for the love of the brotherhood, 2/2
Title: For the Love of the Brotherhood
Pairing(s): Jun/Shun, Jun/Sho, Jun/Ohno/Ryo, slight onesided Jun/Aiba, Nino/Riisa, Shun/Yamada Yuu, slight Aiba/Yamada Yuu
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~17,000
Summary: College AU. When people ask Jun why he decided to join a fraternity in the first place, his answer is always the same: Shun. Now he's the president-elect of Pi Alpha Phi, and senior year is about to get way out of hand.
Notes: Part 2 of 2.
Four days later, when the house is quiet after midnight, Jun finds himself in Sho’s room stripped down to his boxers.
“I finished my thesis,” Sho says, and bites Jun’s earlobe. It feels gentler than usual, but Jun might just be imagining things. “I’ll be on leave until graduation in December.”
Jun swallows. He’s not sure what to focus on-Sho’s hands wandering up and down his torso, the lips settling on the slope of his neck, or the words coming out of Sho’s mouth. The last is probably the most important, but then again that doesn’t mean much when compared to the other two. “On leave?” he repeats, and lets his eyes close. “What’s that mean?”
“I’ll be gone after next week,” Sho says.
Jun opens his eyes. Something, suddenly, feels very out of place.
“Wait,” he says, and steps out of Sho’s arms. “I thought you were graduating in December.”
“I had until December to finish my thesis, but I only needed a month.” The words feel spidery, like Jun can almost imagine them crawling over his shoulders, sitting heavy. “The committee granted me early leave, so I’m going home after my oral defense next week.”
Home. Jun lets the word float in his mind for a bit as it registers-Sho is leaving. Sho will no longer be the president of PA Phi and Jun will no longer have the word ‘elect’ in his title. He’ll move out of his big room at the end of the second floor hallway, and the business office will never be the same again. Despite the fact that they weren’t really going out, the thought of Sho leaving makes Jun wilt a little inside. Or perhaps even a lot.
“Congratulations on finishing your thesis,” Jun says, and tries to mean it. There is a sudden twisting in his gut that is growing by the second.
“Jun,” Sho says, maybe sadly, or maybe Jun is just imagining it. “You knew this was coming.”
Yeah, Jun tries to say, but the word sticks on his throat. It has always been difficult for Jun to tell people how he feels outright, but now it seems harder than ever. He exhales and looks up at the ceiling, counting the cracks right above his head one by one before turning to face Sho.
“It’s been fun,” he says, and this time he doesn’t have to try to fake the sincerity.
It has been fun. Jun will miss the silly grin on Sho’s face, and he will especially miss kissing the corners of that smile every free moment of the day, but the truth is that no matter how sad Jun is now, this Sho-thing-no matter how wonderful-was a temporary thing from the start.
“Miss me,” Sho says on Jun’s lips, and Jun figures he just didn’t hear the will you, but this is one misheard command he will obey without being told. He lets Sho take over where it has always been the other way around, and doesn’t say anything when Sho lowers him to the bed, hand cradling the dip in his lower back, holding him in place. It’s as if Sho is afraid Jun might run away from this moment now that they’ve essentially broken up.
But he wouldn’t do that. Even now, even if Sho’s kisses hurt for a different reason, Jun would stay if Sho changed his mind before morning.
“I hope you’re okay,” Sho says the next morning. He smells like Jun. “We should have done this last year. It would’ve been great.”
“Yeah,” Jun says, and slips out of bed. He has to start getting used to waking up alone again-or at least waking up to someone he barely knows again. “But I had Shun.”
Sho smiles. “You did,” he says, and walks Jun to the door for the last time.
--
After the break-up, Jun throws himself into planning the party, which means that he forgets about the rest of his life. Aiba has to send him text messages every hour reminding him to do his homework (not that that’s much different than usual; Aiba usually sends him a text every hour about nothing in particular) and Toma has to drag him to frat meetings. Eventually even Nino has to come out of his basement to try and cheer Jun up by offering him donuts and energy drinks.
“Jun, come on,” Nino says when Jun tells him very bluntly where to shove his energy drinks. “You look like shit. You’ll never get laid again if you keep on looking and acting like those ugly monsters that attack you on the beaches in Dragon Quest.”
“That’s okay,” Jun says, even though he is twenty-one and horny all the time by nature, and so that’s actually not fucking okay at all. “Are you here to help me plan this party, or are you just going to stand there with donuts?”
“They’re good,” Nino says. “I like them.” He puts the small box on the edge of Jun’s desk, and when Jun glances at it he sees that the only ones left are mini chocolate donuts, four in a row and untouched.
Nino knows Jun loves chocolate. He also knows that Jun won’t eat chocolate unless he’s completely miserable, like now.
“Thanks,” Jun mumbles, not looking at Nino, and takes one. The sugar melts on his tongue, and he hasn’t eaten chocolate in so long that the flavor rushes him all at once, warm and tingly. Before he knows it, all four of the donuts are gone.
“Now that you’ve eaten for the first time in a year,” Nino says, “I am being forced to go bar hopping tonight, and I’m forcing you to come with me. ‘No’ is not an acceptable answer.”
“I would rather dig a hole in the ground and die there,” Jun says, trying to sound as grumpy as possible, but he has chocolate crumbs on his chin and so Nino just laughs. “No. I have to plan this party.”
“You have been planning this party for five days,” Nino says. “We actually have an event chair that can do that, you know. You’re the president now. You can go out and have fun and people will do your work for you.”
Nino isn’t wrong, but Jun likes to put together the frat’s events himself. It’s just easier that way. If he knows exactly what’s going on in his house, he won’t be surprised by anything, and he doesn’t have to worry about things going awry. (His frat brothers going crazy is a different story, but Jun can’t be held responsible for what they do. Alcohol is a drug, after all.)
“Speaking of the event chair,” Nino continues, “Ryo-tan is the one who wants to go out.”
Jun looks up. “Since when did you go to bars with Nishikido?”
“Since tonight,” Nino says, and wrinkles his nose. “I owe him.”
Jun can’t even begin to imagine what Nishikido did to have Nino owe him. Knowing Nino, it has to be something that he couldn’t achieve himself even with the help of his huge network. Maybe he couldn’t get his hands on a rare computer part-but Nishikido wouldn’t be able to help him out with that. He probably wouldn’t have been able to do much for a video game, either.
It had to do with a girl, then.
“You owe him,” Jun repeats. “What are you going to do, buy him double shots and then give him a piggyback ride home when he’s too drunk to stand?”
“I don’t give anyone piggyback rides,” Nino says, and Jun stops himself before he says because you’ll be crushed by their weight. “And no. I owe him one drink and a game of foosball and then he’ll give me what he owes me.”
“You guys are dirty,” Jun says, but he’s cheered up a little bit, mostly from the chocolate but also because thinking about Nino going through such lengths just for a girl is making Jun extra delighted. He loves seeing Nino step out of his comfort zone. “Will you be my wingman if I go out tonight?”
“I’ll be busy,” Nino says. “Get Ryo-tan to do it.”
“Busy with what?”
“Someone.”
That seals the deal. “Fine,” Jun says, “I’ll come with. But only if you promise me you’ll take her home.”
“Shut up,” Nino says, face slightly pink. “Oh, and one more thing.”
“What?”
“I have another friend coming,” Nino says, and smiles so devilishly Jun swears he sees fangs. “And I think you’ll like him.”
--
Going to bars with Nishikido is like sitting in the backseat of a car with a reckless driver at the wheel. In fact, that might actually be the way he drives, and Jun wouldn’t be surprised. He just hopes he never has to actually have Nishikido drive him somewhere, because if the kid steers like he bar hops, everyone on the street would be dead.
Jun is the exact opposite. When he goes out, he likes to savor each place he goes to-order a drink, sit at the bar in the exact same place he sits every time, and stick around for a while. Of course it depends on his mood, because if Jun wants to dance the night away he will sure as hell dance the night away (and probably the morning too), but if he’s bar hopping he likes to take it slow. In fact, he’d rather call it bar visiting. Jun has friends behind the counter of each place downtown, and they all know exactly what drink to make him before he even needs to ask.
But tonight is a little different, since he’s following Nishikido and Nino around. Jun finds himself dragged to places he never knew existed (mainly because they’re underground and smell like bombs of cigarette smoke went off in a small space), and he feels very out of place. Unfortunately he didn’t get the leather jacket memo: Nino and Nishikido look like brothers in black, hair all tousled in just the right way, and the moles on their faces seem to stand out more than usual tonight. Jun has always told himself that if he had no choice to be with Nino, he wouldn’t mind all that much, because those moles are something else.
The third place of the night is called Johnny’s, and it looks like no one has cleaned the place in three years but it’s still packed. Jun has never been able to figure out why college students like dirty places-he might like doing dirty things, but only in clean places.
He doesn’t even want to sit in a booth, but he feels silly just standing, so he slides in across from Nino and tries not to think about why the leather is so sticky.
“Shots,” is the only thing Nishikido says before fishing out his cell phone and burying himself in a text.
Jun sighs. “We’ve been to three places,” he says to Nino, angling himself so that Nishikido can’t hear him, “and he’s had a shot at each one. Is he going to be dead by the end of the night?”
“One can only hope,” Nino says, and squints at the girls behind the bar. “Go order. Three vodka, that shit is cheap.”
“What? No,” Jun says, and scratches at the collar of his pastel button-down. It’s the mint one today, because no other color screams I am on the rebound than a fresh green one (at least to Jun). “Why don’t you?”
“She’s not here yet,” Nino snaps, and runs a hand through his hair. He looks like a miserable six-year-old at a party with an empty piñata.
“Your friend’s not here yet either,” Jun says. “I’m even wearing mint.”
“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean,” Nino says.
Jun is about to explain when suddenly Nino shoots out of his seat and to the bar. He has never moved that fast before, except maybe to be the first one in line to get the newest Dragon Quest or at a time sale for external hard drives-but even then it’s not the same as what Jun just saw. It’s like someone lit his jacket on fire.
“There she is,” Nishikido says, without looking up, and when Jun does he can’t help but laugh.
Riisa. So it’s Riisa, then. A year younger than him, treasurer of ZTDPi and apparently a bartender at Johnny’s, she is possibly the cutest thing Jun has ever seen, all mousey nose and a smile full of teeth. It might be because she looks a lot like Nino, but Jun would rather think of her as the girl that Nino stole his looks from, because at least she doesn’t live in a basement and build computers as a hobby. Well-according to Becky she doesn’t leave the house all that often, and she likes to DJ alone in her room with bedazzled earphones the size of her face. But Jun can deal with that.
“Why does he owe you for this?” Jun wonders aloud, watching Nishikido’s nose twitch in the glow of his cell phone screen. “Couldn’t he have just come here on his own?”
“Yeah, but I run this place,” Nishikido says, and when he looks up his smirk is so pronounced it could probably become its own person.
“You run this place.” Jun raises his eyebrows. “No you don’t, Nishikido.”
“Yes I do.”
“No, you don’t.” Jun is tired now. “I’m going to order shots,” he says, and un-sticks himself from the booth.
