
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2425958.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Loveless
  Relationship:
      Agatsuma_Soubi/Aoyagi_Ritsuka
  Character:
      Aoyagi_Ritsuka, Agatsuma_Soubi, Hawatari_Yuiko, Shioiri_Yayoi, Kaidou
      Kio, Aoyagi_Misaki, Aoyagi_Seimei
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Library, Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Sexual
      Content, Dubious_Consent, Library_Sex, Child_Abuse, Violence, Romance,
      Psychological_Horror, Blood, Warnings_for_early_writing
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-10-08 Updated: 2014-10-13 Chapters: 5/? Words: 6354
****** Bibliophile ******
by Val_Creative
Summary
     "There's no point in wondering what will happen after I die."
Notes
     You can vaguely make this out to be a sister story to Deeper but it's
     not necessary.
***** Chapter 1 *****
 
 
 
 
Virginia Wolfe: a critical memoir … Tsar Mao: bibliography by Cedric Wills—
"…hey, isn't that him?"
"…who are you talking about? You mean 'Love-Less' over there? What about him?"
Anton Chekhov…. Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach… Wisława Szymborska—
"….is it true what they say about him around school? He really doesn't leave
the library?"
T.S. Eliot—
"…Iheard he loves books, like reallyloves them. I heard from a senior that he
caught him…you know… doing… THINGS…to one…"
Ando…Hiroshige—
Wine-colored eyes glued to the tanned dog-ear page of his paperback thinned as
his eyelids lowered. Ritsuka couldn't suppress the mild shudder of irritation
as one of the girls from the cluster of high school students by the exit doors
expressed her disgust with a high-strung shriek at the top of her lungs.
"…EWWWW! Shioiri-kun! That's SOOOGROSS!"
Thinly bandaged fingers identical to pale of the skin on the back of his hand
slid tensing over the glossy cover of his book.
"You do realize that this is a public library, right? If you are going to be
deliberately loud, it would seem more appropriate to continue it by going
outside where you can't distract other people who are studying for exams."
Ritsuka scooped a clump of his dark hair behind his ear, still addressing his
now shell-shocked classmates, "It would be the polite thing to do. Don't you
have parents to teach you these values?"
As the others braced themselves to make a quick retreat, terrified that their
normally dead silent classmate had directed a full sentence—let alone several—
to them, the girl who had shrieked now tugged earnestly on a floss pink pigtail
gathered at the side of her head.
"U-uh… what's your name?"
The impression of the anxiety for her social standing—and that noble risk of
talking to him— it trickled over Ritsuka like a honeyed, impalpable waterfall.
Silly-minded curiosity — a bit of sexual attraction too— those expressions from
the opposite sex were nothing new to him (despite his unpopularity,
occasionally a brave young woman would scan their ambitious gaze over his face,
drawn to the silk texture of his black hair and the rare color of his eyes).
Keeping his paperback open to the same crinkled page he had been blindly
staring at (since the gossip near the exit doors caught his range of hearing),
the teenage boy glanced to where she lingered for an answer, fitting an
artificially wide grin on his lips.
"Love-Less."
 
 
 
