Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was pure, dumb luck that Eito found himself in the worst possible situation. One hundred days trapped in close quarters with a bunch of new monsters. He didn’t want to believe it. Every nerve in his body demanded that he deny this reality, find a way out, out out out of here. He needed to be alone again. He needed those sickening freaks and their ghoulish “commanding officer” out of his life for good, just like every other human. His plans were ruined now, absolutely ruined. How could he rise to power and exterminate these pests from… wherever the hell this was? And Sirei, that horrible little thing, had been so vague about what their purpose here was. Something about saving people? How did this selection process work, anyway? Sure, Eito was good at pretending to be normal, but wouldn’t a project like this have had access to his medical records? Wouldn’t they know he was the worst possible candidate for a mission like this? He didn’t want to help people. The very idea of it made him nauseous. It was completely intolerable as an idea.

Maybe he could find a way to turn this around. He had gotten himself out of sticky situations before, right? Maybe he could even find a way to spin this to his advantage. He had no idea how he would go about doing such a thing, but he had to believe that he wasn’t completely screwed or he would lose it. He was already so strung up, so tense. Sudden unfamiliar situations were something he could very much do without. He could hardly even think straight through all of the anxiety, spending every moment stomping on a new catastrophic thought so he wouldn’t fly off the handle and —

“Hey, Aotsuki!”

Eito yelped, stumbling backward from where he had been pacing on the roof. He hadn’t seen or heard Takumi coming — he hadn’t even smelled him. The overwhelming openness of the outside air must have been dulling his usually sharp senses. He scrambled to put on one of his most saccharine smiles to cover himself up, but the damage was already done. Takumi was looking at him with his repulsive features twisted into an expression of concern. Eito hadn’t been quick enough. Takumi must have seen the look of abject horror and disgust on his face before he could put his friendly mask back on.

It was pure happenstance that Takumi walked out to see him while he was in the throes of his panic. The night sky hung placidly up above; Eito had been sure that everyone else was asleep. He cursed his luck, his preternatural intuition that always seemed to be on his side until he needed it most. It certainly knew how to choose the worst timing to bail on him.

“Woah,” Takumi said, his voice like sandpaper on concrete, “are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost or something.”

Eito felt his mouth grow dry, felt his cheeks grow hot. It hadn’t even been twelve hours since he woke up here and his cover was already at risk of being blown. The only excuse he could reach for on such short notice was the same one as usual.

“Sorry,” he said, voice trembling. He told himself it was an intentional affectation to make this stupid human pity him. “My condition just makes me a little jumpy sometimes… I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

Eito couldn’t quite decipher Takumi’s expression, but suddenly Takumi was closing the distance between them, closer, closer, and Eito kept smiling but the smell of stale sulfur was making his nose burn and his stomach twist and his forehead break into a sweat.

“No kidding,” Takumi said. “You don’t look so hot… Here, I’ll help you back to your room, okay?”

And then Takumi was reaching for his hand, going to grab at him with his soiled and rotten and pitted and disgusting hand, and Eito’s heart had already been racing so fast that his chest hurt, and this only made it so much worse, and Takumi was going to touch him if he didn’t do something quickly, god, his skin looked infested, it was —

Eito snatched his hand back and stumbled backward, body running on pure instinct. He didn’t realize what he’d done until it was far too late. Takumi looked at him with those big, terrible eyes of his, and they held something absolutely frightening:

Understanding. Gears clicking into place. A broken clock, repaired and ticking.

“Are… Are you scared of me?”

Eito had heard that question a million times in a million tones: pity, accusation, indignance, mockery, disappointment, confusion, fear. He had never heard it like this before. Takumi asked like he was genuinely curious, like he was asking for Eito’s sake instead of his own. He hadn’t pegged Takumi for the inquisitive type. He hadn’t expected this simple-minded fool to care about anyone but himself. That was just how humans were.

Apparently, it wasn’t how Takumi was.

Eito had a decision to make and it should have been the easiest one of his life. Should he keep up the lie and tell Takumi that no, of course he wasn’t scared of him, it was just some other excuse that he could pull out of his hat on the fly? Or should he tell him the truth?

The answer was obvious. He needed to lie. He needed to keep some of his cards close to his chest because this situation was already his worst-case scenario. He needed to have something to leverage against the others if a time ever came where he could turn this nightmare in his favor. Telling the truth had only ever caused him more suffering.

But nobody else who had asked him for the truth had ever really wanted it. By pure chance, he had been dropped into this disaster with the only human who had ever bothered to show interest in his experience without some ulterior motive. Takumi wasn’t like the doctors and nurses, his parents, his teachers, all the filthy humans who had treated him with disdain until he learned how to play his role like a good little nutcase. Could he really afford to waste an opportunity like this?

The answer was obvious. His heart was screaming it at him, pleading with him… but when he opened his mouth, the truth just wouldn’t come out of it.

“Of course not, Takumi-kun,” he chirped. As proof, he reached out and took the disgusting hand-shaped husk he had just recoiled from. “I’m just in worse shape than usual due to all of the excitement today. I must not be thinking straight.”

The feeling of Takumi’s skin, even through the fabric of his glove, made him want to scrub himself raw. He had made the right decision, he assured himself. Of course he couldn’t have revealed his gift to such a shameful, undeserving creature. It was unlikely that Takumi would have believed him — and even if he did, he would have only used that information to hurt him.

That was just how humans were. No exceptions.

It didn’t matter what his heart had to say about it.

Chapter Text

Everything felt fuzzy lately, but that was okay. Sirei had told him that everything would be okay and he trusted Sirei. He knew he needed to trust Sirei because things only got fuzzier whenever he started to think too hard about it. That was okay, too. Takumi wasn’t good at thinking. Takumi was good at fighting and playing with his friends and lately he had been pretty good at being in a cage, too. He got to spend all day with his best friend in the whole world, just talking about whatever came to mind. It was nice. Peaceful. Everything Takumi could have asked for.