“Get three vodka-shit is cheap, man,” Nishikido calls. Jun just waves a hand behind him.
When he reaches the bar, it’s like entering a whole other dimension where Nino knows how to flirt without coming off as an asshole-or at least Riisa likes him just as much and so he doesn’t need to try that hard. Nino is practically sitting on the counter and he doesn’t have a drink, and Riisa is looking at him like she wants to quit her shift in the next five minutes and score herself a boy in a leather jacket.
Jun considers squishing himself next to Nino and ordering vodka shots from Riisa just to get back at Nino for-well, for four years of friendship with Nino. But Jun isn’t that kind of guy, and he would rather embarrass Nino tomorrow morning than now in front of Riisa, who Jun can’t help but like. He’s heard that she’s a little crazy, but something about her smile makes Jun think otherwise.
Except for that time he saw her walking around campus wearing a hot pink leopard-print suit, but that’s a different story altogether.
“Three vodka shots,” he says to someone else behind the bar.
“You sure you want to make that three?” she glances over at Nino and Riisa, who are-well, they’re no longer there.
Trust Nino to force you out of the house when you’re miserable, promise to introduce you to a friend and then leave with a girl right in the middle of it all. Jun shrugs. “Two’s fine,” he says, and then remembers he has to spend the rest of the night with Nishikido and he’s not even remotely tipsy. “Actually-I’ll stick with three.”
Jun brings the shot glasses back to the booth and sits one right by Nishikido’s hand.
“Nino left,” Jun says, and knocks back a shot. “With Riisa.”
“Good,” Nishikido says, and when he grins he reminds Jun of devilish Nino, except with a ton more teeth.
Jun takes his second shot with Nishikido. It’s the cheapest vodka he’s ever tasted, and it makes the inside of his throat feel like it’s going to peel, but it’s working: he already feels a little dizzy. That might be due to the fact that he skipped dinner to do his hair, but it doesn’t matter now anyway. Here is Jun, wearing mint and decidedly on the rebound, and if Nishikido can get Nino the girl he wants, then maybe he can work his magic on Jun too.
“More shots?” Jun asks, at the same time Nishikido nods and says they need more shots.
And the vodka appears without either of them asking for it. Or maybe Nishikido did ask for it, Jun can’t tell. All he knows is that suddenly he’s got another glass in his hand, and then one more, and since there isn’t really anything he can talk to Nishikido about that isn’t “when you don’t smile with all those damn teeth you are really damn hot” or “I hope you don’t have a license because I think you’d kill everyone on the road,” he just keeps drinking and drinking. It’s not the best idea Jun has had, but right now it feels like the only one he has.
“Hey,” Jun says, after more shots than he can count on one hand. Nishikido has had way more, but he doesn’t even look tipsy. Who knew he was a tank? “Neeshkido.”
“That’s not my name,” Nishikido says, laughing a little, and reaches out across the table to steady Jun. “Just call me Ryo.”
“Ryo,” Jun says, and shuts his eyes tight, trying to squeeze the drunk out or the sober back in-he’s not sure. His tongue feels heavy and Nishikido’s first name is strange in his mouth, an odd combination of sounds, but he says it again just to test. And again, and again.
“Stop,” Nishikido says, and swallows hard. He has a sharp Adam’s apple, and Jun wants to touch it. “You don’t need to say it a billion times, okay.”
Jun cocks his head. “How about later?”
“Later,” Nishikido repeats, and narrows his eyes. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Matsumoto.”
“I’m a sincere person,” Jun says, and attempts to sound as sober as possible. Nishikido just shakes his head and snorts. It’s cute, Jun thinks, and it makes him want another vodka shot, but when he tries to order Nishikido tells the bartender not to listen to him.
It occurs to Jun suddenly that the guy who’s been giving them shots looks like the sleepy grad student TA who taught his sculpture class two years ago. It’s like he woke up for a second and realized that the hand reaching out to take his empty shot glasses is the same hand that reached out to a lump of clay on the table two years ago. It is his fingers that Jun remembers: they remind Jun of icicles, the way they hang off the rooftops in the wintertime, thin and beautiful.
Or maybe he’s just drunk and imagining things. Why would a grad student still be here after two years?
But he’s still standing there. “Ah,” he says, and Jun has no choice but to look up. “I remember you.”
“Good,” Jun says, because his eyes are crossing and he can’t think of what else to say.
“Who is this?” Nishikido looks from Jun to the grad student and then back again.
“Ohno,” Jun says, because he’s just remembered and he is proud of himself for that, since he can vaguely tell that he’s pretty damn drunk. “His name is Ohno.”
He drags out the last syllable, just to fill the empty space in the booth, and giggles.
“You’re fucking wasted,” Nishikido says, but he doesn’t sound too upset about it.
Ohno laughs. “Just let him be,” he says, and takes away the empty shot glasses. When he walks away he clinks.
If Jun remembers correctly, he got an A in that sculpture class, but it wasn’t very hard. Nino took it with him and they made mugs for their final project: Nino’s was narrow, like a champagne glass with a handle, but it was smooth in all the right places and he glazed it blue. Jun’s was fatter, more like a real mug, but you could see finger marks and it wasn’t exactly rounded like he meant it to be.
Ohno liked it. Jun remembers the way he looked at the misshapen thing, like it was worth a good grade and a few words of praise even though it couldn’t really hold more than an ounce of coffee.
“This is nice,” he had said, and Jun watched him pick it up and turn it over.
He didn’t expect anything else, but then Ohno smiled at Jun. “You worked hard,” he’d said. “Good job.”
Ohno wasn’t much of a teacher, but Jun wasn’t much of a student, and so he figured they matched. Or mismatched, like how Ohno thought Jun’s mug had been pretty despite the mistakes in the design.
And right now, Jun is drunk. Jun is really, really drunk and he’s already undone his shirt (or maybe Nishikido did it, he can’t remember; someone’s fingers were on his collarbone) down to the third button and his hair is all messed up. If he were anyone else, he wouldn’t want to do what is brain is proposing, but this is his brain on drugs and he’s willing to go with wherever the night takes him, just like Nino decided to get off his lazy ass and pursue a girl for once in his life.
“Ryo,” Jun says, and Nishikido looks up. Sometime in the past hour he shed his leather jacket, and the scoop of his shirt is low enough for Jun to rest his entire hand on the middle of Nishikido’s chest. “Let’s bring Ohno home.”
Nishikido chokes. “What?”
“Come on,” Jun insists. “He’s a nice guy.”
“Is that what you do, Matsumoto? You sleep with all the guys you think are nice?”
Jun pauses. If he really thinks about it, then yes, that is probably the truth. But then again, nobody ever stopped him. Nobody has ever pulled Jun aside and said, “Look, you can’t assume that every nice guy you meet wants to have sex with you.”
But the pattern shows otherwise. Jun can’t argue with history.
“Yes,” he finally says. “Which is why I don’t want to sleep with you.”
“Fuck you,” Nishikido says. He pushes the hair out of his eyes and frowns. “That’s not what you were saying earlier.”
The sulky look suits him. Whether Jun will think this in the morning, when all the alcohol has left his body and his head is positively pounding, he can’t say for sure, but right now he loves it. When Nishikido is happy, Nishikido looks smug, and Jun much prefers this: the slow downward curve of his mouth, eyes lowered, cheeks sucked in.
“So you’re saying you wouldn’t mind, then,” Jun says, dropping his voice.
Nishikido raises an eyebrow. When he leans forward, the neckline of his shirt falls forward and Jun can see into a narrow tunnel of shadowed skin.
“Well,” he says, very slowly, “I’ve never had a threesome.”
--
Jun hopes nobody will remember this in the morning. He has his fingers crossed on it, and it’s looking good, because he can’t really remember how he got from the bar to the house. In fact, if anyone asked Jun how he managed to convince his sculpture TA from two years ago to come home with one of his former students and a complete stranger after his bartending shift, Jun wouldn’t be able to say anything. He just doesn’t know.
Usually Jun would be worried about things like that. On another day he might take a minute to try and understand the moment, to write up a cast of characters-himself, Nishikido, Ohno-and how they got to the second floor of the PA Phi house without managing to trip and fall down the stairs. He might wonder why this is happening and then nod solemnly as he remembers the six-or seven, or eight-vodka shots. The cheap-ass vodka shots.
But tonight there’s no time for any of that right now. He is wasted, and Nishikido has a cold hand flush against his back under the mint button-down. Ohno is somewhere behind, his breaths short and even as if he’s in no rush.
“Hurry up before I change my mind,” Nishikido hisses, but Jun knows he wouldn’t.
“This is a nice house,” Ohno says.
“Fuck,” Jun mumbles, jiggling the doorknob so hard it threatens to fall off. Finally the door gives with one last push and he practically falls into the room headfirst; Nishikido follows, still standing straight (it is a mystery how one small person can be so unaffected by all that alcohol) and Ohno walks in slowly, looking closely at each of the things in Jun’s room.
“Well,” Jun says, and nods to his empty room. “Welcome, I guess.”
“This is a nice room,” Nishikido says, and kicks off his boots.
“Too bad this is your first and last time.”
Nishikido laughs, but he doesn’t sound amused. “You’re pleasant,” he says.
“Ryo-,” Jun begins, but before he can finish Ohno takes his wrist and walks him to the bed like they have all the time in the world. “Oh-,” he tries again, and then realizes that he has no idea what to call Ohno.
“Just sssh,” Ohno says, and pushes Jun back on the covers. “What’s your name?” He points at Nishikido.
“Nishikido,” he says says, obliging for once. Maybe the alcohol is finally kicking in. “Are you going to have your way with him, or do I get to be a part of this?”
“First of all,” Jun says, lifting his chin up to see the other two, “this is already a horrible threesome, because we are all still clothed.”
It’s true, and Ohno laughs through his nose, looking from Jun to Nishikido and back again. It only takes a minute-Jun has been hot for hours and the feeling of cool air on his skin is so great he doesn’t even bother with the sheets, just pulls them off the bed entirely and throws them to the floor.
“You’ll regret that,” Nishikido says, looking at the tangle of cotton. He drops his own boxers on top of the pile and looks at Jun expectantly.
“Nishikido,” Jun says, and manages to say it without slurring. He’s also trying not to focus on the serious boner right in front of his face, but that’s not too hard-the entire room is spinning around him. “You talk too much and you don’t use your mouth for the right things.”
When Nishikido lunges-“I’ll show you how to use your damn mouth”-Jun grabs his wrists and holds him there, keeping firm when he struggles. They keep at it for a second, a constant push-and-pull before Ohno slides up behind Nishikido and wraps one arm around his body, resting a hand flat on a stretch of abdomen.
Jun stares past Nishikido. “You’re naked,” he says to Ohno. He’s not sure what he imagined Ohno to look like naked, but somehow the round slope of his shoulders and the dip of his stomach where his muscles tense is unexpected. He looks sharp in strange places, places Jun would like to explore.
“Sex requires that,” Ohno replies. “And I was hot.”