 
It's considered impossible for a living person to 'fall in love' with an
inanimate object such as a book… if even such a stupid thing as 'romantic love'
exists anyway…
Remaining in the same standing position, facing the shelves Ritsuka had been in
since arriving—the sixteen-year-old flipped into another book, sinking more and
more comfortably into numbness of his surroundings. From a shelf high above
him, a periwinkle-colored leatherbound textbook shifted precariously as his
elbow thudded against the heavy wood of the 160 stack.
…if they truly believe that…then I feel sorry for them.
A sudden, intruding shadow collapsed over his reading light. Cocking an eyebrow
at the darkened words on the page, he slowly turned around.
One of the newer librarians— must have been, he had never seen someone so young
working here, or for that matter so blond—smirked down on him wordlessly. He
safely clasped the purplish-blue textbook embroidered in reddish, satin string
in one hand, a few inches from Ritsuka's head.
FATE.
With his steady hand, the tall, blond foreigner stretched up to insert the book
back into its empty space, and then buttoned the loosened flaps of his green
shirt sleeve. One of the silver-like cuff links winked against the light from a
nearby window. Ritsuka narrowed his eyes at the strange shape they were.
"You should be careful next time, Ritsuka."
Not sure if he was annoyed at the fact that the librarian was three inches too
close to his personal bubble, or the total disregard for honorifics (thus
proving his suspicions that the man couldn't be familiar with Japanese
customs), the younger student actually became aware of his face contorting into
an outraged frown.
"That's a scary look," the blond man said cheerfully, letting out a low, amused
breath.
What the hell?
Ritsuka was almost persuaded to sneer pointedly at him but instead attempted to
lessen the emotion in his frown without caving in on his displeasure. "How do
you know my name?"
Those eyes—the color for the irises easily mistaken for the exact copy of the
leather textbook—crinkled at him behind stylishly crooked glasses. He hooked
his long fingers into his ash-blond high ponytail. Ritsuka thought for a moment
that it had looked too feminine for someone with a masculine figure. "Ritsuka
comes here often. It's extremely difficult to miss you on a school day."
That didn't answer my question…
"It's rude to hover over someone when they are trying to read," Ritsuka
snapped.
"What did those kids call you, Ritsuka? A nickname?" The librarian asked
seriously, leaning down closer and gripping the shelf above Ritsuka's head. The
teenager did not approve of this current situation or with the fact that his
back was beginning to ache from steeling back on the ridges of the stack behind
him just so he could avoid any human contact.
"Listen— I didn't give you permission to call me by my first name—I don't even
know you. Secondly," purple eyes flashed heatedly as Ritsuka's voice cracked
once from its usually monotonic quality, "what does it matter to you what they
call me? I don't believe in fighting back over stupid things or calling anyone
else names. It's pointless."
"It still hurts your feelings."
Ritsuka countered that statement, the secure emptiness of a facial expression
and the blockade of his emotions drifting sweetly into place, "I'm
considerately adequate at not feeling anything at all."
"If that is what makes you happy, Ritsuka."
The blond librarian finally removed himself at the deadpan look. "If you need
anything, I'll be downstairs." Still with that handsome smirk.
 
 
 
 
Once Ritsuka was alone, he slapped his paperback shut before lifting himself up
by the tiptoes of his sneakers to reach for the periwinkle-colored book.
 
 
 
 
 
***** Chapter 2 *****
 
 
 
 
Somehow he knew... Ritsuka knewthat FATEwas stupid.
What a waste of time.
 
 
 
 
There's not much to do or learn in school that couldn't be found elsewhere, he
thought to himself on the way out of the brick front entrance— social
interaction might come in handy sometimes depending on your occupation, yes;
but Ritsuka wondered if perhaps— death might be more interesting.
More morbidly interesting than the constant repetition of pounding, dense
rubber and heels on aging and black-streaked tile linoleum, the screeching
metal legs and rungs of desk chairs, and the collective roar of his fellow
classmates and teachers muddled by caffeine and hormones and stress.
What a waste of space.
 
 
 
 
"You've got that look on your face again."
Out by the gates of the local evening cram school, an older looking male with a
red and white college jersey blew some cigarette smoke in his direction.
Ritsuka wrinkled his nose, waving the remnants from his air space. "What look?"
he asked, placidly.
"That look you get when you've had a really crappy day," Ritsuka said, wryly.
Kio— with his freshly clipped and dyed-to-a-light-green-color hair— silently
smiled with his lips pressed firmly against the end of his Winston. He started
twirling the white stick of an unwrapped lollipop against his fingers. Ritsuka
eyed the repeated motion. "Then what happened to you today?" The younger
pressed.
"Nothing…" Kio replied, noticing this after a moment, and slipped the lollipop
in his front jean pocket.
"You only smoke when you are having a crappy day."
As they walked together down the sidewalk, away from the streaming crowd of
Ritsuka's rowdy and lively classmates, the green haired man sighed defeated,
"The nice little virgin teacher I've been seeing decided to dump me for her
lady psychiatrist. I didn't even know she was going to a psychiatrist!" Kio
muttered, playing with one of the ten silver hoop earrings in his left ear,
"Cheating little..."
"Okay."
Kio's eyebrows lowered almost behind his oval-shaped glasses, as he said, "You
see…THATas a comment from my best friend doesn't exactly cut it, you know? I
understand that it's hard for you since you have a heart made of cold, hard
glass…" The comment had not been spoken with ill intent. Kio simply loved to
tease Ritsuka about how he could cared less about relationships.
The younger smirked, feeling the pleasurable strain on his face. "When it
happens every week…it's hard to feel sympathy for you…"
"I do have good news though! I think I met someone fun in my art class this
morning!" Kio chirped, throwing away his half demolished cigarette into a
garbage bin they passed with a grand flourish and unwrapping the foil to his
lollipop. "New guy. Great with Japanese art. His painting skills are
insanely... amazing, ah... I can't even describe it right, Ritsuka; you would
have to see him at work! I haven't seen talent like this in a while…and he's
got this weird obsession with butterflies… —"
 