But there was still a gnawing feeling in him that he couldn’t quite place. It was strong enough to chew through the fuzzy feeling and make his stomach start to flip, but not in a way that made him feel sick. He just felt… hungry.

It took him a while to figure out what exactly his body was asking for. Snacking didn’t make the feeling go away. Neither did chugging water. He tried napping, exercising, playing word games with Aotsuki, but none of it helped. He was starting to wonder if something was wrong with him. That was a scary thought, that something could be wrong. He didn’t want anything to be wrong. Sirei had told him that everything was okay, so it all had to be okay, right?

He only realized what he was hungry for when he realized that it got worse when he looked into Aotsuki’s cage for too long. Even though it was almost identical to his own, Aotsuki’s cage looked so much more warm and inviting. It looked less lonely because his best friend was in there. He wanted to ask if he could visit Aotsuki in his cage, but he was a little too nervous about it. Aotsuki may have been fine with sitting across from him, but he still had his disorder to worry about. Maybe it would have been too much to ask to be even closer to him, even if he really, really wanted it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to ask.

“Takumi-kun,” Aotsuki asked in that coy-but-secretly-sweet-underneath voice of his, “you’ve been awfully restless recently. Could it be that you’re feeling touch starved now that you’re stuck in a cage all by yourself?”

Takumi wondered if Aotsuki could read his mind.

“I’m not all by myself,” Takumi said, still a little wary about Aotsuki’s intentions. Aotsuki always insisted that he liked Takumi now and considered him to be his only friend, but it was hard to fully rid himself of the distrust Aotsuki had sown in him. It made him feel a little guilty even though he knew it wasn’t really his fault. “I have you here to keep me company.”

“Of course, but is that enough? Just sitting a few meters away from someone and talking to them through the bars of your cage? Humans like you have such gross instincts sometimes, so it wouldn’t surprise me if you were starting to get antsy from lack of physical contact.”

The phrase ‘physical contact’ made Takumi blush a little. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like he was thinking about doing anything weird with Aotsuki.

“Why are you asking?” Takumi asked. Aotsuki chuckled in response.

“Because I’d like to invite you over to my cage,” he said. For a moment, Takumi thought he had heard him incorrectly.

“Huh? Why? You always insist that these ‘human instincts’ are beneath you or whatever… I thought you wouldn’t understand feelings like being, uh… What was it that you called it?”

“Touch starved?” Aotsuki tipped his head to the side like a puppy. It was really cute and it made Takumi’s stomach start doing flip-flops again. “Of course I understand it. I’ve been feeling it my whole life. I just haven’t been able to tolerate anyone for long enough to get rid of it, so I’ve gotten used to it.”

Now it was Takumi’s turn to tilt his head like a puppy. “Then what are you inviting me over for?”

“I think I might be able to tolerate touch if it was coming from you, Takumi-kun. I’m curious… I’ve never felt this way about someone before, after all.”

Takumi felt color rising to his cheeks. If he could see himself, he was sure he would look as red as his hair. He wondered if Aotsuki could tell he was blushing even through his cognitive distortion. Something about Aotsuki’s smug expression told him that yes, he could.

“Well… If it’s okay with you, then I guess it’s fine…”

The transfer was a painless affair. Aotsuki called out for Sirei, who popped up out of nowhere as he was often wont to do. Sirei gave them a little bit of grief for wanting to share a cage, but he was cooperative. He unlocked their doors, pushed Takumi in with Aotsuki, locked them back up again, and that was that. Takumi and Aotsuki were now cagemates.

Once Sirei was done with giving his embarrassing lecture about them being at “that sensitive age” and insisting that they not start “bumping uglies in the middle of the Courtyard,” he finally left them alone. Takumi let out a sigh of relief.

“Why does he always have to breathe down our necks like that..? It’s not like we-- WAUGH!”

Aotsuki caught him off guard by pulling him into a tentative hug. Aotsuki’s arms were tense and awkwardly placed, like he had never given someone a hug before in his whole life. Maybe he really hadn’t. It wouldn’t surprise Takumi, given everything he had learned about Aotsuki’s past in the little heart-to-hearts they’ve occupied their time with over the past weeks. Thinking for too long about what Aotsuki had told him about his childhood made him sad. It made him even sadder to think that the guy didn’t even know how to give a hug correctly.

“You’re doing it weird,” Takumi mumbled. Before Aotsuki could pull away and feign offense, Takumi returned the gesture, wrapping his arms snugly around his friend. His large, puffy jacket made it feel like he was hugging a big teddy bear, but he could feel that Aotsuki’s body was solid and strong underneath. Soon, he was resting his face against Aotsuki’s chest, basking in the warmth that was radiating off of him. It took him by surprise. He had been expecting Aotsuki to run cold, for some reason.

Aotsuki tensed up at first, but then he gradually started to relax as he acclimated to Takumi’s touch. His disorder must have been really bad if something as simple and innocent as this felt bad through all the thick layers of their clothes. Eventually, though, he was resting his chin on Takumi’s head, letting his arms fall into a more natural position around him instead of the stiff mimicry he had been trying to pass off as a hug before.

As Takumi steadily melted into his friend’s embrace, he found that the nagging hungry feeling in his belly was fading. Aotsuki had been right -- he just had an appetite for touch like any other person would. Aotsuki, it seemed, was no exception, for all of his bluster and denial.

“Thank you, Aotsuki,” Takumi mumbled into his heavy jacket. His voice seemed to get lost in the downy layers of fabric. Everything in the whole world felt so soft and warm and right. Everything was going to be okay. Nothing could have been wrong if he was feeling this good. Aotsuki squeezed him tighter and a wave of drowsiness washed over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so safe. “I didn’t realize how badly I needed a hug…”

He could feel long, spidery fingers carding through his hair, just like Karua used to do for him. He knew that he didn’t need to worry about anything anymore. Sirei had been right all along.

