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angelstien · 7 months

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fear

- gojo satoru x reader

his best friend’s defection is still a hard topic for him to swallow, and it leads into an unexpected argument that spurs you to leave, only to unlock a new fear in him when you get into an unfortunate accident afterwards.

genre/warnings: angst, gojo being mean, one scene with a worried nanami *wink*, injured reader, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end

notes: *sigh* my coping mechanism is still gojo’s past arc, which is why this piece takes place on that timeline. just a little context: reader is in the same class with nanami & haibara and was in the same mission that took haibara's life. this is probably the longest oneshot i've written so far sooo… enjoy! :)

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

A year and a half had passed since Suguru embarked on his path as a curse user. In that one year and a half, Satoru had finished his last year at Jujutsu High, and now was in the halls of his alma mater, speaking to the newly appointed headmaster who was none other than his teacher.

"You're applying to become a teacher?" Yaga asked again with a frown. He still couldn't wrap his head around it. Granted, he was his most troublesome pupil. "Why, Satoru?"

"If I said it's because I want to train young sorcerers to be strong, would you believe me?"

That was not a lie. It was actually 50% of his main reasons anyway. The other 50% was to repent what he missed with Suguru when he chose his dark path—his contempt with the current system of this jujutsu world.

"I would," Yaga responded gruffly. To him, Satoru was irritating, but he also knew that he was also extremely capable, and thus everything he did wasn't just out of nowhere. "But you still have to submit your applications. We can't make an exception even if you come from a prestigious clan."

"That's fine with me," he grinned. "Thanks, sensei."

On summer days, he'd get reminded of Suguru and silly things they had done together. Eating shaved ice, cycling together, driving either you, Shoko or Nanami mad. Satoru missed those days, it hadn't been the same ever since. Not knowing if his best friend was alright—if he was still alive at all—was exhausting.

Sometimes, he felt like he was the only one who was affected by his departure, the only one who stayed right where Suguru left him. Shoko didn't seem ruffled, if anything she just went to more bars and pachinko parlors as of late. Nanami was always a recluse, he never disclosed his feelings. You mourned him, but it was clear that most part of you would always be more focused on Haibara's death.

Satoru understood that he couldn't force anyone to feel what he felt, and he had no right to. But sometimes, he just wanted someone to connect with at his level. Someone to get him just like Suguru did.

And so when he got back to his condo that night—just right next to the one he rented for Megumi and Tsumiki, since he had moved out of his dorm—to find his girlfriend there with a big smile and a tray of cupcakes, unaware of everything and anything, he merely scoffed to himself.

"Satoru, you're back," you acknowledged, beaming like the sunshine you were. "I just baked these for the kids. Do you want some?"

Usually he'd smother you, throw some pickup lines here and there and say yes, but today, he just felt drained. "No." And with that, he stalked away to the bathroom, not glancing back at you.

It was wrong. But tonight he just wanted some peace and quiet, and so keeping his silence seemed to be the best choice as he didn't want to start a pointless argument with you. But you weren’t anything but observant, and definitely noticed that something was amiss with him.

"Are you... alright?" You approached him warily after he came out of the bathroom with wet hair. "Where were you today?"

"Just somewhere," he replied curtly. Afterwards he turned on the hairdryer, drowning the whole place with the noise even as you stood behind him with a visible question mark.

But you were still there after he dried his hair. "Is something bothering you?" you asked with a tilt of your head, concerned. By all means, you mean well. You just wanted to know if he could use your help at all.

When you pulled that expression, he couldn't help but feel annoyed, like he wanted you to take a hint, but you just didn't. "If you know, then just shut it."

It was probably the first time since the two of you got together that Satoru actually said something harsh. But you still tried to be reasonable though, bless you.

"Satoru, I don't know what got into your nerves like this, but I think sleeping through it might help. Have a rest."

"Why are you talking as if you know it?" he snapped, finally turning to you with his cold gaze. "You might not know anything, so don't be a know-it-all. Just mind your own business."

Now you were frustrated with his reply. "Once again, I don't know what happened to you. But if you're taking it out on me because I'm the closest you have—"

"Who said that?" Satoru didn't know where he got all this venom from. It was just at the forefront of his mind and he just got the urge to spew it. "You're considering yourself closest to me? Where did you get that big head from?"

You were aghast, and you blinked a few times to get your bearings. "Let me guess, it's about Geto-san, isn't it? Or the higher ups. Either of that must be what causing you to blindly place your anger on me."

