10001 Nightmares Party

[Fic] if i soar without grace (Classroom of the Elite)

Summary:

Ryuuen has definitely lost all his memories. Definitely. For sure. And he and Kiyotaka are definitely dating. Absolutely. For realsies.

Notes:

Created for Small Fandom Bang - Round 13.

Written by: TisStrangerEerierAndPreposterousUsername
Art by: ValiantBarnes

Title from the song False Kings by Poets of the Fall.

Work Text:

“I don't remember anything,” Ryuuen says.

“I'm your boyfriend,” says Kiyotaka.

Ryuuen tilts his head. He gives nothing away, a kind of empty ignorance in his eyes. “Is that so?” he asks, gaze going from top to bottom of Kiyotaka.

“It's so,” Kiyotaka confirms.

Brushing a hand through his hair, the strands between his fingers glittering gold in the sunlight, Ryuuen hums. He glances at the others around—Horikita especially, but he moves on without indicating anything one way or the other. Just smiles and it's— soft. Gentle.

Kiyotaka isn't used to being looked at like that.

And Ryuuen looks—radiant in it.

Interesting.

Kiyotaka says, “Don't worry, I'll deal with this,” to Horikita. Shrugging, he adds, “After all, he's my boyfriend.” Giving him a look that flawlessly conveys that she’s caught onto his blatant lie, she nonetheless leaves them alone, dragging Sudou and the others with her. The students from C-class follows, casting concerned looks at Ryuuen like they can’t quote believe what is happening.

Tellingly, though, none of them attempt to interfere.

Kiyotaka is sure he’ll get a whole slew of texts from Horikita tonight, if not outright a call (a rare thing indeed from her), but for the moment they are alone in a remote corner of the campus where Ryuuen so very conveniently fell down a moderately tall staircase, one of those that connect different levels of hill to each other, rather then something big in a building.

“Boyfriend,” drawls Ryuuen, smirking. His eyes are alight with what Kiyotaka might be tempted to call excitement, but he doesn’t have nearly enough experience with that, or Ryuuen for that matter, to make an accurate assessment and so he discards that thought as needless.

“Yes,” he says, taking a step toward Ryuuen. He has observed, during his time at the school, that couples tend to lean into each other. He’s not entirely confident in his ability to fake that kind of pull, that kind of attraction, but he thinks getting physically closer to Ryuuen is an acceptable first step. Ryuuen at least does not lean away from him in turn, in fact he rather leans toward Kiyotaka, so he judges this plan to be a success. “We’re boyfriends,” Kiyotaka adds, to make sure that there are no misunderstandings.

Ryuuen laughs. “Alright. I’ll believe you.” He looks Kiyotaka up and down, gaze lingering on his hips and waist, and his expression turns decidedly leering. It’s one Kiyotaka has seen him level at schoolmates in other classes when he wants to intimidate them, wants to rattle them and catch them off-gourd—because nothing is more well-designed to catch somebody off-gourd than something that grosses one out. Than an interaction that is creepy .

Kiyotaka nods. He catches sight of one of his classmates hiding around a corner and discreetly tries to wave them off. From the minute movement of Ryuuen’s eyes, he gathers he wasn’t discreet enough.

Ryuuen crosses the bit of distance left and rests his arm around Kiyotaka’s shoulders. He leans down, their heads disconcertingly close together, so close that Kiyotaka can’t help but focus on Ryuuen’s warm breath as it strikes his cheek. “As my boyfriend, you’ll help me, right?” Ryuuen drawls, a dangerous smile on his lips.

Kiyotaka nods. Of course, that is only to be expected. It might be his first time being somebody’s boyfriend, but he did his due diligence before joining the school and his research has hardly suffered since coming here. In fact, he’s gotten better at it, acquired more data points and concrete real life examples to use for his experiments. So he knows boyfriends are supposed to help their girlfriends—carry their things for them, opening doors, calling the elevator, paying for the dates—and it only makes sense for that to still apply, even though Ryuuen is a man. Teenager. Well, a boyfriend .

Ryuuen smirks. “Then do you mind telling me what’s going on right now?”

“You fell down the stairs,” Kiyotaka helpfully informs his new boyfriend.

Ryuuen laughs. Because he’s still hanging on Kiyotaka, Kiyotaka can feel Ryuuen’s chest moving with the movement, can feel it as Ryuuen curls his fingers around his shoulder and digs the nails in, the sensation sharp even through the layers of clothing. “I did figure that out, yeah,” Ryuuen chuckles, brushing his hair behind his ear with his free hand. It drags Kiyotaka’s attention to it; there is simply something about how Ryuuen moves that beggars attention.

The surety, perhaps. Ryuuen does everything with utmost confidence—his every step is filled with purpose, the knowledge that he can’t go wrong. There’s a pull to that, Kiyotaka supposes, something fascinating about how somebody can be so sure of themselves and their abilities, how they can have iron-edged self-control without ever misjudging themselves.

Every loss Ryuuen has endured has been not because he overestimated himself, or his allies, but because he underestimated his opponent. It says something, then, that he still manages to maintain an unequivocal top position in his class and be an undeniable threat to every other class.

Ryuuen is dangerous.

Kiyotaka has always known this, but never is it more apparent than when Ryuuen smiles at him and there’s no hint of hostility, no semblance of a lie in his eyes. His body-language reads as open to Kiyotaka’s inexperienced eyes, and he puts his weight on Kiyotaka, forcing him still, keeping him trapped.

Ryuuen steers him onward, and Kiyotaka sees no reason to resist. He is curious, he will admit, to find out what Ryuuen’s normal days look like. Of course, Kiyotaka has observed his fair share of Ryuuen’s movements, as is only wise, but that does not correspond to knowledge of how Ryuuen acts with those he truly trusts, those who’s faith in him is unwavering and who’s faith is returned.

Kiyotaka finds himself wondering how Ryuuen might act, especially with him, beyond closed doors as they walk toward the dorms. Ryuuen does not let him go, and so their progress is slow and they attract attention, something Kiyotaka generally avoids. But it’s Ryuuen who is the attention-grabber here; he’s willing to bet none of the people they pass even know who Kiyotaka is. And, too, Kiyotaka watches Ryuuen as they walk, keeps his attention on the other teen out of the corner of his eyes.

At the entrance to the dorms, Ryuuen lingers a little. “Which floor?” he asks, observing the others lingering.

“Seven,” Kiyotaka says, flicking his gaze over their observers as well. He doesn’t pay them much attention; there’s no need, he thinks. They won’t know enough to give up the ruse, and their presence, regardless, is inconsequential at best.

They take the elevator up.

In the elevator, they’re alone.

It strikes Kiyotaka that this is the first time they’ve ever been alone together.

He has walked passed Ryuuen in the halls sometimes. Has faced him during the inter-class competitions. Was there, obviously, for that first mess with Sudou when Ryuuen revealed himself to be such a fierce opponent, and certainly he has kept his eye out for Ryuuen. It’d be foolish not to. But they’ve never been alone together, just the two of them.

Kiyotaka looks at Ryuuen, feels the arm around his shoulders relax, and Ryuuen pushes the button. “You look worried,” Ryuuen says, the soft elevator music in the background. The bright overhead lights aren’t usually very kind to appearances, Kiyotaka knows, but when he looks at Ryuuen he finds nothing of that. The light glints in his eyes, turns them predatory and Kiyotaka can’t help gazing at them longer than is probably wise.

