Archive of Our Own

Yakou had lost track of how much time had passed since Yuma filed out the door with his new friend, leaving him the sole occupant of the Nocturnal Detective Agency headquarters. Just another night alone with this creaky submarine, same as all the nights in all the years before. Nothing ever seemed to change around here.

Yakou groaned, leaning heavily back in his chair. He kicked his feet up onto his desk with a little more force than necessary. Moving so quickly made him wince– his legs had already gone numb from sitting in one place for so long. “Great,” he grumbled aloud to himself, just talking to fill the empty air with something more than the patter of rain against metal. “Here come the pins and needles.”

With one hand, he pushed his glasses off of his face, bringing the forefinger and thumb of the other hand to rub at the bridge of his nose. He released a long-suffering sigh, eyes clenched shut to block out the light in the room as he blindly fumbled around to the side-drawer, movements heavy and exaggerated as he dragged it out. He needed a cigarette— and he mentally congratulated himself when he found a single carton. He'd been sure he'd had some left in his emergency stash.

Any spark of hope or excitement was just as quickly snuffed out when his hand closed around it, when he realized, with great despair...

"Oh for fuck's sake," he cursed, equally as positive that there was no one else in the room with him as he'd been that he'd had some cigarettes left. While he was hardly the most professional or upstanding boss, he didn't like to swear in front of his detectives.

Of course he was all out. With his mood immediately soured even further, a string of mumbled curses slipped out from his clenched teeth, though it brought him little in terms of relief. His memory wasn't exactly... no, his memory was hardly at all the most reliable— especially when he spent a lot of his working hours at least mildly inebriated. Unfortunately for him, today wasn't one of those mind-numbed days. He had important paperwork to attend to, the first in a long while.

He spent a long few moments in silence, absolutely nothing occupying his exhausted mind. With no nicotine and no booze and the buzzing in his legs approaching its uncomfortable zenith... He needed a nap before he could anticipate making any progress whatsoever.

Then, the fireplace sneezed. Yakou jerked upright in his seat, immediately sending himself off balance with his entire shitty office chair toppling backwards, and him along with it. The relative quiet of the submarine was broken by the loud thud and the even-louder, decidedly embarrassing, scream.

Yakou scrabbled to his feet– eyes wide, glasses and shirt askew, heart racing wildly in his chest with his fight or flight kicking in far more quickly than his detective’s sense of rationale. Where the hell had that noise come from? Yuma and that girl had left hours ago, hadn’t they? He glanced over toward the couches, scanning over the room, and that’s when he saw it.

“V-Vivia?!”

Yakou’s voice was cracking and embarrassingly high-pitched, frazzled as he was with his hand clutching his chest. Relief chewed at the corners of his startle response as the rest of his body caught up with his eyes. It was hardly a surprise to see Vivia tucked away into the fireplace— a habit from which no amount of chastising had ever managed to sway him.

Vivia sniffled quietly, rubbing his nose impolitely on his sleeve. The back pain wasn't the only thing he had to worry about when hiding away in the fireplace. Though it was mostly unused, a fair amount of dust and soot still clung to the bricks and left his well-weathered jacket even dirtier and his low, gravelly voice even raspier. He blinked up at the sudden ruckus with dry eyes, face remaining placid even as Yakou struggled to pull himself up off the floor. Surely, one of his colleagues would rush to his aid— probably Yuma, since he was such a good kid. But that didn't happen. Vivia blinked a few times more, poking his head out a smidge to get a better look at the rest of the room.

No one else was there. It was just him and the chief. A quick glance at the clock told him why— though the yawn that followed shortly after might have done the trick as well. "Already that late..." he grumbled. He settled back into the fireplace, curling up on his side with his arms under his head as a bony pillow. "Well, it's too much of a pain to walk all the way back to the hotel... I guess I'll just spend the night in here..."

At Vivia's flippant, nonchalant response, Yakou stiffened, jaw working wordlessly before he deflated again all at once with yet another sigh. He hastily righted his clothing and shook his head, as though to clear it. He'd been fairly exhausted mere moments before, but the short boost of adrenaline had sobered him, if only marginally.

"Christ. I-I thought you'd left already, Vivia— what the hell are you still doing here? You have any idea what time it is?" he managed in a rush, indignant. It was rich, coming from him; Yakou couldn't say he even knew, and he quickly glanced at the clock to reaffirm it was indeed as late as he thought it was. Just past midnight— not too late, given the nights that Yakou had become so accustomed to.

A glance back towards Vivia earned a grimace from Yakou. "Wait... What are you—- No!" he half-shrieked. "You are not sleeping in the damn fireplace. What the hell is wrong with you?" It only frazzled him further when his command didn't earn him so much as a second glance from Vivia.

Yakou scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned, well aware that no amount of scolding nor pleading would manage to convince Vivia to leave— especially when, realistically, where he slept made no difference to Yakou.

Still, the thought made him wince. He wasn't that much older than Vivia, and he could only imagine just how sore he would be after spending the night in such a grimy, uncomfortable cranny. He knew it was none of his business. He knew he shouldn’t particularly care. But...

"Shit. Just. At least... At least use my bed or something, if you can't get your ass up and over to the hotel," he grumbled, averting his eyes and ruffling his own hair as he shook his head.

"But... But you'd better wash yourself up first!” His voice still cracked as he spoke. “I don't know how many times I've told you that it's filthy in there, and you're not getting it all over my nice clean bed!" Yakou did not, in fact, have a nice bed— but it was better than nothing, and he still didn't want soot and dust all over it.

Vivia took a very, very long moment to consider his options. He didn't particularly mind sleeping in the fireplace— after all, it was his own preference for small spaces that made him choose the fireplace over any of the couches or even the floor of the submarine— but he could tell that Yakou was adamant about this. As burdensome as it would be to get up and drag himself over to the shower, it would be even more of a pain to argue pointlessly with the chief. At the end of the day, it was his fireplace, and he had the final say.

So, with a beleaguered sigh, Vivia pulled himself out from the little hole in the wall and brushed himself off. Even though he was a bit taller than Yakou, his atrocious posture meant that he didn't tower above him. He fixed the chief with a confusing look, like Yakou was missing something extremely obvious about the situation— because he was.

"...these are the only clothes I have," Vivia murmured. He didn't specify whether he meant these were the only clothes he had there in the submarine, or if those were the only clothes he had in general. Yakou supposed it didn't really matter either way. A familiar tired smile curled at the corners of Vivia’s lips. "If you don't want me to track dirt into your bed... the only thing I could wear would be my undergarments. Is that... okay..?"

Yakou's lips parted in muted shock, his throat bobbing— okay, even if he'd felt he'd caught his second wind, maybe his little tumble hadn't sobered him up from his sleep deprived state. That must have been the case, because seeing that expression written across Vivia's face made his chest feel tight in a way he couldn't quite wrap his fuzzy head around— especially when accompanied by his low, breathy register.

Vivia, for what it was worth, seemed completely unbothered by this. If it was his intention to tease his superior, there was no way of knowing so for sure.