“Me too,” Nishikido says, and takes advantage of Jun’s momentary lapse to shove him on the bed and kiss him hard-a little like Sho, but different. The way Nishikido kisses reminds Jun of bittersweet chocolate and of the taut lines of his mouth when he sulks, dark and childish at the same time. He brings a hand up to Nishikido’s head and tangles his fingers in sweat-dampened hair-yes, Jun thinks, yes. Somewhere beyond Nishikido’s shoulder Ohno is hovering, one hand snaking down Nishikido’s back, saying things in an octave so deep it sounds like he’s growling in another language, quiet murmurings about the way the dip in Nishikido’s back fits Ohno’s fingers perfectly. Jun can imagine that. Nishikido looks like he would have a body that your hands would look good on.
He also has hands that won’t stop moving, and Jun has to put his own above his head to accommodate Nishikido, who can’t seem to decide where he should touch. He has his lips on Jun’s, still, and every time Ohno does-whatever he’s doing back there, Jun can’t see-he moans against Jun, lips sliding, breath heavy and wet. And honestly, Jun doesn’t mind. Somewhere below where their legs have tangled, his cock is sliding right up against Nishikido’s, and the friction is fucking delicious. Jun knows that alcohol is supposed to make you feel less, but his senses all feel heightened at once, and each slight move Nishikido makes is lightning through Jun in one swift movement.
When Jun feels Ohno’s fingers brush against his cock he moans, arching forward-not that he gets very far, since Nishikido has shifted all his weight to his hips and is pinning Jun to the bed. But he tries as hard as he can, searching for that hand. “Come on,” he full-on whines, and for lack of anything better to do sucks hard on Nishikido’s bottom lip before biting the red skin, intent on getting a reaction.
The noise Nishikido makes is almost like a squeal, high-pitched and urgent, and Jun can feel Nishikido’s thighs twitch against his own. Not even a second passes before Nishikido goes in for another kiss, but instead of Jun’s lips settles on his neck and drags his teeth against the thin skin there before biting, canines like knives against Jun’s pulse.
“Shit,” Nishikido says, ragged, and Jun feels movement near their legs at the same time he hears Ohno mumble something absolutely filthy in Nishikido’s hair.
That’s when Jun realizes two things-that Nishikido likes biting, and that Ohno’s hand is working Nishikido’s cock. If he moves a little to the right-just a bit, yes, right there-he can feel Ohno jerking Nishikido. His knuckles scrape against the underside of Jun’s thigh, and Nishikido is keening in his ear now, not even trying to hold back. Ohno’s hand is fast, like he does this often, like he’s done this to Nishikido before and knows exactly how he likes it.
“Ohno,” Jun says, but it comes out more like a gasp. “Do you-?” He doesn’t know what the rest of the question is, but it’s something along the lines of no one is touching you and I really want to be the one to do that. Ohno grunts something in reply and he looks down at Nishikido, who is lying on Jun’s chest, hands scrabbling for something to hold onto and eventually settling on Jun’s right arm.
“Nishikido,” Jun says, “I can’t feel my fucking legs.”
“Shut-ah,” Nishikido manages to say, and turns his head into Jun’s chest. He’s too out of breath to say anything else. Each one of his quick breaths quake through Jun, and he swears he is about to go into overdrive-he has never seen anyone come before that hasn’t been the person he was doing something to. Right now, Jun is essentially a voyeur. It’s like he crept into the room to watch Ohno get Nishikido off and somehow managed to literally get underneath it all.
“Sit up,” Jun demands, and Nishikido shakes his head. “Then look at me.”
Nishikido turns his head. He looks like there is a wildfire in his eyes. Jun has never seen him so vulnerable, so completely open, and it makes him wish there could be another time like this, another time to tie Nishikido to the bed with his frat ties, blue and gold threads digging into the supple skin of his wrists as Jun teased him, bit a trail of teeth marks all the way down from his neck to his ankles. The noises that come out of Nishikido’s mouth are nothing like his voice-they are desperate, keening, needy; Jun wants a soundtrack of them to play over and over again when he is alone.
“Look at me,” Jun says again, and Nishikido struggles to keep his head up.
“Think about this,” Jun goes on, voice low enough so that only the two of them can hear. Above them, Ohno is concentrating so hard he has a bead of sweat trailing down his neck, and it slides until it reaches the hollow of his collarbone. “Think about it, Nishikido-you don’t even know Ohno. He’s jerking you off. He’s got a hand around your fucking cock, and he wants you to come all over his hand, and when you do that you’re gonna come all over me, too.” Nishikido makes a jumbled sound in his throat. “You’re about to come all over a complete stranger and my cock, Nishikido. What do you think about that? You want me to jerk off with your come when you’re done? Or do you want to suck it off me instead?”
Nishikido comes a second later, his whole body stiffening and his breath catching in his throat before he groans a long string of profanities into Jun’s neck, loud and sincere. Jun finds it ridiculously hot. He can feel Nishikido coming slick all over his thigh, and Ohno’s fingers going all sticky in between their bodies. For a moment he loses himself in Nishikido’s heat, forgetting that Ohno is there too, forgetting, somehow, that no one has really touched him yet.
But the realization comes back when Ohno moves and helps Nishikido roll over, and Jun suddenly feels cold-until he feels hands on his hips and a mouth closing over the head of his cock. Had Jun been any more turned on, he might have come just from that, but he just slides a hand into Ohno’s hair and tugs, probably harder than he should but he doesn't care. He’s so close already that he feels removed from reality, as if he’s tumbling so fast down a mountain that everything is one big blur of movement and feeling and nothing else matters.
Blowjobs, Jun decides at that moment, are the best fucking things in the world.
Ohno sucks like he’s done this before, just like he jerks like he does it a lot. And maybe he does-maybe Jun has been missing out for the past two years. He moans loudly as he thinks of Ohno on his knees, fucking him, taking him completely, and he would look as focused as he did a minute ago. He would be murmuring things in a growl into Jun’s ear, talking about how he’d like to take Jun in public, on the asphalt so hard that his knees and palms get tattooed with gravel. Jun thinks about the way Ohno might take his time just to make Jun suffer.
Ohno takes a long lick of the underside of Jun’s cock, licking off everything Nishikido left. He is good with his tongue, so slow and so deliberate, and it feels like forever from the base to the top before Ohno pauses for the longest second before kissing the head. Jun’s hips are way off the bed-normally he tries not to do that, but to hell with everything right now-and he knows he’s close, it wouldn’t have taken long in the first place, not after seeing Ohno get Nishikido off the way he did, not being underneath the whole affair. He just needs something to push him over. Something, anything.
This is when Jun notices Nishikido isn’t at his side anymore. He’s-shit. Jun looks past Ohno long enough to register that Nishikido is leaning over him, whispering in his ear, hand flying up and down Ohno’s cock like it’s not just a handjob but something much more than that. Ohno nods-Jun would love to know what Nishikido is saying; he can only imagine the extent of how ridiculously sexual it must be-and says something back to Nishikido so quietly it’s not even a whisper. Nishikido snorts and rests his face on Ohno’s shoulder.
“He’ll love it,” he says, voice hoarse.
What? Jun tries to speak, but the only thing that comes out of his mouth when he opens it is a shocked gasp.
Ohno looks up at Jun for a second. And then gently, so very gently, he scrapes his teeth against Jun’s cock.
Jun unravels. He doesn’t even try to hide it, and the sound in this house travels, but he doesn’t care. Ohno’s name tumbles out of his mouth, over and over again; he doesn’t even know what’s going on around him but he thinks Ohno might be finishing in Nishikido’s hand right now. He just can’t tell. It takes him a few seconds to catch his breath and come down from the high, and when he does he’s still shaking.
Ten minutes pass. Or fifteen, or twenty. Nobody moves.
“I’m cold,” Nishikido says first.
“The sheets are on the floor,” Jun mumbles.
“I’ll get them.” Ohno offers, and Jun feels him lean over the edge of the bed. “They’re all tangled.”
“So are we,” Jun says, and can’t help but laugh.
--
That night Jun dreams about real life, or something like it. In his mind he sees Nishikido wake up with his hair flattened to one side and offer Ohno his shower. He sees Ohno smile in return, not so wide but thankful and warm, and he even feels the mattress shifting when the two of them slide off and walk out of Jun’s room. He hears the door shut behind them with a soft click.
After that, there is darkness punctuated by streaks of color and moments of sound-something like voices, or music, or both.
And then out of nowhere Shun walks into the picture. Jun can’t see his face, but he steps into the frame of the dream from somewhere offstage and walks around slowly. He takes a breath, and holds it. He lets it go.
I miss him, Jun thinks, and then he wakes himself up.
--
In the morning, everything hurts.
“Hey,” someone says. They’re whispering very close to Jun’s ear. “Wake up.”
Jun opens his eyes.
Shun is sitting next to the bed like their house has suddenly become a hospital. He’s still wearing his pajamas, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in about two weeks, but he is there. Jun can’t remember the last time he woke up next to Shun. He misses it.
“Hi,” Jun says, but his voice is too hoarse, and the word cracks in his throat.
“Try again,” Shun says. He plays with the edge of the sheet by Jun’s shoulder.
Jun coughs a couple of times. “It’s cold,” he finally says, and the words are still thin, but Shun hears him anyway.
“Then move over,” he says.
A beat passes. Jun is trying to think through what Shun just said, but his mind is just as hazy as the light filtering in through his window.
“Move,” Shun says again.
He looks so sleep-deprived Jun wouldn’t be surprised if Shun told him he hasn’t really slept in the past two weekends, just laid awake in bed analyzing the pattern in the wallpaper. Shun might even be hallucinating, he looks that far gone.
But if he hallucinated his way into Jun’s room, into Jun’s bed, that’s perfectly okay.
So Jun moves over.
“Guess what,” Shun says once he’s stolen most of the covers from Jun.
“My knees are exposed,” Jun says in return, and tries to tug the blanket toward him.
Shun just grins. When he smiles he looks like a five-year-old, goofy and sweet, the kind of kid you’d feel bad for scolding. “She’s not pregnant.”
Jun stops trying for the blanket.
“That’s great,” he says after a moment, and sounds more relieved than he thought he would. In fact, he feels almost elated, and his bones feel a little less heavy. “That’s really great, Shun.”
And he laughs. He doesn’t know why, but there’s a bubble in him that seems like it’s wanted to burst forever. He laughs so hard he shakes, shoulders quivering, and he knows Shun is really confused right now but he can’t stop to explain himself.
“What the hell was that?” But Shun looks amused. “Do you think my problems are funny?”
“No,” Jun says, and settles back into bed. “They’re hilarious.”
“Shut up,” Shun says. He tries to kick Jun under the blanket but just ends up getting his foot caught in another sheet. After a second of struggling, he gives up and rests his leg on Jun’s.
“I was going to come out with you guys last night,” he goes on. “But Yuu called me over, and that’s when she told me.”
Oh. “Nino invited you?”
“Yeah,” Shun says, and Jun shakes his head. Of course, of course Nino would do that, the sneaky little bastard-but Jun is grateful that he tried anyway.
