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Blood dripped to the floor from Mika's lips, and for a split second he regretted letting it fall instead of licking and savoring the taste before the drip echoed and crashed against all four walls of their shared room. That single sound, reminiscent of a thousand shards of glass falling to the floor, was the only thing standing between Mika and the realization of what he had done.
Ritsu. He was sprawled across the floor, face dull and cold with dried blood smeared across his cheek. Those beautiful red eyes Mika had always admired, now clouded and dull brown just like that blood that soaked the both of them in their entirety. He was drenched in it, and so was Ritsu, and even after the time Mika had spent working over his body--How many hours? How much time had Mika spent in this dark room?--it was still wet and sticky like some sort of twisted baptism.
Mika could still feel it in his throat. Every bite of Ritsu's flesh, soft and easy as if it had been begging to be devoured just moments before grew restless inside him. Pushing against the walls, shoving, and shoving as if crying out to be freed and be whole again--all Mika could find the strength to do was let out a choked moan before falling forwards and heaving it all out. The contents of his stomach spilled onto the corpse that used to be his roommate with a splatter. God would never forgive this. Ritsu would never forgive this. That was the only thing that came to mind.
—
Mika Kagehira had grown unbelievably fond of Ritsu Sakuma. There was no reason to it, no explanation that Mika could conjure up that wouldn't sound like a repetition of the way he had once depended on Shu. The drifting of his thoughts toward his roommate, the expectation of seeing him once Mika arrived home, all of it was like a mirror image of what he had once had with his partner in Valkyrie. But this mirror had steamed glass, because here in the dorms where shouting wasn't commonplace and every open door was met with a soft "Welcome home," the pattern seemed to be hazy like a dream. Dreams had always haunted Mika, whether they were wishes or the sort that filter out your thoughts when you drift to bed.
Mika had grown into a steady routine when he lived with his beloved "Oshi-san," and when that pattern was disrupted, so were his dreams. The lack of them was disjointing at first, like a metal rod being shoved into connected cogs holding together a machine. Initially, Mika had hoped they were gone for good, and that he'd never have to deal with them again. But nightmares can only be starved off for so long with simple things like soft bedding and soft words and soft smiles.
To Mika's surprise, Ritsu hadn't grown irritated that first night when Mika had gasped and sobbed and clung to his sheets while fighting desperately to stay quiet and unnoticable. There was neither yelling nor silent disdain; the only thing Ritsu had offered him was a soft and pained smile as if to say "I know. I understand what it's like." He had crawled into bed with Mika without a word, and the two of them stayed like that for hours. Ritsu's hand on the back of Mika's head, moving up and down to run his fingers through the crow-black hair as if he had done it a thousand times before. He did go on to do it a thousand times more; when Mika woke up shaking, Ritsu would always hold him. Again, and again, and again. The selfish parts of Mika almost hoped the dreams would stay, but the logical parts knew it would only cause him more misery in the long run.
They never stopped. It was impossible to get rid of such awful memories without proper help. But Ritsu didn't complain a single time, and neither of them ever brought it up during the day. If it weren't for the fact that they woke up together in the mornings, Mika could have believed those stolen moments were only extensions of those dreams, his brain's pathetic attempt at consoling him after it all--but that wasn't the case. Ritsu was real. Every time Mika got to breathe in the lingering scent of sweat on Ritsu's clothes, he was certain of it. Every time he woke up to a dozing boy in front of him, stiff and motionless as a living doll yet holding him so tightly all the same, Mika was certain of it. Ritsu was definitely real, and Mika had definitely fallen for him, that boy who pretended to be a vampire.
It was meant to be an ordinary day like any other when Mika sat down onto the couch, wincing slightly at the harshness of the movement. Practice with Shu had been more extensive than usual, and Mika's muscles were practically crying out in protest as he continued to use them instead of resting. Oh, well. It hardly mattered. Ritsu was due to be home in just a little bit, and he would definitely make Mika stay in place for a nap, or two, or three...though Ritsu should've been home by now. Mika wondered if Knights had practice that went on for longer that day as well, despite there being no significant events for either of their units in the upcoming weeks...
A pair of arms wrapped around him from behind, along with a low murmur that Mika couldn't quite make out. Mika had grown used to it, a hug as a greeting, but today he had been so lost in thought that it made him jump a little.