Feeling more uneasy than he did flustered meant, at the very least, that Yakou could save some face without the threat of heat rising to his cheeks and betraying his conflicted feelings.

Though, he had reason to believe Vivia didn't need those obvious tells to deduce that much from him. Standing before him, utterly unimposing but mildly unnerving as he was, Yakou always felt like Vivia somehow knew something no one else did— like this was all one of his fantastique novels or whatever the hell he was reading. Yakou didn't much care for novels or stories.

(He didn't much care for reality, either. Maybe Vivia was onto something, always keeping his nose pressed into one of his books.)

At the very least, as far as Yakou was concerned, there weren’t any cryptic messages to decipher here. Of course Vivia didn't have a change of clothes here— if he did have any other clothing, his belongings would be in his hotel room. Simple as.

But... it still almost felt like Vivia was challenging him, like he was gauging something about his response. Yakou huffed and shook his head.

"Yeah. Whatever, it's fine. We're both dudes anyways— but at least grab a spare shirt from my dresser. Top Drawer, to the left. Not the second drawer." He shrugged him off and scratched at his nape. "I have some things to tie up before I hit the sack, so... make yourself at home, I guess. Not sure when I'll be done."

There was no way in hell Yakou was getting any more work done tonight, and he wasn't leaving the ship, either, but it would be awkward waiting for Vivia to get ready for bed. Maybe he'd just sleep on the sofa— but what if Yuma came back...? Yakou sighed softly, weighing his options. Vivia just melted further into his sleepy, crescent-moon smile.

–

The next thirty minutes or so were the most Vivia had moved all day. Motivated singularly by the idea of getting to go to sleep as quickly as possible, he actually went marginally faster than his usual mopey snail's pace.

As Yakou set his chair back up with an annoyed, flushed grumble, the first thing Vivia did was head to his dresser. It was out of the line of sight of Yakou's desk, which would have been fine if he hadn't blabbed about where he kept the things he didn't want Vivia seeing. Of course, lacking in self-control as he was, the very first thing Vivia did was open up the second drawer.

What was inside didn't particularly surprise him. A handful of photographs of Yakou with a violet-haired woman, a few necklaces and unwashed blouses he's sure once belonged to her. Wrinkled newspaper scraps. Birthday cards. In a place like this, it was possible to fool oneself into thinking that the blotches where the ink ran thin were just a product of the rain.

Vivia knew better than that.

Next to the keepsakes was a tattered stuffed dog, fur balding and seams fraying, too fragile to be kept on the bed except on the nights where Yakou needed it most. Though he wouldn't tell Yakou this, Vivia had chanced upon one such night while sleepwalking some days ago.

Maybe it had something to do with why he stuck around so late tonight. Probably not.

Vivia grabbed the largest, darkest sweater of Yakou's that he could find from the first drawer, and he kept his shower exceptionally brief.

When he came back out, the purple teardrops painted on his face were gone, drawing attention to the dark bags under his eyes. Dressed only in his boxer briefs and Yakou's baggy sweater, as he padded slowly from the bathroom across the main room and toward the front, it quickly became apparent how long and skinny those pale legs he'd usually hidden behind his long jacket were.

Vivia was nearly silent when he walked, especially without his bulky, creaky clothing present, but movement out of the corner of his eye drew Yakou out of his stupor and caught his attention– a short, fleeting glimpse of the rail-thin wisp of a man. It felt... wrong, to see Vivia without his armor of leather and straps. Like this, he almost looked... human. Unassuming, vulnerable— though Yakou knew Vivia was anything but.

When had he showered last? When Vivia was once again out of sight, Yakou raised his arm to subtly give himself a sniff, making a non-committal noise and shrugging. He just smelled like deodorant and a bit like stale sweat— not that he particularly cared about how inoffensive his smell was. He was doing Vivia a favor by letting him sleep in his bed. He had no obligation to pay him any further thought.

And yet within five minutes, Yakou found himself digging through his top drawer for a change of clothes after dragging himself back to his room regardless. Vivia's eyes were closed, body laying completely motionless, without even the rise and fall of his chest to reveal whether or not he was even still alive.

A quick shower and change of clothes later, Yakou brushed his teeth before dragging himself back to bed, flicking off the lights as he went, and taking pause at his bedside.

Vivia hadn't moved an inch since Yakou had left to take a shower— maybe he really was asleep?

"Why are you laying on top of the covers?" Yakou gruffed without heat, albeit with some impatience. The exhaustion was definitely hitting now.

Vivia creaked his eyes open groggily. Despite the apt comparisons people tended to draw between him and vampires, he wasn’t laying stiff as a board with his hands crossed over his chest. No, he looked… human, again. That same vulnerability Yakou caught a glimpse of earlier was here again, in the way he pressed his back against the wall and curled his limbs out in front of him, like he was looking for something to hold.

Vivia’s brows furrowed. “Sleeping unencumbered… is…”

But it seemed like he was too drowsy to bother with his usual flowery question-dodging. Instead he sighed, nuzzling into the pillow. “Getting under the blankets… would have been more movement than necessary. I’m not bothered by sleeping in the cold…”

Yakou rolled his eyes, unsurprised. "Is that right? Well, I sure am, and it's late," he pointed out, a little more harsh than he'd intended, although Vivia never appeared to be particularly fazed by anyone's manner of speaking. He certainly didn’t seem fazed now. He remained still, peering up at Yakou with bleary purple eyes. Yakou groaned.

"You have any idea how inconvenient it is to sleep under the covers with someone else weighing them down?" He griped rhetorically, making to tug on the blankets with a grunt. Though he was all long legs and gangly limbs, Vivia was still very much a dead weight on top of the covers. "Come on, man... Could you at least help me out? I'm getting cold just looking at you."

Vivia thought for a moment— almost like he was buffering, as he so often seemed to be doing— before sluggishly willing his limbs into motion. He shifted around, pulling up the corner of the blankets and wiggling under them until they covered up everything but the top half of his head.

It was so... Different. Seeing this side of Vivia— almost uncanny. For as frequently as he dozed off, it was generally in places he decidedly shouldn't have, and with varying levels of secondhand discomfort. Even under the blankets, Yakou could see how the warmth and pressure relaxed him. It was obvious that he liked being under the blankets— as any person would— so why didn’t he just do this in the first place? Maybe it wasn’t worth it to try to figure out the inner workings of this weirdo’s head. Not this late at night, anyway.

An exasperated, but ultimately relieved sigh escaped Yakou as he scrubbed at the back of his head, hair damp from his shower. Motions lazy and slow, he peeled back the covers and followed suit, sighing as he pulled the blankets over his exhausted body, his nerves worn thin, before rolling onto his side with his back facing Vivia.

He was met with... of course, overwhelming silence. He hadn't thought this far ahead; he wanted to sleep, but being in such close proximity to the enigmatic man he'd literally invited to sleep in his bed felt akin to winding up in the favor of a murder of crows, or like a stray shadow of a cat deigning to tolerate his presence. Not that Vivia had seemed opposed to sharing a room with him (in fact, it seemed quite the opposite)... but even so, he never seemed to care to pay him— or anyone else, for that matter— any attention. Yakou couldn't read him to save his life. Some detective he was.