But Ryuuen doesn’t say anything about it, so Kiyotaka rewinds to the conversation and responds, “I am worried. My boyfriend doesn’t remember me,” this, he’s gathered, is a worrisome train of events.

Ryuuen huffs a laugh through his nose. “I’m sure I’ll remember you soon enough,” he says, and it doesn’t sound reassuring in the least—rather threatening, in fact—but Kiyotaka finds that is rather the norm for Ryuuen, and it’s strangely comforting.

“You might not like me when you do,” Kiyotaka says.

Ryuuen raises an eyebrow. “Oh? We’re fighting? Breaking up?”

“Yes,” Kiyotaka blinks. “We’re having issues in our relationship that are proving to be difficult to overcome, and when you get your memories back, you might look back at this period of time with regret.”

Ryuuen laughs. It’s a cackling sound, an expression of amusement that spreads to his whole body, from his shaking shoulders to his glittering eyes. “You’re a riot,” he declares, grinning, and squeezing Kiyotaka tighter. The elevator doors ding open, and he’s dragged out and deposited in Ryuuen’s room without another word, Ryuuen’s wild grin always visible out of the corner of his eyes.

Kiyotaka can’t look away.

Sitting on Ryuuen’s bed, Ryuuen staring at him from the desk chair he’s sitting on front to back, his arms crossed over the backrest and his eyes undoubtedly studying every part of him, Ryuuen says, “Your name.”

“Ayanokouji Kiyotaka.”

Ryuuen looks at him. His room is immaculately organized, Kiyotaka notes. The books on the shelves are sorted alphabetically in order of topic, every surface entirely free of dust, and no hint of clothing on the floor, as Kiyotaka has realized is common for people their ages. Lately he’s begun to drop his socks in strategic places before his friends come over, and has observed a marked improvement in his male friendships, while Horikita has expressed disdain for the habit.

Kiyotaka counts that as a success.

“We’ve been boyfriends for three weeks,” Kiyotaka explains, trying to keep it short enough there won’t be an expectation of a physical evidence of his presence in Ryuuen’s life. There aren’t pictures, of course, and naturally none of his objects can be found in Ryuuen’s possession.

“Three weeks and we’re already fighting?” Ryuuen muses, tilting his head.

Kiyotaka nods. “We’re not very compatible,” he says, sorting his expression into one of regret and sadness.

Ryuuen stares at him. He’s not sure what Ryuuen is looking for, but he feels bare before him, stripped down and with pretenses undone. It’s a strange, peculiar sensation, and while he doesn’t know if he likes it, he doesn’t think it’s a bad feeling, exactly. And Ryuuen is—Ryuuen. He sees more than most, is an expert at patterns and problem-solving, and he’ll always go for the easiest solution which means something entirely different at this school because the easiest solution for Ryuuen is not the easiest solution for most people. It makes him unpredictable, even when he shouldn't’ be.

It’s interesting; Ryuuen is by far the most interesting person Kiyotaka has met.

“A shame to give up so easily, though,” Ryuuen says, biting down a grin. He moves again, placing his head on his hand, and he gazes down at Kiyotaka as if he’s sitting on a throne, legs spread around the back of the chair.

Kiyotaka nods, saying nothing. He’s content to just watch Ryuuen’s expressions, watch himself be torn apart and studied under a microscope. It shouldn’t be unfamiliar, but something about the way Ryuuen does it makes it new. Exciting, even.

That, too, is fascinating.

“You don’t wanna spark my memory by telling me about our dates?” Ryuuen raises a challenging eyebrow, eyes glittering with amusement again. But he’s still cataloging Kiyotaka’s every movement, from the way he breathes to where he looks to what his micro-expressions do, and so Kiyotaka studies him right back in return.

Ryuuen’s expression is open, courteous despite the constant amusement. Ryuuen is genuinely having fun right now, Kiyotaka thinks, genuinely finding their interaction amusing, entertaining, finding Kiyotaka’s presence enjoyable. That is, too, a new thing. Horikita tolerates him, yes, but she doesn’t much like him, occupied with her own insecurities and her desperation to prove her worth, coupled with her surety that her worth is superior to that of others on a fundamental level that means a condescending attitude even when she’s trying to be nice for the betterment of the class and her own position.

She loses, Kiyotaka thinks, because she can’t objectively evaluate her own skill and worse still she doesn’t want to. She’s still wrapped up in the false sense of security her arrogance lends her ineptitude, and intelligence without competence means barely nothing at all.

Ryuuen, meanwhile, has no superiority complex holding him back, is not shackled to any perceived self-worth, doesn’t measure his successes and failures by the words of others. He is only ever seeking more ; more power, more control, more minions, but it’s grounded in his knowledge of his skills and his resources, and so it never manages to cross the line from confidence to arrogance.

Ryuuen, Kiyotaka thinks, is a predator.

Horikita is a toy.

Kiyotaka blinks at that thought. He’s not used to the peculiarities of having so many acquaintances; not used to measuring people against each other based on something so subjective as his enjoyment of their presence. His evaluations can’t hold any objective weight in such a category, and he wonders yet at the value of determining relationships at something so nebulous.

But Ryuuen smiles at him. “Lost in thought?” and it’s challenging in all the ways Ryuuen is uniquely challenging.

It’s not that Kiyotaka hasn’t met people like Ryuuen before. But. Well, he doesn’t think he’s met somebody else who wears it so well. Ryuuen is comfortable, honest, satisfied with who he is. So few people truly are, especially here, that Kiyotaka can’t help but to find it a common ground.

“I don’t believe forcefully trying to jolt your memories by telling you everything we’ve ever said and done is the right course of action,” Kiyotaka says instead of voicing his thoughts.

“Wise, perhaps.” Ryuuen’s smile softness, but maintains that wild edge that is so irresistible. There is a charisma in Ryuuen’s every motion, one that his classmates have proven unable to resist. Too much up close exposure, Kiyotaka thinks, and not enough willpower. He wonders what it would feel like to fall in, to let himself get lost in it.

Eyes narrowing for the briefest of seconds, Kiyotaka nevertheless smiles.

⫘⫘⫘

At night, at home in his bed, Kiyotaka responds to the many texts Horikita has sent over the course of the day. He supposes he should be flattered; he’s not usually on her mind this much.

⫘⫘⫘

Nevertheless, he assures her that everything is alright.

⫘⫘⫘

Horikita corners him before class starts the next morning, pulls on his sleeve until he follows her into a corner of the classroom. “What are you playing at?” she hisses, glaring at him.

Kiyotaka shrugs. “It was a heat of the moment thing.”

She presses her lips tightly together, pursing them and glancing around them. Lowers her voice, leaning closer. “Ryuuen is dangerous. You can’t just—provoke him like this. What will happen when he gets his memory back and realizes you lied to him?”

“That’s a problem for later,” Kiyotaka shrugs again. He blinks at her, studying her appearance. Her eyes are actually a bit baggy, the area under them slightly darker than normal. Did she worry that much over this? It’s not like her, he thinks, and says so.

She scowls, letting him go and stepping back. Clapping her hands as if to rid herself of his filth. “You need to think about the class, not just your own game. If Ryuuen retaliates because of your actions, can you take responsibility for that?”

What an odd question.

⫘⫘⫘

What is this school, if not a provocation.

