Chapter Text
When the traffic lights turn from red to green at the intersection, the double-decker bus with the printed image of Orga’s half naked body on the side of it gradually moves. However, before the bus is even out of their field of vision, Orga has already grabbed Mikazuki’s hand, and under the surprised gaze of pedestrians, they sprint until they reach a quieter path where they can no longer see the busy road.
As they are running and Mikazuki is staring at the other man’s back and his reddening ears, a kind of feeling that he cannot name or clarify suddenly begins to emerge in his heart.
They stop beside a vending machine along a small, deserted path. After ensuring that there’s no one else in the surrounding area, Orga finally releases Mikazuki’s hand. Short of breath from the run, Orga leans his upper body, bracing his hands against his knees as he takes in large gulps of air.
Mikazuki first lowers his head to stare at his hand, the warmth of Orga’s hand still lingering on the skin of his palm, but since the other man has let go, Mikazuki’s hand feels strangely cold and empty. His focus then returns to his companion, who seems to be displaying an uncharacteristically panicked expression on his face — something that Mikazuki thinks is inconceivable.
“Orga?” He wants to reach over and pats the other man’s back to soothe down his breathing, but as soon as the syllables of his name slip out of his mouth, Orga looks up at him, his face flushing red and his mouth slightly parted from panting. The corner of his lips is pulled downwards into a subtle curve, which makes those lips that others have always commented as “sexy” seem unusually lovely.
That expression is an exact replica of the one on the poster, the only difference being that this time he can actually observe Orga’s eyes. His brightened, golden irises appear to be a bit hazy from the intense running, and within those eyes is a look of awkwardness and embarrassment that Mikazuki has never seen before. That strange, perplexing emotion resurfaces and slithers along and up his spine.
Mikazuki’s hand freezes in mid-air.
“I’m sorry, Mika…” Orga’s breathing is still uneven, and so he can only continue in bits and pieces, “Please… that thing you just saw… just… forget about it!”
“Uh…” A troubled expression emerges on Mikazuki’s face. Usually, whatever Orga has asked him to do, he’d try his best to achieve it; however, this time… “I’m sorry, Orga. It seems… I can’t do it.”
“…Eh?” Orga’s mouth widens, speechless.
“That side of Orga… is difficult to forget…” Mikazuki admits in a frank tone, his gaze lowering to the ground.
To be honest, he should be long used to seeing Orga’s naked body — inside the football team’s locker room, whenever they visit the public baths together, in their shared, non-air-conditioned apartment during the hottest summer days. It had been nothing out of the ordinary during those times, but this is something entirely different.
No matter what, he cannot wash away the image of Orga on that advertisement poster from his mind. Is he broken somewhere inside?
Orga’s face displays a hint of despair as he squeezes his eyes close and turns his head away.
“That sort of outrageous and undignified appearance… You must be… pretty damn disappointed, huh?”
“Not at all.” The dark-haired youngster shakes his head fiercely, and his gaze returns to his companion’s face. “It’s just…” He cannot find any fitting words or phrases.
During times like this, he especially admires the way Orga can use such a variety of sentences and adjectives to describe one lively and fascinating story after another, being able to accurately express his characters’ emotions with the most appropriate wording.
Yet it’s impossible for him to even properly describe his current feelings.
“It’s just…” Mikazuki repeats once more, and then pauses. He stares at Orga’s face from the side as he anxiously entangles himself in a game of hide-and-seek with the perfect adjective in his head.
At this moment, Orga turns towards him, his cheeks still tinting red and his topaz irises staring straight at him with deep concern.
Mikazuki gives up on logic and reasoning, just simply reaches out with both of his hands and cradles the other man’s face before pressing his lips against Orga’s.
The moment Mikazuki’s lips touches his own, Orga’s brain crashes for the second time that day.
“That side of Orga is very adorable!” As if he’s stolen Orga’s ability to poetically express himself through the kiss, Mikazuki finally finds the descriptive phrase he’s been searching for, but the way he phrases it is still the typical Mikazuki-style: concise and sharp.
As for the man who’s had his ability stolen, his power to speak has also been lost.
Orga’s memory after that becomes a bit blurry; he has no idea how he got on the public transit, walked up the stairs, and entered their residence.
When they finally return to the small apartment that let them both feel at ease, Orga steps into his bedroom, shuts the door behind him, and gradually slides down onto the floor with his back against the door and his head in his hands. His tall stature curls into a tight ball of nerves, his face burrowed between his knees.
And then he soundlessly screams.
‘Dear— God —!’
-
Having maintained his cocoon position in the darkened room for god knows how long, Orga hears someone knocking on his door.