The point was, like he often did, Yakou felt a little out of his depth. He needed to sleep, they both did, but suddenly sleep was the last thing on his mind. There was hardly even half a foot of space between the two of them. It was hard to focus on anything else.

Should he say something? Start a conversation? What did Vivia like talking about, anyways? Talking seemed to be far too much work for him to bother with, didn’t it?

And why the hell did Yakou even care? He didn't, he decided. He totally didn't care, not even a little— and he didn't care for another five long minutes of silence before he finally cleared his throat. Beside him, Vivia was silent and still, but there was no way for him to tell if he was actually sleeping.

He snuck a glance over his shoulder and just... stared at him, for a few seconds. He was taking in how peaceful, how serene he looked, the blankets displaced just enough that he could see most of his face. Vivia's eyes were closed, long dark lashes standing out against his unearthly pale skin. His breath was the same deathly slow rise and fall it always was. For a moment, Yakou was certain that he really was asleep, that he had actually managed to drift off and that maybe he himself could stop feeling so awkward about how to act with another man in his bed.

But of course, Yakou could never catch a break so easily.

Vivia's eyes opened owlishly— or it would have been owlish, if owls were regularly sedated. The warm, eerie smile creaking across his lips did nothing to settle Yakou's nerves. It creeped him out, it made his shoulders sink, it took up all of the real estate in his mind, so he couldn't think about anything other than...

...wait, maybe it did help to settle his nerves?

Vivia didn't seem perturbed at all. He only relaxed further, curling in on himself, leaning his face into the pillow. It smelled like Yakou. Something about that was nice to him, though he couldn't put his finger on why. He was too tired— always too tired— to worry about it when something felt nice.

"Sharing a bed like this..." he started, voice a quiet rumble against Yakou's pillow, "brings back good memories. My family had more brothers than beds when I was a kid... so having my back against the wall... was the best way to make sure I didn't get pushed onto the floor."

The sound of Vivia's voice shook Yakou from his reverie. It was unexpected to hear him actually initiate conversation– so much so that, initially, Yakou thought he may have just been hearing things.

It would be easier if he was. Trying to converse with Vivia was a nightmare on a good day, even if he didn't dislike talking to the weirdo. No, Yakou liked all of his detectives— but there was a certain complex that arose from being so thoroughly outmatched by almost everyone who worked under you, especially when literally none of them respected his authority.

Vivia was perhaps the least obtrusive, in that regard. He didn't listen, but he also didn't seem to go out of his way to disregard everything Yakou said. Small victories, he supposed.

But... wait. Had Vivia just... Had he just, unprompted, shared something personal?

Yakou blinked a few times. "Oh," he managed dumbly, nodding. What was he supposed to follow that up with? Was he supposed to wait and listen? Was he supposed to share his own experiences to show he related to him in some fashion?

Did Vivia Twilight even care about any of that inane bullshit?

Yakou opted to go with his gut.

"Yeah?" Yakou scratched his head. "I, uh... I never had any siblings. The last time I shared a bed with someone was..." He trailed off, almost melancholy. "It's been a long damn time, that's for sure," he chuckled quietly, self deprecating but reminiscent all at once. "So... Guessing you can't sleep either?"

Yakou was changing the subject. Vivia could tell, but it wasn't like he could fault him for it. After all, Vivia was prone to doing the very same thing. His penchant for florid language was hardly an act, but that didn't mean that he didn't tend to use it as a shield.

"Who's to say... that I'm not already asleep..?" Vivia mumbled. "So often, people insist that their life has the substance of a dream... After a perfect date, you'd say it went like a dream... After living through unimaginable horror, you'd say you felt like you were in a dream…”

Yakou's exhausted mind initially wanted to say, What the hell are you even talking about? But that felt... inappropriate for the time and place— even if Vivia almost certainly expected such a response from the Chief. Vivia didn’t give him a chance to interrupt, anyway.

“All of the most lively feelings,” he hummed, “we compare to being asleep."

And for some reason, being this close to Yakou, in such a personal space, surrounded by his warmth, did make Vivia feel rather alive. He closed his eyes again, trailing behind the feeling while never losing sight of it.

"You smell... nice..."

"Huh?"

At first, Yakou didn’t even realize that he had said anything, an inexplicable heat rising to his neck and burning the tips of his ears. Of all the things Vivia could have said, that had not been what Yakou had expected.

It wasn't something he was unused to hearing— he frequented hostess clubs, after all, and those girls would say anything they could to convince him to lighten his wallet– but it was something of a rarity to hear it come from a place with no discernible ulterior motives. It was unexpected, to hear someone... to hear anyone say something nice about him and mean it.

Vivia may have been cryptic and annoyingly poetic and difficult to comprehend, but he wasn't a liar.

"Oh... Uh..." Yakou winced— it had been so, so long since he'd received a genuinely flattering compliment that he didn't even know how to respond. Realizing that Vivia didn't seem to know either made him feel a little more at ease.

"Uh... Haha... I-It must be the soap I use? I got a huge multipack on sale! So if you- ah." He fumbled, visibly wincing— what the hell was he even saying? He cursed under his breath.

"Sorry. I mean, um... Thank you?" His smile looked more like a grimace than a grin. "I didn't really... expect you to be the type to comment on something like that. N-Not that I mind! But it was just uh... a pleasant... surprise?"

Vivia blinked slowly once, and then once again. All that yammering on about getting soap on sale to dodge the compliment, the floundering because he didn't know how to roll with the punches without freaking out and flinching... somehow, Vivia found these things about Yakou endearing.

"A music box that's been wound up past its limit…” Vivia said, “will keep on singing and singing forever... and never close its lid.”

"Uh... Uh huh..." Yakou managed dumbly, squinting and visibly struggling to decipher what the hell he meant this time. "Are you... You're saying I'm talking too much?" He asked, a little petulant, a little pouty.

Vivia smiled, clearly appreciating Yakou's attempt to understand what he was saying, even if his guess was a little off the mark.

"Not exactly... It's more like... you worry too much. Ah... even when you're trying to rest, you're still winding that key in your back..."

"Me? Worry too much?” Yakou snorted. “Ha... haha. Riiiight." His smirk died as the gears in his spent brain turned over. "Well... I mean, I can't really help but worry, with all the crazy stuff happening around Kanai Ward. Especially when my one claim to fame is... Uhh... Nevermind."

He shook his head. Not relevant. Oversharing, yet again.

"How do you do it?"

Vivia had to sit with that question for a moment. How did he do it? Well, truth be told, he did the same thing as Yakou: avoidance. He was just a little better at it, or at least a little more devoted to it. He was a detective, and a damn good one, but his general disinterest in the truth had been his security blanket for as long as he could remember.

(The psychiatrists he'd been goaded into seeing in his early adulthood all called it "magical thinking." Vivia never understood why this was something in need of curing. What good was this world without the magic he saw in it?)