“Of course, Takumi-kun,” Aotsuki whispered. Takumi closed his eyes to the world, to everything but the warmth surrounding him. “I’ll hug you as much as you’d like.”

Chapter Text

It was the end of the line. Takumi had no idea whether this supposed eleventh Aotsuki existed, let alone where he might have been. He couldn’t even tell if the twisting in his mind was his own confusion or if it was just Aotsuki scrambling the wires connecting his thoughts. It was like he’d lost all sense of reason. Everywhere he looked, everything he did, every time he so much as closed his eyes, there was Aotsuki waiting to greet him with that smile that sent shivers down his spine.

But then, that was the case even before he absorbed his essence, wasn’t it? Aotsuki had been driving him crazy for god knows how long. Aotsuki hadn’t stolen his senses from him in one fell swoop; he had lost them on his own, misplaced them in those periwinkle eyes and that disarming voice, slowly over the whole time they had known each other. It was so gradual that he hadn’t even noticed the difference until it was too late. Aotsuki had taken over his mind already and he hadn’t even needed to try.

Worse still was the way it made his heart ache. His thoughts of Aotsuki used to be dominated by his beautiful eyelashes, his pretty pink lips, his cherubic laughter. Now, all of those things were tained by the ever-present membrane of terror. Aotsuki could be around any corner. He was the all-seeing eye, the panopticon and the prisoner, the threat and the punishment and the scythe and the electric chair. Takumi still couldn’t help the way his eyes drifted to his lips when he spoke.

He didn’t even know that he was into guys before this whole mess. What a horrible way to have such a profound realization about himself tainted. The thought of it had put nervous butterflies in his stomach when he first put his finger on exactly what it was he was feeling for Aotsuki. Now, all he could feel was shame and regret.

Aotsuki was still talking to him, but he didn’t know what he was saying. He couldn’t bring himself to pay attention. He knew that anything Aotsuki could say now would only hurt him. He had lost his little game — both of them knew it. He never had a chance at winning it in the first place. It was unreasonable of him to hope for a better outcome than his complete and irrevocable defeat.

It stood to reason, then, that he should at least get a consolation prize.

Takumi closed the gap between the two of them, enjoying the way Aotsuki bristled from the seat he commandeered on the couch. If he was going to suffer, he was at least going to get closure on his feelings first. He had to know if this was all real. He had to know if the ache in his chest meant anything.

“Takumi-kun?” Aotsuki said, his voice dripping with an uneasiness that was out of character for him. Takumi found it a little bit cute, despite the circumstances. All the more reason to follow through. “What are you doing? Answer me.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, even though he had no idea what Aotsuki had asked him last. He could cross that bridge once he’d burned it. “Just give me a minute, okay? There’s something I need to try before you… do whatever it is you’re about to do to me.”

Aotsuki froze in place. His shoulders were tense, his face was pink — not its usual green, Takumi noticed, and this struck him as intriguing — and he was clearly out of his element. Takumi didn’t care. It wasn’t like he was used to this, either.

He used to think he was going to save his first kiss for Karua. Now, he was throwing it away to some broken scumbag who only wanted to toy with him for his own sick, sadistic pleasure. It made Takumi’s guts twist up into knots. Maybe he could convince himself that it didn’t count since this was technically all happening in his head.

Yeah, right. He knew he wouldn’t buy that.

With a quiet sigh, Takumi straddled Aotsuki’s lap. Aotsuki was trembling, Takumi could feel it even through that ridiculous jacket of his, but he wasn’t pulling away. That was the closest thing to permission Takumi was going to get. Frankly, he didn’t really care about Aotsuki’s permission. He hadn’t asked for permission to invade his body, his mind, his heart — why should Takumi ask for permission to invade something as petty as his personal space? Why should he care about taking Aotsuki’s first kiss from him? Aotsuki had taken everything from Takumi.

So he leaned forward. He pressed his lips against Aotsuki’s and noticed that they were slightly chapped, likely from how often he chewed on them. Takumi wished that thought didn’t fill his chest with a fond sort of warmth.

Takumi knew that his wishes weren’t worth a goddamn thing.

Rationally, Takumi knew that Aotsuki wouldn’t kiss him back. It was too far out of his nature, too much intimacy for a cold and lonely thing like him to tolerate. But Aotsuki did part his lips, did allow Takumi to deepen the kiss, did slide his hands up Takumi’s back and shiver and stumble over his own breath for a moment. It was incredible. It was terrible.

Takumi wished that Aotsuki hadn’t reacted at all. He wished that he would shove him off of his lap and slam his head into the corner of the table and tell him how much of a sick pervert he was for forcing himself upon the unwilling captive in his brain, because Aotsuki loved to spin himself into the victim’s role whenever it was convenient for him, but none of that happened. Aotsuki defied the nature Takumi had come to understand and kissed him back. He wasn’t any good at it, teeth clicking awkwardly against each other and muffling noises of discontent every time Takumi tried to breach his lips with his tongue, but Takumi liked it anyway and deep down, he knew exactly why.

He liked it because it was Aotsuki, and his feelings for Aotsuki defied all reason.

Chapter Text

Seeing Takumi again made his blood boil. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t “his” Takumi. In fact, that almost made it worse. This Takumi had killed him, looked at a person that he didn’t even know and decided he didn’t deserve to live, that he needed to be punished for crimes he hadn’t even committed yet. Of course that was his true nature all along. It couldn’t have been any other way. Eito had been a damn fool for ever thinking that things could be different, that one lousy human could stand above the rest and prove that exceptions existed to the rules that had been drilled into his head by everyone else. Takumi was just like everyone else: a filthy, vengeful, spiteful, terrible monster.