===============================================================================
He stretched up to push the purplish-blue book back into the empty space on the
book shelf. The blond man smiled down on him gently, handsomely, and looked
down to his own wrists.
He began buttoning the butterfly-shaped cuff links of his shirt sleeves.
===============================================================================
 
"…whoa, Ritsuka, are you feeling alright?" Kio caught him in a half-swoon.
The dull, prickling feeling behind Ritsuka's eyes sank away slowly. His vision
lightened, sharpened from the darkness that had gripped the edges. The green-
haired man gripped harder onto the Ritsuka's arm, bringing his other hand up
under his armpit in case his body fell backwards. "You're shaking. Are you
going to be sick?" Kio said.
"No…" Blotches of pink embarrassment went up his cheeks.
Ritsuka hated having to worry Kio like that whenever he started daydreaming so
violently. Daydreaming shouldn't feel like that. Like it threatened to split
his head open.
Kio did not let him go and his blue eyes changed suddenly into a look of
suspicion on him. "...You're not going to take my advice and talk to someone
about this, are you?"
"Probably not."
"In any case, we're here." Kio let him go, leading the way towards his
destination. The elevated gray-cement steps on Ritsuka's right led up to the
large, decorative glass doors of the public library. Ritsuka clenched his jaw.
Dammit. The last place he wanted to be right now.
"I need a textbook for class tomorrow. It will only be a couple minutes
inside," Kio said with an acknowledging wave, entering through the doors.
Couple minutes of hell.
As he went ahead without him, Ritsuka debated whether or not to follow inside.
He supposed it would be the polite thing to do. But it's not what Ritsuka was
required to go. It wasn't histextbook. And he didn't have to do anything he
didn't want to do... right?
"How very right you are, Ritsuka."
Appearing beside him, a tall, male librarian with a blond, high ponytail peered
over at him with a sunny smile. Ritsuka stumbled back, holding in a gasp.
The hell…?
He realized after a moment that he had spoken his thought out loud for the
entire world to hear him.
The man's periwinkle-colored eyes warmed as he asked, "Here to do homework? I'm
on the clock now. If you decide that you need any help... I'll be working
downstairs tonight until closing—"
"——I'm waiting for someone." Ritsuka frowned pointedly at the man. Whywas he so
insistent? And why was he out hereif he was working?
The teenager shifted uncomfortably. A small cigarette hung out of the corner of
the blond's mouth as he reached in his purple fur coat for a lighter. Secretly
out of the corner of his eye, Ritsuka watched the man light up, unintentionally
focusing on the yellow-gold highlights of his crooked glasses and the glow from
the flame reflected in his pupils….his irises were such a…pretty…color…
"SOUBIIIII!"
Kio flew out of nowhere down the cement steps, shouting the name and beaming at
the librarian. Ritsuka dodged him in time as his best friend barreled into
Soubi's space, throwing an open arm around his shoulders. "You are actually
AWAY from a canvas? What are you doing here with my buddy, Sou-chan? Flirting
with him? Didn't know you had a thing for kids..."
Ritsuka scowled deeply at Kio as the man named Soubi chuckled lowly, muttering,
"You're an idiot." Ritsuka's skin began to form into tiny knobs from the deep
laughter. He rubbed his arms irritably.
"Kio, you have homework… and you," Ritsuka complained, glancing sharply at the
blond man, "have work."
"No need to get so testy, Rit-chan, I was only kidding." Kio tucked his arm
into Ritsuka's and waved merrily to Soubi who shrugged, going for the library's
entrance silently, "Byebye! See you in class!"
As they rounded the block for the heart of the apartment buildings, he elbowed
the younger, asking, "So...what was that, Ritsuka? Back there, you looked like
you've swallowed something nasty." Ritsuka ripped his arm from Kio's, leaving
the older looking outwardly a bit miffed.
"I should go home before the streetlamps turn on."
"It's only six."
"My aunt doesn't like it when I am late."
Dark blue eyes trailed over Ritsuka's heavily bandaged hand resting at his
sides. "I bet..." Kio's darkened expression on the bandages quickly faded into
a familiar, friendly smile as he patted his friend's shoulder consolingly,
"Then you're coming over tomorrow to finish Septimal Moon...you only thinkyou
have a choice in the matter..."
 