Vivia hummed in thought before deciding on a far simpler answer. "I read a lot. And when I don't feel like doing something... I don't do it." A beat. "I suppose that goes the other way, too... If I want something, I don't resist it. But to go out of my way to get something I want is usually too much of a pain, so..."

Yakou lapsed into a few long seconds of uncharacteristic silence as his mind roved over Vivia’s words, a familiar self-deprecating smirk tugging at his lips. He brought a hand to scratch at his scruffy face.

"Uh huh... Heh... Must be nice," he replied, a little wistfully. He didn't want to be presumptuous, and he didn't want to project, either... but if he had to put a finger on it...

He guessed that that was what freedom must have been like. To be able to just... not do things. To be able to do things, to want things, and then decide not to bother reaching for them. That didn't work in Kanai Ward, especially when you didn't have a Forte.

He'd long overcome his envy in that regard. Yakou had worked hard, and tirelessly to get to where he was. Being a Detective in Kanai Ward wasn't easy, not with the peacekeepers always breathing down his neck and doing their damnedest to erase the very word “detective” from existence. To reduce them to mere fairytales and to take away their claws. He had done things he wasn't proud of, but he was proud of being able to bring himself to do them. To be able to stand his ground, to stand by his decisions, and to be able to say that he'd done his best.

At the end of the day, Yakou didn't know Vivia. He couldn't claim to understand what he'd been through, nor could he estimate the severity. He still envied the privilege of choice, but he knew that Vivia's circumstances and chronic fatigue were probably more likely causes than him simply not wanting to do things. He was limited, too, in his own way. That, at least, Yakou could understand quite well. The way he dealt with it was just... different. He smoked constantly and drank like a fish to keep himself functional— it would be hypocritical to claim he had the high ground.

Yakou shifted to lay down on his back again, folding his arms behind his head underneath his pillow as he stared up at the steel plated ceiling. "What kind of things does a guy like you want anyways? Besides like... sleeping and books."

Vivia glanced up with him, though he ended up staring at the underside of Yakou's shelves rather than the ceiling. He liked it that way— it made the bed feel a little more like an enclosed space, made it feel a little more claustrophobic.

"...I want to die someday," he murmured. Yakou wasn't sure what he was expecting. Before he could groan about it, though, Vivia continued. "But that's more of... ah... a long-term goal, I suppose. Right now, aside from sleeping and books..."

Vivia paused for a very, very long time— so long that Yakou feared he might have somehow drifted off with his eyes open. He wouldn't put it past a guy like Vivia to be able to do that. But before he could sigh and turn back over on his side, Vivia spoke once more.

"I don't know," he said. "Sometimes I wonder... about other people." His face twisted momentarily, like the words left a sour taste in his mouth. (And they did. Looking at the bare-faced, unshrouded truth always made his stomach spit acid back up into his heart.)

"A wolfdog may be overlooked in the shelter…” he tried instead, “because everyone sees the teeth and the sangfroid of the wolf, and not the longing of the dog..."

There was really never a dull moment with a guy like Vivia, breaching one topic that sent Yakou for a loop before seamlessly shifting onto another, hardly even giving him time to digest what had been said. Maybe that was the point?

Yakou gave pause, squinting up at the ceiling, connecting the statements with realization slowly dawning on him. If one looked past the excessive embellishments, and with enough intuition (which was perhaps the only thing Yakou had in spades) what Vivia was saying was really quite clear– albeit, not something he’d expected from him.

Perhaps that was the key to understanding Vivia: discarding any and all preconceived notions. Listening instead of guessing, much like detective work. Yakou had asked him what he wanted, and Vivia had given him an actual answer, even if it had, expectedly, required some parsing.

And that answer was simple: Vivia was lonely. Maybe that should have been obvious. It had seemed to be a bit of a staple for Detectives in the WDO, and the Nocturnal Detective Agency had never been an exception. Now more so than ever before.

But he once again came back to the fact that he hadn't expected it to bother Vivia, who always seemed to prefer his solitude. Maybe that’s what everyone thought. Maybe that assumption was precisely how Vivia wound up... like this. Painfully lonely, enough so that he'd willingly tucked himself into Yakou's crummy single bed, sandwiched between Yakou and the wall.

Yakou sighed softly, his chest feeling oddly tight. Something was welling up inside of him, uncomfortable and cold. It was easy to pretend not to see it, easy to look the other way when there was simply nothing anyone could do— as had become a regular coping mechanism for him. Avoidance. Willful ignorance.

But he'd never been able to turn away from anyone's painful honesty— not in good conscience. His throat bobbed and he turned his head to the side to look at Vivia, to really, actually look at him, a somewhat constipated expression on his face, his eyebrows furrowed like he was trying to read an instruction manual upside-down— impractical, but by no means impossible.

"I... I hear you," he murmured, something undefined flickering across his gaze. Yakou was by no means imposing or threatening, but it was far too easy to take him for a complete fool at first glance, to jump to the conclusion that nothing bothered him. That was part of what had kept him out of sight of the Peacekeepers for so long; no one ever expected to be bitten by a dog that was missing all its front teeth.

It was a little painful, admitting that he understood Vivia’s sentiment, but it was 2AM and they were two chronically depressed guys crammed together on a tiny, uncomfortable bed in a submarine that served as the ramshackle headquarters for their hopeless agency. If there was ever a time and place for him and Vivia to come to any semblance of mutual understanding.... he supposed it would be here. He supposed it would be now.

There was an openness to Vivia’s expression— not just a mopey, tired look, but a definitive vulnerability. His eyes were dark and circled with deep purple rings, his skin pallid, but as gaunt as he appeared, his cheeks were soft and round— devoid of makeup, his skin clear. Yakou had never actually been able to see Vivia up close like this.

He chewed at the inside of his cheek and turned over onto his side, fully facing him. A nervous chuckle bubbled past his lips. "I get it, uh... more than you might realize." He smiled then, soft and sad, his eyes curving up into half crescents.

Vivia, in turn, curled a lanky arm around Yakou's waist, just barely allowing the weight of it to settle there in case Yakou freaked out and pulled away. An empty gesture— both of them knew that he wouldn't. And when he didn't, Vivia used that arm to pull him a little closer, to get a better smell of that multipack soap.

"You said earlier..." Vivia started, rolling his head around to crack his neck, as the hot shower could only help the stiffness of spending all day in the fireplace so much, "...that we're both guys." Vivia felt an unfamiliar beating in his chest, a beating that hardly ached at all. He inched his knee forward until it brushed against Yakou's. "Would that be... a problem, for you?"

It was at once highly predictable and entirely unexpected. Yakou’s lips parted in muted shock. If he'd had one of the cigarettes he'd so desperately been craving in-between them, it would have long been lost. There was a feeling— not entirely unfamiliar, but almost reminiscent— in his stomach and in his chest, no longer that cold, uncomfortable tugging, but something warmer. Dare he say, hotter. If he played his cards right, maybe he'd find his lips occupied regardless.

Even in the face of Vivia's forwardness, Yakou was still, very much, Yakou. His own complete lack of smoothness didn't suddenly dissipate just because he had a pretty man in his bed touching him— a pretty man in his bed that he didn't even mind touching him.