After a few minutes, Jun can’t feel his leg anymore, but it’s not that uncomfortable. It’s not like last night. In fact, this feels right, like Jun should have stayed here all along. Not that he regrets anything that happened before this moment, but he thinks that this is where he was meant to be from the very beginning.
He tells this to Shun, who wriggles his toes in response.
“Remember when we did this when we were freshmen?” he finally says.
“Remind me,” Jun says, even though he doesn’t need it.
Shun kisses exactly like Jun remembers: like the summer of his sophomore year, the year he thought maybe he’d be a little wiser than his freshman self, but in the end he just got caught up in Shun all over again.
Back then, at eighteen, Jun would have done anything for Shun. And he still would.
--
On the day of the party, Jun makes a checklist of at least twenty items and hands it out to everyone in the frat (and makes an extra copy for Nino after he sees him make a paper plane out of it and fly it into the back of Toma’s head).
“How are we paying for all this alcohol?” Hina wants to know. He’s holding the checklist like it might explode at any second.
“We had enough leftover in our expense account to get some,” Jun says. “After Sakurai-kun balanced our checkbook we found out we had a lot to spare.”
“May he rest in peace,” Nino says.
“I’m not dead,” Sho says from somewhere in the crowd. “I haven’t even left yet.”
“Anyway,” Jun continues, raising his voice, “just go through the checklist and make sure everything is in order. Keep the non-Greeks in line and make sure nothing gets too crazy. That’s it.”
Sho finds Jun after everyone has scattered. “Everything looks great,” he says, and squeezes Jun’s shoulder.
“I know,” Jun says. “This is your going-away party, after all.”
Unlike Nino, Sho blushes gracefully, and Jun can’t help but admire the blossoming red on his cheeks. “I thought it was a Shun event?”
“It was,” Jun says. That’s the only explanation he gives, and Sho doesn’t ask for anything more. He just nods like he understands-and maybe he does.
But Jun will probably never know, and he’s okay with that.
“Here,” he says, and pushes a bottle of Jack into Sho’s hands. “For you.”
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Get frisky. You’re graduating,” Jun says, and leaves him with that.
By the time eleven rolls around, Jun has circled the house at least fifty-six times checking everything up and down and Shun is practically sparkling.
“I love parties,” he says.
“I know,” Jun replies. It makes him happy to see Shun like this, just as he’s sure Shun is happy to see the bar. Truthfully it’s just a fold-out table sagging under the weight of too many bottles and stacks upon stacks of red Solo cups, but they’re college students, and resourcefulness is everything. It makes Jun cringe a little, but he knows that a broken table won’t hurt as much as a wrecked bar.
PA Phi doesn’t have a lot of mixers during the year, mostly because the house is way off-campus and they would have to drive people back and forth. Jun has to admit it’s a little annoying, and he knows the guys would rather get wasted on a Saturday night than stay sober to cart freshmen and sophomores around, but he also secretly loves putting parties together. He loves the planning-deciding on the theme, picking out the music, seeing the furniture get pushed aside, buying the drinks-just as much as Shun loves the pounding music, slippery bodies and drunken opportunities.
Though of course Jun won’t lie. He loves the fuzzy, questionable faces and warm nights just as much as anyone else, which is partly why he became president of the frat. After all, everyone wants to get in bed with the president.
“J,” Nino says, sliding up next to him. “I just passed a girl who asked me where she could find Mr. X.”
“I’m going to reveal your secret to everyone,” Jun says while doing a quick scan of the room. So far, everything looks fine-people are mingling, the drinks are flowing and the lights aren’t too bright or too dim.
But one thing is still missing.
“Where’s the music guy?”
“Oh.” Nino turns to Jun with an unreadable expression. “Nobody told you? He canceled.”
Jun frowns. “Why didn’t I hear about this?” His stomach has already twisted itself sore and the conversation hasn’t even lasted an entire minute.
“Because we found someone else,” Nino says, and then waves at someone past Jun’s shoulder. “You remember Tegoshi, right, J?”
If someone suddenly appeared and punched Jun in the face so hard he knocked out, he would love that person forever. Unfortunately he knows no one in the frat would punch him, so he just turns around and tries to set his expression into something pleasant.
“Tegoshi,” Jun says, very slowly so that he doesn’t accidentally explode, “do you even know how to DJ?”
Tegoshi looks a little bit like an overeager puppy with wispy hair and unnaturally white teeth. Jun supposes he’s cute enough, but being around him too much is like eating too much sugar at once and then feeling sick. But everyone seems to love him, and Jun has unfortunately walked into too many incidents involving someone in his frat and a naked Tegoshi.
“Of course I do,” Tegoshi says, and gestures behind him to a chunk of equipment Jun is sure he has no idea how to use. “I even brought Shige to help me!”
“I think he ran away.” Not that Jun is accusing Shige of anything. The poor kid has enough problems as is: being Tegoshi’s roommate because his best friend Koyama is studying abroad, trying to maintain a higher GPA than Sho, and writing his first novel about the hardships of college life. He doesn’t have the time or the presence to be hanging out at a frat party.
“No,” says a squeaky voice from behind the equipment. “No, I’m here.”
“You know what will make you feel better?” Nino says. Jun is willing to bet that whatever Nino is about to say will actually make Shige feel a thousand times worse. “Everclear.”
He was right. “Everclear was banned three years ago,” Jun says, but Nino has already slipped into the crowd toward the makeshift bar.
Jun is about to run after him when Shige pops his head out from behind the equipment. “Matsumoto-kun,” Shige whispers, “I don’t want to be here.”
“Look, Kato,” Jun says. “I can’t save you.”
Shige’s throat quivers as he swallows. He looks as if he’s about two seconds from throwing up all over the entranceway and he hasn’t even had a shot yet. The party hasn’t even started. Jun prides himself on being able to deal with a lot of things gracefully, but if Shige is going to hurl all over the entranceway Jun will lose his mind.
“You look sick,” he continues, and puts a hand on Shige’s shoulder. “Go lie down.”
Shige looks up. If he had a tail, it would probably be wagging. “Really?”
“Not in my room,” Jun warns. “Nino has a spare in the basement-.”
“I will do all your calc homework for two weeks,” Shige cuts in, and scampers off.
Well, Jun thinks as he stands next to a stack of DJ equipment, he didn’t expect that the night would turn out to be so great that someone would offer to do his calc homework for an entire fourteen days, but there you have it.
Everything else goes just as well. When the house is packed and people start spilling onto the back porch, Jun decides he can take a break from patrol and have a drink. Instead of indulging in eight cheap-ass vodka shots, Jun finds the Kahlua and a bottle of chocolate syrup and makes himself an Orgasmo. After two of those, he finds a freshman to make him another one. “You’ll thank me for this when you’re older,” he says, and lets the kid have a sip before he walks off with his third drink of the night.
He stands in the corner of the living room for a bit just to see who showed. There’s Kame in the corner, the quiet boy with the wavy hair whom Nino likes to call The Unsuspecting Gay. A bunch of guys from the comedy club are here, and even if Jun doesn’t really think their gags are all that funny, he guesses that the shrieks of laughter coming from the group mean Yoko and Yasu are actually doing well. And then there are the hordes of underclassmen Nino warned Jun about, but he doesn’t know any of them.
Across the room he sees Becky standing alone, her nose buried in her drink. She probably showed up with Riisa and the rest of her sorority, but Jun can’t see any of them near her, and so he starts in her direction.
This is when he bumps into Yamada Yuu.
“Oh!” she says. She jumps back, and Jun can tell right away that she is pretty, very pretty-it’s not just the make-up. But he still wants to pour his chocolate alcohol all over her head. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem,” Jun says. He tries to look her in the eye, but she’s squinting past him and standing on her toes. “Are you looking for Shun?”
“Um,” Yuu says, and scratches her nose. “No. For someone else. Do you know-?”
“Matsujun! Yuu-chan!”
Jun can feel Aiba’s bounding-puppy steps on the floor before he even sees him. Not that it matters much-he’s too busy trying to process that Aiba is here and that Yuu seems to have a crush on him, or something like that.
“Hi Matsujun,” Aiba says, and smiles beautifully over the rim of his beer bottle. “I thought I’d come out and see what your frat is all about. It’s been fun! You guys are great!”
“Thanks,” Jun says absently. He follows Aiba’s gaze and lands on Yuu, who looks like she wants to say everything and has nothing to say all at once. Despite wanting to punch her in the face, Jun feels for her-he understands what it’s like to look at Aiba and lose your words. “Aiba, you know…?”
“Hm?” Aiba glances up. “Oh, Yuu-chan? Yeah, she’s pre-med, we took some classes together.”
“I see,” Jun says. “Well, I’ll just-,” he begins, and starts to move away.
“Oh,” Aiba says. He grabs Jun by the elbow. “Hold on. Did you fulfill our pinky promise?”
Jun tries very hard not to look at Yuu. “Not yet,” he confesses, and then immediately regrets telling the truth when he sees Aiba’s face. “I’ll do it now,” he says quickly. “Right now.”
“The late bird catches no worms, Matsujun,” Aiba says solemnly, but brightens when Yuu laughs.
“I’ve caught a bunch of worms,” Jun mutters indignantly under his breath as he weaves in and out of the crowd. Trust Aiba to call Shun a worm and expect Jun to know exactly who he’s talking about.
Jun finally finds Shun standing too close to the keg, and he realizes too soon that this is exactly how they first met. He feels a little stupid, coming back to this moment after so many things have happened in their lives. But then again, he thinks, that’s probably the point to college.
“Hi,” Jun says, and then can’t remember how to form words. “Um-I have to tell you something.”
“Drink this first,” Shun replies, handing his red cup to Jun. He takes a sip: it’s just water. “You’re still kind of hoarse.”
“Oh.” Jun rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks.”
“So what did you want to tell me?”
“Sho,” Jun blurts out, and Shun raises his eyebrows. He’s probably never heard Jun address Sho by his first name, much less without an honorific. “I’ve been seeing him. For the past month. And then we had a clean break-up but I got sad so I drank too much, and….” Jun squeezes his eyes shut. What happened? He just remembers a lot of limbs. And Nishikido. “Shit.”
Sometimes Jun is more emotional than he likes to let on. Sometimes he gets like this and feels cold in a room with too many people just because he’s put too much of himself out there. It has taken Jun a long time to get used to himself.
But Shun doesn’t seem to be bothered. “So,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know,” Jun says. It might not be the correct answer, but it’s the truth. “But I wish I did.”
Shun seems to find that acceptable. “Okay,” he says. “Just promise me one thing.”
Jun nods.
“When people ask how we got together,” Shun continues, very seriously, “you have to tell them I seduced you.”
“But you didn’t.” Jun is genuinely confused. “I would never fall for the crooked-finger trick.”
“Well now you do,” Shun says, and crooks one of his fingers in Jun’s belt loop.
--
The next day, Jun wakes up to his slippers in their correct place and a clean bathroom mirror.
“You’re a dirty blanket stealer,” Shun mumbles grumpily, and pulls a pillow over his head.