The only comfort Eito could take was in the fact that his actions had consequences. As much as those other philistines were capable of great cruelty -- and he had seen them commit acts of vicious cruelty -- they at least had the decency to shun the murderer who killed one of his classmates for no apparent reason. He had gathered up his little crew of sycophants, but everyone else was onto him for the sick freak he was.

It was incredible, watching him skulk around mostly alone feeling sorry for himself. Just the sight of one of his groupies approaching him was enough to make Eito blinded white hot with fury. Maybe if he got Takumi to kill innocent people in front of those idiots, then they would finally see how much of a repulsive beast he was and then Takumi would belong only to him once more.

For what it was worth, it seemed like the plan was a success. Takumi was nothing more than a hollowed out shell by the time he made it back to the Last Defense Academy and shut himself away in his room. Victory was like a fire stoked in his belly, grin splitting wide across his obscured face. It was well within his rights to go gloat, to partake in the spoils of his absolute success. He would crush Takumi’s pathetic little spirit and then he would never glance at another person again. He would have eyes only for him, he would survive only off of his hatred for the man who reminded him of what he truly was deep down. Every other moment would be crushing misery, just like Eito had to endure his entire life, and then nothing could ever separate them again.

Eito slipped into Takumi’s room and found him splayed out on his side, rotting away in his own dry filth. He hadn’t come out of his room in two days. Eito doubted that he had even slept, judging by the dark purple circles under his eyes. They used to be a bright, piercing blue; now, they were faded and dull. Yet more trophies for Eito to bask in. It was the most beautiful Takumi had ever looked and it was all because of him.

“Aw, is the dirty murderer feeling guilty?” Eito chirped. He didn’t love the sound of his own voice through this obnoxious voice-changer, but it was worth it if it meant these awful creatures had to endure a fraction of what he had to hear every time they spoke. “Good! It’s not like it’ll make those people you killed come back from the dead, but at least you’ll get a taste of the despair they felt before you decided they didn’t deserve to live anymore! I knew you had it in you! After all, this isn’t the first time you’ve looked into someone’s eyes and rammed your sword through them, is it?”

Takumi barely even responded. He just curled up further, shielding his greasy, tear-stained face with those floppy appendages he called arms. Disgust snapped in Eito’s gut. All of this effort he went through, and now Takumi wouldn’t even play his part? The least he could have done was beg for mercy or, and here was an idea, maybe fight back. Instead, he was shaking and dead-faced like the coward he was. It only made Eito even angrier.

“You’re so useless!” he said, his voice carrying a little more bite than it did before. “Did you even see the look on your stupid, ugly girlfriend’s face? She threw up everywhere! It was absolutely vile to watch! If I never had to see her again, it would be too soon! How can you honestly like a rotten, pukey, bug-faced girl like--”

“Shut up!” Takumi shrieked. He flew off of the bed like it was burning him, so hot and with such ferocity that Eito didn’t even have time to step back before Takumi’s disgusting hands were at his neck. “I don’t care what you say about me, but if you ever talk about Kawana like that again then I’ll fucking kill you!”

Eito wanted to roll his eyes and tell Takumi that it was a bit late for that, but he was too busy trying to wrestle him off. The strange suit he was using to mask his identity may have protected him against hemoanima, but it made every other kind of attack quite difficult to parry. Somehow, the fact that Takumi was acting without thinking was putting Eito at a disadvantage.

The fight didn’t last very long. Eito got a good few hits in, but in the end, Takumi took the prize: he pulled Eito’s helmet right off of his head.

And then he looked up at his assailant.

And then he stepped back, agape in disbelief, mouthing his name silently.

And then he was lunging forward again.

Eito managed to absorb the blow this time, but all it did for him was keep him from tumbling over onto his backside. Takumi was grabbing at fistfuls of hair, scratching with stress-bitten nails, and finally, finally, his eyes were glowing with life again. Rage. Hatred. Tears spilling over onto his flushed and faded cheeks.

“You bastard!” Takumi wailed, lurching forward to butt his head against his chest once Eito had caught his fists in his hands. For some reason, Eito could feel his heart pounding against his ribcage. “I killed you! How the hell are you back!? Why? Why do you want to make my life a living hell? I hate you! Fuck, I hate you!”

It was like a shot of adrenaline straight between his ribs. The emotion was so intense, hearing Takumi admit that he returned his impure feelings, that Eito felt lightheaded. He couldn’t help the grin that split his face in half, the laughter that bubbled up from his lips, the absolute elation that clouded his righteous eyes even as it only seemed to enrage Takumi further. Hell, maybe that even made it better.

“Yes!” Eito cried. “There! That hatred! That’s what I wanted! That’s what I always wanted, Takumi-kun! Hate me, hate me like I hate you!”

Takumi froze, hands clasped against Eito’s thick oversized gloves, glaring at him with an expression Eito didn’t have a single word to describe. He had never seen anything like it before. It was hideous. It was gorgeous. It was everything he had ever wanted, and then it was gone because Takumi’s face was too close for him to see anymore.

Eito felt a soft, moldy pressure against his lips, all wet and slimy and muggy. Takumi was kissing him. Not just kissing him, but trying to shove his entire tongue down his throat. Eito gagged through a headrush that made him feel like his entire body was thrown into boiling water, leaving his brain behind to pulse and squirm in the steam. Takumi wasn’t deterred. He took advantage of the sudden slack in Eito’s grip and tangled his fingers into his hair, yanking until his scalp stung, until Eito’s mouth was open wide around a pitiful noise he had never made before.

It was absolutely repulsive. He needed more. It was completely intolerable. He would surely die if Takumi stopped. Eito did the only thing he could: he kissed him back.