 
 
 
"You're not going to take my advice and talk to someone about this, are you?"
Kio was worried. That was understandable.
Daydreaming doesn't hurt you.
(It doesn't hurt like that.)
It would make his aunt worry more. Everyone would worry more.
Worry. Worry. Worry.
...he could not do what Kio wanted.
 
 
 
 
"Ritsuka, I missed you..."
She said this, tightening the ropes binding his arms behind him to one of the
wooden kitchen chairs, tears running freely down her face. Her dark purplish
eyes blinked frantically. Her hair had loosened from her ponytail. Several
long, jet-black strands sticking to the moisture on her cheeks. His aunt petted
Ritsuka's hair soothingly between her slender fingers smelling of dinner's rice
and spices.
"Why were you gone for so long...?"
"I'm sorry." She needed his love. She needed to calm down. She needed him here
to do it since her son and her husband were not there to help him. Ritsuka
smiled kindly up at her, closing his eyes as her cool fingers stroked his
temple, repeating the mantra, "I'm sorry."
"I'm teaching you a lesson, my little Ritsuka. Those people out there can hurt
you. They will hurt you..." Misaki whispered, picking up a cutting knife from
the tabletop in front of Ritsuka, running the tip over the line of his jaw and
leaving a tiny, weeping red line. She raised it again, her tears landing on the
material of his shirt."And they will hurt you..."
 
 
 
 
 
***** Chapter 3 *****
 
 
 
 
My dearest Ritsuka,
There isn't a time I am not thinking about you. If you were to ask my
colleagues— they would assume that I was admiring some distant lover far off
from here. In a way, you are like that to me. I do admire you, Ritsuka. For
your strength. For your intelligence. For your beauty. For the memories I have
of us together.
One day, I will come for you, Ritsuka. And then everything will be right again.
All my love,
Seimei
 
 
 
 
On the park sidewalk across the street-walk he crossed on the way home, Ritsuka
saw the creature's carcass.
Clearly... it had been stepped on by something much bigger (—and crueler,
almost certainly a kid's sneaker)and the butterfly looked so miserable in
death, one of its uniquely-colored wings stretched upwards as if still feebly
protesting against the attack done onto it. He stared at it numbly for a moment
longer, standing between the grass and the sidewalk. The butterfly itself was a
mixture of metallic blue and purple hairs, echoing those colors in his buzzing
vision against the afternoon hot sunlight.
It was just a butterfly…
But... somehow... guessing this so involuntarily made his stomach coil slowly
into an awful, greasy knot… it was maliciousjudgment of this now deceased
creature…
Ritsuka squeezed his eyes shut as the space between them prickled uncomfortably
and his sinuses fogged. He clapped his hands over his face, clenching his teeth
as his ears pressurized—
===============================================================================
A man with a red — and white jacket — sunglasses — Kio — the paramedics are
stomping onto the lawn — but he HADto finish before his aunt came outside—
HADto finish or she would become upset— and Kio holds his bloody arm with his
hands tightened, his eyes glittering fiercely behind his lenses.
===============================================================================
"This is your cousin Seimei." His smiling aunt points to the blocky, black
picture frame over the fireplace— a fit, dark-haired man gazes at his audience
confidently — "You'll be tall just like him, one day, Ritsuka."
===============================================================================
 Something silver— flashing — dazzlingly.
===============================================================================
 The ballooning pain ingrained in his body seems to lessen somewhat. But his
internal temperature seems to sky-rocket as a soft, heedful hand massages the
skin on his bare, cool stomach. The more sensitive skin much lower warms and
hardens as his eyes roll back in arousal. He cannot identify the person
attached to this hand but understands what is happening feels…good.
The small, silver butterfly earrings in pale-colored ears flash.
===============================================================================
.x.
Ritsuka crouched down on one knee and one hand flat to the park's grass. Sweat
dripped down the back of his neck, soaking his goldenrod, jersey collar.
Sluggishly, the dazed teenager rose back on his feet, oblivious to a passing
female jogger ogling. At the same moment, he heard someone call for him. Kio
waved to him from the street-walk as he dodged a passing silver car that
swerved him and honked aggravated. His eyes zoned in on both of Ritsuka's
bandaged hands and the white sterile patch taped on his left cheek as he walked
up. His mouth twitched but Kio said nothing about them as the older man smiled
slightly at his friend.
"I was wondering where you ran off to without me..."
"I'm fine," Ritsuka said lowly, automatically. His ears had stopped ringing.
That was a good sign.
"I didn't ask. What's with the letter?"
Ritsuka smoothed out the crumples— how his damp palms blurred some of the
penciled words— and his trembling fingers did not help the situation. The
younger cleared his throat, folding the slip of paper into his jean pocket.
"Nothing special," he lied, hoping he could get home soon to fix the smeared,
precious words.
Kio's smile widened as he slung an arm around the boy's neck, steering them
both down the street and sing-songed, "Sooo… I got you a jooooob~."
"Excuse me?"
"A job, silly; something you'll be paid to do! You aren't involved in anything
in your high school and it will look bad on you, you know…. and since you spend
all your free time at the library anyway, it won't be a huge change from your
routine…" Ritsuka paled as Kio added with a gleeful chuckle, "Don't look at me
like that. You should be thanking me! You are damn lucky I have connections,"
he clapped the teen's shoulder, "Now you have a realexcuse not to come over to
my apartment…"
The dark-haired boy recovered, sneering disdainfully, "You just don't want me
to stay home."
For the briefest moments, Kio's smile darkened with satisfaction. And as if
never happened, the green-haired man said cheekily, continuing to steer them to
the apartment complexes, "But don't think you are getting away with an excuse
THIS week! Nuh-uh-uh, buddy! We are SO playing videogames until curfew hits!"
"Whatever."
 