"I'm... I'm pretty sure this goes against several workplace regulations," he managed, voice several octaves higher and breathier than his usual pitch. "But then again, haha... I guess we're off the clock..?"

Truth be told, he didn't mind. Yakou wasn't exactly a stranger to… this. Albeit, many of those relations had either entailed him being decidedly not sober, or in passing out (or pretending to pass out) before they could make it past second base— something that was true for both women and men.

He was nervous, but not because of the situation. Rather, he was nervous because of who it was with. He breathed out a shaky sigh and shook his head, a little shy, maybe a little sheepish. "I... I don't mind..."

Vivia let out a deep breath through his mouth, hot and humid where he nuzzled against Yakou's neck. (For a moment, Yakou almost forgot that Vivia wasn't actually a vampire.) He snaked his other arm underneath Yakou's waist, letting himself sink into the warmth of his body until their chests were pressed together and their knees had to slot between each other in order to not push each other off the tiny bed.

Being in such close proximity to Vivia was... indescribable. Dizzying, even— firm and alive and intense against him— the scent of his own soap mingling with the subtle notes of old books and woodsmoke, unique and memorable. Warm.

They stayed like that for a long moment, with Vivia's damp, wavy hair ticking Yakou's scruffy chin. Yakou was caught by surprise— he was sure that Vivia's ghostly skin would be cool to the touch, but heat seemed to radiate off of him. Maybe it came from being sickly. Vivia, for what it was worth, certainly didn't seem to mind.

"You're... warm..." said Vivia, his voice muffled against Yakou's neck.

"Yeah?" Yakou huffed out a chuckle. "You're one to talk— you're throwing off heat like a furnace."

Yakou raised his arm, his movements a little hesitant and unsure even with the open invitation, and brought his hand up to hover just above his waist for a few seconds, before dropping down to grab at the hem of the sweater Vivia was wearing. His sweater, he thought with a flare of something surging up inside of him— and rucking it up over the dip of his waist, where he laid his hand, thumb rubbing slow circles into the warm, soft skin there. He let his hand stroke up and down the length of his side in slow, careful motions— more to acclimate himself to the physical contact than to acclimate Vivia to his touch— pulling himself just a little closer, a low, pleased hum escaping him.

This... This was nice, he decided. He'd forgotten what this was like. Holding someone… being held. Allowing himself to be held in a way that felt like it mattered. Like maybe it even meant something.

Vivia felt much the same way— though he'd never been married, nor even really been in a relationship. It's not that he lacked all experience, necessarily... but he certainly hadn't shared a bed with a guy like Yakou before. Yakou, for all his blabbering and stumbling, really did seem to understand him in a way nobody else ever had.

So when Yakou's hand found its way to his already-sensitive waist, Vivia couldn't help the sigh that parted his lips, hotter still against Yakou's neck. He was too tired, too unyieldingly tired, to care if he was making a fool of himself.

When he wanted something, he wouldn't resist it.

Vivia squeezed his thighs together, pressing a languid kiss against Yakou's jugular— but only once, and then he was looking up at Yakou through those thick, dark lashes of his, violet eyes clouded over.

"Is this... okay..?"

Yakou felt his heart stumble and flutter in his chest, warmth staining his cheeks and his eyes widening. The raspy sound of Vivia’s voice combined with the quietly seductive expression in his eyes was so painfully effective on someone as easy and pliant as Yakou. It made him feel hot all over, tongue suddenly heavy in his mouth.

"Y-Yeah," he began, breathless, despite the fact that they hadn't even done anything.

(Yet.)

"This is..." Yakou swallowed dryly, adams apple bobbing. "This is more than okay."

He laughed airily, and he found himself arching his neck just so, as if granting Vivia further access– or maybe granting him permission. Still a little hesitant, Yakou reached down to wrap his fingers around the back of one of Vivia's thighs, hiking it up near his hip to bring the two of them just that much closer together.

Vivia moaned quietly, savoring the electric feeling that came from being manhandled, even if just a tiny bit. Being opened up, made to spread his legs so Yakou could get in closer, made him feel like there were burning coals in the pit of his belly. He lazily rocked himself against Yakou's hip, never one to deny himself a pleasure that was right in front of him.

Finally, he sank his teeth into the expanse of flesh Yakou presented to him, just barely hard enough to sting.

"Aa-ah— fuck—" Yakou hissed. It wasn't harsh, not by any means, but the effect it had on him was intense just the same, his cock heavy and hot between his legs. It was only a moment later, though, that Vivia lolled his head back, lips parted, silently begging Yakou to do the same to him. The fact that Vivia was just as affected by this as him was invigorating.

It took him a few seconds for Yakou to process what was being asked of him, brain promptly short circuiting, but nonetheless allowing him to duck down to return the favor. He moaned against the pale expanse of warm, soft skin, letting his teeth graze over it gently before sinking down just enough for Vivia to really feel it without leaving any marks.

Even the way Vivia gasped was slow, like he was breathing through thicker air than everyone else. He dug his nails into Yakou's shirt, rolling over onto his back so he wouldn't have to hold such an exhausting position to keep his legs spread wide for Yakou.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how Yakou looked at it), his bare, flushed face was even more irresistible, with those chapped lips hanging slack and those sleepy eyes equal parts bright and hazy. Vivia's fingers trailed under the hem of Yakou's shirt, spidery hands brushing against his ribs, and from those parted lips, he spoke.

"This is... what I want."

Yakou shuddered, his gaze flickering down, and he paused for a moment, blinking blearily, eyes wide as they roved over his form. All long limbs and pale, sunless skin that looked just as soft as Yakou knew it felt.

Seeing him rolling onto his back, his legs spread as if to accommodate him.... made him feel a little dizzy, and he spent just a little too long staring. Silently, he shook his head as if to clear it, starting to climb between his legs but pausing midway.

"Uh... umm... okay. Okay. Are we..." Yakou trailed off dumbly, getting distracted partway through his question and losing his train of thought. Vivia's resulting smirk twisted at something low in his belly, such that he had to snuff out the strong urge to whimper in response. Maybe it was self-explanatory, but there were a dozen ways this could actually turn out, and Yakou was far too out of practice to be hasty.

He shook his head again— he didn't want to have to move again, but the lube and his now inevitably long expired condoms were barely still within reach. After stretching to reach the small desk drawer closest to the bed (while Vivia sat and watched unhelpfully) to grab them, Yakou rolled back over to climb in between Vivia's thighs. His hands came down to stroke over his bare skin, experimental, almost reverent.

Glancing down between them, Yakou almost had to do a double take— a mumbled curse slipping from his lips before he even registered that he was speaking. In such an exposed state, with his sweater rucked up to expose the fine hairs trailing from his navel to the band of his boxers, very little was left to the imagination— Vivia was only half hard, but the stiffness behind that thin fabric was too big to ignore. If he were a lesser man, Yakou might have even felt intimidated by the sight of the defined outline of his length through the fabric of his boxer briefs.