"Mm..? Mikarin, did I startle you?" Ritsu's voice came out soft and playful, though there was a hint of worry underneath that Mika pretended not to hear. His cheeks grew warmer as he shook his head and leaned backwards as if to get closer to Ritsu. Neither of them could see the other's face.
He wanted to savor it. To sit there and hold that moment over his tongue forever, letting the flavor of that simple act of intimacy soak into his mouth, but Mika knew it would only seem strange to Ritsu if he sat there without a word. "'M fine, Ritsu-kun,” he shook his head, trying to smile even though his companion wouldn't have been able to see it anyway. "What were ya doin', anyway? Feels as if you came home later'n usual.."
Ritsu lowered his head to nuzzle Mika's shoulder, his cheek brushing against Mika's neck for a fraction of a second. Even that simple touch was enough to make Mika blush even more. "Sorry, Mi-ka-rin." Ritsu held out each syllable of the nickname as if he were singing, a strange staccato that suited his sultry voice. "Suu-chan wanted to get sweets with me and Tsukipi, and since Nacchan and Secchan were busy I figured I'd have the time."
Ritsu pulled his arms back at last, leaving Mika's body feeling oddly light without the pressure from his weight. The shorter of the two--though it was only one centimeter of difference--stretched, letting out a short sigh before walking over and sitting next to Mika on the couch. Usually Ritsu would slide over and lean on his shoulder, and Mika would lean into Ritsu in turn, but for some reason today he stayed on the opposite end. Mika tried to mask his disappointment, but it somehow seeped into his next sentence like a lingering curse.
"So that's the case...nnnah, I wish ya would've told me. 'S lonely without ya here, after all...I wish I had spent a little more time with Oshi-san instead of coming home." The sharpness that failed to be hidden underneath his tone matched the small pick of jealousy in Mika's stomach, and he almost felt like pouting. But pouting and being cruel more than he already had would make Ritsu hate him, and Mika couldn't stand that. Instead, he decided to pull out his phone and aimlessly scroll through his old messages as if he were doing something new. A twinge of guilt had started to pull at his gut for acting so stupid with Ritsu like he had just done, but the phone managed to distract him.
Ritsu shuffled in his place, pulling his knees up to his chest and staring at Mika. Mika could feel his gaze, but he didn't want to look. If he saw Ritsu's eyes, he'd just be reminded of how long Tsukasa and Leo had gotten to look at them without Mika being there. The mere thought of Ritsu spending all that time with other people made him faintly nauseous.
"Mikarin, won't you look at me?" Ritsu's voice wavered slightly, as if he was frowning. Mika's body tensed up at the sound, wondering if Ritsu had gotten upset with him. Ritsu wasn't the sort to yell or get mad, no, but what if he did? What if that one moment of disregard was enough to make Ritsu hate him? He couldn't stand the thought.
Mika slowly looked over at Ritsu, shifting his view over to the floor every few moments. If he looked at Ritsu's eyes for too long, he'd grow flustered, though Ritsu had always taken it as the same hesitance Mika had with everyone's eyes. He had never been fond of eye contact.
"Mikarin..." Ritsu sighed, sitting up to lean over Mika. He hadn't expected it at all, and let out a small cry that he quickly stifled as soon as he saw the intensity on Ritsu's face. Mika was trapped under Ritsu, hands gently but firmly placed on Mika's shoulders and one leg in between Mika's in order to hold himself up. The physical proximity wasn't anything new. Mika was used to it, he was constantly longing for it, but like this...it felt more like one of those cheap adult films Shu would always express his hatred for rather than something Ritsu would honestly do.
Ritsu's hair had fallen over his eyes, making it easier to look at him without having to worry about seeing his eyes. Mika swallowed, before letting out a shaky breath and speaking with the same level of tremor. "Ritsu-kun...yer real close to me, yanno? Feels like 'm about to get crushed a little bit..." Along with the sentence went a silent prayer that he would move, even just a little bit, because it was getting awfully hard to breathe. The binder certainly wasn't helping, but neither was Ritsu.
Ritsu frowned, but he pulled back just enough for the ceiling light to shine properly over the two of them once more. Rather than kneeling, Ritsu was closer to sitting on his leg, with the other one tucked out of sight where Mika could not see it past his body. Now that Mika wasn't as distracted by Ritsu's proximity, he could admire him properly, the way he always did when the two of them were together.