Knocking is merely a polite gesture, and since the door is unlocked, it’s pushed open immediately.
Mikazuki sticks his head in to look around, and notices that the light in the bedroom is not on, either.
“Already asleep?” He murmurs to himself, but realizes that the bed is empty. “Eh? Orga?” He blindly searches for the light switch by the door and flicks it on. Only then does he discover the tall young man curled up in one corner of the room, as if he’s pretending to be a silkworm readying himself for metamorphosis.
“Ah… Mika?” The sudden onslaught of brightness momentarily blinds him, and Orga raises his arm to shield his eyes while glancing towards the doorway at his roommate. “You haven’t gone to bed yet?”
It’s probably past midnight now, isn’t it? He looks at the clock, which indicates that it’s fifteen minutes to twelve o’clock.
“You didn’t come out of your room, and I got a bit worried, so I just want to check up on you before going to sleep.” Mikazuki appears to have already washed up, donned in his pajamas and his hair still a bit wet from the shower.
“Uh… It’s nothing, just… I just wanted to calm myself down a bit…” The silver-haired young man rests his head on his knees again and stares at the wall before him. A moment later, he starts, his voice a little coarse, “You know… Mikazuki…”
“What?”
“That… Just now… Was that a joke?” He doesn’t dare look at him, his gaze still firmly focused on a specific spot on the wall as he asks.
“Just now?” Mikazuki blanks out for a second, and then suddenly says, “Oh, you mean when I kissed you?”
For whatever reason, Mikazuki’s easy and casual tone makes Orga feel a slight pang inside, but he nods forcefully regardless.
“It wasn’t a joke,” the dark-haired youth says in a calm yet undeniable voice, and steps into the room. He walks to where Orga is and kneels down before him, “I can’t quite describe it, but Orga, you looked really lovely then.”
The lanky youth who’s just been praised as ‘lovely’ suddenly raises his head, his cheeks quickly tinted red. Slightly frowning, he returns his gaze to the face of the boy before him.
“When Orga looked at me that way, my brain just stopped functioning,” Mikazuki continues, not a trace of hesitation in his blue eyes, “so I just naturally went for the kiss. Is… is that not okay?” When the question comes out, he finally shows a hint of confusion. Things like kissing should only be done between a boy and a girl — Mikazuki still has some common sense in that regard, at least.
Orga’s throat makes a noise, and then he’s hiding his face against his arm while stuttering in a muffled voice. “T-This…”
“But even now, I still have that same feeling…” The young man’s clear voice seems more subdued and hoarser than usual as he leans forward, both hands flanking the sides of Orga’s legs. He shuffles closer, his face nearing Orga’s forehead. “Hey Orga, is there something wrong with me?”
As if an electrifying current has run through his spine, Orga feels his breathing stutter, and when he looks up once more, his gaze meets with Mikazuki’s intensely blue ones. His hair still smells of the lavender shampoo he uses, and his breath has a waft of mint from the toothpaste; the pleasant combination of these scents is enough to intoxicate Orga.
“I’m the one… who has something wrong,” he croaks, lifting his left hand and placing it on Mikazuki’s cheek. There’s only a thin layer of breath between their lips, “I’m really… getting out of line…”
Mikazuki doesn’t wait for him to continue.
Unlike the mere close-mouthed kiss that they shared on the street from before, his lips are slightly parted as his tongue darts out to lick Mikazuki’s lower lip. Mikazuki understands the implication immediately and opens his mouth in return, allowing the other man to invade the insides with his tongue, suck on his lip, lick against his teeth, his upper jaw, or letting their tongues tangle to invite the other to do the same.
It’s not difficult for Mikazuki, who can quickly learn anything as long as he puts his mind to it, to naturally master such a modest skill. Soon, he’s able to regain the initiative of the kiss; he even presses Orga’s back against the wall behind him.
He doesn’t notice when he has his hands on Orga’s knees as he nudges his legs apart so that it opens up a small gap for his lithe frame to slip in between when he shifts forward. Their bodies lightly brush against each other’s due to their delicate movements; they can both sense each other’s hearts beating and thrumming hard and fast through the contact of their skin.
Settling close, Mikazuki’s hand slides along Orga’s slender legs through the material of his pants until he reaches Orga’s upper thigh.
This movement is going slightly beyond Orga’s limit, and he struggles to grab hold of Mikazuki’s wrist, forcing himself to turn his head away from the kiss and gasping out, “W-wait, Mika.”
“Wait for what?” The passionate kisses paint a shade of pink across Mikazuki’s snowy-white skin. He stares innocently at Orga’s reddened lips, kiss-swollen and wet, before he leans his body forward again, wanting to continue what they’ve been doing.