He forced his tongue into Takumi’s mouth like he could mark his possession of him by carving himself into each of his molars. The taste was like wet garbage and pus, but as long as he could conquer Takumi with his lips and his spit, then he didn’t care how nauseous it made him. He could throw up into Takumi’s mouth and Takumi would only be able to swallow him in return.

Just as the heat was reaching its apex, as Eito started to feel something stirring in his hindbrain that was wholly foreign to him, Takumi bit down on his tongue. Hard. Eito’s mouth flooded with the familiar taste of hot iron. Another one of those terrible noises strangled its way out of him even as he reeled backward and shoved Takumi away.

Takumi stumbled backward, falling gracelessly onto his bed. His face was all covered in tears and snot except for his bulbous lips, which were now smeared with the beautiful crimson of blood. His blood.

Eito didn’t know what to call the new feeling swimming around in his gut, but it was bright and scalding and almost painful. It was so different from anything else he’d ever felt that he didn’t even know where to begin with describing it.

In the end, as he finally left Takumi to continue drowning in his self-pity, he resolved to call it ‘anger’ and to never question it again.

Chapter Text

I ended up separating this into its own fic because it got out of hand... please read it here!

Chapter Text

The weeks following Aotsuki’s intentional self-enucleation had been quite eventful, to say the least. He had been initiating the kind of contact that Takumi hadn’t thought he would ever be capable of. Whether it was because blindness cut out a major part of the equation for his disgust toward other people or because he’d had a change of heart in the wake of learning the cruel truth of their situation, Takumi couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was a little bit of both. All he knew was that Aotsuki was in the process of sorting out the complicated feelings he’d spat at Takumi during his first hundred days and he was landing squarely on the side of “love” instead of “hate.”

Takumi was wary at first, so wary that he’d rejected Aotsuki’s innocent requests for touch. Holding hands to guide him to the Cafeteria, leaning his head on his shoulder while sitting at the edge of the bonfire he could feel the warmth of but could not see, always walking just a little too close because he didn’t know how to gauge the radius of personal space now that his own repulsion wasn’t so much of a limiting factor. It unsettled Takumi at first. Who could blame him? Aotsuki was more than just a traitor to the Special Defense Unit — he was a traitor to all humanity. When it sunk in that humanity had betrayed all of them from the moment of their conception, though, Takumi found that pill significantly easier to swallow. He wasn’t about to agree with Aotsuki’s previous omnicidal creed, but he could at least see the ways in which he, too, had become a traitor to humanity. It grew harder to cling to denial with each passing moment in the world where he would never get to see Karua again.

These days, touching Aotsuki had become something close to second nature. It started, perhaps expectedly, with holding his hand. He would feel the furnace-like heat of Aotsuki’s hand without any gloves to separate them. He would feel the way the initial contact would make Aotsuki shiver, face scrunched up like he was wrapping his hand around a clog in a shower drain. He would watch him take a few deep, shaky breaths and knit his brows together and mumble something to himself about a glitch. Then, his expression would even out and he would shyly squeeze Takumi’s hand in return, and suddenly Takumi couldn’t hide from the feelings welling up in his belly anymore.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to. Aotsuki made no secret of the fact that he felt the same way. Takumi thought that maybe he was trying to for a while there, the way he would cut himself off whenever he got a little too earnest, but he was really bad at it. It wasn’t like Takumi could blame him. Aotsuki hadn’t had the opportunity to trial-run these feelings in his simulated reality. They were more foreign to him than they were to anyone else. It only made sense that he would trip over them, stumble into them, be overwhelmed by the enormity of them. He was good at pretending not to hate, but he was not good at pretending not to love. Part of Takumi admired that about him, though he wasn’t sure how to admit it.

Eventually, he gave Aotsuki his first true hug. He supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him that he’d never hugged someone before, considering his condition. Every time an adult had tried to embrace him as a child, he would run or cry or scream, and once he was strong enough he would even fight back. He was really awkward about it at first, stiffly circling his arms around Takumi with no pressure or give. It was like hugging a statue. It was a little embarrassing having to verbally walk a guy pushing twenty through something so basic, but it was worth it in the end. Aotsuki was broad and warm, the kind of body that he could melt into like a plush mattress at the end of a long day. His arms were solid and strong, squeezing him tight enough to pop his back. It startled Aotsuki the first time it happened, throwing him into a quiet panic where he worried over Takumi and asked if he was okay, voice like a dog who’d knocked over the trash and held its tail between its legs at the mess it had made. Takumi could only snicker in response and reassure him that it was fine, that it felt good. Aotsuki beamed so brightly at the praise that Takumi thought he might go blind, himself.

It wasn’t long after they started that they started kissing, too. It was only natural, right? Aotsuki was timid about it at first. Takumi wanted to jump right into the deep end, guided by the fire Aotsuki had set in his belly some two-hundred days ago, but he knew he needed to be on better behavior than that. Aotsuki wasn’t just inexperienced — he was getting over a physical barrier that Takumi had never had to consider before. So, he let Aotsuki take things at his own pace, even as it made him feel like he was going to burst out of his skin from the overwhelming intensity of his desire. Their first kiss was as chaste as could be, more like the kind of kiss a mother would give to her child than the kind of kiss two people who liked each other romantically would share.

Thankfully, Takumi didn’t have to wait very long for that to change. After their first kiss, Aotsuki became ravenous for them. It was like a dam had been broken inside of him and he realized what he had been missing his entire life. He would sneak kisses whenever he could, whenever they managed to find a spare moment alone. It made feel Takumi feel giddy, like a schoolgirl sneaking kisses with her upperclassman crush behind the teachers’ backs.