He was more like a painting than a person. Everything about him was too close to perfection, at least in Mika's eyes. The smoothness of his skin, the length of his eyelashes, the shine in his eyes and the way his lips moved every time he spoke or smiled...if Ritsu Sakuma was a decorated cake, he would almost be too beautiful to cut into.
Mika shook his head, trying to get rid of the thought. It wasn't kind to think about eating a boy like Ritsu, much less cutting him up. He was still trapped on the couch with the way things were, so his only choice was to either figure out what Ritsu wanted or push him off.
For a moment, Mika wondered if he was the one who deserved to be pushed instead. After all, Ritsu-kun had been late to come home because he was busy talking to Tsukasa and Leo, wasn't he? If Ritsu didn't want to spend time with him, then surely it was because Mika had messed up somewhere. There wasn't any other option.
"Ritsu-kun, are ya mad at me for somethin'?" The words came out like blood from an open wound. Mika wanted to wince and run away from whatever answer his roommate would offer.
Instead of offering Mika the harsh words that he had expected, Ritsu shifted his weight from one leg to the other. Easing backwards, he buried his face in Mika's shoulder with a low murmur.
Mika stiffened, his breath catching in his throat as he looked down at the top of Ritsu's head. This was nothing new. There was nothing happening that Ritsu hadn't done a thousand times before. So why was it that it was making him react so strangely now of all times? What was it that was making Mika so sensitive to his every movement?
The pain from his aching muscles had grown to be only a distant thought in Mika's head as Ritsu's body pressed against him just slightly. Even through both of their clothes, Mika could almost swear he could feel every inch and curve of Ritsu's skin.
Ritsu sighed, the vibrations of the noise thrumming against Mika's arm. He sat there silently for a few moments, as if soaking up that small moment, before speaking again once more.
"You always blurt out the strangest things at the worst times, Mikarin." His voice was low, like disjointed bass notes in a song, and somehow the mess sounded more beautiful than any pre-composed piece could even dream of being. The movement of Ritsu's lips on Mika's arm was almost mesmerizing, as though he was tracing the words onto his skin instead of saying it.
With a sigh, Ritsu pulled himself up again, blinking as if sleepy at the couch before turning to face Mika with those half-closed eyes that were so mesmerizing and so terrifying all at once. "Honestly. You act like you can't be away from me, but if I do anything that makes you upset you try pushing me away before crawling right back...I just can't make sense of it at all."
Ritsu kept staring at him, waiting for a reaction. Mika swallowed, opening his mouth only to draw in a breath and close it again. Ritsu continued, his voice slightly softer than before.
"I don't understand it, Mikarin. I care about you a lot, but it's impossible to tell if you feel the same or not. You're back and forth, always, acting as if I'm going to jump out and get you for the smallest slip of the tongue." The end tapered off into some sort of crushed sound, as though Ritsu was being hurt by the mere act of uttering the words. He narrowed his eyes, frowning as Mika turned away.
Heart fluttering in his chest like a trapped bird, Mika couldn't stand looking at Ritsu for a moment more. It felt like being suffocated, like being shoved into a ball and crushed until all the air and sense was squeezed out of him. It was so, so painful.
Ritsu leaned forward, lifting up his left hand to cup Mika's cheek gently. With a gentle push, he turned Mika's face so that their gazes met, his own face softening as soon as they did.
Mika swallowed again, unsure of what to do or say. He was trapped, unable to run or escape the situation by any conventional means. Anything he could think of would just lead to Ritsu hating him even more. It was almost certain that Ritsu hated him already. "I..."
Mika shook his head, Ritsu’s hand falling away from his cheek with the movement like a dog shaking off water. There was absolutely no excuse for his stupidity, none at all, but with Ritsu so close by he couldn’t resort to any of his less savory habits to crush his dread and go on as usual. Trapped in such a way, Mika couldn’t help but wonder why he was so hesitant.
There had never been any reason to avoid Ritsu. He had never offered Mika anything but kindness, softness, a warm touch and a reassuring whisper if it was truly warranted. Despite that, there was a constant fear welling up inside of him—Ritsu will hate me, Ritsu will get rid of me, all sorts of nonsensical thoughts that had never matched the pattern of events. It was, in a sense, a touch of insanity. No sane person would think of hatred in the face of affection time and time again.
