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Pressure.
That's what it always came down to wasn't it? Feeling nothing but pressure. A heavy weight in the chest that never seemed to subside.
Regardless of who was there, what they were doing, how they made him feel. It always felt the same.
Pressure.
To perform well, to be enough, to be worthy of their time. Why does it matter? It'll never make sense on paper, or in words. It just is.
That's how Majima had always felt. That suffocating pressure, on his chest, on his stomach.
On his neck.
Wait.
That's right. He was doing something, wasn't allowed to just space out and sit alone with his thoughts. Not while Kiryu sat above him, his hands that hovered over his neck briefly now moved back down to his shoulders and chest.
Of course.
Kiryu was watching him, analyzing his movements, his reactions. Of course he would notice Majima's subtle wince when Kiryu's feather light touch graced the skin of his neck. Of course he noticed the tiny intake of breath in preparation for what he was used to.
He was preparing for the worst, Kiryu noticed that, and he pulled back instantly, like he had been burned. Though that wasn't so farfetched, had Kiryu's hands actually wrapped around Majima's neck, then there was no telling what kind of hellfire would befall upon him.
Except, that wasn't true.
This was different somehow. It felt strange, foreign almost. He couldn't quite pinpoint the exact shift in his stomach that said this was okay.
But that couldn't be right.
This wasn't okay, or at least, it wasn't supposed to be.
He wasn't allowed to have moments to breathe, to think, to feel at ease.
So then why?
Why did he feel the shift?
Why was the pit in his stomach suddenly easier to bear?
Why did the pressure let up?
No but that couldn't be right, there certainly was a pressure that he felt. Maybe it was just the way Kiryu was sitting on his hips, or the way Kiryu's gentle touches now found their way up to his face, smoothing out the wrinkles between his tightly knit brows.
When had he furrowed them?
Was he that lost in thought?
Kiryu's rumbling voice, now like thunder from how hushed he spoke, finally broke through the air to pull Majima from his thoughts, "What's wrong, nii-san?" Majima still didn't like that, the formalities that Kiryu continued to use, despite how their relationship had developed.
Had it developed though? What exactly would you call this? Two middle-aged men, laying in the same bed, just looking at each other. Sitting in silence. Enjoying each other's company.
There had to be a name for it, but the persistant look in Kiryu's eye broke Majima's train of thought once more before he could pursue an answer, "'S nothin', don't worry about it."
Now that was a load of bull crap, and Majima knew that, so it was obvious Kiryu would know that too. It didn't take a brain surgeon to figure out that whatever was knocking around inside Majima's head was the reason he had gone silent. Which was remarkable really, Majima always had something to say, but right now, not a damn thing came to mind that he cared to share. Not because he didn't trust Kiryu-
Stop.
Hold on.
Trust?
Trust...?
Now that was laughable. Majima knew damn well by now that trust wasn't something you just throw around loosely. It wasn't a piece of candy on Halloween night. Trust was dangerous, painful, tragic.
But then again, so was everything else he did. Choosing the Yakuza lifestyle wasn't exactly a choice that came without constantly watching your back.
So then how was this any different?
Another hand smoothed out the wrinkles on his forehead. Right. Kiryu was still here. He couldn't just hide in his thoughts, and avoid the inevitable. Especially when Kiryu was looking at him the way he does. With those eyes that draw him in, dark and dangerous, but oh so warm and inviting. Scalding like a roaring flame, not just a cozy fireplace, but a raging forest fire. His gaze alone was enough to warm him up. He could almost feel his heart melt.
Kiryu cared.
That's what he did best.
All muscle, and a stone cold expression that could make full-grown men wet themselves. But soft and kind, with a heart made of solid gold dripping with the longing heartache that wanted nothing more than to help those around him. Anybody that truly got to know the guy knew this without a doubt, he was giving, he was a beacon of light. A roaring flame with a blaze bright enough to light up even the darkest of tragedies.
So many people had put their trust in Kiryu.
Why couldn't Majima do the same?
The simple answer would be that he's scared, but hell would have to freeze over before he admitted that out loud. In the meantime, he could work to make that truth become a lie. Maybe, just maybe, Kiryu would even be willing to help him along the way.
Oh who was he kidding? Of course Kiryu would be willing to help. He'd be more than happy to do it. It all came down to Majima.
Well, he always was one for cheap thrills.
He liked the dangerous side of things, and every fiber of his being, every moment that has conditioned him and led him to this point, screamed bloody murder telling him to stop before he started.
Too late now.
He'd past the point of no return.
He made his mind up, and that was that.
No going back now.
Kiryu deserved that much and more.
Majima exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding before he finally spoke up, and Kiryu had waited patiently until this point, "'M just thinkin'." Kiryu chuckled, soft and heavy, a sound that vibrated right down to Majima's soul. Kiryu absentmindedly rubbed circles into Majima's shoulders while he spoke, "That's a dangerous pastime for you, nii-san." Kiryu was going to the be death of Majima.
Majima gave a hoarse laugh of his own, the silence fell over them again. Gentle touches from calloused hands traveled over Majima's shoulders and chest, exploring mostly. Majima realized he was just laying there like a limp noodle, so he finally returned the favor. He was never a gentle one though, he was abrasive, with hard opinions, and a takes-shit-from-nobody attitude. He tried his best though, for the sake of Kiryu, and ran his hands up Kiryu's clothed thighs. He could feel a minute tremble under his palms, he hit the jackpot, but now wasn't the time for that. He'd make a mental note of it, and save it for later, when Kiryu needed it most.