 
 
 
In fear of a tarnished repetition considering the library's records— flat out
refusing the interview wasn't possible now that he was there in person— Ritsuka
stood inside the front doors, fiddling with the fat wood buttons and the twine
on his burgundy wool jacket… just hoping that the person to see him wasn't,
wasn't…
"Aoyagi Ritsuka?" A wrinkled woman he had seen before working in one of the
bigger offices behind the Circulation Desk— always with dress-suit on, gray-
streaked braid to the middle of her back, and beaded glasses— smiled at him
from the second floor staircase. Ritsuka's heart warmed just a little at the
motherliness of it.
"You must be him," she admitted coming down those stairs, staring longer at his
face carefully and blandly, "I was told by the other staff that you would be a
boy with very lovely purple eyes."
He gave her a slight head tilt in acknowledgment—very much use to this
compliment from older women. "Thank you for the opportunity to be interviewed
on short notice for you."
"Oh goodness, you are so polite! That is most certainly refreshing to see in
you younger kids," she said. The wrinkled woman chuckled, directing him to a
quiet room with decorative sofas and armchairs. The white sign over the
entrance read: Study Room. Please Keep Quiet. He vaguely remembered coming in
to hide from his louder classmates. And the obvious stares he seemed to
acquire. Her fern green eyes then examined him sternly when Ritsuka sat in a
chair across from her. "Oh my… where did you get those injuries, Aoyagi-kun?"
Unconsciously, his fingers slipped over his face bandage. But Ritsuka smiled
fakely, brightly at her. "Have a lot of people been asking for this job today,
Librarian-san?"
"Not many, in fact." She adjusted the clipboard over her lap, raising a
sculpted eyebrow at his evasive comment but did not press the matter. "And you
may address me as Miura-san if you wish to. This will be a relatively informal
interview."
"Let us get straight to business, shall we…. Tell me a little about yourself,
Aoyagi-kun…"
 
 
 
 
When Ritsuka finally got home, he ignored all text messages and phone calls
from Kio. He locked his bedroom door, ignoring his aunt's persistent questions
from the bottom of the staircase landing and then the eventual high-pitched
screams, and flinched curled up on his mattress when what sounded like dinner
clattered banging on the kitchen floor. Ritsuka glared openly at the square
plastic object on his desk, as if all the irritated and anxious feelings he
were experiencing had been its purposeful doing.
 
 
 
 
"A worker named Soubi?" His interviewer mused, tapping her fountain pen to the
corner of her interview sheet and clipboard, "Agatsuma Soubi was recently
hired. I got a call from him this afternoon that he wasn't feeling well enough
to make his shift for the evening hours or for the next morning." She never
noticed how the boy's eyes lit with triumph upon hearing this.
"Oh," said Ritsuka. "My best friend has classes with him and was wondering..."
"He did leave something at my desk for you."
The teenager's eyebrows shot up in alarm. The librarian got up for her office
and returned a minute later with a sealed plastic ear piercer and two silver
metal earrings the shape of butterflies. He swallowed hard, cupping them in his
own hands, mortified as his face burned and as her green eyes studied him
intently, embarrassed as well as politely confused.
"Agutsuma-san said you would know what to do with them."
 