”…’m scared.” He finally whispered, the words oozing out of his mouth. “‘M scared that you’ll hate me, and I’ll be left all alone. I ask too much of ya, Ritsu.” Mika met Ritsu’s eyes with his own again as if he could silently beg through them, showing his hesitance in each of those mismatched eyes with the ease of song or poetry.
Ritsu let out a sigh, resting his hand on Mika’s shoulder with a soft smile. “Is that really all it is? You’re afraid?” His smile curved even further upward, as if he was delighted at the idea. “I’ll do anything to prove I love you, Mikarin. There’s no reason to be afraid.”
Anything? Mika could feel the prick of tears at the corner of his eyes, daring to spill loose if anything kept going the way it was. He swallowed, his throat dry, before letting out a shaky breath and starting to speak again. “But I—”
Ritsu's lips met Mika's, silencing him immediately as mouth pressed against mouth. It was entirely different from what he expected in a response, and yet Mika wished he could melt into it and become completely consumed by that feeling. Ritsu's grip tightened on his shoulder, as if trying to urge Mika onward.
Every sensation was like another note in music, a piano chord spiraling up into a symphony of endless sound. At once, Mika understood what everyone had always meant when they called love a form of art. If he stayed like this for just a moment longer, just a split second, everything would finally be worth it. Every moment spent in agony, waiting to experience something like this, would melt like honey on his tongue. Ritsu's tongue was already melting against it.
Mika's hand slipped free from where it had been trapped under his own leg, and he wrapped it around Ritsu's back to pull him closer. The movement almost caused him to lose his balance, but not quite, and after just a second's worth of loneliness their lips were together once more.
Eventually, Ritsu pulled back, letting Mika take a strangled gasp of air before staring up at the other boy as if he'd been stabbed. Eyes wide, studying as if trying to find some sort of secret hidden underneath what had just happened--but there was nothing to find. Looking into Ritsu's eyes, all Mika could find was a painful, all-encompassing sort of "love." More than craving, more than dependency, yet somehow just as understandable and warm as a cup of tea on a cold winter night. Mika's lips were still tingling, and he let Ritsu go to brush his fingers against them hesitantly, as though to confirm that they were still there.
"Mikarin, it's just like I said. I'll do anything to prove I honestly love you." Ritsu spoke with a mixture of conviction and softness that Mika had only ever heard him use in the middle of the night. Never awake. "You mean the entire world to me. There's nothing I wouldn't do to make you happy." Ritsu's head leaned to the side, his lips slightly apart as though he was expecting to kiss Mika again at any moment.
Mika, on the other hand, was at a complete loss for words. That hadn't been his first kiss, far from it, but it was the first that had ever been so good. It had never been like that before, not like that, never like that. He was hungry for it in a sense, and he leaned into Ritsu again, hesitant and soft.
Hunger won him over, that dull ache in the bottom of his stomach, consuming him and flipping over any sense of reason or rational thought until Ritsu was under him on the couch and his hands were reaching and reaching to places he never expected them to go.
Legs spread apart just enough for Mika to press his body into Ritsu’s, Mika pressed onward and onward as if he was something to capture or claim. With a simple slip of a shirt off of shoulders, Mika went onwards, pressing his lips against skin even further down until his cheek met the soft skin of Ritsu’s neck and he couldn’t find the will to keep going.
He leaned back, blinking as if sleepy until he could see almost all of Ritsu again. The messy hair, the flush of red on his face, the rise and fall of his shoulders…it painted such a beautiful portrait that Mika was almost convinced that he had taken a glimpse at a god. The corners of his lips twitched up into a smile, and he ran his fingers down the expanse of Ritsu’s collarbones with a sigh.
Anything.
”Yer so gorgeous, y’know. It’s like ‘m looking at a painting in a museum.” Since when has the feeling of skin against skin felt so welcoming? How long had it been since he felt someone else so close to him like this, so soft? The dull ache in his stomach was consuming his rational self, desperate and lonely.
Ritsu turned his head to the side, his breath heavy. “Mikarin…it’s fine to keep going…” were the only words he managed to choke out before Mika descended upon him once more, with skin against skin and light whispers of a thousand different nothings.
Ritsu lifted his trembling hands up to cling to the collar of Mika’s shirt—not to signify that he wanted it off, but rather to catch the other boy’s attention. Mika leaned back again, just slightly, resting his hand next to Ritsu’s head to keep his balance. Ritsu moved it again, exposing more of his neck.