“B-Before we do something like this, we should… um… should, that’s right, we should first calm down,” he mumbles incoherently, his hands braced on Mikazuki’s shoulders to make sure he remains at arm’s length.
“…Impossible.” Mikazuki attempts to adjust his breathing, but his body is like a wind-up string on a bow, and so he won’t be able to comply with Orga’s request.
“Let me finish first…” the silver-haired youth steadfastly grips onto the other man’s shoulders and ducks his head, “I still…”
“Do you not like this, Orga?” he freezes, and his gaze drops down in dismay.
“No, that’s not it,” Orga shakes his head in chagrin. Speaking of body reactions, his current situation isn’t any better, but… “I don’t know… how I should face you if we were to keep going with this.”
“Why?” Mikazuki’s eyes widen, glancing at him with a perplexed expression.
“That advertisement — that sort of ridiculous and shameful appearance… I didn’t plan on letting you see that side of me at all…” Orga retrieves one of his hands and covers his face, his gaze straying away from Mikazuki’s face. He can’t possibly look directly into the other man’s eyes while he’s saying these words. “That… image was the photographer’s deliberate intent to evoke the audiences’ feelings. So, if you wanted… to do that now… um… there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s my fault.”
“Orga…”
“However, if this is merely your momentary desire…” his shoulders become taut and rigid as he bites his lip, desperate fingers seizing his own hair, “after that, I have absolutely no idea… what kind of an expression I should confront you with in the end…”
Mikazuki’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He hasn’t even considered this kind of question before, let alone being able to give a reply.
He shuffles back and sits on his heels, allowing his lust-addled brain to calm down a little.
The atmosphere in the room becomes stiflingly heavy.
The first to interrupt this silence is the clock’s clang signifying midnight.
“It’s already Christmas, huh?” Orga lifts his head to glance at the clock on the wall, and feeling a sense of guilt, he returns his gaze back to Mikazuki, who remains seated on the floor, his head lowered in deep thought. It’s all because of his immaturity that causes Mikazuki to fall into such a dilemma. “Sorry, Mika,” he apologizes in a pained tone. Under normal circumstances, he would already be ruffling his hair or enveloping him in an embrace, but now, he’s afraid to initiate the simplest of physical contacts. “I’ve screwed up this Christmas eve. I’m really sorry. You should go back to your room and sleep.”
“Orga,” Mikazuki lifts his head, his face returning to his usual impassiveness, but his irises contain a different array of colours, “I want you, Orga, and it’s not just a momentary desire either.”
“Eh…?” The silver-haired youth’s body stiffens.
“I’ve always wanted you — always. But I’ve been so stupid and never realized,” his eyes are half-masted, the shadows of his lashes darkening the blue of his irises, “You’ve always been by my side, smiling at me, satisfying my every whim, and forgiving me even when I’ve done stupid things… And so it becomes natural to feel that Orga belongs to me and I thought that I understand everything about you.”
Orga wants to say something, but discovers that his voice has stopped working again.
“So, the moment I saw that photo… at first, I was really shocked, and then I was a bit… pissed off?” He tilts his head slightly to the side, trying to think of a more appropriate word.
“Pissed off… huh?” Orga lowers his head and heaves a sigh, “of course, that sort of shameful appearance has disappointed you, hasn’t it?”
“No way! It’s because… no one has ever seen that side of Orga before, and I wasn’t the first to get to see you that way, even though I’m the one closest to you…” As he’s telling him this, Mikazuki gradually relaxes his fingers from the fist he’s formed. “After that, my brain started acting very strangely…” He puts his hand on the floor and braces himself as he leans forward, quietly approaching Orga.
“I… want you, Orga,” he murmurs once more, one hand placed on the young man’s knee, “If I’ve realized this sooner, I would’ve been the first person to see that side of Orga…” At this point, his tone has become that of a child’s whiny complaint.
But with every sentence and every word culminating into heat that gathers in Orga’s abdomen, his breathing quickens and becomes uneven.
“Hey, Orga…” Mikazuki’s voice is coming from somewhere too close, his hands are already braced against the other man’s chest, the blue in his eyes darkening from desire, “…can we?”
Orga breathes in deeply, burying his face in his palms.
‘I’m such an idiot!’ he scolds himself silently.
When he pulls his hands away from his face, he sees Mikazuki staring at him, his face uncharacteristically nervous. He wants to say something, yet every time he tries to open his mouth, nothing intelligible will come out. Seeing as Mikazuki grows more and more uneasy almost to the point of looking like he’s in despair, Orga finally clenches his jaw and points a finger at the bed adjacent to them.
“L-let’s get on the bed,” his face reddens and says, abashed, “the floor is too hard…”