 
 
 
To hell he knew what to do with them! What was with this new guy?
He stretched over his mattress to toss the piercer into the trash bin by his
computer. It landed at the bottom with a satisfying clunk. And then he reached
for the earrings sitting patiently and gleaming on his homework, and hesitated.
Releasing a tensed breath, Ritsuka rolled over to flip off his lamp, burrowing
under his blankets, stomach and libido complaining.
He hated the dreams that followed, dwindling with shards of an irrationally
tender love involving the dizzy color of periwinkle.
 
 
 
 
 
***** Chapter 4 *****
 
 
 
 
"I see you have brought the letter again this weekend, Ritsuka."
He corrected the woman speaking, glancing back up at the chessboard tile-
ceiling from his position stretched out limply on the long, plaid divan, "That
was the one from three months ago. This is a new one." His long-legged
psychiatrist stifled a wide, knowing smile at his sharp tone behind one of her
scented hands—that liked to linger a few seconds too much on the small of his
back when greeting him.
"…is it now?" Amusement could not resist lacing her grainy, womanly voice,
"Where did you find this one?"
"The same place before. I use to hide there in the summer right outside the
city when my aunt kicked me out of our apartment," Ritsuka said, now glancing
at the folded piece of paper with softened eyes. (But.) "I use to tell Seimei
about it all the time. I use to write him letters all the time at that square.
I don't know whether or not he even gets them anymore. Or if he will come and
save me…"
"Do you think you need saving, Ritsuka?"
His fingers slowly rose up to brush the butterfly-shaped bandage (pinkening in
the center) on his temple. After a moment of silence, he creased up his letter
meticulously, evenly.
"…death is something no one can be saved from."
 
 
 
 
The stain on the sidewalk between the park's grass still lingered.
 
 
 
 
"What is it about death that fascinates you so much, Ritsuka? Are you
fascinated with your own death?"
Her eyes shaded by her cropped brown bangs shine so fixated on him and his
blank expression. Her coral-smeared lips purse together and protrude in
exaggerated interest. She doesn't really mind that he might be mentally
unstable or a victim of abuse; he doesn't understand why she pins her short
skirts up on his private appointment days.
Ritsuka snorted, returning to the ceiling. "There's no point in wondering what
will happen after I die. I just wonder how I will feel the moment it happens."
 
 
 