⫘⫘⫘

Ryuuen falls into step with him outside the cafeteria, knocking their shoulders together and grinning when Kiyotaka glances at him. “Hey, boyfriend,” Ryuuen drawls, radiation satisfaction. His shoulders are back, head tilted a bit like he’s looking down on the whole world. He’s done something, Kiyotaka thinks, readjusted something that bothered him.

It’s a good look on him.

Kiyotaka smiles. Boyfriends smile at each other, and they hold hands, open doors, have conversations and make compromises. It’s a balancing act, a matter of weighing your needs versus somebody else’s and determining where the lines are, and what edges can be walked on. Kiyotaka is very good at walking on edges.

“How are you?” Kiyotaka remembers to ask, tilting his head at Ryuuen’s huff. “Any memory coming back yet?”

“Nothing,” Ryuuen declares, shoving open the door and letting Kiyotaka go through first. Kiyotaka frowns a little; he’d planning to open it. While he’s never particularly been planning to be somebody’s boyfriend, he has done his research, and he’d like the opportunity to show his conclusions. If Ryuuen is going to steal every moment like this, who knows when he’ll get a chance like this again.

Frowning, Kiyotaka sits across from Ryuuen at a table in plain view of most of the cafeteria. Ryuuen preens at the attention they receive, while Kiyotaka is content to observe Ryuuen and his actions. The way he stretches out for connections has a kind of ruthless efficiency to it, he thinks. Ryuuen greets several people, displays his knowledge of their name and mental states flawlessly, engaging them in conversations designed to press upon them his reliability, flatter them and overwhelm them with his sheer magnetic presence to draw them in like moths to a flame.

It is akin to art. Watching it this close for the first time, allowed to watch it, meant to watch it, Kiyotaka is unable to look away.

Ryuuen is dangerous, in general.

He might be far more dangerous to Kiyotaka .

After dinner, after showing off in the cafeteria, they walk along the path in one of the miniature parks on the campus. Kiyotaka still has not succeeded in doing any of the boyfriend-y things before Ryuuen, and he thinks that he needs a grander plan for it or he’ll never succeed; Ryuuen is simply too crafty, and sees his intentions coming too far ahead.

It’s an interesting challenge, and Kiyotaka finds himself excited.

“Have we kissed?” Ryuuen asks.

Kiyotaka tilts his head, glancing upward. Still hours until the sun will set, meaning a romantic walk under the stars will require more planning. “No,” he answers, seeing no reason to lie about it. Kissing anybody isn’t something Kiyotaka has thought about before; an oversight, he sees now. It’s never been relevant, of course, but ignoring something just because it’s not immediately a concern leads no one anywhere good.

“A shame,” Ryuuen smirks. “Wanna change that?”

“No,” Kiyotaka says, blinking, thoughts spinning out of control. Kissing Ryuuen? What would that be like? He eyes him; Ryuuen’s lips aren’t chapped, and when he licks them they glisten. But they’re normal lips; they fit his face, and are suitable for smiling, for smirking. They suit Ryuuen, and the idea of pressing his own lips to them, of touching them, of letting Ryuuen get so close to him…

Hah.

This really isn’t going the way Kiyotaka had intended.

Ryuuen bites his bottom lip, pulls on Kiyotaka hand and looks at Kiyotaka from below his long eyelashes. It’s something Kiyotaka has seen girls do plenty of times by now, but less so an expression worn by boys. And it—does effect him.

He is only human, after all.

Ryuuen laughs. Seen his interest, reads it as easy as Kiyotaka reads the amusement in Ryuuen’s glittering eyes. “No need to freak out, babe ,” Ryuuen says, swinging their hands and pulling them going again, Kiyotaka’s gaze briefly skipping to the hold they have on each other. Ryuuen’s hand is warm, and slightly bigger than his, a softness to his grip that Kiyotaka has no defenses against.

It’s not a bad sensation.

⫘⫘⫘

Hirata tries to subtly ask what’s going on between Kiyotaka and Ryuuen, and Karuizawa bulldozes right over him with a simple, “Hey, what are you doing hanging out so much with that Ryuuen lately? Some kind of new plan? Sabotage?” and while Hirata waves his hands and tries to reassure Kiyotaka it matters not why he’s hanging out with Ryuuen, that of course he’s allowed to have friends in other classes, Kiyotaka seriously considers Karuizawa’s questions.

He has been ‘hanging out’ with Ryuuen every day lately. Obviously, some degree of closeness is expected if they’re in a relationship, but Kiyotaka wouldn’t have expected to be kept quite so close, engaged in conversations and pulled in, pulled back, pulled forward by Ryuuen’s warm hands. Wouldn’t have expected the familiarity with which Ryuuen touched him, the ease in Ryuuen’s expressions, in his movements, in his closeness.

As a plan, this is all rather poorly put together. It’s impossible there won’t be consequences, retaliation; it’s an infection of Ryuuen’s world in a most deplorable violation, and Ryuuen would never tolerate it, no matter what might happen without memories. As a plan, it’s a poor attempt at manipulation, too easily seen through and without proper preparation.

A crime of opportunity, more than anything else. Kiyotaka saw an in, saw a chance to get to know a different version of Ryuuen, to get to look deeper into his skull, and he took it ruthlessly.

It won’t have a good ending.

But Kiyotaka thinks too of the way Ryuuen smiles so easily at him now, how the shine in his eyes, the drive in his steps, the thoroughness of his plans and the ease at which he figures out what makes people tick, how to use it for his own benefit, and he finds that he is unwilling to let it go.

It doesn’t matter anyway, he decides. He’s in too deep to pull the plug right now without giving away the game.

The only viable way forth is to play it to the ending, come what may.

⫘⫘⫘

Kouenji says “Congrats on your marriage!” while swinging by on a vine over the park somebody must have installed just for him, and Kiyotaka blinks after him, hoping that that wasn’t an image of Kouenji’s ass that has burnt itself into his retinas.

⫘⫘⫘

Kiyotaka plops down next to Ryuuen on the bench inside the campus’ mall. They’ve got a good view of the students milling about on the floor below them, and are adequately protected from most eyes by a wall of plants on one side and a large sign declaring the elevator not far from them broken.

It is the first time that Kiyotaka has down first, and Ryuuen tilts his head, eyes for a moment deathly serious, spilling the intrigue inside his head outside like they’re a window. Kiyotaka has never considered himself to be good at reading people, and he’s not about to start now, but he rather thinks that Ryuuen is satisfied, is pleased that Kiyotaka took this step. Is pleased, too, when Kiyotaka grabs Ryuuen’s hand and squeezes it.

It’s the proper thing to do.

They’re boyfriends.

It’s what boyfriends do.

“Darling,” Ryuuen drawls, dragging out the word and grinning at the visible reaction Kiyotaka has. And it’s not even a particularly big reaction; Kiyotaka isn’t good at expressing his emotions, isn’t a very expressive person in general, and he’s well aware of this. It makes him a bit unsettling to be around sometimes, he’s been told by his classmates. But Ryuuen spots the minute widening of his eyes, the tiny hitch in his breathing lasting less than a millisecond. Spots it, and delights in it, is obviously pleased to have been the cause.

Ryuuen is dangerous. (And Kiyotaka’s defenses aren’t calibrated for a threat like this, haven’t been prepared for this kind of attack. A rather severe oversight, if he does say so himself, and one he finds himself wondering at. Is it because Ryuuen is a boy? Because Kiyotaka was never meant to be here? Regardless, it’s a shortsightedness that very nearly baffles him.)

“Babe,” Kiyotaka responds, the word spilling from his lips with the wrong inflection, so it sounds like an insult instead of affectionate. Another oversight. He needs more practice.

