Title - Closure
Author - chinesetakeout
Summary - After the final battle, Shoichi confronts Byakuran in a Vindice interrogation cell.
Rating - PG
Warnings - TYL spoilers/slight AU.
Disclaimer - Not mine.
Notes: Not much to say about this, this was back when the end of the TYL arc wasn't over and I was thinking about a great sex scene between 10051 and I when I actually wrote it, it didn't turn out anything like I thought it would, but please enjoy it anyway! Thank you to my beta, kyuubb. ♥♥♥
The guard said he had 15 minutes, but it already feels like its been forever.
It’s just them in this tiny, windowless room. The A/C roars to life, blowing unbearably cold air, a chilly breeze that Shoichi feels sink into his bones through his skin and suffocates him. This was a dumb idea, Shouichi thinks and wants to leave right now. He wants to pretend he never came to this tiny, cold room with this, this monster and continue living in ignorance, but he can’t.
A lazy smirk stretches across Byakuran’s thin face as his mauve colored eyes pin Shoichi to his seat. He thinks that his smirk could practically overtake his features the way he grins at him with a mouth full of too sharp teeth like he’s a fly caught in his web. As if coming here was all part of Byakuran’s master plan.
It’s not, Shoichi tells himself over and over again. He frowns at the ex-Millefiore Boss slumped over the table. Every minute the redhead wastes in this room, the closer the white wash walls seem to get, like any second they’ll close in on them. The redhead nervously shifts in his chair, his black suit feels tighter than before and Byakuran looks like he hasn’t taken a bath in days, stinks like day old sweat. His pale, greasy matted hair sticks to the sides of his face like a wet mob and his eyes are bloodshot—dazed over like he hasn’t slept since that day.
Shoichi can’t break this monster’s glassy-eyed stare and feels like he must look as pathetic as him: slouched over in his seat in an expensive suit, nervously pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his index finger. Everything about this is so stupid, this mockery of a visit, their friendship, everything. He knows it and Byakuran knows it, but Shoichi can’t run from the fact they’re both here in this stuffy room, like puppets acting out the parts to a tragic play.
“Come to boast your victory, Sho-chan?” He asks. His voice is as sweet and charming as Shoichi remembers, but he knows better than to let his defenses down.
Byakuran tilts his head to the side, strands of white hair falling in his face and looks up at the redhead like an eager puppy. Shoichi’s grimace grows and can feel the onset of phantom pains that make his stomach twist and turn. He keeps his stance, keeps his hands neatly folded on top of the table and doesn’t move to wrap his thin arms around his stomach. One leg is crossed over the other and his foot knocks against the table’s metal leg like a broken record, a soft, taptaptap over and over again.
Shoichi’s prolonged silence is unnerving; he can’t seem to spit anything out, but he has to. This was the reason for his trip, right?
“I didn’t come here for that,” he mutters.
Byakuran blinks owlishly at him, but then his impeccable grin is back in place and he’s picking himself off the table, leans in closer to Shouichi.
“Why are you here then? I thought you never wanted to see me again,” Byakuran muses. His cheery voice grates against the redhead’s ears and somewhere under his fear, it pisses him off.
He forces himself not to rise to his bait and runs a hand through his unruly red hair, looks at the wall behind Byakuran’s face. Calm down, he tell himself, breathe, in and out.
Then the other man is back in his face, leaning completely over the table with one knee propped on the table so they’re nose-to-nose. He’s so close; Shoichi can smell his rancid morning breath. Byakuran sways a bit on, his hands secured behind him in his yellow-white straight jacket. “What,” he whispers into the other’s ear, his breath warm against his ear, “are you even doing here, Sho-chan?”
The constant taptaptap stops and outside the A/C’s background noise, it’s soundless, it’s just the two of them here. Then Shoichi breaks the spell over him (he won’t fall for this again) and bolts away from him so fast he almost tumbles backward. He feels so vulnerable right now, as if Byakuran peeled back the layers of his skin to show the soft, squishy underside and it makes him so infuriated. It crawls out from under the fear, the loneliness, and the guilt, as an angry blush slinks across his cheeks. A hand covers his ear; his face scrunches up like he just stepped in shit and Byakuran looks like he’ll burst out in giggles any second.
It almost feels like college again. Almost.
“S-shut up Byakuran-sama,” the redhead bites out. His fingers twitch in his lap, he’d love to just shove him off the goddamn table.
Byakuran looks and smells like a dirty old gym sock at the bottom of the hamper, but the way he smirks at him makes him appear more imp-like. He slowly crawls across the desk until both knees are on the tabletop and his lips are a hair’s breadth away from his ex-friend and all Shoichi can see is mauvemauvemauve.
“Cat got your tongue, Sho-chan?”
It’s addictive the way he purrs against his mouth, but his antics piss him off more than enchant him and everything is falling out of control—fast.
“Byakuran-sama, you don’t need to know why I’m here,” the ex-Captain deadpans, holds his ground, neither leaning in nor pulling away from this smirking devil. They sit there as the fan whirls and whirls, trying to predict each other’s moves as if practicing for a game of Choice.
Shoichi’s glare is unrelenting like the cold air that sends the hairs on his arm standing on end. He resembles a wet cat the way he pouts at his ex-Boss. Byakuran breaks their standoff, throws his head back, falls backward, and laughs and laughs.