”Mi-ka-riiin…” Breathless as he was, he still called it out like a song. “I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to be the one bitten…”
Mika paused, his lips slightly parted. The rational part of him, nearly completely disregarded, wanted him to stop. To pause. To make sure he did not go too far again, with teeth far too sharp and a heart far too desperate.
Mika, however, wanted Ritsu far too much to listen. Down he went, once more, his breath warm on Ritsu’s skin as he bit down. The world around him was so, so far away, almost like a dream. With one hand on Ritsu’s shoulder, he held him down, biting further until he reached blood, and then flesh. Ritsu let out a sharp cry, trying to sit up, but Mika’s hands forced him down. He was weaker than a starving cat, or an abandoned fawn. Ritsu had always been sickly, but it wasn’t typical that he’d relent control so easily if he was scared. Mika knew that, didn’t he?
It was fine for him to be a little bit scared. Mika would simply have to comfort him, that’s all. Comfort Ritsu as Ritsu had comforted him.
He lifted his head to press his lips against Ritsu’s cheek. Flushed red lingered on the skin, harsh against the near-white, but Mika could only find it beautiful. He lifted his hand to stroke Ritsu’s cheek, feeling his body tremble as Ritsu whimpered. He couldn’t tell if it was fear, or joy, or pleasure, but either way it was so beautiful coming out of Ritsu’s lips that all Mika cared to do was plant another kiss on them.
”’S okay, Ritsu-kun. I won’t hurt ya. Just let me keep goin’, and you’ll be alright…” Ritsu’s eyes were wide, trembling almost as badly as the rest of him, but he nodded sharply. He didn’t speak, he didn’t say anything at all, and Mika was vaguely disappointed at it. Why wouldn’t Ritsu make more pretty sounds..? Maybe he was just too tired. If that was the case, then Mika would let him rest as much as he liked. “Just take a break, and I’ll take care of ya…I don’t want ya to rely on anyone but me.”
More, and more, and more.
Mika lowered his head to Ritsu’s body again, taking another tentative bite. The meat had grown tough, raw, and difficult to tear apart with his teeth alone, but Mika had gained confidence to rival even the most egocentric of artists. Ritsu’s body was his canvas, and he was dedicated to paint it entirely with each stroke of his affection. Redder than love itself.
The dull ache in his stomach grew stronger yet, pushing him further, and he took bite after bite. Soft flesh squished against his teeth, digging further into a body that no longer inhabited any living soul. The blood on the sides of his mouth grew dry, and then it was coated again with fresh blood, endlessly. The more Mika ate, the more the ache faded, until all he was left was with the buzzing feeling of intoxication. Was it possible to grow so uncontrolled with love alone?
It was better than a dream. It was all so real, so deliciously real. Every sigh Mika let out, every forced tremor from Ritsu’s body, even the blood soaking into the floor and into Mika’s clothes was real. He had never felt any warmer. He never would feel any warmer than this. Mika held up the meat in his hands, cooing over it, running his tongue over the ridges of the flesh until it was coated in his saliva, and then he swallowed. His mouth was the furthest from dry it had ever been, filled to the brim with ecstasy turned into sustenance.
Licking the blood off of his lips, he looked at Ritsu's face again, pale and beautiful as a marble statue. So pretty.
He lifted his blood-soaked hands up to Ritsu’s cheeks, breathing out like a laugh, murmuring to him as though he were a wild animal susceptible to run at any moment. “Ritsu’s so gorgeous, so beautiful…almost like a god.”
He lifted his hand, the blood remaining on Ritsu’s cheek just barely smudged, before crawling backwards until Mika could see only his torso. It was calling him, whispering promises of warmth and togetherness until the end of all time, pulling him further and further down like a string of fate. Warm. Hazy and warm like a feverish dream. You and I will be one, forever n ever n ever. No one will ever keep ya away from me again.
It is impressive, the amount of blood inside another person. No matter how many times one hears it explained in a science class, or just as one of those facts online, you never truly expect it to be so much in person. Enough to stain your hands, enough to almost completely cover your arms. It dries in the smallest of crevices along your skin, coating you within it entirely.