"So what if it was? It isn't like you'll understand anyway."

"Satoru," you started, trying to even your breathing. "What happened to Geto-san isn't your fault. I've been telling you this. It can't be helped—"

"Can't be helped?" he jeered. "Do you know why it's come to this?" his tone took a dangerous edge as he stepped closer. He reached for you, grasping your wrist.

"Maybe because I was too blind back then. If it weren't for you—if only I didn't spend that much time on you, maybe he would still be here."

Did he just say that? Did he just imply that he had regretted the two of you getting together?

You felt your lower lip start to tremble and something seemed to obscure and blur your vision, making it hard to see him clearly. "You... don't mean that."

"Really?" the corner of his lips curled into a disparaging smile. "You never know. Before you know it, this can be over already. After all, I could have anyone out there that I want. Maybe someone less nosey than—”

That did it. You wrenched your arm out of his grip violently, as your first tear fell. His smirk vanished too, replaced with a total stillness to cover his sudden panic that was followed by a sudden sinking feeling at the pit of his stomach.

"You selfish, self-obsessed jerk," you hissed through watery eyes. He was taken aback, even amidst your anger and possible fear of him, your still managed to throw daggers at him. "Fine. You have it. I'll see myself out."

Satoru never wanted you to leave. Honestly, he would've made you stay. But he wasn't in the right state of mind and it was too late to take back what he said. He didn't want to mess this up even further.

You left the cupcakes, even throwing it away just to spite him. Driven by pain and humiliation, you choked back your sob and didn't spare a glance at him as you shut the door.

Peace and quiet. There he had it, he thought as he clenched his fists, at the cost of everything else.

Leaving that condo, every step you took felt like needles piercing your shattered heart. You wiped your tears roughly. No, you refused to cry over such asshole. He made it clear, didn't he? Whatever it was that you two shared, it was at the cost of his best friend leaving him. So now the blame was on you.

If you were thinking clearly, you would've understood that his words were likely a result of his own pent-up pain and frustration that he had kept to himself for some while. But you had no patience for that or even pinpoint what you felt right now—anger, disappointment or dread, or perhaps all three. You just felt wrongly accused.

Your feet brought you back to your dorm in the school. Now it wasn't as bustling as it once were, after Satoru and Shoko's graduation, you didn't really get close to anyone. There was Ichiji, but he treated you more like a mentor rather than a classmate.

As you sank into the comforts of your bed, You replayed the events, trying to find where it went wrong—and found nothing. After all, you already said all that could be said. It wasn't just him who lost Geto, but you, Shoko and Nanami did too, but it was more convenient for Satoru to blame everyone else rather than trying to understand that they too shared this pain.

Nevertheless, you were disappointed. You didn't expect half of what he spouted, and it got you doubting everything you had.

"You've royally fucked up."

Satoru exhaled, glaring at Shoko through the corner of his eyes. "Yeah, maybe."

The reverse cursed technique user threw him with a blank stare, taking in everything from his disheveled hair to his wrinkled trousers. "Gojo, as much as I can’t care less about your sorry ass, I'm saying this not out of concern for you, but rather for Y/N. You are an asshole."

The puff of smoke she blew expanded to create a cloud-like shape. "Yaga-sensei was our teacher. His student is now a mass murderer and wanted dead. Can you even imagine how he feels? And I can't believe I'm saying this—but weren't there three of us?"

A week had gone by and instead of doing the right thing like trying to get into your good graces, Satoru was in Shoko's infirmary in the headquarters instead. He didn't exactly know what he was looking for by going here. Maybe some lingering taste of his happier student days, and Shoko was the only one remaining.

Three of us, huh... she was right. That was precisely why he came here after all.

"You're just sulking because it seems no one cares about your best friend being the best there is. But have you thought about how our juniors also lost Haibara? Right in front of their eyes? Haibara was our friend too."

He was wrong, of course he was. Satoru realized that now. But it felt wrong to ask for your forgiveness now, not to mention the disrupting thought he had—should he let you go for good altogether?

The phone suddenly rang with such fervor that made Shoko utter a swear word. She was on call duty for the rescue team today, and it was supposedly a peaceful day until Satoru decided to barge in to become her company. "Hello? Ichiji? What—speak clearly, I can't hear you."

