s cock pressed against the walls of his insides drove him crazy - the eyes that burned with the flame of the Yagami clan now wept and begged for Yashiro’s touch. His attempts to tear the other’s back apart were now clearly in an effort to pull him closer, rather than harm him. With every thrust, Iori was pulling Yashiro a little deeper inside of him, giving them both a little extra jolt each time.

Iori desperately used every moment to trade saliva with Yashiro, sobbing at the thought of being torn apart from him, crying into his mouth and softly moaning. Even now he couldn’t tell him that he was crying because he felt this way, but one look into his eyes made it beyond obvious anyway. There was so much colour in them, and a sparkle that had never been there before.

He clenched his teeth, whimpering as his arms began to tense harder and his cock began feeling lighter and lighter. He couldn’t hold on for much longer, and so knowing he only had a limited amount of time left his arms tightly wrapped around Yashiro’s torso, hands pressed to the back of his neck as he leaned forward, his head over Yashiro’s shoulder. His voice cracked, letting out a yelp and pulling Yashiro down, as finally, harder than he’d ever in his life, Iori boiled over.

The ecstasy. 

The relief. 

The weight of reality.

They all tore across Iori, flooding his mind as endless ropes of his warm ejaculate painted his torso, partially splattering onto Yashiro. His entire body seemed to overheat before his muscles slowly untensed, his limp fingers flopping onto the bed, shivering with every thrust as Yashiro still fucked him silly. His mouth was wide open, drooling and gasping as the continued pleasure after climaxing overstimulated him, almost choking on his saliva. After but a few seconds his body also began involuntarily jerking wildly with no clue how to react to this new, overwhelming sensation that wasn’t quite pleasurable or painful.

Feeling Iori’s release, Yashiro felt his entire body become much warmer and soon followed too after only a few extra moments, moaning loudly and biting into Iori’s shoulder before attempting to sloppily make out with him again. He went and wrestled his mouth against Iori’s for a moment, before noticing Iori wasn’t attempting to kiss back, so he ceased his motion after stealing another kiss on the lips and finally flopping his cock out of Iori’s hole. He didn’t realise the words that came out of his mouth as he removed himself to look Iori in those divine scarlet eyes of his. “I love you” he breathed harshly, his fingers gently pressed to Iori’s chest. Iori’s untensed body suddenly seemed to shoot awake. His eyes widened at the words, only soon shut tightly with his teeth gritted as tears continued to stream down his face. Like a match to gasoline, a silent fire erupted inside of Iori. Using all the energy he could, he exhaled softly and shakily. “Fuck you. Lie… Liar, fucking liar. What’s wrong with you.” He snagged Yashiro’s hand on his chest and peeled it off of him.

Iori’s words cut across Yashiro, deeper than he could with his claws. It forced a desperate plea out of him, and softened his voice some more. He stammered for a moment before the words finally came out the way Yashiro wanted. 

“W… Why would you just… disappear like that? Do you get your kicks from knowing I’m freaking out? I thought you fucking killed yourself, or… some shit like that.” 

Iori sniffed and wiped his eyes, pushing himself up off the bed and getting Yashiro a respectable distance away from him. Shit, he thought as he felt the tears wipe against his arm - he couldn’t believe he let fucking Yashiro, of all people, see him like this. Though his composure was still weakened significantly, he managed to snap back after a moment of pause to push the frog in his throat down. “I won’t lie and say I don’t enjoy hurting people, but that’s… not why I left. I’m not gonna waste time explaining, don’t pretend like you’d understand.”

Taking a couple paces forward, Iori wiped his face with both hands. He scowled under his breath, still sniffing as he forced the tears to stop streaming down. “We can’t be together.” The man stood completely still, though he seemed to sway a little on his feet, taking another step forward to steady himself. “I don’t want a relationship, ever. So please stop.” The words chilled the room, and Yashiro could feel a horrible, long, creeping sensation down his whole spine.

“N-no, Iori, I was just-...” Each word seemed to take more strain to say than the last, and soon enough, he couldn’t speak. He convinced himself that wasn’t such a bad thing though, forcing his lips shut as he knew whatever he had to say would probably only make things worse. Though Yashiro had faith in that belief, his throat couldn’t help but still ache with the unspoken words that threatened to burst out of him, his lip quivering. He stumbled forward towards Iori, reaching out and seeking his warmth, not thinking and only acting. His aching body was soothed, his weight supported as he pressed up to Iori’s back softly and wrapped his arms around him in a tender embrace from behind.

His hair was so soft, like silk bedding against his head. He cleared his mind for that brief moment, closing his eyes and just taking in the sensation to his body. He had never felt this kind of desire before, and the thought of being torn from this tore his heart asunder, even though he knew it was inevitable. It felt like his entire life had been playing at 2x speed, and only then in that depraved, yet intimate showing with Iori had the speed finally been set back to normal. He didn’t want it to end, even if it came at the expense of the world.

But as anyone could have predicted, Iori did not share these feelings. Even as he pressed to Iori’s back, he could sense the fierce typhoon in his mind that exploded out once Iori promptly jostled Yashiro off of him abrasively, shouting out as he pushed him back. “DON’T!” The screeching words ignited Yashiro’s impulse to reach for him again as he regained his footing, but his weakened arms were limp and could not travel far. They trembled, only slightly raised before falling down to his sides. All he wanted now was to kiss him.

“I’m already rejoining the band okay? Don’t ask anything more of me. Just leave me be.”

He just looked down. That’s all Yashiro could do: he didn’t want to look him in the eyes, speak, or even exist in this moment right now. He just wanted to know what was racing through Iori’s mind, what the series of events that led things to be this way could have possibly been. He’d felt so angry at him, yet so sorry even though he had no idea what was really happening. It was confusing. It was infuriating. It was too much. All he could do right now was hope. Hope for Iori, and everything to be.

“Okay.”