But Ryuuen doesn’t get insulted—he laughs.

⫘⫘⫘

School is progressing at a satisfactory rate, even if the persistent tutoring his classmates require is starting to cross the line into slightly befuddling. He doesn’t quite understand why they don’t branch out and attempt to better themselves on their own, why they constantly require outside pressure to succeed. But then, Kiyotaka supposes that it’s difficult to alter a whole lifetime of conditioning, no matter how salivating hitting it rich is.

⫘⫘⫘

Ryuuen shoves his hands into his pockets, looms over the poor unfortunate soul he’s bullying, and bears down with the full weight of his attention. It’s intoxicating, that attention, and Kiyotaka almost mourns that Ryuuen has never turned that particular expression towards him. He was never Ryuuen’s target; that was always Horikita, and it was always in a dazzlingly provocative manner, designed partly to make Horikita underestimate Ryuuen and overestimate herself, and in that manner it has always succeeded. Ryuuen, Kiyotaka thinks, is very very good at showing off his superiority while simultaneously making everyone think he’s simply an arrogant bastard and they can beat him if only they try hard enough. They never do.

It’s mesmerizing to watch, and it’s mesmerizing more so to watch from so close, right by Ryuuen’s side, even a part of his posse. “Right, darling?” Ryuuen drawls to him, dragging him to the attention of the second-year D-class member. The student’s beaten down gaze veers toward him, and Kiyotaka tilts his head a little.

“You’re naturally always right, babe,” Kiyotaka says, and Ryuuen laughs.

“I am, aren’t I? In fact, I am so right that it is insulting I need to have this conversation with you,” Ryuuen leers at the poor student. Kiyotaka watches Ryuuen’s eyes; the gold glint in the sunlight and the way Ryuuen’s standing accentuates his body, the lines of his muscles, and his expression is one of profound disgust at the patheticness he’s forced to witness.

“Looking good, babe,” Kiyotaka gives Ryuuen a thumbs up in support.

Amusement dances in Ryuuen’s eyes. “Thanks, darling. You’re invaluable,” he says, and one of Ryuuen’s minions flinch. It’s forever amusing, the way they react to Ryuuen’s obvious enjoyment with Kiyotaka. When Kiyotaka makes Ryuuen laugh, people have been known to run away.

All the best, really. Kiyotaka is finding himself more and more selfish; less and less willing to share Ryuuen’s joy with others. It’s a new feeling, and one he’s not yet used to navigating—when Ryuuen plays along with him like this, egging him on even, a warmth pools in his chest he can’t name and he doesn’t much care to, either. It is enough, to say that they’re friends. It is enough, to say that Kiyotaka genuinely enjoys Ryuuen’s presence, in all its quirks and peculiarities, and his presence too is enjoyed in turn.

He’s never had that before.

Selfishly, he doesn’t want to give it up.

“You’re handsome,” Kiyotaka returns, and Ryuuen’s bark of laughter is a work of art, his grin wide and his eyes glittering. Kiyotaka had not intended for the sentence to end there, but at Ryuuen’s reaction he thinks he might as well. He’s entirely content to simply observe Ryuuen’s reactions, his emotions so obvious and clear to read; Ryuuen, Kiyotaka thinks, doesn’t cower before his own emotions any more than he cowers before his enemies, which is to say; none at all.

He is captivating, and he is dangerous, and he is captivating because he is dangerous, dangerous because he is captivating.

It is a riddle and one that Kiyotaka aches to solve, aches to leave unsolved forevermore.

“Come on, let’s ditch these losers,” Ryuuen says, dragging Kiyotaka away by the hand, Kiyotaka’s gaze stuck on their connected hands. Ryuuen is warm, and welcoming, and glances over his shoulder at him, cocking an eyebrow in questioning when Kiyotaka doesn’t catch up quick enough.

They’re not getting as many looks these days; it’s been over two weeks, now, and they’re seen together enough that must people have gotten used to them. D-Class haven’t, but then, he wouldn't expect them. Ryuuen is the enemy, after all, and more importantly he’s a dick that looks down on them, and that’s a crime worthy of death. Or something.

Special tests are coming up. Ryuuen knows it, has prepared for it, is entirely aware of what summer vacation means. Kiyotaka knows too, and is preparing, too, but it’s not something that requires a great deal of thinking.

It’s interesting though—he doesn’t know what Ryuuen’s planning.

Oh, he can guess, make predictions, narrow down the probable actions based on Ryuuen’s personality and his resources, but ultimately it boils down to the simple fact that Ryuuen, in his honesty and self-assuredness and total reliability upon himself, is not somebody who Kiyotaka can predict with any reliability. He knows that Ryuuen’s planning something, knows that he has utmost faith in his plan and his minions, and knows, too, that Ryuuen is aware Kiyotaka is planning something.

Ryuuen hasn’t been bothering Horikita.

Kiyotaka knows that Ryuuen has been investigating Horikita relentlessly, has been dragging her over the coals to force out her every possible reaction to build a profile of her that will tell Ryuuen, once and for all, if Horikita is truly the mastermind behind D-Class’ success. Every provocation is more data, though he suspects Ryuuen isn’t thinking of it in those terms—scouting out the enemy, perhaps—and every time Horikita’s superiority complex emerges Ryuuen’s genuine interest in her dropped.

But he hasn’t been bothering her. Horikita has even asked Kiyotaka about it, wondering if Ryuuen is using this opportunity to milk him for information and get at her that way, and while doubtlessly Ryuuen’s been doing that from the beginning, Kiyotaka doesn’t think that’s the answer for this sudden lack of interest.

Kiyotaka watches Ryuuen. “Something on your mind?” he asks, because boyfriends ask about their partner’s interests, and because Kiyotaka wants to know what Ryuuen is thinking.

Ryuuen smirks. “You’re awfully quiet today,” he says. Kiyotaka thinks back over the day and yes, aside from the business with the upperclassman he hasn’t said very much today; there’s no need to, he thinks, when nothing is happening and he’s alone with Ryuuen, and studying in silence next to each other on the bed is the closest thing to proper companionship he’s ever had.

Kiyotaka’s goal, his personal goal, with coming to this school was to find friends. He didn’t think he was doing very poorly at that—while he was not particularly close with anybody, he still thought that he was well on his way. But that was simply ignorance, he knows now. One can be friends without ever revealing something true about themselves, but will the friendship then survive the truth coming to light?

More importantly, when given the choice between the acquaintanceship of his classmates and the closer and clearer attraction to Ryuuen—intellectually and aesthetically—why would he deliberately choose the poorer version?

Why would he choose the version that demands more of him?

But there’s no need to choose. His classmates gossip about him and Ryuuen, but they think it’s a joke. A prank. They laugh about it, ask him when the gig will be up. That’s just the kind of culture the class has developed, he thinks, and as a participant he’s just as much to blame as anybody. But the point is that they’re different kinds of relationships, in the end, and one isn’t objectively wroth more than the other. They don’t knock into each other beyond his classmates reckless escapades annoying Ryuuen and Ryuuen’s arrogance annoying his classmates.

Kiyotaka’s preference for Ryuuen is entirely subjective, entirely a result of his own opinions, and it’s odd to suddenly have something that’s so nebulous, it’s worth so incapable of being judged. Kiyotaka isn’t used to it, has no frame of reference, but he thinks he’s doing alright, really.