It’s going to be a good day.
Pairing(s): Jun/Shun, Jun/Sho, Jun/Ohno/Ryo, slight onesided Jun/Aiba, Nino/Riisa, Shun/Yamada Yuu, slight Aiba/Yamada Yuu
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: ~17,000
Summary: College AU. When people ask Jun why he decided to join a fraternity in the first place, his answer is always the same: Shun. Now he's the president-elect of Pi Alpha Phi, and senior year is about to get way out of hand.
Notes: Part 2 of 2.
Four days later, when the house is quiet after midnight, Jun finds himself in Sho’s room stripped down to his boxers.
“I finished my thesis,” Sho says, and bites Jun’s earlobe. It feels gentler than usual, but Jun might just be imagining things. “I’ll be on leave until graduation in December.”
Jun swallows. He’s not sure what to focus on-Sho’s hands wandering up and down his torso, the lips settling on the slope of his neck, or the words coming out of Sho’s mouth. The last is probably the most important, but then again that doesn’t mean much when compared to the other two. “On leave?” he repeats, and lets his eyes close. “What’s that mean?”
“I’ll be gone after next week,” Sho says.
Jun opens his eyes. Something, suddenly, feels very out of place.
“Wait,” he says, and steps out of Sho’s arms. “I thought you were graduating in December.”
“I had until December to finish my thesis, but I only needed a month.” The words feel spidery, like Jun can almost imagine them crawling over his shoulders, sitting heavy. “The committee granted me early leave, so I’m going home after my oral defense next week.”
Home. Jun lets the word float in his mind for a bit as it registers-Sho is leaving. Sho will no longer be the president of PA Phi and Jun will no longer have the word ‘elect’ in his title. He’ll move out of his big room at the end of the second floor hallway, and the business office will never be the same again. Despite the fact that they weren’t really going out, the thought of Sho leaving makes Jun wilt a little inside. Or perhaps even a lot.
“Congratulations on finishing your thesis,” Jun says, and tries to mean it. There is a sudden twisting in his gut that is growing by the second.
“Jun,” Sho says, maybe sadly, or maybe Jun is just imagining it. “You knew this was coming.”
Yeah, Jun tries to say, but the word sticks on his throat. It has always been difficult for Jun to tell people how he feels outright, but now it seems harder than ever. He exhales and looks up at the ceiling, counting the cracks right above his head one by one before turning to face Sho.
“It’s been fun,” he says, and this time he doesn’t have to try to fake the sincerity.
It has been fun. Jun will miss the silly grin on Sho’s face, and he will especially miss kissing the corners of that smile every free moment of the day, but the truth is that no matter how sad Jun is now, this Sho-thing-no matter how wonderful-was a temporary thing from the start.
“Miss me,” Sho says on Jun’s lips, and Jun figures he just didn’t hear the will you, but this is one misheard command he will obey without being told. He lets Sho take over where it has always been the other way around, and doesn’t say anything when Sho lowers him to the bed, hand cradling the dip in his lower back, holding him in place. It’s as if Sho is afraid Jun might run away from this moment now that they’ve essentially broken up.
But he wouldn’t do that. Even now, even if Sho’s kisses hurt for a different reason, Jun would stay if Sho changed his mind before morning.
“I hope you’re okay,” Sho says the next morning. He smells like Jun. “We should have done this last year. It would’ve been great.”
“Yeah,” Jun says, and slips out of bed. He has to start getting used to waking up alone again-or at least waking up to someone he barely knows again. “But I had Shun.”
Sho smiles. “You did,” he says, and walks Jun to the door for the last time.
--
After the break-up, Jun throws himself into planning the party, which means that he forgets about the rest of his life. Aiba has to send him text messages every hour reminding him to do his homework (not that that’s much different than usual; Aiba usually sends him a text every hour about nothing in particular) and Toma has to drag him to frat meetings. Eventually even Nino has to come out of his basement to try and cheer Jun up by offering him donuts and energy drinks.
“Jun, come on,” Nino says when Jun tells him very bluntly where to shove his energy drinks. “You look like shit. You’ll never get laid again if you keep on looking and acting like those ugly monsters that attack you on the beaches in Dragon Quest.”
“That’s okay,” Jun says, even though he is twenty-one and horny all the time by nature, and so that’s actually not fucking okay at all. “Are you here to help me plan this party, or are you just going to stand there with donuts?”
“They’re good,” Nino says. “I like them.” He puts the small box on the edge of Jun’s desk, and when Jun glances at it he sees that the only ones left are mini chocolate donuts, four in a row and untouched.
Nino knows Jun loves chocolate. He also knows that Jun won’t eat chocolate unless he’s completely miserable, like now.
“Thanks,” Jun mumbles, not looking at Nino, and takes one. The sugar melts on his tongue, and he hasn’t eaten chocolate in so long that the flavor rushes him all at once, warm and tingly. Before he knows it, all four of the donuts are gone.
“Now that you’ve eaten for the first time in a year,” Nino says, “I am being forced to go bar hopping tonight, and I’m forcing you to come with me. ‘No’ is not an acceptable answer.”
“I would rather dig a hole in the ground and die there,” Jun says, trying to sound as grumpy as possible, but he has chocolate crumbs on his chin and so Nino just laughs. “No. I have to plan this party.”
“You have been planning this party for five days,” Nino says. “We actually have an event chair that can do that, you know. You’re the president now. You can go out and have fun and people will do your work for you.”
Nino isn’t wrong, but Jun likes to put together the frat’s events himself. It’s just easier that way. If he knows exactly what’s going on in his house, he won’t be surprised by anything, and he doesn’t have to worry about things going awry. (His frat brothers going crazy is a different story, but Jun can’t be held responsible for what they do. Alcohol is a drug, after all.)
“Speaking of the event chair,” Nino continues, “Ryo-tan is the one who wants to go out.”
Jun looks up. “Since when did you go to bars with Nishikido?”
“Since tonight,” Nino says, and wrinkles his nose. “I owe him.”
Jun can’t even begin to imagine what Nishikido did to have Nino owe him. Knowing Nino, it has to be something that he couldn’t achieve himself even with the help of his huge network. Maybe he couldn’t get his hands on a rare computer part-but Nishikido wouldn’t be able to help him out with that. He probably wouldn’t have been able to do much for a video game, either.
It had to do with a girl, then.
“You owe him,” Jun repeats. “What are you going to do, buy him double shots and then give him a piggyback ride home when he’s too drunk to stand?”
“I don’t give anyone piggyback rides,” Nino says, and Jun stops himself before he says because you’ll be crushed by their weight. “And no. I owe him one drink and a game of foosball and then he’ll give me what he owes me.”
“You guys are dirty,” Jun says, but he’s cheered up a little bit, mostly from the chocolate but also because thinking about Nino going through such lengths just for a girl is making Jun extra delighted. He loves seeing Nino step out of his comfort zone. “Will you be my wingman if I go out tonight?”
“I’ll be busy,” Nino says. “Get Ryo-tan to do it.”
“Busy with what?”
“Someone.”
That seals the deal. “Fine,” Jun says, “I’ll come with. But only if you promise me you’ll take her home.”
“Shut up,” Nino says, face slightly pink. “Oh, and one more thing.”
“What?”
“I have another friend coming,” Nino says, and smiles so devilishly Jun swears he sees fangs. “And I think you’ll like him.”
--
Going to bars with Nishikido is like sitting in the backseat of a car with a reckless driver at the wheel. In fact, that might actually be the way he drives, and Jun wouldn’t be surprised. He just hopes he never has to actually have Nishikido drive him somewhere, because if the kid steers like he bar hops, everyone on the street would be dead.
Jun is the exact opposite. When he goes out, he likes to savor each place he goes to-order a drink, sit at the bar in the exact same place he sits every time, and stick around for a while. Of course it depends on his mood, because if Jun wants to dance the night away he will sure as hell dance the night away (and probably the morning too), but if he’s bar hopping he likes to take it slow. In fact, he’d rather call it bar visiting. Jun has friends behind the counter of each place downtown, and they all know exactly what drink to make him before he even needs to ask.
But tonight is a little different, since he’s following Nishikido and Nino around. Jun finds himself dragged to places he never knew existed (mainly because they’re underground and smell like bombs of cigarette smoke went off in a small space), and he feels very out of place. Unfortunately he didn’t get the leather jacket memo: Nino and Nishikido look like brothers in black, hair all tousled in just the right way, and the moles on their faces seem to stand out more than usual tonight. Jun has always told himself that if he had no choice to be with Nino, he wouldn’t mind all that much, because those moles are something else.
The third place of the night is called Johnny’s, and it looks like no one has cleaned the place in three years but it’s still packed. Jun has never been able to figure out why college students like dirty places-he might like doing dirty things, but only in clean places.
He doesn’t even want to sit in a booth, but he feels silly just standing, so he slides in across from Nino and tries not to think about why the leather is so sticky.
“Shots,” is the only thing Nishikido says before fishing out his cell phone and burying himself in a text.
Jun sighs. “We’ve been to three places,” he says to Nino, angling himself so that Nishikido can’t hear him, “and he’s had a shot at each one. Is he going to be dead by the end of the night?”
“One can only hope,” Nino says, and squints at the girls behind the bar. “Go order. Three vodka, that shit is cheap.”
“What? No,” Jun says, and scratches at the collar of his pastel button-down. It’s the mint one today, because no other color screams I am on the rebound than a fresh green one (at least to Jun). “Why don’t you?”
“She’s not here yet,” Nino snaps, and runs a hand through his hair. He looks like a miserable six-year-old at a party with an empty piñata.
“Your friend’s not here yet either,” Jun says. “I’m even wearing mint.”
“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean,” Nino says.
Jun is about to explain when suddenly Nino shoots out of his seat and to the bar. He has never moved that fast before, except maybe to be the first one in line to get the newest Dragon Quest or at a time sale for external hard drives-but even then it’s not the same as what Jun just saw. It’s like someone lit his jacket on fire.
“There she is,” Nishikido says, without looking up, and when Jun does he can’t help but laugh.
Riisa. So it’s Riisa, then. A year younger than him, treasurer of ZTDPi and apparently a bartender at Johnny’s, she is possibly the cutest thing Jun has ever seen, all mousey nose and a smile full of teeth. It might be because she looks a lot like Nino, but Jun would rather think of her as the girl that Nino stole his looks from, because at least she doesn’t live in a basement and build computers as a hobby. Well-according to Becky she doesn’t leave the house all that often, and she likes to DJ alone in her room with bedazzled earphones the size of her face. But Jun can deal with that.
“Why does he owe you for this?” Jun wonders aloud, watching Nishikido’s nose twitch in the glow of his cell phone screen. “Couldn’t he have just come here on his own?”
“Yeah, but I run this place,” Nishikido says, and when he looks up his smirk is so pronounced it could probably become its own person.
“You run this place.” Jun raises his eyebrows. “No you don’t, Nishikido.”
“Yes I do.”
“No, you don’t.” Jun is tired now. “I’m going to order shots,” he says, and un-sticks himself from the booth.