He couldn’t tell which of them was escalating things. It seemed like he and Aotsuki were being moved by the same guiding hand, agreeing on when to first part their lips, flick their tongues outward, grab each other by the hair, open their jaws and their teeth and breathe into each other, all like they had choreographed it beforehand. Takumi never realized how effortless it would feel to have this kind of chemistry with someone. They were very quickly veering into territory that Takumi didn’t have any more experience with than Aotsuki did and it was thrilling, knowing that they were learning these things about themselves at the same pace. Where Aotsuki once had to pull away to gag after mere seconds grazing their lips together, now he was exploring Takumi’s mouth with his tongue like he could find the secrets of the universe behind his molars.

Of course, things only grew more heated from there. Kissing turned into making out, which turned into grinding into each others’ laps, which turned into pawing at each other awkwardly through their clothes. Something about the way Aotsuki clung to him made it hard for Takumi to feel all that shy about the way he’d start poking Aotsuki’s hip or his thigh when things got particularly intense. When Takumi suggested that they take things further, tucked away in Takumi’s little prefab hut, Aotsuki nodded like he’d been ready and waiting for ages. Admittedly, Takumi got a little satisfaction out of being the one to make Aotsuki wait for once.

It took about five minutes for them to lose their virginities to each other. Neither of them even got the chance to get naked first. Apparently, Aotuski had never done it by himself before. Takumi, the chronic teenage masturbator that he was, couldn’t conceive of what it must have felt like to have his first orgasm at the hands of someone else. He couldn’t help feeling like he was tainting him in some way, taking away one of the few claims to innocence that Aotsuki had. Maybe that should have made him feel bad. Maybe it did make part of him feel bad. For the most part, though, it was the hottest thing Takumi had ever done. How could he feel bad when it all felt so right?

And so, there they were in the present. It had been just over two weeks since Aotsuki gouged out his eyes and showed them off as tokens of his loyalty and they’d crashed their way through the entire course of their relationship in the time since. They were laying beside each other on Takumi’s bed, kissing like it was the end of the world, and Takumi knew that he needed more. He could feel that Aotsuki did, too. If they’d only had more time, if it didn’t feel like doom loomed at the cliff of their final day as soldiers, then maybe they could have gone all the way. Maybe they could have taken things slow, acclimated to each other until Aotsuki was ready to experience the full weight of another person’s love, until they were both ready to give themselves to each other properly.

But they weren’t created with that kind of luxury in mind. Neither of them would ever get to experience the part of living where they, too, created life. Neither of them were ready for it yet.

Still, Takumi wanted desperately to make Aotsuki feel good. He knew better than to hope for the best come the hundredth day of their service. He knew very well how expendable they were. He at least wanted to go out knowing that he had experienced everything he could, even if he couldn’t experience it all.

Aotsuki was shy, but overall receptive to the idea. They undressed each other, lips and tongues and hands roaming each other’s bodies. There was nothing holding them apart from each other, anymore. Takumi guided Aotsuki onto his back, trailed his lips down his chest, his abdomen, his hipbones, his thighs, kissing every inch of him like the pink marks he left behind could rewrite their fate, like he could weave himself into permanence in Aotuski’s skin, if nowhere else. He muffled his own desperate moans so he could memorize the sound of Aotsuki whimpering under his touch.

Aotsuki gasped when Takumi first laved his tongue up the underside of his shaft, holding it gently in his hand. He listened for the gag, the strained groan of displeasure, but it never came. Aotsuki just fisted his hands into the bedsheets and twitched with the effort it took not to rock his hips. The puff of air against his crown from Takumi’s sigh of relief was enough to make his toes curl.

“T-Takumi-kun,” he keened. Whatever it was that was holding Takumi back snapped.

Takumi had no idea what he was doing. He had seen girls do this in porn before, but it wasn’t like he’d practiced for himself. He just had to go off of instinct. He curled his lips around his teeth and took Aotsuki’s head into his mouth, relishing the heady, slightly bitter taste of him. Aotsuki’s hips jolted in response, bumping himself against the roof of Takumi’s mouth, and suddenly Takumi was hot for it. He dove down on him, taking as much of him in as he could without choking, wrapping trembling fingers around the base where his mouth couldn’t reach. It shouldn’t have felt nearly as good as it did — he was pretty sure that the mouth wasn’t supposed to be an erogenous zone or anything — but it drew a needy whine out of him all the same. He bobbed his head experimentally, once, twice, until he found a rhythm that made Aotsuki squirm.

He couldn’t take all of him, but it didn’t seem to matter. Aotsuki was shaking, hooking his knees over Takumi’s shoulders and struggling to keep his hips from arching off the bed. Fingers tangled in his hair, gently pulling him deeper, driving him crazy with need. He needed more, more of Aotsuki, more of this feeling, more time to feel this way before whatever uncertain future he would need to face. He couldn’t take it anymore — he could feel Aotsuki pulsing in his mouth, could hear his cries reaching a crescendo. His free hand snaked down between his legs so he could jerk himself off, desperate to hit his peak at the same time so they could have one more thing to look back on as something that they had shared.

Takumi got his wish. The moment he tasted more of that addictive salty-bitter filling his mouth, heard Aotsuki scream with his release, he felt the familiar rush of heat blooming in his gut. He sobbed around Aotsuki’s dick, lost in the explosive feeling of it, so overpowering that he could feel his muscles spasming, could feel his cock jumping in his fist, could feel everything he had overflowing for Aotsuki, all for him, just for him. He swallowed everything Aotsuki gave him and hoped it would be enough.

It took longer for them to catch their breath than it took for them to finish. Takumi crawled up and flopped beside Aotsuki, wrapping his arms around him, praying that Aotsuki wouldn’t push him away and groan through a wave of nausea. He didn’t. Aotsuki just embraced him back, clung to him, tangled their legs together like he could keep Takumi forever if he just held on for long enough.