It was already dark outside. Mika leaned back, letting out a final sigh. His mouth was still half-open, and he licked his lips again, trying to savor every last bit of it. A single drop rolled down his chin, but he figured it was more saliva than Ritsu. He had stuffed his stomach full to near-bursting, a selfish sort of satisfaction he had never been able to reach before. How long had it been since he had been so happy…? Had Mika ever tasted it before? No, surely not. His chest was so, so warm, and his body nearly buzzed with the taste of it all. Nothing could ever compare to this. No touch, no amount of being held or soft words could possibly compare to this. Like a winding staircase, going onward and onward and onward, reaching higher and higher peaks of joy-
Drip.
—
Shaking shoulders and choked sobs slipped out from under the blanket, just barely muffled enough that they couldn’t be heard from outside the room. Tears stained Mika’s face, dripping onto the bedsheets with almost the same intensity as rain. It was that same dream again, ripping apart another person with the joyful abandon of a starving man. A dream that never relented, never went away, chasing him into his safest corners until it destroyed even the softest things he knew.
This time, there was no Ritsu left to comfort him. The tremble in his body and the shake in his hands were a burden for him alone to bear.
His eyes flitted to the dull brown stain on the ground, then grew still. Mika could practically see the outline of Ritsu’s body, desecrated beyond repair, but he knew it was no longer there. It was a figment of imagination, born out of guilt, an entirely fabricated reflection of his own thoughts. Half-awake, the fragments from his sleep seeped into the real world, haunting him with the same weight as the real corpse.
There was a knock on the door. Mika jumped, whimpering slightly at the shock, before the voice on the other end spoke with an uncharacteristically soft tone. “Kagehira. Let me in.”
Mika breathed out, the air catching in his throat, but he swung his legs over the side of the bed anyway, letting the blanket fall back onto the bed from off of his shoulders. Tentatively, he pressed a foot to the floor—solid. He stood.
Every step to the door felt like something was about to jump out at him. Shadows pressed against the corners of his vision, threatening to overrun his sight and drive him blind, but Mika went onward still. The cold metal of the doorknob dug into his palms as he turned it open, just a crack.
A thin line of light spilled into the room for the first time in days, and Mika winced, blinking from the slight pain of it. When he managed to adjust his eyes to the new setting, Shu stood in the hallway, his face stern.
“Oshi-san—“
”Hush.” Shu silenced him with just a word, pushing the door open further. He took a step inside, scrunching his nose at the scent of the room, before slipping his coat off of his shoulders. “Kagehira, you must understand the sin that you have committed here. Not only did you…ugh, I cannot even bring myself to say the words aloud. You commit such a terrible thing, and leave me to clean up your mess?”
Mika’s lip trembled, and Shu looked over at him properly for the first time since he had entered the room hours ago. His face softened, and he leaned down slightly, holding Mika’s cheek with a tender touch.
”It is alright. I will take care of everything.” He lifted his finger to wipe a tear off of Mika’s cheek. “You can rest assured that I will take care of it. It is no concern of yours, Kagehira. No one will ever know.”
Like a whisper or a wish, Mika held onto those words as he backed into his bed again. Shu had brought cleaning supplies with him, and set to scrubbing the floor as Mika sat in his sheets, shaking. No one will ever know.
He was almost like Ritsu, if he pretended with all his heart. Attentive, soft, gentle. If Mika ignored the sharp edge at the end of his sentences, ignored the annoyance laced within it, it was identical. He could sink back into it, close his eyes, and drift into a much softer reality than the one he was haunted by.
The harsh sound of scrubbing against wood kept him awake. Soon enough, there would be no trace of Ritsu left. Part of Mika wanted to stand and tug at Shu, drag him away and beg for Ritsu to remain there, but he couldn’t muster the strength.
At last, the noise stopped. There wasn’t even a faint shadow of a stain left behind. Shu stood, and walked over to the small kitchenette Mika couldn’t see from his bed. He shivered, pulling the blankets more firmly against him as if it was mimicry of his touch. He closed his eyes as tightly as he could, and listened.
Running water, then silence. A small clatter at the sink, then silence. Footsteps, until they came to a stop just in front of him. Then touch.
Mika’s eyes opened half in shock and half in recognition as Shu wrapped his arms around him, pulling Mika closer to his chest. He wanted to cry again, let everything spill out completely, but all he could do was shake and clumsily hold Shu’s sleeves. He was vaguely reminded of the vomit left dried on the side of his mouth.
“Don’t rely on anyone but me, Kagehira. Not for this. Everything will be alright.”
He closed his eyes, and let himself lean into it.