She switched it to loudspeaker. "...iri-san! Ieiri-san—h-help—please—"

It was noisy, and blaring at the same time, and Ichiji was... Sobbing? Choking? His voice was terribly muffled and—

"L/N-san!" he cried, and Satoru remembered at that moment that you should be in a mission with Ichiji, he remembered you telling him before.

"Hic—s-she fell... hic—she fell! B-blood! She i-is bleeding so much! I-Ieiri-san—hic—s-send help! Please!"

"Hey, stay awake. Breathe. Just breathe."

Everything hurt. Most notably, your head. You could hardly think straight when all you felt was blinding pain and how your breaths came in short wheezes.

Your vision was blurry. The numbness had started to set in and chills ran up and down your spine. You couldn't make out who in front of you was. Was it Ichiji, who went with you in this mission? The only thing that glared was blue.

"You can't sleep, you hear me?" the voice was commanding, willing you to do his bidding. It was familiar, but usually his tone of voice was much lighter, happier.

Satoru.

But why was he here? He wasn't in this mission. It was supposed to be a mission for you and Ichiji.

You remembered getting the cursed spirit after manifesting your domain expansion, until in its last ditch attempt, it went after Ichiji. You had no choice—even when your cursed energy had burned out, you still shoved him away at the cost of being flung from the top of a building.

Not again. Not after Haibara. You’d gladly pay the price if it meant you didn't have to see anyone die in front of you again.

"I..." You managed to croak out—breathing hurt, and you felt your hands being grasped tightly.

"Hey, just breathe. Y/N. Look at me.” Through your blurry haze, you focused on that cold blue, and you saw him. Satoru's sharp eyes, pursed lips and frown. He's really here.

Satoru always said that if there was a cursed spirit apocalypse, then Ichiji would be the first to die. You used to scold him for that, but now as you a laid here possibly dying in your own pool of blood, you found it to be true.

Yet at the same time you knew that with him here, Ichiji must be safe already, and it gave you reassurance so great even when you were on the verge of dying. "I... can't..."

"Yes, you can. Just look at me," he firmly rebuked, his voice came out in a hiss. For all the time you had been with him, you had never heard him so forceful. "If you close your eyes now, I won't forgive you. So please, just hang in there."

It was a struggle to take in any air and darkness encroached on your vision as your consciousness began slipping away.

And everything faded to nothingness.

Satoru honestly thought he had no fears. His worst fear had fully realized after all—Suguru going away into the darkness. What more could he possibly fear?

But when he heard Ichiji's distress call for rescue team, about how you fell from a rooftop of a building and unconscious, he realized that it was a fear he didn't know existed. His mind got disoriented and he teleported to the scene on impulse. He just had to see it for himself. With their petty argument still lacking closure, he felt even worse.

And the sight before him gave him so much fright he never thought was possible.

It was a mistake, he should have brought Shoko along.

You had laid there like a broken doll, eyes dim, and not been able to breathe. He desperately tried to keep you awake, his presence beside you, yet it didn't seem to matter. He watched helplessly as you passed out in his arms.

Satoru felt nothing. The panic that had set in was suddenly gone as your limp body slumped against him, replaced by incessant ringing in his ears and tremor wracking his nervous system. It wasn't long until the rescue team came to retrieve you and even then he still felt numb. He rejected the idea that you might possibly die on him.

That went on until Shoko, who assisted in the emergency treatment, came out of the surgery, sweat on her forehead.

"It's even worse than the aftermath of the guardian deity mission last year," Shoko explained with a grim expression. "Her brain has sustained damage and it affects everything. It may take her quite a while before she can go back to the field."

When she said that, Satoru felt the terror washed over him again. You almost died—was all he perceived.

The two of you had no contact for a week just because of his ego. He could still recall that day with vivid clarity, feeling a burning ache in his chest. If someone were to ask him what heartbreak was like, now he certainly would he able the to tell them the two instances in which he experienced them. What he felt now mirrored the same stinging sensation he had felt when Suguru had left him.

He visited you when he was allowed to, and you were still unconscious, with many machines connected to your body. It was a sight he still couldn’t bring himself to get used to. He had seen you injured before, but never seen you in your own pool of blood, so this made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Stupid," he whispered, gently rubbing your forehead. His eyes remained fixated on you as you rested, his insides still churning with emotions. "You're not weak, and you're not hopeless." Once upon a time, Satoru might have thought of you as weak, but now he knew better.

"So why you always pick the worst decision?" The more he thought this could've been avoided, the more irked he was. The thought that he could have done something to prevent it intensified the sting of guilt, and he continued to punish himself with it.