Takumi wasn’t sure which of them started crying first, but he knew that their tears came from the same place. Neither of them were sure how long they had left together or what lie in wait for them at the dawn of the hundredth day. All Takumi knew was that he was scared, and that Aotsuki was alive and beside him for now, and that it was the first time in his short life where he’d felt like everything was right. He didn’t want to fight anymore.

Soon, he wouldn’t have to.

Chapter Text

When they were in public, Eito referred to Takumi by his title. To everyone else, he was General Sumino, the leader of their slapdash rebellion, the man that both miserable species put their hope into, praying that he could guide them to a future where they didn’t have to fight anymore. There was still a very long road ahead of them.

In private, though, Eito fell back into old habits. General Sumino became his Ugly Takumi-kun, the rolling sea whose tides he played with at his whim. They’d fallen into a cycle that kept their difficult war efforts a little easier to manage. Morning would come and they would get out of bed. By noon, Takumi would be playing his role as leader and Eito his role as advisor. Daytime was always the hardest because they could never know quite what to expect. Even when they had the luxury of a schedule to follow, which they often did, there was always the possibility of something going awry and throwing the rest of the day into chaos. The battles were fewer and further between now, but they were never absent. Negotiation tables were always far more tense than battlefields. Meetings with allies rarely went exactly to plan. All of it took its toll on Takumi, who had never quite been cut out for this much power in the first place.

By evening, they would inevitably both be exhausted, but neither of them had time to take days off, so they needed to make the most of the few hours they got to themselves before they had to begin the cycle anew. It was the easiest part of any day, the habitual push and pull of each other as they washed up and collapsed into bed together. Sure, they both enjoyed a little variety, but the overall idea was always the same: one of them would clearly be more tense and the other would help them both relax.

These days, Takumi was usually the one who needed it most. Eito played his part as diligently in bed as he did in all other aspects of his life. Tonight was no different — negotiations with the resistant human faction had gone… poorly, to say the least. Eito had expected this outcome from the moment the meeting was scheduled, but Takumi was taking it a lot harder. He had really believed that those repulsive things would listen to reason without their own selfishness getting in the way. Eito found that naive hopefulness a little bit endearing, even if he knew it was a bad trait for a leader to have.

Takumi sat on the bed in his pajamas — boxers and a hoodie that was a bit too large — resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. It was a truly pathetic sight and one that Eito cherished. He was the only one who got to see the great General Sumino in such a sorry state. He was the only one who could pick him back up and get him back in working order before the sun rose in the morning. Eito almost took more pride in this than he did in his position as his primary advisor.

…Almost.

“Oh, my poor Takumi-kun,” Eito cooed. There was a hint of condescension in his tone that he was too tired to mask, but he knew that Takumi didn’t mind it too much. He also knew that today had been particularly rough on him because his attitude didn’t even net him the customary groan and eye roll. He would need to take extra good care of him tonight. Thankfully, he knew just the thing he needed.

Eito sat down on the bed behind Takumi and placed his hands on his shoulders, massaging some of the tightness away with skilled hands. He’d gotten awfully good at giving massages a few years back as part of his exposure therapy since it was a good way for him to get acclimated to skinship without needing to worry about being touched in return. During especially troubled nights like these, he liked to dust off his new talent and melt Takumi into gross, fleshy putty.

Takumi sighed and pulled his hands away from his face, already beginning to relax into Eito’s touch. His eyes were puffier and redder than usual — he had always been such an easy crier. Eito pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Why don’t you lie down for me?” he murmured against Takumi’s skin. It was easier to ignore the greasy sensation under his lips now that they’d been together for so long. “And take that big, gross sweater off. It needs to be washed.”

Takumi gave him a halfhearted huff at the sweater comment, but he still complied without any hassle. He tossed the hoodie to the floor and lay down on his stomach, his sad blue eyes cast down like a guilty dog. Eito tugged off his gloves and reached for the oil on the bedstand.

“I don’t know what I did wrong,” Takumi mumbled, mouth half-covered by the pillow. Eito sighed as he uncapped the bottle, warming the oil between his palms. It made sense that Takumi would still be hung up on what had happened earlier.

“It wasn’t anything you did,” Eito said. He knew that Takumi knew he was being honest — if it had been Takumi’s fault, he would have had no qualms with telling him. His position would be meaningless if he was too much of a pansy to tell Takumi when he was fucking things up. “Tensions are high right now. I told you multiple times that this outcome was likely.”

“I know that, but…” Takumi trailed off as Eito finally put his hands to use, working strong circles between his shoulderblades. A quiet yelp escaped him when he dug into a knot — something he’d gotten pretty good at telling apart from the general lumpiness induced by his cognitive distortions — which only spurred Eito on further. He knew better than to go easy on Takumi when he was resisting what he needed. That applied to massages just as much as it did to political counsel.

“No buts,” Eito said. “In fact, no talking about it at all. You’re only going to work yourself up into a fit if you keep dwelling on it and I’m not in the mood to wrestle you to the bed tonight.”

Takumi must not have had the energy to fight back because he obediently buried his face in the pillow and gave himself up to Eito’s ministrations. Finally! Eito was as thorough in his disassembling of Takumi as he was in all other things. He started at his shoulders, rubbing away the tension between his shoulderblades before working his way down. He trailed along the bumps of his spine, kneading the muscles cradling his ribs. As he lost himself in his work, he found himself starting to relax, too. Nights like these were always a treat. He’d come to enjoy touching Takumi’s ugly little body. It was quiet, intimate… and of course, Takumi was pleasantly reactive to every touch. Even now, just massaging the middle of his back was enough to get Takumi breathing heavily into the pillow. Eito knew very well what he would find if he were to flip him over.