 
It might have not been polite. (But.) Ritsuka was getting to the bottom of this
nonsense.
Whether or not there was a good chance that he could be fired only after the
first night.
Where Soubi (this eccentric librarian) was double checking books behind the
main desk, the teenager stormed from the stacks where he was previously doing
shelf maintenance—slapping the silver butterfly earrings on the desktop near
his coworker's elbow, and glaring. Soubi smiled unflinchingly, asking as he
examined a small, torn copy of Goodman Brown, "…do you need help in the
stacks?"
"Why did you give me these things? What kind of game are you playing with
me...?" Ritsuka's purple eyes narrowed. "...because I don't want any part of
it."
"It isn't a game, Ritsuka." Soubi replied with— in Ritsuka's opinion— an
annoyingly chipper smile, not looking up from the book in his hands as he
lazily flipped to another page, "I want you to pierce me. To mark me as your
property. As Ritsuka's property. Nothing would make me happier."
His mouth dropped open. "You…" Ritsuka's skin began tingling again, as it had
when he first heard the man with the high ponytail laugh, and knotting up with
goose bumps at those compassionate and yet bizarre words. He stared in
disbelief as the weight of this situation hit him fully. At the other man who
had turned to look at him and didn't appear discouraged at all by his reaction.
'Why…?'
The fact also was that Soubi had barely said two words to him since Ritsuka had
clocked in (and then trained by their supervisor Miura-san for the first two
hours before she went home, leaving them both alone on the first floor)—and to
this point in time (9pm and dead of patron life and scheduled to close in an
hour).
And it strangely…pissed Ritsuka off in ways he couldn't express vocally. He
couldn't remember ever feeling this frustrated.
Ritsuka ran his hands through his short, dark hair, mumbling, shaking his head
slowly, "…this can't be happening…it isn't possible that this guy told me to
treat him like an object…like some pervert…"
This time, Soubi reacted, frowning as if stung. "I want to be controlled by
you, Ritsuka. What is so hard to understand? I want you—"
"—STOP SAYING THAT TO ME! YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW ME!"
As soon the teenager stopped screaming, he clapped his hands over his mouth.
Concerned, Soubi went around the desk as Ritsuka started backing away, bug-eyed
and face quickly draining of blood. When the older man came too close, he raced
for the right wing of the downstairs book stack. Ritsuka made it about as far
as inside the middle row of the stacks before he was caught, their bodies
colliding. Ritsuka clung instinctively to the knitted bomber jacket in front of
him smelling strongly of tobacco and caramel espresso—the saffron-colored
fabric pressing scratchy on his cheek.
"Of course I know you…" Soubi murmured into the hug, cupping the side of the
boy's face, finger straying just below the space of the butterfly bandage.
"…Seimei told me everything about you." Ritsuka stiffened in his grasp before
relaxing somewhat. 'How did he...?'
"I don't understand…any of this…I don't understand you..."
The blond man shushed him, touching the back of Ritsuka's burning neck with
hurried fingers and with his other hand, brought Ritsuka's palm up to his lips
to kiss. The goose bumps grew harder on Ritsuka's body at that brush of the
moist, tender skin on Soubi's mouth. All his proper and logical instincts told
him to shove this…weirdo away—
(But.)
—he couldn't find the strength to lean away from him…
…is this what hypnotism felt like…? …was this surrendering…?
"Kiss me, Ritsuka."
His small, bandaged hand not held clenched deeper into the jacket, and began to
tremble. Timidly, Ritsuka stretched his neck up and closed his eyes. He shrank
away a little as a warm, unwonted mouth embraced his, his face flaming red as a
potent emotion flourished, orbiting in the pit of his stomach and his nether
regions. Ritsuka accepted the weight of Soubi's mouth on his to return the
open-mouthed kiss, pushing his mouth up uncertainly but forcefully, closing his
lips after a moment.
Soubi chuckled into their kiss, pulling away a moment to tease, "Ritsuka is new
to this, I can tell."
"Shut up," Ritsuka snapped, still somewhat dazed by this turn of events. In his
overload of feeling and pleasure, he ended up jamming the older man's back up
against the nearest stack painfully.
Soubi made no sign of discomfort as they continued where they left off, sliding
eager hands, eager tongues together. The younger whimpered muffled behind his
lips as those pale, alluring hands delved under the folds of his sweater,
mapping out the muscles of his back and shoulders with the precision of a true
artist's hands, applying tiny spots of pressure as he went. Ritsuka found that
his wrinkled up sweater became too much of a nuisance and discarded it,
shivering when Soubi's fingers instead traced the space above his navel.
"Order me to stop if you wish to." Those fingers journeyed lower, as Soubi
added lowly with his face buried into his hair, "I don't wish to frighten you
away."
"...d-don't...stop..."
Ritsuka could feel where Soubi's cock stirred, urging against their clothes. He
lifted himself higher into the other man's arms, clenching the insides of his
legs closer to Soubi's waist. He was thankful that he was not the one with
their spine to the bookcase. His confidence wavered for a moment when the
teenager felt his jeans unbutton, the comfortable material slipping his thighs
as Soubi worked them down. When the blond man felt the arms around his neck go
rigid, Ritsuka's face hidden in his sweater, he massaged the his scalp slowly
and asked if he was alright.
"...just keep going..."
Soubi obeyed, this time pushing down Ritsuka's underwear, and observing the
sight before him. Despite his slender frame, Ritsuka was reasonably equipped—
as well as aroused. The goosebumps on Ritsuka's forearms apparently even went
to skin once unexposed. Soubi's fingers handled him with mellow curiosity,
where he touched swelling and reddening further. The very tip of Ritsuka's cock
beginning to glisten. The older man tore open a package of lube from his pocket
before preparing Ritsuka.
At the first and second finger nudging, Ritsuka arched away from it, turning
bright red with embarrassment. "-aah!"
"It will hurt more if you do not relax," said Soubi mildly, kissing the
underside of Ritsuka's tensed jaw. The sensation of being stretched with
Soubi's fingers and then Soubi himself made Ritsuka bite the heel of his palm
until he was certain that he would break skin but somehow... it did not hurt as
much as he thought it would. He was verygentle. Soubi waited for the younger to
set the pace, moving against him, into him, the stack behind them starting to
groan from the pendulum.
Ritsuka's fingernails dug abrasively into the high collar of Soubi's pullover
as a light tickling sensation coursed through his body, followed by the
concentrated intensity of the orgasm swallowing everything else he was feeling.
Like ripping away from the silk casing of his physical body, spreading,
spreading his sticky wings for the first time— warm, chrysalis fluid seeping
down his thighs.
 