(The choice in underwear made sense, Yakou thought. There was no feasible way he would have been able to keep it reliably tucked away in just regular boxers.)

Instead, all he could feel was impressed, his eyebrows raised up to his hairline. Vivia only seemed to part his legs further at Yakou's interest, letting his knees fall limply to either side as much as the narrow bed would allow. He wasn't used to being looked at or touched with so much wonder, so much desire— the look in Yakou's eyes alone was enough to make him visibly twitch in his boxers.

Vivia's gaze rolled slowly over to the bottle of lube Yakou had slapped down on the corner of his little desk that he’d designated as his nightstand. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth, an idle habit, as some color finally rose to his deathlike cheeks. "I'm tired," he rasped, "so if you wouldn't mind... being the one to... open me up..?"

Yakou didn't stop staring— the trajectory of his gaze only shifted from one wonder to the next, momentarily fixating on the way his pale skin looked when it was stained pink. He looked alive, like this, underneath him.

The question dawned on him a second later, where a snort of disbelief escaped him. He hadn't exactly expected anything else— Vivia, without question, would never do more than he felt was strictly necessary— and with a voluntary second participant present, it made perfect sense for him to rely wholly on Yakou's efforts.

Yakou didn't exactly have the best stamina, either, but he couldn't say he was opposed the idea. Not with how it made him throb. Not with how it made that warmth coiling low in his gut just the slightest bit tighter, with the idea of feeling him around his fingers, hot and needy.

There was no way he was going to last long enough to make this all worthwhile, but he'd be damned if he were to stop here.

"Y-Yeah," he wheezed, body protesting as he reached over for the lube on his nightstand— barely used, Vivia noted. Yakou set it down beside them, resettling himself between Vivia's spread thighs with a wince as his hands came up to thumb at the waistband of his boxer briefs. He glanced up to meet Vivia's lidded gaze, an indecipherable expression written across Vivia's face.

"I'm gonna..." He trailed off, the subtle arch of Vivia's eyebrow making him shake his head. They didn't need a narrator. He'd already been granted permission. He finished his sentence by carefully working the dark fabric down his narrow hips, shifting to pull them off of his long, long legs— he could have been a damn runway model... You know, if he didn't have such ungodly posture.

"Shit," Yakou hissed out, any amusement he'd felt from his own internal monologue promptly vanishing when he laid eyes on the sight of Vivia splayed out before him. It had an unprecedented level of effectiveness on him, visible in the way he had to close his eyes for a few seconds with his nails biting half crescents into his palms.

"Sorry," he managed, shifting a little closer and taking a deep breath. "I'm... horribly out of practice, and... you're very, uh... fuck. I'm bad at this. Words." He scrubbed a hand over his face with a grimace.

But Yakou's awkwardness only made Vivia smile. He looked no less exhausted than he did before, but the warmth in his eyes and the dimple in one cheek let Yakou know that the affection was genuine. "The music box... is still singing that same melody..."

With herculean effort, Vivia reached up to slide Yakou's shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside to the creaky chair beside the bed. He admired his tattoos, sliding his hands up his soft stomach, then down to his hips, hooking his thumbs under the elastic.

"I don't mind the music in the background, of course..."

Right, Yakou had to actively force himself to process what was being said to him— a very simple task when Vivia's fingers were tugging at the waistband of his underwear. Something about... Yakou was still worrying too much, but Vivia... still wanted to hear his voice, maybe? Did he want him to fuss a little? Maybe he still didn't understand, even with Vivia's earlier explanation.

Go with your gut, he internalized— roll with the punches. Adapt, but be yourself.

Yakou sighed softly, nodding, only narrowly biting back an apology— just a formality. The only times Yakou was really sorry were when he actually fucked up, or when he had to break bad news to his clients.

He scratched at the back of his neck with his signature grimace-smile. "Old habits," he said with a forced laugh, the sound dying in his throat when Vivia finally pulled his boxers down. He felt... a little shy, beneath his scrutiny, helping him work them down his soft hips, and then pulling them off completely. He was hardly middle-aged, but he knew his body really wasn't what it used to be— soft in some places, mildly toned in the arms and shoulders and chest, telltale signs of a predominantly sedentary lifestyle with definitively unhealthy eating habits— if you could even call them that.

Still, to his surprise, Vivia looked at Yakou like he was Adonis. Unwilling to sit up much, Vivia pulled Yakou's hips toward him, scooting himself down until his face was flush enough with Yakou's stomach to kiss him there. He left indulgent kisses by his happy trail, down to his cushioned hipbones, nibbling at his upper thigh— all the while completely unbothered by the way his stiffening arousal would occasionally prod at his chin and cheeks.

Yakou's jaw worked wordlessly, inhaling shakily— he could not keep it together to save his life. Especially not after having glanced down to see Vivia eye-level with his cock, not quite painfully hard yet, but well on his way there, now.

Vivia wiggled back up to his regular spot with his head on the pillow. "You're... mmh..." Vivia's cheeks tinged pink. "...really handsome."

Yakou stammered through a nervous chuckle. "You don't have to..."

He trailed off to find the expectant expression written across Vivia's face, and he deflated— the ‘flatter me’ went unsaid, but not unheard. Vivia’s challenge hung in the air. He didn't dole out praise without meaning it, and Yakou was, truthfully, flattered by his attention.

"I mean... hey," Yakou tried again with a wry grin, "that's supposed to be my line." He snorted, forcefully easing himself back into the playful, lighthearted air the agency usually associated him with as Chief. It was easier to flirt when it was under the guise of a joke— except Yakou was, decidedly, very much not joking.

"You don't even wear a real shirt and I still had no idea what you looked like under all that clothing," he continued. He gripped a supple thigh and spread Vivia open just a little wider, meeting his gaze as he reached for the bottle he'd placed on the bed beside them, thumbing at the inside of one of his knees and taking a deep breath as he uncapped the lid. It made Vivia moan once more, making him feel exposed in a way that made his heavy cock throb against his belly.

"I uh... I've already said this,” Yakou said, “but I'm really out of practice, so… tell me if I hurt you, alright?"

In all honesty, Vivia didn't mind if it hurt a little— but he knew that Yakou was the careful type, the type who would beat himself up mercilessly if he'd ended up hurting someone in the process of trying to make them feel good. So Vivia nodded, pulling off his sweater— Yakou's sweater— to ball up under his hips to keep them elevated.

"It's senseless to ask to play with the dragon if you're going to complain when its breath is hot," Vivia murmured. "But... if he starts breathing fire on accident, it's still good form to let him know. I think anyone would abide by that."

Yakou paused, squinting at him.

"Did you just refer to..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Nevermind," he breathed out, defeated— but that feeling was promptly displaced when he drizzled lube over his fingers and glanced down between them. He brought them down between Vivia's legs and carefully spread the cool substance over his entrance, agonizingly slow and cautious, but nonetheless inquisitive.

He wanted to look— but given the effect Vivia had had on him simply by being in close proximity to his cock, he wasn't completely confident that he would even be able to handle it. Hell, just feeling him like this made him shudder, his entrance fluttering against Yakou's fingertips, hot and unrelenting when he carefully prodded against him.