“Get three vodka-shit is cheap, man,” Nishikido calls. Jun just waves a hand behind him.
When he reaches the bar, it’s like entering a whole other dimension where Nino knows how to flirt without coming off as an asshole-or at least Riisa likes him just as much and so he doesn’t need to try that hard. Nino is practically sitting on the counter and he doesn’t have a drink, and Riisa is looking at him like she wants to quit her shift in the next five minutes and score herself a boy in a leather jacket.
Jun considers squishing himself next to Nino and ordering vodka shots from Riisa just to get back at Nino for-well, for four years of friendship with Nino. But Jun isn’t that kind of guy, and he would rather embarrass Nino tomorrow morning than now in front of Riisa, who Jun can’t help but like. He’s heard that she’s a little crazy, but something about her smile makes Jun think otherwise.
Except for that time he saw her walking around campus wearing a hot pink leopard-print suit, but that’s a different story altogether.
“Three vodka shots,” he says to someone else behind the bar.
“You sure you want to make that three?” she glances over at Nino and Riisa, who are-well, they’re no longer there.
Trust Nino to force you out of the house when you’re miserable, promise to introduce you to a friend and then leave with a girl right in the middle of it all. Jun shrugs. “Two’s fine,” he says, and then remembers he has to spend the rest of the night with Nishikido and he’s not even remotely tipsy. “Actually-I’ll stick with three.”
Jun brings the shot glasses back to the booth and sits one right by Nishikido’s hand.
“Nino left,” Jun says, and knocks back a shot. “With Riisa.”
“Good,” Nishikido says, and when he grins he reminds Jun of devilish Nino, except with a ton more teeth.
Jun takes his second shot with Nishikido. It’s the cheapest vodka he’s ever tasted, and it makes the inside of his throat feel like it’s going to peel, but it’s working: he already feels a little dizzy. That might be due to the fact that he skipped dinner to do his hair, but it doesn’t matter now anyway. Here is Jun, wearing mint and decidedly on the rebound, and if Nishikido can get Nino the girl he wants, then maybe he can work his magic on Jun too.
“More shots?” Jun asks, at the same time Nishikido nods and says they need more shots.
And the vodka appears without either of them asking for it. Or maybe Nishikido did ask for it, Jun can’t tell. All he knows is that suddenly he’s got another glass in his hand, and then one more, and since there isn’t really anything he can talk to Nishikido about that isn’t “when you don’t smile with all those damn teeth you are really damn hot” or “I hope you don’t have a license because I think you’d kill everyone on the road,” he just keeps drinking and drinking. It’s not the best idea Jun has had, but right now it feels like the only one he has.
“Hey,” Jun says, after more shots than he can count on one hand. Nishikido has had way more, but he doesn’t even look tipsy. Who knew he was a tank? “Neeshkido.”
“That’s not my name,” Nishikido says, laughing a little, and reaches out across the table to steady Jun. “Just call me Ryo.”
“Ryo,” Jun says, and shuts his eyes tight, trying to squeeze the drunk out or the sober back in-he’s not sure. His tongue feels heavy and Nishikido’s first name is strange in his mouth, an odd combination of sounds, but he says it again just to test. And again, and again.
“Stop,” Nishikido says, and swallows hard. He has a sharp Adam’s apple, and Jun wants to touch it. “You don’t need to say it a billion times, okay.”
Jun cocks his head. “How about later?”
“Later,” Nishikido repeats, and narrows his eyes. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Matsumoto.”
“I’m a sincere person,” Jun says, and attempts to sound as sober as possible. Nishikido just shakes his head and snorts. It’s cute, Jun thinks, and it makes him want another vodka shot, but when he tries to order Nishikido tells the bartender not to listen to him.
It occurs to Jun suddenly that the guy who’s been giving them shots looks like the sleepy grad student TA who taught his sculpture class two years ago. It’s like he woke up for a second and realized that the hand reaching out to take his empty shot glasses is the same hand that reached out to a lump of clay on the table two years ago. It is his fingers that Jun remembers: they remind Jun of icicles, the way they hang off the rooftops in the wintertime, thin and beautiful.
Or maybe he’s just drunk and imagining things. Why would a grad student still be here after two years?
But he’s still standing there. “Ah,” he says, and Jun has no choice but to look up. “I remember you.”
“Good,” Jun says, because his eyes are crossing and he can’t think of what else to say.
“Who is this?” Nishikido looks from Jun to the grad student and then back again.
“Ohno,” Jun says, because he’s just remembered and he is proud of himself for that, since he can vaguely tell that he’s pretty damn drunk. “His name is Ohno.”
He drags out the last syllable, just to fill the empty space in the booth, and giggles.
“You’re fucking wasted,” Nishikido says, but he doesn’t sound too upset about it.
Ohno laughs. “Just let him be,” he says, and takes away the empty shot glasses. When he walks away he clinks.
If Jun remembers correctly, he got an A in that sculpture class, but it wasn’t very hard. Nino took it with him and they made mugs for their final project: Nino’s was narrow, like a champagne glass with a handle, but it was smooth in all the right places and he glazed it blue. Jun’s was fatter, more like a real mug, but you could see finger marks and it wasn’t exactly rounded like he meant it to be.
Ohno liked it. Jun remembers the way he looked at the misshapen thing, like it was worth a good grade and a few words of praise even though it couldn’t really hold more than an ounce of coffee.
“This is nice,” he had said, and Jun watched him pick it up and turn it over.
He didn’t expect anything else, but then Ohno smiled at Jun. “You worked hard,” he’d said. “Good job.”
Ohno wasn’t much of a teacher, but Jun wasn’t much of a student, and so he figured they matched. Or mismatched, like how Ohno thought Jun’s mug had been pretty despite the mistakes in the design.
And right now, Jun is drunk. Jun is really, really drunk and he’s already undone his shirt (or maybe Nishikido did it, he can’t remember; someone’s fingers were on his collarbone) down to the third button and his hair is all messed up. If he were anyone else, he wouldn’t want to do what is brain is proposing, but this is his brain on drugs and he’s willing to go with wherever the night takes him, just like Nino decided to get off his lazy ass and pursue a girl for once in his life.
“Ryo,” Jun says, and Nishikido looks up. Sometime in the past hour he shed his leather jacket, and the scoop of his shirt is low enough for Jun to rest his entire hand on the middle of Nishikido’s chest. “Let’s bring Ohno home.”
Nishikido chokes. “What?”
“Come on,” Jun insists. “He’s a nice guy.”
“Is that what you do, Matsumoto? You sleep with all the guys you think are nice?”
Jun pauses. If he really thinks about it, then yes, that is probably the truth. But then again, nobody ever stopped him. Nobody has ever pulled Jun aside and said, “Look, you can’t assume that every nice guy you meet wants to have sex with you.”
But the pattern shows otherwise. Jun can’t argue with history.
“Yes,” he finally says. “Which is why I don’t want to sleep with you.”
“Fuck you,” Nishikido says. He pushes the hair out of his eyes and frowns. “That’s not what you were saying earlier.”
The sulky look suits him. Whether Jun will think this in the morning, when all the alcohol has left his body and his head is positively pounding, he can’t say for sure, but right now he loves it. When Nishikido is happy, Nishikido looks smug, and Jun much prefers this: the slow downward curve of his mouth, eyes lowered, cheeks sucked in.
“So you’re saying you wouldn’t mind, then,” Jun says, dropping his voice.
Nishikido raises an eyebrow. When he leans forward, the neckline of his shirt falls forward and Jun can see into a narrow tunnel of shadowed skin.
“Well,” he says, very slowly, “I’ve never had a threesome.”
--
Jun hopes nobody will remember this in the morning. He has his fingers crossed on it, and it’s looking good, because he can’t really remember how he got from the bar to the house. In fact, if anyone asked Jun how he managed to convince his sculpture TA from two years ago to come home with one of his former students and a complete stranger after his bartending shift, Jun wouldn’t be able to say anything. He just doesn’t know.
Usually Jun would be worried about things like that. On another day he might take a minute to try and understand the moment, to write up a cast of characters-himself, Nishikido, Ohno-and how they got to the second floor of the PA Phi house without managing to trip and fall down the stairs. He might wonder why this is happening and then nod solemnly as he remembers the six-or seven, or eight-vodka shots. The cheap-ass vodka shots.
But tonight there’s no time for any of that right now. He is wasted, and Nishikido has a cold hand flush against his back under the mint button-down. Ohno is somewhere behind, his breaths short and even as if he’s in no rush.
“Hurry up before I change my mind,” Nishikido hisses, but Jun knows he wouldn’t.
“This is a nice house,” Ohno says.
“Fuck,” Jun mumbles, jiggling the doorknob so hard it threatens to fall off. Finally the door gives with one last push and he practically falls into the room headfirst; Nishikido follows, still standing straight (it is a mystery how one small person can be so unaffected by all that alcohol) and Ohno walks in slowly, looking closely at each of the things in Jun’s room.
“Well,” Jun says, and nods to his empty room. “Welcome, I guess.”
“This is a nice room,” Nishikido says, and kicks off his boots.
“Too bad this is your first and last time.”
Nishikido laughs, but he doesn’t sound amused. “You’re pleasant,” he says.
“Ryo-,” Jun begins, but before he can finish Ohno takes his wrist and walks him to the bed like they have all the time in the world. “Oh-,” he tries again, and then realizes that he has no idea what to call Ohno.
“Just sssh,” Ohno says, and pushes Jun back on the covers. “What’s your name?” He points at Nishikido.
“Nishikido,” he says says, obliging for once. Maybe the alcohol is finally kicking in. “Are you going to have your way with him, or do I get to be a part of this?”
“First of all,” Jun says, lifting his chin up to see the other two, “this is already a horrible threesome, because we are all still clothed.”
It’s true, and Ohno laughs through his nose, looking from Jun to Nishikido and back again. It only takes a minute-Jun has been hot for hours and the feeling of cool air on his skin is so great he doesn’t even bother with the sheets, just pulls them off the bed entirely and throws them to the floor.
“You’ll regret that,” Nishikido says, looking at the tangle of cotton. He drops his own boxers on top of the pile and looks at Jun expectantly.
“Nishikido,” Jun says, and manages to say it without slurring. He’s also trying not to focus on the serious boner right in front of his face, but that’s not too hard-the entire room is spinning around him. “You talk too much and you don’t use your mouth for the right things.”
When Nishikido lunges-“I’ll show you how to use your damn mouth”-Jun grabs his wrists and holds him there, keeping firm when he struggles. They keep at it for a second, a constant push-and-pull before Ohno slides up behind Nishikido and wraps one arm around his body, resting a hand flat on a stretch of abdomen.
Jun stares past Nishikido. “You’re naked,” he says to Ohno. He’s not sure what he imagined Ohno to look like naked, but somehow the round slope of his shoulders and the dip of his stomach where his muscles tense is unexpected. He looks sharp in strange places, places Jun would like to explore.
“Sex requires that,” Ohno replies. “And I was hot.”