Ryuuen slows down, pulls Kiyotaka to a stop and grips his jaw with one hand. It’s a warm grip, secure in it’s steadiness, and Kiyotaka allows himself to be manhandled without a word, content to simply look at Ryuuen. His expression is one of musing, of thought and of consideration, and Kiyotaka wants to keep it all to himself.

With one hand, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and takes a picture.

Ryuuen startles, laughs, huffs a “So it’s like that, huh,” and lets him go. Kiyotaka mourns the absence of his touch just as much as he wonders at Ryuuen’s reaction. Taking pictures without consent isn’t allowed, and usually leads to a much worse reaction; Kiyotaka has seen this first hand with his classmates.

But Ryuuen grabs his phone before he can hide it, angling it in the sunlight to catch sight of the screen and he pokes at it until the photo comes up. It’s not a perfect photograph; there’s a blurriness to it that betrays Kiyotaka’s inexperience, but Ryuuen hums and watches it considerably longer than it deserves. “You need more practice,” he says at last, and Kiyotaka nods in agreement.

Then Ryuuen holds the phone up to the sky and takes a picture of himself, positively smoldering at it.

Kiyotaka gulps. He grabs the phone when its returned to him, and stares at the image captured on the screen. Glances at Ryuuen, but the teen only grins wolfishly at him, and so Kiyotaka does what he’s seen so many other couples do. Sets Ryuuen’s image as his phone’s lock-screen background.

“Thanks,” Kiyotaka says. Phone in pocket he grabs Ryuuen’s hand again, and they resume their slow walk over the campus, classes already done for the day and Ryuuen on the hunt for more information. It’s nice, he thinks. Spending time with Ryuuen, studying him so up-close. It’s especially nice when Ryuuen smiles at him, secretively, and pulls Kiyotaka a bit closer, still.

Kiyotaka thinks, now, that he understands the draw of romantic entanglement.

⫘⫘⫘

Horikita corners him outside the classroom, Kushida at her back looking worried but tellingly not interfering, and Horikita says, “This has gone on long enough, hasn’t it?”

“What has?” Kiyotaka asks, narrowing down the multitude of things she could be referring to.

She scowls. “Your game with Ryuuen. He must have caught on by now, you’re not good at feigning interest in people.”

Kiyotaka would take that personally if he didn’t find his mind already filling with thoughts of Ryuuen at her reminder of him. “I’m sure he is catching on,” he agrees, because Ryuuen is smart, and memories or no memories he wouldn’t have allowed Kiyotaka into his life without investigating every avenue.

Her scowl hardens. Kiyotaka looks at Kushida for a clue what this could be about, but she’s entirely unhelpful, as normal. “Then why are you still playing with him?” Horikita demands.

Shrugging, Kiyotaka says, “If I stopped now it’d be far more suspicious, right?”

She frowns. Glances at Kushida, who is only looking at them with wide eyes and then Horikita sighs. “I suppose you’re right,” she allows, but her frown doesn’t diminish. She’s a perpetually frowning person, Kiyotaka thinks, and he’s not sure why people seem to be drawn to her; sometimes when he looks at her he wonders how she can be so cold and standoffish and at the same time attract so much attention. She doesn’t invite it; perhaps that, too, is attractive.

He much prefers Ryuuen, though. Ryuuen does invite it, in the most malicious way possible. Horikita sees attention and attraction as below her, something demeaning, something that lessens her inherent worth. Ryuuen sees it as a weapon.

And he takes ruthless advantage.

⫘⫘⫘

The room is pitch black bur for the TV screen. It’s some kind of adventure romance movie; Kiyotaka allowed Ryuuen to choose and didn’t much care for paying attention. He was too busy trying to figure out the acceptable level of closeness when sitting next to his boyfriend on the bed; if there are diagrams and a textbook on this subject, he hasn’t found it yet.

Ryuuen evidently didn’t share the same concern, for after putting on the movie he sat back down on the bed and scooted over until their whole sides touched, from shoulder to knees, and Kiyotaka made no effort to pretend he wasn’t thoroughly distracted at that point. He’s found, over the course of this scheme, that Ryuuen delights in distracting him, and Kiyotaka doesn’t have to pretend that he’s still paying attention to whatever else is going on.

Something explodes in the movie, and the noise ruptures the silence in the room. Kiyotaka blinks, glances at Ryuuen—he’s looking at the screen, seemingly enraptured by the film, and so Kiyotaka elects this as the appropriate time to test a hypothesis of his.

He presses closer to Ryuuen, slides down a little, and rests his head on Ryuuen’s shoulder.

Ryuuen freezes.

“Cold?” the teen eventually says, wasting no more time to curl his arm around Kiyotaka’s shoulders and pull him close. It changes their position a little, but Kiyotaka still ends up leaning on Ryuuen and so considers it a success.

“A little,” he blatantly lies.

Ryuuen hums. “You can lean on me any time,” he drawls in an excessively flirty tone. Kiyotaka blinks again, watching the protagonist and his love interest engage in witty banter on the screen, and he burrows deeper into Ryuuen’s embrace, eyelids falling half-mast. In the darkness, the world almost seems to have vanished, leaving only the two of them behind. It’s dark, and the room is warm, and Ryuuen is warmer still.

“Thanks, babe,” he murmurs, and he thinks he’s finally starting to get the tone down.

Laughing a little, Ryuuen suggests, “You know, if you’re still cold we could get under the blankets.”

“No. This is fine,” says Kiyotaka. Not a single bone in his body wishes to move, and who is he to disagree with his body’s wishes? No, he wants to stay right here, take advantage of this while he has it; because it has to end, doesn’t it? It won’t be for always. Eventually Ryuuen will have gotten what he wants from Kiyotaka and he’ll move on—so this, Kiyotaka thinks, is not something that he will deny himself.

He is not such a good person that he will step away from something he wants. Not such a good person that he will not take what is so freely offered.

And he thinks, too, that Ryuuen is not above taking advantage, in turn.

⫘⫘⫘

For all that Horikita is convinced of her superiority, she loses fairly often. Kiyotaka fails to understand this; is it not common sense to reassess after you’ve had so many consecutive losses, needs to be saved so many times in a row? But she never doubts herself—how she conceptualizes her losses he doesn’t know, but he thinks it can’t be anything good. A refusal to critically examine oneself is a refusal to grow, and no growth in a place like this school means a bad ending.

Truly, he understands why her older brother stays away from her. She offers nothing, but more importantly she refuses to offer nothing, refuses to understand or seek knowledge or comprehension. She is weak-willed and easily led, and doesn’t bow but will be lead around the nose at the drop of a hat. She has her uses, but her intrinsic value is practically nil—she is replaceable, and this is what will one day fell her.

Kiyotaka likes to think he’s good at what he does, and capable of achieving his goals, even difficult as they are. He likes to think he has the capacity for self-criticism and self-growth, and he likes to think he has evolved since joining this school. He’s got classmates, has made friends, has proper acquaintances, even has enemies in his age bracket. He feels pretty normal, all things told. Even his entanglement with Ryuuen feels like part of the norm.

Horikita prides herself on her abnormality. She considers her solitude strength, but fails to understand that there is a difference between being alone and being lonely .

He knows the difference.

Ultimately, he thinks, watching Horikita in class, her arrogance bleeding into her every word and action, it’s a matter of subjective opinion. And subjectively, he thinks he’s starting to understand why some people become friends and others don’t.

His goal was to make friends.

