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Takumi Sumino felt impossibly small for a boy his age.
Curled up, hands too tired to even grip the duvet for any sensation other than the dull drumming in his ears.
Who would have thought that setting yourself on fire would be so damn agonising? He almost didn’t go through with it, the tang of gasoline violating his senses as he shakily fumbled with a lighter.
Just to be right back where he started, as the wonderful Revive-O-Matic goes.
He was long since tired of these grey walls, the desire for having complete autonomy over his body had him too frightened to fall asleep, unable to seek the usual comfort of multiple dreamless nights. The walls had found a place in his day more often than any of his friends, and he would be laying silently for every minute he wasn’t gurgling over blood from his own slit throat or feeling his ears pop from the rope around his neck.
“Giving up already?”
Ah.
There he was.
The reason he was doing all of this in the first place.
Takumi knew that if he looked down, even spared a glance in His direction, that He would be sitting smugly on his couch. The same pristine white outfit, crossed legs, and crinkled eyes from that wide cheshire grin. It made him wonder what he was doing all of this for, if the constant mutilation wasn't breaking Eito down as much as it was him.
His eyes fell shut. He wished he could dream.
Maybe, he would remember Karua. Her soft voice calling for him, affectionate nickname rolling off of her tongue and arms wrapped tight around him. Her smile. Her appetite. Her long, white locks. Her comforting scent. Her soft fingers combing through his messy hair. Her.
The bed beside him dipped, and he made no move to look.
Palms gripped his waist, and he thought of Karua. Was she alright? Back at the Tokyo Residential Complex, were people helping her? Was there someone, other than him, who was protecting her right now? He hoped there was no sirens, no harsh tone of her mother. He hoped she was happy right now, and not too worried about his whereabouts.
He thought of her valentines day chocolates, her weight settling onto his lap, her voice-
“Takumi.”
That was not Karua.
His eyes fluttered open and he barely made the move to roll onto his back, gaze meeting Eito’s. “What are you thinking about? I can’t read your thoughts like this, but I can guess.” His hand splayed across Takumi’s covered torso, fingers dipping into the fabric of his hoodie.
White. Like Karua, like Eito.
“A certain someone, perhaps? You humans are just so sentimental, of course. Are you seeking comfort in her? How is that working for you, Takumi?”
He couldn’t stand to look at the man on top of him right now, wordlessly closing his eyes and trying to ignore his presence. He needed to think about something else, something other than this person and his death game.
The soft scratch of a pencil hitting paper, Karua in his bed and doing something as mundane as homework became his refuge. He leant into her, his head on her shoulder as she worked. The familiar childhood room he always stayed in, his safe space. Karua in his safe space. Karua telling him about something, no matter how boring, her voice in his ear. After some shuffling, her hands on his sides.
Her eyes were soft as she gazed down at him, and Takumi wondered if she had hung those stars she talked all about. She was speaking, but he couldn’t process any of the words past the cotton that felt lodged in his ears. He was so happy to see her. She leant forward and her hand cradled his face, thumb running over his cheek. He leant into her and placed one of his hands atop hers, the other pursuing her thin waist. “Karua..” he sighed, chest deflating with the movement.
She pressed her body closer, skin meeting skin. He doesn’t remember getting undressed, he doesn't remember closing his eyes and kissing her. But as her lips met his, he didn’t think that was too important. His mouth slotted against hers as if it belonged there, his purpose, Karua. When she sat back onto his abdomen and called his name, the spell over him broke momentarily in favour of his eyes opening.
A few things became suddenly clear.
He was still in the last defense academy, Karua was not here, and the person in his lap was Nozomi.
He blinked rapidly, thankful for somehow being clothed again as his flat palms flew to the sides of his head in a show of innocence. “Nozomi!” He flushed, heart hammering against his ribs. “When did you get in here? I don’t..” he trailed off. He never thought of himself as intelligent or anything above average, and his brain could barely keep up with everything going on.
She had started talking, and like before, he couldn't catch up with the words leaving her mouth. He thinks she’s chastising him for not relaxing, but his vision is swimming and his clammy hands are moving on their own. He can only watch as they unbutton her blouse and slip it off of her shoulders, eyes flickering over her chest and lacy purple bra. He shamelessly groped a breast, and much to his horror, Nozomi rocked against his cock with a content sigh.
“Wait.. wait, stop.”
His tongue felt like lead in his mouth, swallowing the bile that felt like a putrid slime lodging itself into his throat. “It’s too fast- Nozomi,” his voice trembled, his eyes watered. What was happening? Why was Nozomi here? Why did he want to stop? Why were his hands continuing?
The ‘Nozomi’ grinded against him with a satisfied laugh, one that echoed and rattled around his brain. Everything about her felt so familiar, but this didn’t feel like Nozomi, or even Karua. “What’s wrong, Takumi? Didn’t you want it like this?” Eito's voice was in the front of his mind. “Or is it something a little different? I see.”
It seemed the voice of Eito had come to its own conclusion, and in a flash the scene in front of Takumi changed once more.
Nozomi was underneath him now, a grim look of terror that should have never been on her face was now directed at him. He was so disoriented, overwhelmed by every feeling. It was like she was actually there. Her bare body below him, their hips meeting, it was so real. Her gasps, her nails cutting into his wrists.
Nozomi’s moans of pleasure.
Nozomi’s sobs of pain.
Nozomi’s choked pleading.
…
Pleading…?
The haze in his mind seemed to clear all of a sudden, at the worst possible realisation. Unlike the previous times she raised her voice, he could now hear her loud and clear. Nozomi was begging him to stop, to get away, to leave her alone. He willed his body to freeze, to do anything but this, but his hands were wrapped tightly around her windpipe. He was killing her. He had never been more aroused in his life.
This was wrong, so wrong. He didn’t want to kill Nozomi. He didn’t want to- Do any of This.
“Oh?”
The voice called, laughing.
Nozomi changed again, now it was Eito.
His cackling dragged Takumi into the pits of hell with him, persisting even through his tightened grip on his neck. Fine. He had no problem killing Eito. The first emotion not blanketed by the fog in his brain breached the surface, and with a rage he had never felt before, he felt the cringeworthy snap of the other boys neck against his fingers.
A cry of relief punched out of him, and he used the leverage to thrust deeper into Eito without the restraint he wanted to give Nozomi. After all, this wasn’t Nozomi anymore, was it? He had no problem killing Eito.
He had no problem killing Eito.
He had no problem fucking Eito.
He had no problem ra-
He suddenly jolted up, once more in his bed, flinging the blankets off of him and barely making it to the toilet bowl as the bile finally spewed from his mouth. He hacked dryly, loud sobs wracking his frame as he shook violently against each wave of puke until his stomach finally settled. His mouth felt acidic, and he could no longer smell Nozomi on him.
There was a sudden pressure on his head that made him flinch, tensing at the gloved hand that mockingly carded through his hair like how he wished Karua had done. “How revolting.” There was a click of a tongue above him, and he knew who it was without looking.
“What’s wrong Takumi? You were thinking about how much you want to **** Nozomi, weren’t you? You can’t hide anything from me. I’m in your head, Takumi.”
There was no way that was true.
As he made the movement to cuss Eito out, to call him a freak, to kill him with his bare hands…
He realised there was a contradictory stickiness in his underwear.