Experimental or not, Yakou did know he had to get him to relax. He brought down his unoccupied hand to graze over the length of Vivia’s cock, pressed flush up against his flat stomach, tracing over the shape before taking him into his hand and giving him a long, slow pull, thumb swiping underneath the crown on the upstroke as he worked slow circles against his perineum.

Vivia's head rolled back as he moaned wantonly— or, as wantonly as someone as soft-spoken as him could manage. Out of practice or not, whatever Yakou was doing was certainly working to loosen him up. All the tension in Vivia's creaky body melted away under his gentle hands, leaving him pliant and ready for Yakou.

As Yakou pushed one digit inside of him, perhaps a little too carefully, Vivia clutched weakly at the bedsheets with a slack-jawed groan. Yakou paused, but Vivia shook his head.

"Please," he managed almost drunkenly, melting further into Yakou's touch. "Don't stop..."

Hearing Vivia beg made something inside his brain short circuit— his cheeks flushed and his eyes wide, his cock painfully interested. Something about hearing that raspy, deep, inexplicably seductive voice cry out to him, hearing it plead for him, hearing it from a man normally so utterly unperturbed and unaffected by almost everything, had something deep inside of him stirring from its slumber. His already strung-thin patience weakened, as did the resistance of Vivia's body beneath him.

"Fuck," Yakou practically whimpered, continuing to clumsily stroke his long cock from base to tip as he worked a second finger inside of him alongside the first— a gentle push, a teasing curl against a bundle of nerves. Vivia jerked beneath him and inhaled raggedly, his normally lidded eyes wide and glassy. It made Yakou feel like he’d had the wind knocked out of him.

"I-Is... was that good?" he tried with a wince, his fingers worked inside of him until the second knuckle, carefully scissoring apart inside of him, then pressing yet deeper. Vivia's cock practically jumped in Yakou's hand when he brushed up against that spot again, and it drew a lewd, strangled sound out of his chest to match.

"Yes, yes," Vivia insisted. He tiredly rocked his hips against Yakou's hands, far too prone to self-indulgence to meter himself. He wasn't worried about lasting a long time.

A third finger joined the second not long after. The feeling of being stretched open made Vivia’s eyes threaten to roll back into his head. He wanted so, so badly to feel Yakou inside of him, to feel more than just his fingers— it was the most he had wanted anything in a very long time. It sparked something to life inside of him that he didn't know existed there, and that made tears rim his waterline, if only for a moment.

Vivia grabbed the meager strip of condoms, inspecting them not-so-closely before gazing back up at Yakou. For once, he didn't bother cloaking his words in metaphor— this was something he couldn't risk Yakou misunderstanding. "I've... been tested," he said quietly. "I'm clean."

"Wha— Oh," Yakou managed dumbly, "I mean... I didn't think vampires could get diseases, haha...."

He immediately grimaced. Why was he cracking jokes when he was fingering another man who was trying to be level with him for the first time ever?

"I…” Yakou groaned, shaking his head. “Sorry. Bad joke, bad joke. I'm clean too, but... is there a reason you don't want to use condoms?" Confusing as it was, he supposed it didn't really make a difference to Yakou— beyond the inevitable fact that they were going to get cum on his bed. He'd worry about it in the morning. Or, well... later in the morning, anyways.

Even for Vivia, the idea of coming up with some purple metaphor to cloak the truth when the truth was that he wanted Yakou to cum inside of him... was a little too embarrassing. Instead, he bit his tongue and covered his face with his arm to hide the sudden flush of his cheeks.

"I... like the feeling," he admitted. While he was hardly the bashful type in most situations, stating his desires so directly always made him feel shy. "It's not for any other... particular reason..."

Yakou's lips opened and closed a few times wordlessly before he finally gave a stiff nod.

"R-Right... uh... I guess that's fine then." Yakou blinked a few times before carefully, cautiously pulling his fingers out from inside Vivia to instead spread a liberal amount of lube over his own cock— hard and painfully unattended to, now. He was going to need to pace himself. When else would a guy like him have a score like this falling directly into his lap again? He didn't want to humor there being a second or third time— not with the future always being so uncertain, and not with his lack of faith in his own prowess.

He drew himself closer, their hips pressed flush together, his length nudging against Vivia's as he braced himself on his hands on either side of his head, looking down at him and feeling… oddly shy, beneath his gaze.

"H-Hey..." he began, continuing when Vivia hummed to indicate he was listening. "Can I... Is it alright if I kiss you? It's, ah, it's fine if that's not really your thing, but..." He scratched at his nape, a little sheepish.

Vivia's chest tightened. Yakou... wanted to kiss him? At first, he was certain that they were only doing this to put a balm on the sting of their mutual loneliness, but now... Now, he was feeling something as unfamiliar as it was unmistakable.

There was a reason Vivia always painted a teardrop under his eye. It was meant as a symbol representing the emotions he could always feel but could never quite properly show. It wasn't like he didn't want to. It wasn't like he didn't try. He was just... different, from other people.

But now, in the heat of this moment, he didn't need to paint anything on. A tear rolled down his cheek, replacing the one he'd rubbed off with Yakou's cheap multipack soap in the shower, and he nodded.

"...Please."

Yakou did well not to comment on it— he noticed, of course, with how closely he was watching Vivia's face for any sign of... uncertainty, fear, even disgust...

But while Yakou had long become hardened to the world around him, in laughing and smiling and joking around to disguise how broken and disjointed he really was both inside and out, he had reason to believe that the emotion— however fleeting— that broke through in Vivia was on par with what Yakou himself felt inside.

He didn't need to be asked twice— it was the first action that night he'd committed without uncertainty, that he'd enacted with confidence, leaning down and cupping his jaw in his hand as he pressed their lips together in a kiss.

There... were no sparks. There were no butterflies— the butterflies had died a long time ago and the candles had long been melted down, but there was... something. Something discernable. Something in his chest, raw and real and intense, a desperate craving he hadn't even realized he'd had resurrected from within him.

His other hand found the side of Vivia's neck, his tongue flicking over the other man's lower lip, begging for entry, and gratefully taking it when Vivia's lips parted— one, or both of them moaned into the kiss, lips moving together, at first careful and slow, but gradually declining into something hotter. Messier. Real passion alight inside of both of them— though Vivia's smoldered quieter, as everything about him did. His deep voice got pitchier the more Yakou explored his molars with his tongue and finally, finally, he couldn't take it anymore. The fatigue heavy in his limbs temporarily subsumed by his need, Vivia reached up and clung to Yakou, one hand raking painted nails down his back while the other tangled in his hair.

He wanted Yakou to fuck the life back into him. He wanted Yakou to fuck him until he didn't hurt anymore. He wanted Yakou to plug up all the leaks inside him, even if all he had to cauterize the wounds was the burning end of his cigarette. He wanted to die someday, but not tonight.

Vivia rolled his hips upward, a reminder, and then another one. "Yakou... please."