And the more he dwelled on the idea that he had hurt you prior to this, the tighter his breath became.

But that was who you were. Self-sacrificing to a fault. And he loved you for that. There was no way of him letting you go now.

It astonished even himself—that he was capable of this love thing. At first it was an attraction, but now that you had been going on for more than a year, it felt like it was no longer a silly infatuation after all.

"Hurry and wake up, will you?" Satoru gently brushed your hair aside, his eyes fixed on you. He didn't know it even as his gut twisted, his frown deepened and his touch quivered, that he was worried sick. "I have a lot to make up for."

And he left you with a tender brush of his lips against your forehead.

Nanami Kento was the first person you saw when you awoke from coma.

You struggled to regain your senses, still feeling absolutely broken. The dull throb on the back of your head was still there, and as if you had found yourself trapped in a fog, you were only able to move sluggishly.

"You're awake?" his gruff voice greeted, laced with concern. In his hand were a bucket of fresh flowers and fruits basket, which he soon placed at the table next to your bed.

It was unexpected, because ever since the tragedy that costed Haibara's life, the two of you had been drifting apart.

You nodded, and let out a hum in response—all you could manage at the moment.

"Thank God." Nanami sounded relieved as he pinched the bridges between his eyes, and you were moved that he had shown this degree of concern. Your remaining classmate, who suffered the burden of Haibara's life just like you. He was always quiet or brooding somewhere, hiding his own feelings.

You felt tears prickling at the corner of your eyes. The fact that he visited you meant that he hadn't decided to cut you out of his life yet.

"Gojo-san is out today, but he'll be back by afternoon," he said, mistranslating your tears as some sort of a want to have your annoying—ex?—boyfriend at your side.

The two of you were still not on talking terms, weren’t you?

You so badly wanted to say thank you to him—and tell him that no, you weren't looking for Satoru—but it came out hoarse and barely above a whisper.

"Huh?" Nanami then realized what you were trying to say, and a faint smile graced his lips. "Just... get well soon, L/N. Have a good rest."

Just before you drifted back to sleep, you could hear him sigh and mutter, "Hello, Gojo-san? L/N has awakened. Just letting you know is all.”

You weren't sure how much time had passed when you woke up the second time, but the curtains were already drawn and only darkness came from the window. Your body felt lighter, but you still felt like a mess and and couldn't help but groan in discomfort.

Satoru was there, he perked up at the noise you made. And you realized that it was the first time in about a week that he faced you after that disasterous almost-breakup.

He walked up to you, his expression was more hopeful than you had ever seen him before, like a kid whose wish had been granted. He slowly shifted to sit beside you.

"Hey, welcome back." His voice was soft. It was a change of pace for him, as you were used to seeing him all loud and silly.

Now your voice no longer sounds like a lead. "Hey."

"How are you feeling?" he asked and you took a moment to look at him. He was smiling, but exhaustion reached his bright eyes, dimming them. "You know, with the whole you passing out and almost dying thing?"

His words were almost humorous as he spoke, like he didn't know what else to say except try to lighten the mood, but there was also a strain on his tone, like he was holding back.

"I'm quite fine now, I suppose..." You still felt the lingering pain and dizziness as you slowly sat up. Satoru reached out to steady you—and you realized how his fingers trembled when they made contact with your body—as his brows furrowed with worry when you winced.

"You don't look like it though." His voice dropped and the humor was gone, replaced by this haunted look. You blinked. It was probably the first time you had seem him this ruffled.

He immediately pulled you into a hug, cradling your head to his neck gently, as if to protect and shield you from the world altogether. Exhaling heavily, he leaned on you. "You scared me, you know that?"

You wondered out loud if you really had that hold over him. "Did I?"

"You can't do that to me, you hear?" Satoru stroked your hair, nuzzling his face on the crook of your neck. His voice quivered. “Don't ever do that again.”

He pulled you tighter against him, but still careful not to crush you.

You let out a snicker, letting go of everything you felt during this horrible week. "Heh, afraid to lose me, huh?"

"Shut up. What were you thinking anyway? How did you calculate that freefalling is better than letting that cursed spirit attack Ichiji?"

"He was defenseless. He could die, you know that."

"And you also can," he quipped, upset, pulling away enough to look you squarely in the eyes, his eyes devoid of any expression, yet filled with a raging wave that you could only interpret as undiluted concern.

The emphasis in his tone made you recoil and feel guilty. If you were in his shoes, you probably would've said the same thing and so you had nothing to say to that.