“Me too,” Nishikido says, and takes advantage of Jun’s momentary lapse to shove him on the bed and kiss him hard-a little like Sho, but different. The way Nishikido kisses reminds Jun of bittersweet chocolate and of the taut lines of his mouth when he sulks, dark and childish at the same time. He brings a hand up to Nishikido’s head and tangles his fingers in sweat-dampened hair-yes, Jun thinks, yes. Somewhere beyond Nishikido’s shoulder Ohno is hovering, one hand snaking down Nishikido’s back, saying things in an octave so deep it sounds like he’s growling in another language, quiet murmurings about the way the dip in Nishikido’s back fits Ohno’s fingers perfectly. Jun can imagine that. Nishikido looks like he would have a body that your hands would look good on.
He also has hands that won’t stop moving, and Jun has to put his own above his head to accommodate Nishikido, who can’t seem to decide where he should touch. He has his lips on Jun’s, still, and every time Ohno does-whatever he’s doing back there, Jun can’t see-he moans against Jun, lips sliding, breath heavy and wet. And honestly, Jun doesn’t mind. Somewhere below where their legs have tangled, his cock is sliding right up against Nishikido’s, and the friction is fucking delicious. Jun knows that alcohol is supposed to make you feel less, but his senses all feel heightened at once, and each slight move Nishikido makes is lightning through Jun in one swift movement.
When Jun feels Ohno’s fingers brush against his cock he moans, arching forward-not that he gets very far, since Nishikido has shifted all his weight to his hips and is pinning Jun to the bed. But he tries as hard as he can, searching for that hand. “Come on,” he full-on whines, and for lack of anything better to do sucks hard on Nishikido’s bottom lip before biting the red skin, intent on getting a reaction.
The noise Nishikido makes is almost like a squeal, high-pitched and urgent, and Jun can feel Nishikido’s thighs twitch against his own. Not even a second passes before Nishikido goes in for another kiss, but instead of Jun’s lips settles on his neck and drags his teeth against the thin skin there before biting, canines like knives against Jun’s pulse.
“Shit,” Nishikido says, ragged, and Jun feels movement near their legs at the same time he hears Ohno mumble something absolutely filthy in Nishikido’s hair.
That’s when Jun realizes two things-that Nishikido likes biting, and that Ohno’s hand is working Nishikido’s cock. If he moves a little to the right-just a bit, yes, right there-he can feel Ohno jerking Nishikido. His knuckles scrape against the underside of Jun’s thigh, and Nishikido is keening in his ear now, not even trying to hold back. Ohno’s hand is fast, like he does this often, like he’s done this to Nishikido before and knows exactly how he likes it.
“Ohno,” Jun says, but it comes out more like a gasp. “Do you-?” He doesn’t know what the rest of the question is, but it’s something along the lines of no one is touching you and I really want to be the one to do that. Ohno grunts something in reply and he looks down at Nishikido, who is lying on Jun’s chest, hands scrabbling for something to hold onto and eventually settling on Jun’s right arm.
“Nishikido,” Jun says, “I can’t feel my fucking legs.”
“Shut-ah,” Nishikido manages to say, and turns his head into Jun’s chest. He’s too out of breath to say anything else. Each one of his quick breaths quake through Jun, and he swears he is about to go into overdrive-he has never seen anyone come before that hasn’t been the person he was doing something to. Right now, Jun is essentially a voyeur. It’s like he crept into the room to watch Ohno get Nishikido off and somehow managed to literally get underneath it all.
“Sit up,” Jun demands, and Nishikido shakes his head. “Then look at me.”
Nishikido turns his head. He looks like there is a wildfire in his eyes. Jun has never seen him so vulnerable, so completely open, and it makes him wish there could be another time like this, another time to tie Nishikido to the bed with his frat ties, blue and gold threads digging into the supple skin of his wrists as Jun teased him, bit a trail of teeth marks all the way down from his neck to his ankles. The noises that come out of Nishikido’s mouth are nothing like his voice-they are desperate, keening, needy; Jun wants a soundtrack of them to play over and over again when he is alone.
“Look at me,” Jun says again, and Nishikido struggles to keep his head up.
“Think about this,” Jun goes on, voice low enough so that only the two of them can hear. Above them, Ohno is concentrating so hard he has a bead of sweat trailing down his neck, and it slides until it reaches the hollow of his collarbone. “Think about it, Nishikido-you don’t even know Ohno. He’s jerking you off. He’s got a hand around your fucking cock, and he wants you to come all over his hand, and when you do that you’re gonna come all over me, too.” Nishikido makes a jumbled sound in his throat. “You’re about to come all over a complete stranger and my cock, Nishikido. What do you think about that? You want me to jerk off with your come when you’re done? Or do you want to suck it off me instead?”
Nishikido comes a second later, his whole body stiffening and his breath catching in his throat before he groans a long string of profanities into Jun’s neck, loud and sincere. Jun finds it ridiculously hot. He can feel Nishikido coming slick all over his thigh, and Ohno’s fingers going all sticky in between their bodies. For a moment he loses himself in Nishikido’s heat, forgetting that Ohno is there too, forgetting, somehow, that no one has really touched him yet.
But the realization comes back when Ohno moves and helps Nishikido roll over, and Jun suddenly feels cold-until he feels hands on his hips and a mouth closing over the head of his cock. Had Jun been any more turned on, he might have come just from that, but he just slides a hand into Ohno’s hair and tugs, probably harder than he should but he doesn't care. He’s so close already that he feels removed from reality, as if he’s tumbling so fast down a mountain that everything is one big blur of movement and feeling and nothing else matters.
Blowjobs, Jun decides at that moment, are the best fucking things in the world.
Ohno sucks like he’s done this before, just like he jerks like he does it a lot. And maybe he does-maybe Jun has been missing out for the past two years. He moans loudly as he thinks of Ohno on his knees, fucking him, taking him completely, and he would look as focused as he did a minute ago. He would be murmuring things in a growl into Jun’s ear, talking about how he’d like to take Jun in public, on the asphalt so hard that his knees and palms get tattooed with gravel. Jun thinks about the way Ohno might take his time just to make Jun suffer.
Ohno takes a long lick of the underside of Jun’s cock, licking off everything Nishikido left. He is good with his tongue, so slow and so deliberate, and it feels like forever from the base to the top before Ohno pauses for the longest second before kissing the head. Jun’s hips are way off the bed-normally he tries not to do that, but to hell with everything right now-and he knows he’s close, it wouldn’t have taken long in the first place, not after seeing Ohno get Nishikido off the way he did, not being underneath the whole affair. He just needs something to push him over. Something, anything.
This is when Jun notices Nishikido isn’t at his side anymore. He’s-shit. Jun looks past Ohno long enough to register that Nishikido is leaning over him, whispering in his ear, hand flying up and down Ohno’s cock like it’s not just a handjob but something much more than that. Ohno nods-Jun would love to know what Nishikido is saying; he can only imagine the extent of how ridiculously sexual it must be-and says something back to Nishikido so quietly it’s not even a whisper. Nishikido snorts and rests his face on Ohno’s shoulder.
“He’ll love it,” he says, voice hoarse.
What? Jun tries to speak, but the only thing that comes out of his mouth when he opens it is a shocked gasp.
Ohno looks up at Jun for a second. And then gently, so very gently, he scrapes his teeth against Jun’s cock.
Jun unravels. He doesn’t even try to hide it, and the sound in this house travels, but he doesn’t care. Ohno’s name tumbles out of his mouth, over and over again; he doesn’t even know what’s going on around him but he thinks Ohno might be finishing in Nishikido’s hand right now. He just can’t tell. It takes him a few seconds to catch his breath and come down from the high, and when he does he’s still shaking.
Ten minutes pass. Or fifteen, or twenty. Nobody moves.
“I’m cold,” Nishikido says first.
“The sheets are on the floor,” Jun mumbles.
“I’ll get them.” Ohno offers, and Jun feels him lean over the edge of the bed. “They’re all tangled.”
“So are we,” Jun says, and can’t help but laugh.
--
That night Jun dreams about real life, or something like it. In his mind he sees Nishikido wake up with his hair flattened to one side and offer Ohno his shower. He sees Ohno smile in return, not so wide but thankful and warm, and he even feels the mattress shifting when the two of them slide off and walk out of Jun’s room. He hears the door shut behind them with a soft click.
After that, there is darkness punctuated by streaks of color and moments of sound-something like voices, or music, or both.
And then out of nowhere Shun walks into the picture. Jun can’t see his face, but he steps into the frame of the dream from somewhere offstage and walks around slowly. He takes a breath, and holds it. He lets it go.
I miss him, Jun thinks, and then he wakes himself up.
--
In the morning, everything hurts.
“Hey,” someone says. They’re whispering very close to Jun’s ear. “Wake up.”
Jun opens his eyes.
Shun is sitting next to the bed like their house has suddenly become a hospital. He’s still wearing his pajamas, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in about two weeks, but he is there. Jun can’t remember the last time he woke up next to Shun. He misses it.
“Hi,” Jun says, but his voice is too hoarse, and the word cracks in his throat.
“Try again,” Shun says. He plays with the edge of the sheet by Jun’s shoulder.
Jun coughs a couple of times. “It’s cold,” he finally says, and the words are still thin, but Shun hears him anyway.
“Then move over,” he says.
A beat passes. Jun is trying to think through what Shun just said, but his mind is just as hazy as the light filtering in through his window.
“Move,” Shun says again.
He looks so sleep-deprived Jun wouldn’t be surprised if Shun told him he hasn’t really slept in the past two weekends, just laid awake in bed analyzing the pattern in the wallpaper. Shun might even be hallucinating, he looks that far gone.
But if he hallucinated his way into Jun’s room, into Jun’s bed, that’s perfectly okay.
So Jun moves over.
“Guess what,” Shun says once he’s stolen most of the covers from Jun.
“My knees are exposed,” Jun says in return, and tries to tug the blanket toward him.
Shun just grins. When he smiles he looks like a five-year-old, goofy and sweet, the kind of kid you’d feel bad for scolding. “She’s not pregnant.”
Jun stops trying for the blanket.
“That’s great,” he says after a moment, and sounds more relieved than he thought he would. In fact, he feels almost elated, and his bones feel a little less heavy. “That’s really great, Shun.”
And he laughs. He doesn’t know why, but there’s a bubble in him that seems like it’s wanted to burst forever. He laughs so hard he shakes, shoulders quivering, and he knows Shun is really confused right now but he can’t stop to explain himself.
“What the hell was that?” But Shun looks amused. “Do you think my problems are funny?”
“No,” Jun says, and settles back into bed. “They’re hilarious.”
“Shut up,” Shun says. He tries to kick Jun under the blanket but just ends up getting his foot caught in another sheet. After a second of struggling, he gives up and rests his leg on Jun’s.
“I was going to come out with you guys last night,” he goes on. “But Yuu called me over, and that’s when she told me.”
Oh. “Nino invited you?”
“Yeah,” Shun says, and Jun shakes his head. Of course, of course Nino would do that, the sneaky little bastard-but Jun is grateful that he tried anyway.