"Sh-Shit—" Yakou wheezed— panting against his lips, so utterly consumed by both his own need and Vivia's— so strong that it was practically tangible, that he'd temporarily forgotten that he still needed to breathe. "I'm right here," he managed, voice thin and breathless, "I got you..."

He reached down then– the hand that had found purchase on Vivia's jaw and cheek staying in place— taking himself in his hand with a soft hiss as he shifted his hips, guiding the head of his length down to press it against Vivia.

He pushed forward with a deep, guttural groan. He met some resistance at first, before Vivia seemed to just melt beneath him at will, taking him in like he belonged there, fitting so snugly and so hotly that Yakou was suddenly struck with the fact that he was no longer quite certain where he ended and Vivia began.

Long, spindly legs wrapped around him and urged him closer— a low, desperate moan escaping into Vivia's mouth from Yakou's lips— he didn't want to break the kiss, not yet, even if it barely even bore resemblance to a kiss at that point.

Every shallow thrust of Yakou’s hips only served to drag another sinful noise from Vivia’s lips, becoming the air that Yakou breathed. It wasn’t until Yakou ground his hips in a little rougher, however, that Vivia keened. His back arced tiredly off the bed, only holding its shape for a fraction of a moment before it fell again, but the message was loud and clear: whatever Yakou just did, Vivia needed more of it.

Between their bodies, Vivia’s cock lay dripping precum, even more so when Yakou started rutting up against his prostate with each thrust. “Yakou, right- right there is..!”

Yakou couldn't conceive how what he was doing was working, but he was glad that it was— fucking into Vivia harder, deeper, letting go of Vivia's jaw in favor of gripping him by his hip and thigh, clipped nails biting into his sensitive skin as he fought for purchase, pulling him into each and every thrust with vigor.

Vivia’s hoarse moans and whines formed a cacophony with Yakou's groans and wheezy gasps and the creaking of the springs beneath the rhythmic rocking of their combined weight. Their lungs and bodies protested, but the dopamine powered them through it all. It didn't matter if they'd feel it in the morning— just so long as they both got to keep experiencing this.

Yakou felt overcome by the sheer desire. The need he felt was so consuming that he'd become deaf and blind to the world around them— all that mattered was this, was Yakou fucking Vivia into his shitty little mattress until he cried out his name, until he made him feel almost every single thing he felt he was missing.

And it worked. Maybe it was the sudden rush of chemicals in his brain, maybe it was the feeling of being touched by another person, maybe it was the fact that it was Yakou, handsome and funny and comfortable Yakou— but Vivia did feel the things he had been missing. He felt all of them, he felt the overwhelmingness of all of them, and he welcomed the resulting feeling of breaking apart.

A sluggishly hurried hand found Vivia’s member, stroking himself with each of Yakou’s thrusts. Vivia didn’t last much longer, nor did he give Yakou any warning— he just sobbed, succumbing to the stars behind his eyelids and splattering his bare chest with thick splashes of white.

The French call it “the little death.” Somehow, spectral as he was even now, Vivia couldn’t see why. His heart was hammering harder than ever.

And Yakou caught it— the moment all of Vivia's seams and caution tape came undone. The sheer, unadulterated pleasure he was experiencing visible in the harsh lines of his body, drawn taut as he trembled and arched beneath him. It was perhaps the most emotive he'd ever seen him, and it was... dizzying. Knowing, for even a fraction of a fleeting second, that he'd been able to do this for him was electrifying.

He didn't cry out wantonly, didn't moan like he was being paid for it— which made it all the more validating. The fact that Vivia was expressing precisely how he felt, that he was really, truly enjoying himself.

“Yakou…”

Above him, Yakou's chest heaved, little wheezy gasps escaping him intermittently as the sudden, spasmodic tightness of Vivia's body sent him hurdling over the edge, with the call of his name sealing his fate. Yakou cried out, perhaps even louder and higher than Vivia, his pace faltering as he tried to ride it out, to fuck him through it— but he didn't have it in him. Even if he felt alive, his body was still heavily weighed down by exhaustion, his arms shaking beneath his own weight from holding himself up.

So he opted not to bother, instead collapsing on top of Vivia and burying his face in his neck, teeth finding the junction where it sloped into his shoulder and pressing in just the right side of too hard as he spilled, hot and thick, inside of him, the aftershocks of Vivia's orgasm milking it out of him. He couldn't fuck him through it, but he rode it out with deep, grinding thrusts that made Vivia gasp beneath him.

"Fuck, V-Vivia—" Yakou hissed as Vivia tightened around him— pulling a deep, guttural groan from Yakou as his cock pulsed deeper.

Vivia's eyes rolled back with the pleasure— he wasn't lying earlier. The feeling of Yakou welling over inside of him, filling him up with his heat and his love, made his grasp on what little lucidity he had feel like it was slipping away, replaced instead with blissful warmth. Vivia turned his head to the side so he could catch Yakou's lips in a tired, needy kiss, all tongue and teeth and hot puffs of breath.

Already, even as Yakou whimpered into his mouth, Vivia could feel himself drifting away. Sucking all the tension out of his body left him with nothing else to keep him upright. How long had it been since he last felt like this?

Still, as the siren song of sleep called out for Vivia, he could feel the tune of the music box ringing in his teeth, and that was enough to keep him at least half-awake. His arms flung themselves upward to wrap around Yakou, to cling to him, to keep him close. More tears rolled down his temples, getting caught in his hair. He didn't know what to say. For the first time in far too long, it felt like his mind slowed to a stop.

This kiss was languid and slow, indicative of their respective levels of wakefulness (or perhaps lack thereof.) Yakou panting into Vivia's mouth, and Vivia panting into Yakou's, their lips just barely moving together. Yakou sighed into it, bringing his hands up, cupping Vivia's face in one and curling into his hair with the other, threading through the roots, blunt nails grazing over his scalp in what he hoped would be a soothing motion.

He didn’t comment on the wetness bleeding into Vivia’s hairline— they'd gotten closer in more than just a literal way, but Yakou still didn't know Vivia.

He wanted to, though. Hell, he'd listen to him talk about his silly little books or wax poetic over the mundanities of his own appetite to the very concept of reality itself, and he'd do it happily. He didn't always understand what he said, but... like this, chest to chest, heart to heart, so impossibly close, this longing might as well have been his mother tongue. He wasn't disillusioned enough to believe that it was longing for Vivia specifically, at least not completely, but that really didn't matter when the sentiment was something that resonated so strongly within him.

Vivia’s heart was beating. His heart was beating, too. For now, that was understanding enough. Life was too short, too painful, too full of loss to look a gift love in the mouth. They both knew that.

The rain beat down hard on the metal roof of the submarine, just like it always did. Vivia's hand held Yakou's cheek, and Yakou leaned into the preternatural warmth of him, far from the first ghost he'd given himself away to. He watched as Vivia's bleary violet eyes finally slid shut, locking the mysteries behind them away, if only for the night.

That was alright. Even in his sleep, he was a dark shroud over the lonely nights in this hyetal prison, the hair of the dog working doggedly against his perpetual hangover. Maybe that was all he needed to know.

Tomorrow, they would wake up, and it would still be raining.