But the more pressing agenda in the list was the unspoken silent treatment the two of you saw fit to use against each other for the last few days. Satoru was the one who decided to address it first.

"About that night..." he faltered, looking away. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm sorry."

Satoru always had trouble processing emotions. This time too. He must've a hard time dealing with the anxiety caused by the possibility of him losing you for good, no matter how much he tried not to be unaware of it.

"..." You wanted to respond, to make him understand your point, but somehow right now you were just too weary. And he sensed your reluctance. So you blurted the first thing that gnawed at your mind.

“You said you could have any other women out there—”

"No, really—" he started to panic, and it was blatantly too, which surprised you. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry. I don't regret anything. Us. I’m not breaking up with you. Being with you is the happiest I've been ever since Suguru left."

“That's...” you blinked, before letting out a small sigh. “Okay, fine then. Let's just put it behind us for now.”

“I—” he almost wheezed, his bright blue eyes were overtaken with sheer urgency to explain how wrong everything had been that night. “You must know that I didn’t mean any of it. And that I hate hurting you the way I did. Y/N, I won’t—”

"Satoru, I understand," you let out another sigh, fidgeting with your fingers. "Sometimes when I’m reminded of Haibara, I also get sad. I don't want to presume but I think I know how you feel. Just next time, maybe," you shifted your gaze on him, seeing how you had his attention fully. Gojo Satoru, the strongest now, was looking at you as if you had his fate in your hands. "Just tell me if you need space and I would have understood."

"Yeah, okay, sure," he responded immediately, relieved, before a lopsided grin appeared on his face, turning him back into your dork slash boyfriend. "So, am I forgiven now?"

"A thank you would be nice."

In the end, he chuckled, seemingly resigned. "You should sleep more."

He positioned himself into bed next to you, and you let him pull you into his chest again. You could feel how his taut back started to relax upon the contact. He pressed his lips on your forehead in a fleeting kiss.

"Promise me you won't pull that stunt again.”

You smirked. "I can't. What if Ichiji—"

"Then just let him die."

You swat his arm playfully, pressing your head to his chest as he continued to run his fingers on your hair. He cushioned you carefully, and you felt the tension in him slowly melt away with each breath you took. In your mind, you figured he needed this closeness more than you did, if anything, for the sake of his sanity.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered by your ear, kissing it lightly.

“Mmhm.”

As you felt Satoru's calming presence, it helped ease you into slumber. You soon found yourself in a deep sleep, comfortably held in his embrace.

Epilogue

Ichiji gulped as Satoru stared him down, sizing him up as if he was the most despicable creature on this planet.

Okay, he might be. He was a coward, all he could do was trembling in the face of evil. But he had come in peace, even bringing fruits as an offering! He felt bad too that he was the partial cause for you to be this injured.

He was used to Satoru terrorizing him—calling him names, slapping him, and whatnot—and he could take it. Just this time, he really looked like he could murder him on the spot if he wanted to. A small part of Ichiji mourned that you were his girlfriend, because that pretty much sealed his fate that Gojo Satoru could indeed murder him on the spot because he had a valid enough reason to.

"You are—"

"No! I'm sorry, Gojo-san! I'm sorry for my incompetence!"

"Hah?"

If he was mildly irked before, now Satoru was visibly irritated.

"You're not cut out to be a jujutsu sorcerer," he started. "You're useless. You just get in the way most of the time."

Ichiji kept his head down. No, no. He can't cry!

"Get your driving license or I'll slap the shit out of you."

"Oh?" and before he knew it, Satoru had stalked away, leaving him in the dust. How rude! But...

Get a driver license? Quit the jujutsu work?

Hey, that sounds like something I can do!

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angelstien · 1 year

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SOLAR NOON ┊ NISHINOYA YUU

synopsis: in the efforts to run from your own self worth and the mundaneness permeating your everyday life, you meet a man that might just set you free.

tags: NSFT, AFAB reader, strangers to lovers, holiday romance (heavy on the romance), mild language barrier (Noya’s basic English is pretty good; brief uses of Japanese), sexual tension, reader is having a bit of an existential crisis, no reference to readers height, vaginal oral sex (reader receiving), protected (vaginal) sex, awkward sex mishaps, use of sex toy (vibrator; reader receiving)

wc: 9k

a fic (that got a little out of hand plot-wise) for @spacelabrathor and @titan-fodder's better than fiction collab. thank you for letting me participate, I can’t wait to read everyone’s work!