But, he thinks, maybe; it’s a matter of quality over quantity.

⫘⫘⫘

Kiyotaka sits down beside Ryuuen and the other C-class students smoothly remove themselves out of the vicinity, Ryuuen raising an eyebrow when Kiyotaka takes a hold of Ryuuen’s hand and pulls on it. Expressionlessly, because he’s not sure what expression is best suited for this.

“Something the matter?” Ryuuen asks.

“Do you think we should break up?”

Ryuuen freezes. His expressions smooths out, removes any indication of emotion. With a wave of his hand the others leave the study room in the library, and Ryuuen turns his full attention o Kiyotaka. “What are you talking about?” he demands, pulling Kiyotaka closer and grabbing his face, turning it this way and that. Even pressing on his forehead to ascertain is he’s sick.

“I’ve realized we might have made the unethical choice, to continue our relationship when you didn’t remember me,” Kiyotaka states, no particular emotion. He tilts his head. “It’s been pointed out to me that in my eagerness to help you recover I might have done you undue damage, instead.”

Staring at him, Ryuuen’s expression slowly bleeds into one with life. Amusement starts to glint ins his eyes; Kiyotaka observes his every minute motion to help judge Ryuuen’s true state, and his true emotions. He has no desire to break up; has found, instead, that he wishes to keep clinging on. But that’s not a viable path forward if he actually has damaged Ryuuen in some way; if Ryuuen is not playing the same game.

He doesn’t think so. But Horikita and even Sudou and Kushida has been bringing it up repeatably, lately, about how immoral and unethical his actions regarding Ryuuen are. He figures they might be on to something—not Ryuuen’s plan, but that Ryuuen might very well retaliate viciously if he feels he’s been played.

Which is only fair, Kiyotaka thinks.

“You’re cute, darling,” Ryuuen grins, evidently having finished processing what’s going on. He tilts his head, pulling Kiyotaka in closer by the grip on the back of his head. His fingers dig in deeper into Kiyotaka’s scalp, and it’s actually a pretty nice sensation, and he wonders how he can convince Ryuuen to do this again. “But I don’t wanna break up.” Ryuuen smiles. “You won’t continue down this line of thought, right.”

It’s not a question.

“No,” Kiyotaka nonetheless replies. “I just wanted to make sure.”

“Good.” Ryuuen’s grip eases, and he pats Kiyotaka’s head, softly, gently, the tips of his fingers sweeping over his skin. “I’d hate if you suddenly gave up.”

“I have no intention of that,” Kiyotaka states.

Ryuuen’s smile is blinding, his joy an overflowing contagious thing, and Kiyotaka thinks that he would be content if he had this, and only this, for the rest of his life.

But. Well. Why settle for only this when he could have this and more? He’s sure Ryuuen agrees with him on this account; Ryuuen is a powerhouse always looking for something to dig his teeth into, always wanting to better himself, to achieve more. Ryuuen, Kiyotaka thinks, is not one to settle if more is within grasp, and there is always more within Ryuuen’s grasp, for the road hasn’t run out of asphalt yet.

“Come on, help me study,” Ryuuen says, and it’s as good as an invitation.

⫘⫘⫘

Sudou corners Kiyotaka on the way out of the classroom and looms over him. “You consorting with the enemy, huh?” the other teen says, sneering. Kiyotaka doesn’t think Sudou is the kind of person who uses the word consorting naturally in conversations, and also he saw Sudou’s name pop up on a message on Horikita’s phone, so he’s pretty sure where this is coming from. He’s not worried; Sudou will back down if Kiyotaka wants him to.

“Ryuuen is my boyfriend, yes,” Kiyotaka agrees.

Sudou freezes. It’s odd; Kiyotaka hasn’t hidden this. Sudou has been haunting Horikita’s footsteps for a while—he should be entirely aware of this. And yet Kiyotaka admitting it makes his eyes widen and his stance falter?

“You’re betraying the class,” Sudou goes right for the big guns.

“I don’t speak about our class with him.” Kiyotaka tilts his head. He glances at Kushida and Horikita hovering around the corner, blinking slowly to clear his thoughts. “You don’t need to worry.”

“I’m not worrying!” Sudou protests loudly. “But Ryuuen is a disgusting snake, and you’re you. You’ll fold like a wet house of cards if he pushes you even a little, and you know it. You need to give this up before it’s too late.”

“I don’t want to,” Kiyotaka says. He tilts his head again. “I don’t see why this is any of your business. I don’t interfere in your love life.”

Sudou blushes. “Love-life—?” he blusters. “This is Ryuuen we’re talking about! We can’t trust him! He’s probably just playing with you. Who knows if he even lost his memories in the first place, huh?!”

“Ryuuen isn’t that much of a bastard.”

“He’s playing you, dude. Stop defending him!”

Kiyotaka hums. He looks at Horikita, make deliberate eye-contact with her, and she frowns at him. She’s not even a little bit embarrassed to be caught, and he thinks that’s just like her, amusement filling him. Horikita finally bends under his gaze, though, heading toward him and calling Sudou back. Sudou, like the good dog he is, allows himself to be corralled by the comparatively smaller girl.

“You know we’re right,” Horikita says, frowning at him. She doesn’t understand why he’s still playing this game, he knows. But that’s fine; he doesn’t require her understanding to proceed, and he knows where he stands. He thinks Ryuuen is pretty clear, even, despite the memory thing.

Sudou steps out from behind Horikita to say, “You’re only being taken advantage of.”

That’s funny, Kiyotaka thinks. Sudou doesn’t have a single leg to stand on, if he’s going to go there. “If I am, that’s my choice to make,” Kiyotaka says. Horikita looks dreadfully disappointment in him, and Sudou furious, but they pull away without another world, evidently realizing that Kiyotaka won’t bend. He’s sure they’ll be back, though. They’re not the kind of people to give up.

It is a little bit annoying, admittedly. Nobody else in the class aside from Kushida cares so much about him and Ryuuen, and for them it’s turned into the norm. The shininess of whatever Kiyotaka is up to with Ryuuen has passed, and they’ve moved on to other juicy gossip. Kiyotaka likes this state well enough, to the point where when they occasionally poke fun at him he doesn’t much care.

Horikita’s continued disapproval is annoying, though, especially when enough time has passed that Kiyotaka thinks he has proved that his actions aren’t a detriment to the class.

Humming, Kiyotaka turns. He has a date to get to.

⫘⫘⫘

When Ryuuen smiles, Kiyotaka knows he’s about to say something awful. It’s there in the way he tilts his head, the way he spreads his body to effectively loom over his poor victim, there in the way Kouenji walks by and gives them a thumbs up, Kiyotaka returning the gesture on pure reflex.

“You’re a bit slow, aren’t you,” Ryuuen states, dragging Kiyotaka to sit on a bench with him, Kiyotaka’s heart tripping. He frowns. He doesn’t think he’s slow, but then he doesn’t know what Ryuuen is referring to, so he very well could be. Like all others, he has his strengths and weaknesses, and Ryuuen is an expert at digging out such knowledge. Kiyotaka wouldn’t be surprised if Ryuuen figured something out that has evaded him.

Ryuuen smiles. It’s pretty—and deadly. “I’ve been going along with this for a long time now, but you’ve not made a move.”

“A move about what?” Kiyotaka asks.

Ryuuen laughs, his grin wild. “We’re boyfriends,” he drawls.

“Oh. Is this about kissing?”

“No. We’ll do that when we feel like it. This is about your little scheme.”