Gradually, Eito’s hands found Takumi’s lower back. He always held a lot of his stress there, so Eito always got to drag some of his sweetest noises out when he pressed into the tight muscles just above his tailbone. Takumi didn’t disappoint. As Eito dug his thumbs in, he whimpered and wiggled his hips like he was trying to escape the stimulation. Eito clicked his tongue.

“You’re awfully worked up, Takumi-kun. If you keep squirming like that, you’re going to undo all of my hard work…” Eito shifted down to straddle Takumi’s thighs so he could lean over and kiss the small of his back. “Do I need to massage you from the inside, as well?”

“D-Don’t say it like that…” Takumi groaned, clinging to his pillow. Eito chuckled.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Lift your hips, then.”

Takumi was as pliant as he always was when Eito was pampering him. Eito made quick work of discarding his boxers, leaving Takumi fully naked underneath him, bulging raw skin exposed for only him to see. If he focused hard enough, he could almost call him cute.

Opening him up was easy, too. This nightly ritual of theirs had Takumi on the receiving end more often than not lately, so he was already a bit prepared, but the massage had helped him relax even further. He took two fingers without any issue, then three, each as deep as Eito could push them. When Takumi started arching his hips up, rocking back and forth, Eito knew he was ready for more. Still, he had to ask him. Just to be a pain.

“Are you ready, Takumi-kun?” Eito hummed, grabbing Takumi by the hips and pulling him up so he could settle between his legs. Takumi whined.

“Just fuck me already..!”

Eito loved it when he got annoyed with him, but not enough to keep him waiting much longer. He freed himself from his pants and underwear, taking a moment to pump himself to full mast, coating himself in the oil. Now that he didn’t have the embarrassing hair trigger of an inexperienced virgin, he was always a little slower to arouse than Takumi was. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his cognitive disorder, or if it was just because Takumi’s libido was so high.

When he finally guided himself in, Takumi sighed like he was in heaven. He was slow and gentle at first, acclimating himself to Takumi’s tight heat, but then he pushed in all at once, all the way to the hilt in one smooth motion the way he knew Takumi liked. He held his hips in place, savoring the feeling of being inside him for a brief moment before Takumi was clamoring at him again.

“Eito, please move..!”

How could he resist when Takumi had the decency to say please? He didn’t bother with teasing him — they were both too exhausted to drag this out. Instead, he set a rhythm he knew would get both of them into it: long, slow, hard. He lay himself against Takumi’s back, pressing him into the bed, shielding him with his weight. The garbled moan that Takumi let out may as well have belonged to an angel. He was rocked forward with each steady thrust, unwound from the core outward. Overwhelmed by the feeling, he scrabbled around with his hand so he could lace his fingers together with Eito’s. Eito felt his heart skip a beat.

Eito could already feel Takumi quivering around him, could feel the way he’d lurch every time he dragged against his prostate, could feel the shivering in the muscles he’d just tamed. Takumi’s moans were rich and full, coating the room in his need.

“E-Eito,” he keened, “I’m already— already close..!”

Eito kissed the shell of Takumi’s ear. “Go on, then. I’m not done with you yet. You can give me two tonight, can’t you?”

Takumi nodded feverishly. A lick of pleasure curled around Eito’s belly and he mirrored it with his tongue against the ridges of Takumi’s ear, biting down sharply and lapping up the way it made Takumi squeal. He could tell by the way he clenched down on him that Takumi had cum, splattering himself across their bedsheets, and suddenly Eito felt his self-control slip out of his grasp. He didn’t slow down, didn’t even give Takumi a chance to catch his breath — he steamrolled right over his first orgasm and fucked him faster, harder, squeezing his hand tight. He laved his tongue against Takumi’s ear, tunneling inside that little canal that seemed to drive him crazy. Takumi sobbed, his knees slipping further apart as his legs weakened beneath him.

He was almost perfect like this, Eito thought. Even if he was a wriggling mass of parts that didn’t fit together quite right, even if his voice had the same timbre as concrete sliding against itself, even if his scent wasn’t something he could honestly consider pleasant, he was still Takumi. He was still the only person who had ever made Eito’s heart feel too big for his chest. There was nothing about him that Eito would have changed.

It was all too much to bear. He could feel himself twitching inside of him, could feel the hot tingling gathering below his navel. “T-Takumi-kun,” he whined, “I’m going to…”

Takumi’s noises had escalated from moans to shouts, desperate and needy and punctuated with sweet whimpers. He probably wasn’t going to last very long, either.

“Inside,” he begged, “please, fuck, Eito, I’m cumming..!”

Eito sucked at the shell of his ear again, teeth worrying the cartilage there as a groan ripped itself out of him. He couldn’t tell which of them finished first or if they finished at the same time but it didn’t matter because he was filling Takumi up, feeling him convulse around and under him, soaking up the praise of his wordless cries, pleasing him in a way that nobody else could. He shuddered through each hot pulse, through each near-painful twitch, panting hard against Takumi’s disgusting skin, and he loved it. He loved him.

Takumi finally collapsed beneath him, his knees too shaky to hold him up anymore. Eito stayed there, on top of him, inside of him, boxing him in and keeping him safe while it was just the two of them separate from the confusing world outside. Even when everything was so uncertain, he would always know where he belonged as long as he was by Takumi’s side.

Takumi sighed, turning his head to gaze up at Eito. Even through his distorted sight, Eito could see the appreciation in his eyes. Eito left a lingering kiss against his cheek.

“Are you feeling better now?” he asked. Takumi smiled.

“Yeah,” Takumi murmured, even though they both already knew the answer. These little habits of theirs were the rock they both leaned on. Leading a rebellion would never be easy, but loving each other only seemed to get easier with each passing day. Takumi reached up, awkwardly craning his arm so he could ruffle Eito’s hair. “You always make it better.”

Eito closed his eyes and smiled. He didn’t care how much conflict the world threw their way. As long as Takumi kept holding his hand, he knew they’d make it all better together.