The first step out of the plane onto the stairway is always overwhelming, a welcome wall of hot air hitting your body. You had tried to dress appropriately ahead of time, already in loose fitted pants and a vest top, yet you still feel the material cling uncomfortably on your skin.

There isn’t a cloud to be seen; the sky, a vast blanket of blue that connects seamlessly with that of the ocean in the far off distance. As you step onto the tarmac you feel heat pooling through the soles of your shoes, and let yourself smile.

Being alone in another country was frightening and came with a lot of risk, as does anything in life. But there was something comforting about the blank slate it offers you — no one knows you here, the pressure to mask or conform for the sake of others is no longer held over you.

Security, necessary as it is, would always be the most uncomfortable part of the journey. Once given the go ahead you make your way deeper into the airport. The cool air circulating throughout the building at least provides you some relief from the heat as you follow behind a line of other passengers to the conveyor belts.

Your eyes are drawn to a young man standing close by the first curve of the belt, rocking his weight back and forth onto the balls of his feet as he leans forward each time a new suitcase appears through the curtains. He’s shorter than average, but broad, and appears to be around your age. The cutoff sleeves of his t-shirt have been rolled up even higher to sit atop his shoulders, displaying his toned biceps and the obvious tan line that begins where his sleeves should sit. When his head turns to follow the appearance of another plain looking suitcase, as if to double check it weren’t his, you see the blonde curl hanging through the buckle of his backwards cap.

Cute.

Anticipation grows as evermore baggage leaves the mouth of the conveyor and you inch closer as you spot your own finally taking its place on the belt. Focused only on retrieving it, glaring anxiously as other holiday goers crouch to check the name attached to the handle, you don’t notice the man's approach.

“Kore des— Is this yours?”

You startle slightly at his voice, the accent thick but he stresses each word as if to dull it. He bends forward to pick the suitcase up from the belt before it continues by your shins, distracted by his interruption, and now by the flex of his arms as he lifts the baggage.

“Yes, it’s…” you flip the tags to double check, exhaling at the familiar handwriting, “…it’s mine. Thank you”.

By his feet sits a large duffel bag, presumably his own luggage. He beams, rubbing nervously at the nape of his neck with one hand and holding out the other.

“My name is Yuu,” he says as you return the handshake, resolutely ignoring the brush of his index finger against the soft skin of your wrist. Your lips part to reply, but you are silenced by the ring of an alarm and the echoing voice of an English woman announcing that the transfer coach for your hotel is now boarding.

Yuu seems to perk up at the hotel name, his pupils tracking your hasty movements as you pull up the trolley handle of your case. “Yours too?” He grins, shucking the strap of his bag over his shoulder, unperturbed by the weight.

“Yes, I think so,” you reply as you start towards the exit, anxiety simmering beneath your chest at the thought of missing the bus. Yuu seems to hold no such concern, fingers curling into a victorious fist.

“Race you!” he calls, speeding ahead with his duffle bouncing against his back with each stride.

Yuu was handsome, undeniably so. His eyes had been bright and genuine, his smile lifting the blossoming swell of his cheeks, so unashamed in his pursuit of your companionship. And yet it didn’t come across as forceful or unsettling, you felt drawn in by him. Despite his short stature he appeared larger than life, and instinct told you that this meeting held the possibility of making your trip unforgettable.

So you exhale an incredulous breath of laughter, dipole strengthening as his figure grows distant, heart palpitating in excitement. Quietly thankful for the four rotating wheels on your suitcase, you begin to run in the same direction.

He beats you, as expected of his head start, and once you finally pile onto the bus there’s a twinge of disappointment at the realisation that you do not have the choice to sit with him. Most of the seats are already taken.

You resign yourself to sitting beside an older woman in the back, passing Yuu’s row as you go, and biting back a grin as he pouts at you desperately. Though you couldn’t take the window seat there was still plenty to be seen; Sardinia was even more beautiful than you’d anticipated, more beautiful than any picture could capture. The island is mountainous, enshrouded in green and ringed by beaches, a colourful city built into the curve of the valley.

Though the island is big, the journey feels short. The hotel itself is more so a series of apartments, nestled right on the coastline. You lose sight of Yuu at some point between arrival and check in as you are swept into a small group of people sharing the other apartments on your assigned floor.