 
 
 
 
***** Chapter 5 *****
 
 
 
 
He saw her, clear as day; a banana-yellow polyester puff of vest and a
strawberry-pink ponytail, approaching him at his shoe locker. An uncertain puff
that drummed her glittery fingernails against the strap of her book bag. His
amethyst eyes took a moment to glance at that strap between her humongous
breasts that couldn’t even be hid with the vest.
Ritsuka pretended to continue reading his library book in his spot as she
stopped a foot from him, still drumming nervously.
“What are you reading?” The girl asked cheerfully, as if they were at the very
least acquainted—and Ritsuka knew they weren’t.
He answered her question politely, coolly as if to a bothersome child, “It’s
about a married woman who commits adultery, and then commits suicide by
drowning herself to escape society’s controversial expectations of how she
should act.”
Her cornflower blue eyes widened at the nonchalance in the subject. She
squeaked, confused, “That sounds… nice, I guess…”
“I’d say not,” he said doubtfully, somewhat scornfully to her as his one
unbandaged eye pinned her down, “Though there is some scholarly debate on
whether or not her suicide was an act of rebellion against the female
conventions of the era…”
“Don’t you read any manga?” Her tone sounded hopeful. That maybe there was
something in common between them. Even if it was something infinitesimal.
Ritsuka, unfortunately for her, was not such a compulsory optimist.
“Mindless garbage. Recycled plots. Sexist and tends to generalize groups of
individuals.”
“…Do you have a name?” She got straight to the point. He shook his head to
indicate that he would not give it to her freely.
Ritsuka asked, “What is it to you? Are you going to rely the message back to
your friends if I tell you what you want to hear?,” waiting with a rising
temper as she scrunched her bottom lip underneath her front teeth. He took it
as a guilty reaction. “Listen, I’m sure beneath the excitable screeches and the
pointless questions and the gigantic boobs, you have an iota of smarts. But you
haven’t earned the right to call me by my name, so you and your friends are
going to remain disappointed today.”
He smacked his open, library book shut with one hand, causing her to flinch a
little backwards at the quick action. She called out to his small, retreating
back with (sickening, in his opinion) determination, “I’m going to earn it
myself!I promise I will!”
 
 
 
An infinitesimal waste of space.
 
 
 
“Chupa?” A brownish-tinted lollypop was waved in his face. The sixteen-year-old
glared at the seemingly innocent object as Kio added, wiggling it, perhaps to
entrance his companion to reaching curiously for it, “It’s pudding flavored.”
“That’s disgusting,” Ritsuka said, still glaring with obvious displeasure even
as it retreated from his airspace and found its way into the other man’s gladly
receiving mouth, “Don’t you ever get a stomachache from eating so many of
those?”
“Coming from the brat with a diet solely consisting Big Macs,” Kio countered,
rocking his heels into the woodchips of the playground, his creaking swing
arching back, “By the way, you are such a charmer, Rit-chan. So mindful of
other people’s habits. I wonder how you manage beat the women away from you,”
he leered good-naturedly, “Or the men.”
Ritsuka chose to ignore that. “What are we waiting for anyway?” He settled down
to hunch in a plastic, blue children’s climber.
“SOOOOOUBBBI!”
The attractive, blond man in an oversized, red sweater and jeans nearby did not
react to Kio practically jumping into his arms. “I thought we’d be waiting
FOREVER!” Kio whined, snuggling the now confused newcomer, “Ritsuka’s not much
of a conversation carrier…”
Said killjoy was about to retort when Soubi plucked his affectionate classmate
off him and slowly smiled down on him.
“Hello, Ritsuka. I haven’t seen you in a couple days.”
A couple days since they…
They……
Ritsuka flushed at the sexual memory, giving the older man a painfully adorable
and sullen expression. “Hi.”
“Do you have the taxi ride set up?” The green-haired man cut in, simpering at
Soubi.
“Yeah,” Soubi said, adding as he went for the street, “You are paying for it,
by the way.”
“Where are we going?” Ritsuka finally asked, squished in the backseat of the
cab.
Kio said cheerfully, “We’re going to go eat at Soubi’s house! And you can’t
make an excuse—we’re already here and it’s six more hours until curfew!” He
gleefully laughed, throwing open the cab door and stumbling out.
 
 
 
 
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