Kiyotaka smiles. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Amusement lingering in his eyes, Ryuuen grabs a hold of Kiyotaka’s head. Kiyotaka holds still in his grip, relishing in it even, and he presses deeper into Ryuuen’s warm hand just to feel the pressure at the bottom of his scalp, his hairs caught by Ryuuen’s fingers. Ryuuen’s eye are alight in the low sunlight, and Kiyotaka couldn’t look away if he tried.

“You’re very pretty,” Kiyotaka murmurs. Ryuuen’s smile softens, and he delights in the knowledge that he did that, that it was him and only him who had that effect on Ryuuen. “I enjoy looking at you,” Kiyotaka admits.

Ryuuen laughs. “Thanks, darling. You’re cute,” and he pats Kiyotaka’s head with the utmost condescension. It’s a good look on him, one that Kiyotaka likes looking at him just as much as he does every other of Ryuuen’s expressions. Ryuuen tilts his head, hair shining gold. “But I really think we should have this conversation.”

“You, or Ibuki?”

Rolling his eyes, he says “I don’t do things because minions nag about them.” Then he scowls. “But they have been nagging a lot.”

“Horikita keeps cornering me, too,” Kiyotaka offers to show he can relate.

“That’s cute,” Ryuuen drawls. “But I don’t much care about Horikita’s hobbies.”

Kiyotaka smiles. “That’s cute,” he retaliates, “But I don’t much care about your minions’ troubles.”

Ryuuen laughs again. He pulls Kiyotaka in closer, rests his foreheads together and closes his eyes. Kiyotaka doesn’t; keeps watching Ryuuen’s expressions, instead. They’re captivating, and he’s found lately that he doesn’t want to miss even a second. Cataloging every expression that Ryuuen ever has is going to take awhile, he thinks, but it’s well worth it.

Kiyotaka raises his hand and holds onto Ryuuen’s shoulder. He smooths his fingers over the fabric of the school uniform, then digs them in at the base of Ryuuen’s neck, Ryuuen not even twitching at the touch. Staring at Ryuuen’s expression, so trusting in its stillness, Kiyotaka feels again an emotion he can’t name. It’s not his fault, he knows; he simply doesn’t have enough experience. But he thinks he’s closing in. The chips are starting to fall. He’s beginning to understand.

He doesn't kiss Ryuuen right now, but he’s thinking of it. It would be so easy, he thinks. All he’d have to do is close the tiny bit of distance between them. Ryuuen would lean into it, he also thinks. It would be so easy, and he wants it. Aches for it, somewhere deep inside him. But it’s the same ache he has to hold Ryuuen’s hand, to look into Ryuuen’s eyes, to know that he made Ryuuen smile—so he doesn’t bend beneath this urge, because he already has an outlet.

Drawing back a little, poking Ryuuen’s cheek, he then pinches it. Ryuuen’s eyebrows draw sharply together and Kiyotaka laughs. “This was a good conversation,” he says. and Ryuuen slowly opens his eyes, looking at him without a word for a moment. Studying him, as thoroughly as Kiyotaka studies Ryuuen in turn.

“Yeah,” Ryuuen agrees in a musing tone, smiling softly. “It was.”

Kiyotaka’s glad that he agrees. He leans in that last bit of distance between them and knocks their foreheads together slightly too harshly, but Ryuuen moves with it and so it doesn’t hurt. Kiyotaka says, “Let’s go on another date.”

“Sure, darling.” Ryuuen smiles. Kiyotaka stands, and he pulls Ryuuen up with him, grabbing a good hold of his hand as he goes.

Kiyotaka thinks he likes this.

All of it.

⫘⫘⫘

“Are you okay?” Kiyotaka asks Horikita. She’s making a weird face at him.

“I’m fine,” she very nearly growls. “You’re still playing a game. Don’t think I can’t read you.”

Tilting his head, Kiyotaka blinks. “Okay.”

She scowls. “Why are you still playing this game? What could you possibly gain from this? You’ll know he’ll win.”

“That’s fine,” says Kiyotaka. Horikita doesn’t like that respond; she gives a few more cutting remarks and then trounces off, as she’s wont to do. He looks after her for a moment, then adjusts his grip on his textbooks and begins his own walk to his destination.

He’s beginning to think that Ryuuen winning this game of theirs would be quite favorable.

⫘⫘⫘

Ryuuen is waiting for him in his room. Kiyotaka lingers at the door for a moment; Ryuuen is studying his room like it’s got secrets bared, and Kiyotaka is content to watch him. To eye the line of his shoulders, of his spine, the easy stance and gentle twist of his lips when he hears the door open and tosses Kiyotaka a quick, distracted smile.

Kiyotaka doesn’t turn on the overhead lights. The simple lighting form the desk-lamp is more than enough, and he steps inside and shuts the door. He gave Ryuuen the key this morning, picked it up yesterday and stayed up half-the-night just staring at it. But he gave it to Ryuuen, and told him to wait in his room after classes. And Ryuuen is here, comfortable, guard further down than he’s ever seen.

“Good day?” Ryuuen murmurs, eyes back on Kiyotaka’s room. Nothing looks disturbed and as he observes all Ryuuen does is thoroughly study things, bending over to read the titles on the books, to check if the spines are broken. He doesn’t touch, and a quiet breath leaves Kiyotaka.

He crosses the distance. “Hey,” he says, and takes hold of Ryuuen’s arm. “You’re here,” he says, and can’t quite make his mind move past that. Ryuuen tilts his head, looking at him with considering eyes, and only nods. Half the room is in darkness, now; the sun has set (Kiyotaka spent hours at the library) and Ryuuen’s front is bathed in the desk-lamp's light. It glitters in his eyes, in his hair, in his eyelashes. Kiyotaka can’t look away.

“I said I would be,” Ryuuen points out at last. He claps Kiyotaka’s hand but doesn’t remove it, so Kiyotaka takes a step closer, looking into his eyes for far too long, allowing himself to be entirely lost in them. It’s a singularly new sensation, a particular beat of his heart, one that Kiyotaka doesn’t regret and won’t allow himself to question, because truly, is this not what he wanted? When he joined the school, did he not do that with the goal of making friends, relationships, discovering life?

He thinks he has. He thinks he is .

“I know,” Kiyotaka murmurs. Steering Ryuuen over to the bed, he sits them both down and looks at Ryuuen. Just looks. It’s almost very nearly enough, just looking at him—but Kiyotaka wants more. Wants to talk to him. Understand his thoughts. Hear his plans. Contemplate his intelligence and his drive and what makes him Ryuuen. Wants to dig in below his skin and burrow so deep that Ryuuen can never tear him back out.

Ryuuen hums. “You’re thinking wild thoughts, darling,” he drawls, tipping Kiyotaka face up with a finger under his jaw. Kiyotaka allows himself be moved, is entirely content to simply play into Ryuuen’s hands. To stare into Ryuuen’s eyes and see his own faint reflection in them.

“I am,” he agrees.

Ryuuen huffs a laugh. Presses their foreheads together for a moment and then leans back, letting go of Kiyotaka, and he touches his jaw gently, feels the warmth left over from Ryuuen’s touch, Ryuuen’s eyes tracking his every movement, every twitching muscle, every expression. Ryuuen, Kiyotaka thinks, is dangerous. He sees far too much, is far too good at figuring out puzzles; he spots the pieces others don’t even realize belong. He is dangerous, and Kiyotaka wishes to—

Scooting back to lean against the wall, Kiyotaka changes his position to sit with his legs crossed. Ryuuen joins him, half-hidden in the still darkness, and Kiyotaka tilts his head back and looks down at him over his nose. Ryuuen’s eyelids are half-mast, and he can’t quite look away from them.