Words weren't a strong suit for either of them it would seem, not in this setting at least. That much should be obvious judging by the way their relationship developed on a foundation of pummeling each other on the Kamurocho streets. Their words of frustration were in gut punches and blades slicing through the air. Their sweet words of appraisal were in the purple and blue bruises and busted lips. Their dodges and dashes became a dance. Maniacal laughter, and barely noticeable smirks marked their joy. They were physical, they didn't need words to express their emotions. Because action spoke louder than words, and in actions lied their true eloquence.
They were more than the words left unspoken.
The very culmination of their being laid in broken bones and bruises, and gentle touches and butterfly kisses.
Butterfly kisses?
Interesting.
Majima was so lost in his own metaphors that he barely had time to register Kiryu pressing a soft kiss to his hand. Kiryu kissed each individual knuckle before moving on to his wrist, then up his arm. He went past Majima's neck, still unsure if that was a red zone entirely. But he made up for his hesitation by peppering delicate kisses to Majima's jaw, then his cheek.
At this point Kiryu was laying over Majima, having to place his arms on the bed, bracketing Majima's ribcage. Their chests pressed together made Majima acutely aware of how close they were. It became so much more when Kiryu finally placed a soft kiss on Majima's lips, chaste and closed mouth. Majima didn't do anything. He didn't pull back, but he didn't return it either, he just froze.
Uncertain.
How did he feel?
It wasn't bad, it was just hard to figure out what he felt exactly.
Kiryu pulled back after a moment, and gave Majima a look of concern, questioning even. As if his eyes could express his concern for him, and they could. Majima almost choked on the overwhelming feeling of knowing what Kiryu meant through his eyes. So much was said in no words at all. Majima nodded slightly, as best he could while still in Kiryu's embrace, a confirmation.
And Kiryu understood.
Majima was alright.
At least in this sense.
He wasn't uncomfortable, and that's all they both needed.
So Kiryu nodded too.
This was their dance.
Kiryu leaned down again, their noses bumping a little awkwardly, but neither of them cared. Couldn't be bothered, their focus was on each other, and their mouths. Lips parted ever so slightly. Just enough to taste, to inhale and exhale each other.
Cigarettes and burning wood.
Cigarettes and perfume, courtesy of Goromi.
Suffocating.
Aroma thick enough to slice open with cherry blossom speckled blades.
Thick enough to crack open with brute punches and staggering kicks.
Thick enough to sink in snake fangs and dragon claws.
It was almost cruel that they had to breathe, had to pull back from each other, suffocating becoming too much even for such a short period of time. Felt like a lifetime, but could never be enough.
Majima and Kiryu took this opportunity to really look at each other, just a moment to take in the view. Both were disheveled, hair strands now out of place, a heady musk had settled between them that Majima had deemed as, "Us."
Us.
We're here.
This is real.
This really wasn't the same as others times. It wasn't the same as what he had grown used to. Kiryu was looking at him, not just staring, but star gazing into the depths of Majima's soul. He could really see it all, and Majima knew that.
He felt naked.
Majima had built up the courage just as Kiryu did too, but for separate reasons. Kiryu was leaning down to kiss Majima again, and Majima was in the middle of figuring out his words. Which led to a hurried, "'Mjustworried-" which got suffocated by an awkwardly placed kiss. It had Kiryu pulling back sheepishly, and Majima blushing out of embarrassment for the both of them.
"Sorry, nii-san. Go ahead." Kiryu avoided eye contact for a moment, that somehow made Majima feel less nervous, so he too turned his head to the side, to look out the window at the neon lights of Kamurocho. The mixtures of color helped take his mind off of what was currently happening, allowing the words to rest a little more easily in his mind.
"'M just worried. That this'll be like other relationships, y'know?" Kiryu gave a hum of affirmation, but said nothing else. Majima took that as his cue to continue. "'S just... I dunno what to expect. Yer not like the rest of 'em, an' I can't wrap my head around it."
Majima suddenly turned to look at Kiryu, who was already gazing longingly at Majima. He felt a surge of panic, but managed to keep all of his courage to continue, "What're ya gettin' outta this? Bein' patient an' all?"
This time Majima could practically see the smoke puffing out of Kiryu's ears while he thought of a valid answer. Kiryu hummed thoughtfully as he came to a conclusion.
"I get you, nii-san."
That was enough to make every hardened Yakuza swoon.
Especially Majima.
He had to give credit where credit was due, that was a good line, albeit a bit cheesey.
Even still, Majima couldn't help but get in his own head. He was after all, to put it simply, a very difficult person.
Extremely hot and cold, you'd almost think he was bipolar, but alas, no formal diagnosis.
Just confused.
Confused and scared.
One moment he could be flirting up a full on tsunami, and the next he's struggling to kiss and even be touched in general.
Indecisive.
Unpredictable.
A fortuitous turn of events.
An unforecasted storm rolling in and raining something fierce, with harsh cracks of lightning and rumbling thunder.
Then clear skies and a calming breeze that tickles the skin, reminding himself of simpler days.
When thunder and lightning weren't a trigger to dark times, and the smell of rain didn't make him feel only melancholy.
Except.
Blinding lights brought warmth, and safety.
And rolling thunder vibrated in his chest when Kiryu spoke.
He didn't need to fear the loud noises.
Heavy footsteps treading towards his door now marked the arrival of a friend, not foe.
Touches to his neck and hair reminded him of butterfly kisses, bites and bruises, and head pats.
Former fear now resembled their dance.
Fear didn't weigh down on him, and suddenly the pressure in his chest felt welcoming.
Safe even.
The pressure to perform well, to be enough.
Lifted.
Because Majima knew Kiryu would never judge him, and he knew he was more than enough.
The pressure he felt was now something better, it was longing heartache.
For something better.
Something safe and secure.
What he felt, he decided, was Kiryu.
Only Kiryu.