With one hand curled around the handle of your luggage and a large key card in the other you step into the small flat. The space is narrow, lacking the openness that you find typical for studio apartments. Every room is notably separate but similarly decorated, off white walls and orange patterned tile beneath your feet, most of the natural light is flooding in from the wide balcony doors.

This would be home for the week. Such a stark contrast to everything you’re used to. It felt like somewhere you would only come to sleep, as if the architects knew that most of your time should be spent appreciating the island.

Your phone chimes, startling you into the present. The device burns a hole in your pocket, weighted with all the problems you were dutifully ignoring, and all the friends you were pushing away.

Life had crept up on you, an unsuspecting frog in a pot of water, slowly bringing you to a boil. Wake, eat, work, eat, shower and sleep; every day looked the same, endless hours spent labouring and retiring to your dingy flat as the clock struck 5pm.

Running wasn’t the best long term solution, that much you knew, but you needed time to think.

All around you, the people you loved were moving forward with their lives, falling in love and accepting promotions and having children. You felt stagnant. There must be more to life than this, you’d thought. There must be something only you can do, someone only you can be. And maybe, to find that person, you simply needed a change of scenery.

And yet as you unlatch the balcony door and step out into the evening Sardinian heat, you cannot help but realise that no matter where you ran, you would always be yourself.

Even in a place as beautiful as this, there’s the temptation to stay locked up in your room. But you will yourself to go back downstairs towards the lobby, which is much emptier now that the guests have been assigned to their rooms. Your feet take you towards the restaurant, slightly abuzz given the time, the gentle warmth of the sun blowing in through the wide open doors that lead to the pool area. The bar is nestled just outside of those doors, surrounded by various occupied tables and chairs, dotted by bright teal and sunflower yellows parasols.

The surface of the bar is warm against your forearms, having soaked up the summer heat. The bartender grins widely, deepening the crows feet by his eyes, the sincere friendliness disarming you.

“Buonasera,” he nods in greeting, “what would you like?”

“Just a Mai Tai, please,” you reply and he moves to grab a glass, scooping some ice into it. Remaining hunched over the counter, you peek around your shoulder to take in the expanse of the pool. There seem to be multiple levels of depth, one corner only a few inches deep so that a few sun loungers could be placed safely in the water, another area walled off to house a jacuzzi. The sun was beginning to dip beneath the covers of the ocean, a gentle orange hue reflecting back off the surface of the sea, glistening with every ripple as if it were breathing.

The Mai Tai is placed in front of you, the glass cool against your palm and damp with condensation. It quells the dryness in your throat, palate overwhelmed by the sweet pineapple and the tart of the grenadine.

It’s as you’re enjoying the first sip that you feel someone sidle up beside you, bumping their shoulder lightly against yours in an overly familiar gesture.

With a startled inhale, Yuu comes into your peripheral view. He’s changed into a vest top, the fabric hanging loosely, plunging at his chest and framing the sparse freckles across his collar.

“It’s you again,” you breathe. Something untwists in your chest at his presence, a feeling akin to relief.

“It’s me,” he concedes cheekily, only taking his eyes off of you to order himself a drink by pointing towards an image on the menu board, seemingly not able to shape his mouth around the name.

His hair is damp beneath his cap, still sitting backwards on the crown of his head. He smells faintly of vanilla and cedarwood, but there’s a hint of salt water that indicates he had already found his way into the ocean at least once.

Lost in your appraisal of him, you almost miss that he’s speaking to you again. “Sorry, what did you say?”

The corner of his lips twitch, a veil of amusement slipping over his expression. His cheeks are pinker than before, you note.

“Aikurushii,” he murmurs, quietly thanking the bartender with a nod as his drink is placed on the bar. You aren’t sure what he’d said, but the word was spoken fondly.

“I asked what your name is”.

“Ah, that’s right…” you hadn’t had the chance to earlier, introductions cut short by a lack of time and your impromptu race. Clutching your glass a little closer against your chest, fingers slipping around the curves, you give him your name.

He repeats it to himself, and then to you, as if he were testing how it felt in his mouth. Given the thickness of his accent it takes him a few tries before it sounds native, his experimentation with the pitch and intonation of the letters causing you to smile bemusedly.

“I like it,” he announces as he lifts his own drink towards you, the colours of his Tequila Sunrise mimicking that of the sky, “it’s pretty — like you!”