After a few minutes, Jun can’t feel his leg anymore, but it’s not that uncomfortable. It’s not like last night. In fact, this feels right, like Jun should have stayed here all along. Not that he regrets anything that happened before this moment, but he thinks that this is where he was meant to be from the very beginning.
He tells this to Shun, who wriggles his toes in response.
“Remember when we did this when we were freshmen?” he finally says.
“Remind me,” Jun says, even though he doesn’t need it.
Shun kisses exactly like Jun remembers: like the summer of his sophomore year, the year he thought maybe he’d be a little wiser than his freshman self, but in the end he just got caught up in Shun all over again.
Back then, at eighteen, Jun would have done anything for Shun. And he still would.
--
On the day of the party, Jun makes a checklist of at least twenty items and hands it out to everyone in the frat (and makes an extra copy for Nino after he sees him make a paper plane out of it and fly it into the back of Toma’s head).
“How are we paying for all this alcohol?” Hina wants to know. He’s holding the checklist like it might explode at any second.
“We had enough leftover in our expense account to get some,” Jun says. “After Sakurai-kun balanced our checkbook we found out we had a lot to spare.”
“May he rest in peace,” Nino says.
“I’m not dead,” Sho says from somewhere in the crowd. “I haven’t even left yet.”
“Anyway,” Jun continues, raising his voice, “just go through the checklist and make sure everything is in order. Keep the non-Greeks in line and make sure nothing gets too crazy. That’s it.”
Sho finds Jun after everyone has scattered. “Everything looks great,” he says, and squeezes Jun’s shoulder.
“I know,” Jun says. “This is your going-away party, after all.”
Unlike Nino, Sho blushes gracefully, and Jun can’t help but admire the blossoming red on his cheeks. “I thought it was a Shun event?”
“It was,” Jun says. That’s the only explanation he gives, and Sho doesn’t ask for anything more. He just nods like he understands-and maybe he does.
But Jun will probably never know, and he’s okay with that.
“Here,” he says, and pushes a bottle of Jack into Sho’s hands. “For you.”
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Get frisky. You’re graduating,” Jun says, and leaves him with that.
By the time eleven rolls around, Jun has circled the house at least fifty-six times checking everything up and down and Shun is practically sparkling.
“I love parties,” he says.
“I know,” Jun replies. It makes him happy to see Shun like this, just as he’s sure Shun is happy to see the bar. Truthfully it’s just a fold-out table sagging under the weight of too many bottles and stacks upon stacks of red Solo cups, but they’re college students, and resourcefulness is everything. It makes Jun cringe a little, but he knows that a broken table won’t hurt as much as a wrecked bar.
PA Phi doesn’t have a lot of mixers during the year, mostly because the house is way off-campus and they would have to drive people back and forth. Jun has to admit it’s a little annoying, and he knows the guys would rather get wasted on a Saturday night than stay sober to cart freshmen and sophomores around, but he also secretly loves putting parties together. He loves the planning-deciding on the theme, picking out the music, seeing the furniture get pushed aside, buying the drinks-just as much as Shun loves the pounding music, slippery bodies and drunken opportunities.
Though of course Jun won’t lie. He loves the fuzzy, questionable faces and warm nights just as much as anyone else, which is partly why he became president of the frat. After all, everyone wants to get in bed with the president.
“J,” Nino says, sliding up next to him. “I just passed a girl who asked me where she could find Mr. X.”
“I’m going to reveal your secret to everyone,” Jun says while doing a quick scan of the room. So far, everything looks fine-people are mingling, the drinks are flowing and the lights aren’t too bright or too dim.
But one thing is still missing.
“Where’s the music guy?”
“Oh.” Nino turns to Jun with an unreadable expression. “Nobody told you? He canceled.”
Jun frowns. “Why didn’t I hear about this?” His stomach has already twisted itself sore and the conversation hasn’t even lasted an entire minute.
“Because we found someone else,” Nino says, and then waves at someone past Jun’s shoulder. “You remember Tegoshi, right, J?”
If someone suddenly appeared and punched Jun in the face so hard he knocked out, he would love that person forever. Unfortunately he knows no one in the frat would punch him, so he just turns around and tries to set his expression into something pleasant.
“Tegoshi,” Jun says, very slowly so that he doesn’t accidentally explode, “do you even know how to DJ?”
Tegoshi looks a little bit like an overeager puppy with wispy hair and unnaturally white teeth. Jun supposes he’s cute enough, but being around him too much is like eating too much sugar at once and then feeling sick. But everyone seems to love him, and Jun has unfortunately walked into too many incidents involving someone in his frat and a naked Tegoshi.
“Of course I do,” Tegoshi says, and gestures behind him to a chunk of equipment Jun is sure he has no idea how to use. “I even brought Shige to help me!”
“I think he ran away.” Not that Jun is accusing Shige of anything. The poor kid has enough problems as is: being Tegoshi’s roommate because his best friend Koyama is studying abroad, trying to maintain a higher GPA than Sho, and writing his first novel about the hardships of college life. He doesn’t have the time or the presence to be hanging out at a frat party.
“No,” says a squeaky voice from behind the equipment. “No, I’m here.”
“You know what will make you feel better?” Nino says. Jun is willing to bet that whatever Nino is about to say will actually make Shige feel a thousand times worse. “Everclear.”
He was right. “Everclear was banned three years ago,” Jun says, but Nino has already slipped into the crowd toward the makeshift bar.
Jun is about to run after him when Shige pops his head out from behind the equipment. “Matsumoto-kun,” Shige whispers, “I don’t want to be here.”
“Look, Kato,” Jun says. “I can’t save you.”
Shige’s throat quivers as he swallows. He looks as if he’s about two seconds from throwing up all over the entranceway and he hasn’t even had a shot yet. The party hasn’t even started. Jun prides himself on being able to deal with a lot of things gracefully, but if Shige is going to hurl all over the entranceway Jun will lose his mind.
“You look sick,” he continues, and puts a hand on Shige’s shoulder. “Go lie down.”
Shige looks up. If he had a tail, it would probably be wagging. “Really?”
“Not in my room,” Jun warns. “Nino has a spare in the basement-.”
“I will do all your calc homework for two weeks,” Shige cuts in, and scampers off.
Well, Jun thinks as he stands next to a stack of DJ equipment, he didn’t expect that the night would turn out to be so great that someone would offer to do his calc homework for an entire fourteen days, but there you have it.
Everything else goes just as well. When the house is packed and people start spilling onto the back porch, Jun decides he can take a break from patrol and have a drink. Instead of indulging in eight cheap-ass vodka shots, Jun finds the Kahlua and a bottle of chocolate syrup and makes himself an Orgasmo. After two of those, he finds a freshman to make him another one. “You’ll thank me for this when you’re older,” he says, and lets the kid have a sip before he walks off with his third drink of the night.
He stands in the corner of the living room for a bit just to see who showed. There’s Kame in the corner, the quiet boy with the wavy hair whom Nino likes to call The Unsuspecting Gay. A bunch of guys from the comedy club are here, and even if Jun doesn’t really think their gags are all that funny, he guesses that the shrieks of laughter coming from the group mean Yoko and Yasu are actually doing well. And then there are the hordes of underclassmen Nino warned Jun about, but he doesn’t know any of them.
Across the room he sees Becky standing alone, her nose buried in her drink. She probably showed up with Riisa and the rest of her sorority, but Jun can’t see any of them near her, and so he starts in her direction.
This is when he bumps into Yamada Yuu.
“Oh!” she says. She jumps back, and Jun can tell right away that she is pretty, very pretty-it’s not just the make-up. But he still wants to pour his chocolate alcohol all over her head. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem,” Jun says. He tries to look her in the eye, but she’s squinting past him and standing on her toes. “Are you looking for Shun?”
“Um,” Yuu says, and scratches her nose. “No. For someone else. Do you know-?”
“Matsujun! Yuu-chan!”
Jun can feel Aiba’s bounding-puppy steps on the floor before he even sees him. Not that it matters much-he’s too busy trying to process that Aiba is here and that Yuu seems to have a crush on him, or something like that.
“Hi Matsujun,” Aiba says, and smiles beautifully over the rim of his beer bottle. “I thought I’d come out and see what your frat is all about. It’s been fun! You guys are great!”
“Thanks,” Jun says absently. He follows Aiba’s gaze and lands on Yuu, who looks like she wants to say everything and has nothing to say all at once. Despite wanting to punch her in the face, Jun feels for her-he understands what it’s like to look at Aiba and lose your words. “Aiba, you know…?”
“Hm?” Aiba glances up. “Oh, Yuu-chan? Yeah, she’s pre-med, we took some classes together.”
“I see,” Jun says. “Well, I’ll just-,” he begins, and starts to move away.
“Oh,” Aiba says. He grabs Jun by the elbow. “Hold on. Did you fulfill our pinky promise?”
Jun tries very hard not to look at Yuu. “Not yet,” he confesses, and then immediately regrets telling the truth when he sees Aiba’s face. “I’ll do it now,” he says quickly. “Right now.”
“The late bird catches no worms, Matsujun,” Aiba says solemnly, but brightens when Yuu laughs.
“I’ve caught a bunch of worms,” Jun mutters indignantly under his breath as he weaves in and out of the crowd. Trust Aiba to call Shun a worm and expect Jun to know exactly who he’s talking about.
Jun finally finds Shun standing too close to the keg, and he realizes too soon that this is exactly how they first met. He feels a little stupid, coming back to this moment after so many things have happened in their lives. But then again, he thinks, that’s probably the point to college.
“Hi,” Jun says, and then can’t remember how to form words. “Um-I have to tell you something.”
“Drink this first,” Shun replies, handing his red cup to Jun. He takes a sip: it’s just water. “You’re still kind of hoarse.”
“Oh.” Jun rubs the back of his neck. “Thanks.”
“So what did you want to tell me?”
“Sho,” Jun blurts out, and Shun raises his eyebrows. He’s probably never heard Jun address Sho by his first name, much less without an honorific. “I’ve been seeing him. For the past month. And then we had a clean break-up but I got sad so I drank too much, and….” Jun squeezes his eyes shut. What happened? He just remembers a lot of limbs. And Nishikido. “Shit.”
Sometimes Jun is more emotional than he likes to let on. Sometimes he gets like this and feels cold in a room with too many people just because he’s put too much of himself out there. It has taken Jun a long time to get used to himself.
But Shun doesn’t seem to be bothered. “So,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know,” Jun says. It might not be the correct answer, but it’s the truth. “But I wish I did.”
Shun seems to find that acceptable. “Okay,” he says. “Just promise me one thing.”
Jun nods.
“When people ask how we got together,” Shun continues, very seriously, “you have to tell them I seduced you.”
“But you didn’t.” Jun is genuinely confused. “I would never fall for the crooked-finger trick.”
“Well now you do,” Shun says, and crooks one of his fingers in Jun’s belt loop.
--
The next day, Jun wakes up to his slippers in their correct place and a clean bathroom mirror.
“You’re a dirty blanket stealer,” Shun mumbles grumpily, and pulls a pillow over his head.
It’s going to be a good day.