Shoichi balks, his neutral mask shattering as his walls start to crumble as they fall back into the parts they use to play. He growls under his breath and rubs the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Time ticks by and Byakuran’s giggles start to fade, his chest slowly rising and falling with each breath he takes as Shoichi frowns at him, his blush still staining his face bright red.
He huffs in irritation; shifts in his seat so he’s staring at the wall and not at Byakuran. This was stupid, he thinks bitterly to himself as he crosses his arms over his chest. This visit was stupid, he shouldn’t have bothered to come here and he’s not even sure why he came, but—
He cuts the string of thoughts off as he glances back at the idiot sprawled out on the table and sighs, because he’s looking at him again, a strange expression on his face.
Byakuran sits up again. Shoichi ignores him, but he only crawls closer and the redhead doesn’t react when his ex-Boss once again puts his mouth against his ear.
“Sho-chan is always so cute when he looks like he’s about to cry.”
His anger crumbles and he sags in his seat. His body is turned toward the sliding metal door, away from Byakuran, but he still feels the feather light press of his lips against the shell of his ear.
Shoichi knows he only has 15 minutes, but it already feels like forever.
“Stop it,” he grumbles half-heartedly, swatting Byakuran away from his ear with the back of his hand. He suddenly feels so tired, sick of falling back into old patterns he’d thought he’d let go of when he betrayed the other and the Vongola defeated (captured) him.
Byakuran pulls away and sits on his haunches, pouting at Shoichi’s lack of reaction. He softly calls his name in a whiny, needy voice befit for a toddler, begs for attention like a spoiled brat and his eyebrow ticks as he ignores him, but he just drawls his name out until the redhead snaps.
The second he looks at him his ex-Boss slams his chapped lips against his own. It’s embarrassingly sloppy the way their teeth clink together and the other’s sharp nose digs into the side of his face. When the shock passes, Shoichi’s hands are against the other’s chest pushing Byakuran off him, but the ex-Millefiore boss leans in closer until the redhead’s chair tips backwards, sending them both to the floor in a mess of squirming limbs.
Shoichi yelps as they hit the ground hard and the back of his head hits the ground with a smack. He gets an armful of ragdoll Byakuran and his nose gets a whiff of what he was trying to ignore since he stepped in here—the smell of Byakuran. The impromptu cuddle session is cut short when the ex-Captain shoves his ex-Boss off him and starts gagging like he swallowed something bitter.
“Do they just lock you somewhere and forget to let you bathe?!”
Byakuran is laughing again, sitting up like this is all good fun. If he had his hands free he’d probably prop them up against his knees and watch him like before—like everything is all going according to plan. Shoichi glares at him and is so sick of that look, so sick of being used by everyone.
Everything starts to boil over and before he knows what he’s doing he’s up and punching Byakuran in his smug face.
“I hate you so much,” Shoichi says, knuckles connecting with the side of his ex-Boss’s face. One of his knuckles gets caught on his tooth and when he pulls away his hand is bleeding, pulsing from the hit. He’s red in the face and everything is just falling apart at the seams.
“I hate you so so so so much,” Shoichi repeats over and over again, more to himself than to Byakuran. He doesn’t look at the other, falls to the ground instead. A tumble of limbs and curls into himself as the frustration finally mounts. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go; this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
His body is trembling as he buries his face in his hands. This is completely ridiculous, but he hates and hates and hates and—
Byakuran creeps up to him, sits between his legs. He’s like a cockroach; always coming back no matter how many times Shoichi tells himself he won’t do this anymore. The redhead doesn’t budge from his spot on the floor, his face buried in his hands, his glasses pushed up past his forehead.
They’re so pathetic.
“Go away,” he shudders. “I hate you remember.”
Byakuran tilts his head, his Stepford smile back on his face. He nuzzles the other’s cheek like a dog.
“But you’re just so cute~ ♥” the ex-Millefiore boss sings, a sweet voice that invades Shoichi’s ear drums and lures him closer to the edge.
The redhead peeks out from behind his hands and glares at the other. He scowls his face red and blotchy as tears run down his face. He swipes at his tears with the back of his hand. “You’re so stupid.”
“You’re just so silly!” Byakuran beams and Shoichi wants to punch him in the face again.
“Go to hell,” the ex-Captain says and doesn’t move even when Byakuran moves in close against his face.
“Only if you come with me.”
It’s stupid how he laughs and Byakuran smile seems to get even brighter, but it feels right, like they’re back in college before the Vongola and the Millefiore.
His laugh comes to a stop and the silence is heavy between them and neither looks away. Shoichi doesn’t know what he’s doing here and doesn’t really care, but when he reaches his hand out for the other and he leans into his touch everything feels OK.
Shoichi’s hand is cool against Byakuran’s slightly warm cheek and he’s bleeding in the corner of his mouth. It feels like he’s in someone else’s body when his ex-Boss inches closer to his face. Nose-to-nose, Shoichi smiles at the other. “I still hate you.”
Byakuran laughs. “The feeling is mutual.”
Then Shoichi closes the distance with a kiss. It’s a soft, chaste kiss that is barely there. Shoichi pulls away. His hands are still in Byakuran’s hair and there’s a million things wrong with this, but that’s OK. Shoichi will deal with them when they come.
They sit like that in silence, until the Vindice guards escort the redhead away, but in their remaining time together, it’s just them in this tiny, windowless room.
see no evil: bedroom
speak no evil: awake
hear no evil: Rob Thomas - This Is How A Heart Breaks