“You took a while to get here,” Ryuuen points out after some time.

Humming, Kiyotaka says, “The library.”

“Still trying to tutor your classmates?” and it’s a victory that the idiotic part is omitted, though Kiyotaka can still perfectly hear Ryuuen saying it. Still, he smiles to show his appreciation; positive reinforcement is important in intimate relationships according to the books he’s found. Ryuuen rolls his eyes.

“They’re making progress,” Kiyotaka blandly says. Tellingly, he does not say they’re making good progress, because to be honest he doesn’t like lying to Ryuuen. That, too, is a new feeling. It’s easier, though, because its difficult to outright lie to Ryuuen; it’s easier to omit and hint and make vague implications than it ever is to lie to him. So Kiyotaka doesn’t much worry about his sudden objection to lying.

Ryuuen laughs. Leans his back against the wall, displaying the long line of his throat, and Kiyotaka blinks, the image searing into the back of his eyelids. It takes him a moment to regain focus, to look back up into Ryuuen’s eyes and when he does Ryuuen is already staring at him, observing him so closely Kiyotaka feels naked.

“What?” Kiyotaka asks, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t admire my boyfriend?”

Ryuuen’s smile is—soft. Gentle. Kind, even. It’s not disconcerting on Ryuuen’s face, because he can make any expression work for him, but Kiyotaka is still getting used to that expression being turned his way. Still getting used to Ryuuen allowing him to see this, allowing him to taste this vulnerability, this sheer display of openness and it is—captivating. Enrapturing. Kiyotaka doesn't even pretend to not be swallowing it down like a starving man, and he wonders, faintly, what his expression must be doing now.

It can’t be pretty, he thinks. Kiyotaka doesn’t know how to do pretty, only really has a few expressions he’s nailed so far, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to expand beyond them. Emotions just don’t tend to reflect in his body language, his expression, his tone. Something about the way he was raised, he thinks, but he doesn’t see a point in wallowing.

“Of course you can,” Ryuuen says, and then raises an eyebrow. “I know you must be in awe every time you look at me.”

“I am.”

Ryuuen freezes. Blinks, slowly. Expressions smoothes out into something unreadable, then he slowly tilts his head Kiyotaka’s way, turning his whole body to the side, resting the side of his head on the wall, looking at him from below long, pretty eyelashes. Kiyotaka turns his own body in turn to face Ryuuen, looking at him in silence.

Finally, Ryuuen says, “You can be smooth when you want to be.”

“I can be smooth when you’re too pretty not to say so,” Kiyotaka corrects, and Ryuuen laughs, eyelids falling shut. Then he’s looking at Kiyotaka again, and in the dark he can only barely make out the soft, barely there expression Ryuuen wears.

Ryuuen’s laughs is nice, he thinks.

“Alright,” Ryuuen says, “So what do you want to do tonight?”

Humming, Kiyotaka glances around the room. He doesn’t have a lot of options he’s eager to do with Ryuuen; but he has a game console a classmate left at his place the last time they were over. So he points to it, and Ryuuen grins.

⫘⫘⫘

Kiyotaka loses against Ryuuen.

⫘⫘⫘

It’s not a lie.

⫘⫘⫘

Horikita runs out of patience with him, and she takes half-the-class with her. It’s tiring, admittedly, but it’s also entirely inconsequential. At the next special test she’ll run headfirst into another wall and be forced to accept his help, as humiliating as it might be to her, so he doesn’t much worry. And besides, with both Karuizawa and Hirata on his side, Horikita’s grip on the class is an illusion at best.

⫘⫘⫘

Kiyotaka looks at Ryuuen far more than perhaps even Ryuuen knows. He looks and looks and looks, stares until Ryuuen’s image is a scar on his brain, and he doesn’t allow himself to look away.

⫘⫘⫘

It’s not enough, he thinks.

⫘⫘⫘

Kiyotaka is a greedy creature, and he wants everything.

⫘⫘⫘

The beating of his heart is a swift, steady thing, a constant pattern at the back of his ribs, and Kiyotaka tracks it, counts it in his mind, follows the ups and downs and does his best to stay steady on course. It’s a difficult thing, of course, when Ryuuen glances at him over his shoulder and smiles, raising his eyebrows in a look that very clearly displays that Kiyotaka should hurry and catch up.

⫘⫘⫘

Kiyotaka catches up.

⫘⫘⫘

He thinks maybe he was caught up all along.

⫘⫘⫘

At night, when he sleeps, he dreams. Everybody dreams, and Kiyotaka is no difference. In his dreams there are screams, old terrors coming back to haunt him, tales of blood and violence written in the beating of his heart, the air in his lungs, and he wakes, sometimes, with his heart in his throat and eyes teary.

He doesn’t cry, of course. Crying over mere nightmares isn’t normal, and Kiyotaka is a normal teenager, in a slightly abnormal school but perhaps even the more normal because of it. But he thinks about Ryuuen, then, sometimes. Thinks about his smile, the furrow of his brow as he thinks, the way the light strikes his eyes and turn them gold.

And then, maybe, the emptiness inside him lessens.

Just a bit.

⫘⫘⫘

But maybe that’s enough.

⫘⫘⫘

There’s another special test on the way. Horikita is uniquely frantic in her own particular way in the need to prove herself. Kiyotaka doesn’t think it’s ever going to go the way she wants; her brother doesn’t look at her. No amount of obsessed chasing is going to change that, he thinks, and it’s almost sad. She tries so hard, but she tries in all the wrong ways, is still incapable of relating to her brother on any meaningful level in order to actually understand why he tries so hard to keep distant from her.

She doesn’t see her brother for who he truly is, Kiyotaka thinks. Horikita is incredibly skilled at that; locking people into boxes and ignoring any information that doesn’t conform to it. She does it to her brother, her classmates, her enemies.

One day, he thinks, she’ll crash and burn.

He’s not particularly sorry about it.

⫘⫘⫘

Ryuuen says, “I heard you had another argument with—” and “Some of my minions want to—” and “Feeling up for—” and “This has been—” and “I kind of like you.”

⫘⫘⫘

“I kind of like you, too,” Kiyotaka murmurs in the dark, staring at Ryuuen. There’s not a light on in the room. Night lies heavy over the building, and he turns on his side, resting his head on his arm, eyelids half-mast and heavy with an aching sort of exhaustion. Ryuuen smiles, closing his eyes, and Kiyotaka drinks in every bit of him that he can.

He wants it all. He’s not ready to settle, he thinks. Not ready to let go of that which he could have, if only he reached out, if only he tries…

And so he does.

He is selfish, after all.

⫘⫘⫘

Kiyotaka kisses Ryuuen for the very first time on a Friday, outside a movie theater, a swooping sensation in his stomach.

⫘⫘⫘

Ryuuen kisses back. Holds onto Kiyotaka’s back, his head, keeps him still and close as they breathe each other in; drown, drown, drown.

⫘⫘⫘

Kiyotaka doesn’t let go.

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#Fandom: MISC - Animanga #Post Type: Fic #Rating: Teen #Status: Complete #Tag: Amnesia/Memory Loss #Tag: Fluff #Tag: Scheming #WC: 10000-20000