There’s a gentle clink as your glasses meet in the middle, a habitual ‘cheers’ slipping past your lips, smiling as you take another sip. Heat flushes through your body independent of the sun, your heart like a hummingbird while you drink. You wondered how he could be so disarming, so charismatic, that his obvious flirting came across as entirely harmless. It was just that; flattering and genuine, not seeking reciprocation.

“I like yours, too,” you offer lamely, the prospect of flirting back a little too daunting while you’re still this sober, “what does it mean?”

His back straightens with obvious pride and he reaches for a napkin, eyes darting the length of the bar before he hastily reaches over to grab a pen from beside the register. The ink is a little dry and the tissue tears beneath the friction, but he writes his name out in what you assume to be Kanji.

“The meaning is… different with other kanji,” he slides it towards you, “written this way it means…”

He clicks his fingers impatiently, and you allow him a moment to mentally untangle the translation before he speaks again. “Evening sun!” he recalls.

“Evening sun,” you hum in contemplation, thumb brushing over the jagged lines of pen pressed into the napkin. He leans against the heel of his hand and watches you, the other idly playing with the decorative umbrella in his drink.

“It doesn’t fit, right?” he eventually huffs, voicing your thoughts. It wasn’t something you were going to say outright, nervous that it would be rude — and it wasn’t that the name didn’t suit him. It did.

But the meaning was a little askew. Even after only two brief interactions, you knew Yuu was nothing like the evening sun. Sunsets were beautiful, but they were also sombre, a slow descent into sleep. Yuu was blinding, he drew your attention and lit everything he touched.

More of a solar noon, you think.

“I like it,” you recite in a moment of bravery, “it’s handsome — like you”.

It’s a bit embarrassing to see the bartender turn away in the corner of your vision, head tucked to his chest to hide his smile at the display. Yuu’s lips part in surprise, his ears burning red and throat bobbing as he swallows. Then his teeth sink into the inside of his cheek to restrain the grin pulling at his mouth.

At some point you both move toward one of the many outdoor tables. Despite his occasional struggle with speaking English, conversation passes easily when paired with laughter and alcohol; specifically, alcohol disguised too closely when mixed with fruit juice. It loosens your tongue, seduced by the gentle breeze that rolls in from the choppy ocean waves and drawn in by Yuu’s subtle yet casual touches.

As the evening continued the sun had tucked itself in, the patio now coolly lit only by the light from the restaurant and the lanterns littered around the pool. Drinks side by side, his index finger unfurls to touch yours before it returns to the glass. “You’re here alone too?” he asks.

“I am,” you assent heavily, the answer coming as more of a sigh. Sleep was beginning to weigh on your limbs, a buzzing numbness spreading throughout your body, but you didn’t want the night to end.

“And only for a few days…” he thinks aloud, nudging his foot gently against yours “… you didn’t want to come with a friend?”

“They were all busy and this trip… it was a bit spontaneous—”

“Spontaneous?” he interrupts, the bridge of his nose faintly wrinkled in confusion.

“Not planned,” you elaborate again, unphased by the disruption, “I decided one day that I needed a break. I wanted to come alone”.

He makes a small noise of understanding, which you appreciate, and the conversation grows quiet. In the distance you can hear the long laps of the sea against sand, trees bristling under the breeze, and you lift your foot slightly to press against his ankle.

“Do you believe in having a purpose?” you mumble.

Yuu watches you heavily, eyes alight and calculating, giving the impression that he could see through all your bravado.

“Purpose?”

“As in… something that makes only your life meaningful”.

“Like destiny?” he tilts his head curiously.

You hum an uncertain affirmative, and his expression twists in confusion. It was entirely possible that he wouldn’t understand the question, vague and philosophical as it was.

His resolute “no” surprises you, his brows drawn together and tight in a thoughtful frown. “There is no one set path in life, that’s what makes it so fun! There's so many possibilities”.

The joy is contagious. You smile. “You really think so?”

He reaches across the small table to grasp your free hand, his palms warm and rough, much bigger than your own. Instinctively, your fingers curl up to thread through his, and he squeezes triumphantly.

“Shimizuno butaikara tobioriru,” he says with theatrical monotony, like he were telling you something profound, “it’s a… prov…”

“Proverb?”

“Proverb!” —he beams, whispering conspiratorially how it is ‘the only one he remembers from high school’— “it’s about taking risks and hoping for the best. Waiting for purpose is like waiting for death, you have to go out and look for it!”

The sentiment is both comforting and daunting. It would be easier, you think, to have your life follow a set path that never strayed; but that was exactly how you’d been living until this point. It was exactly what you were running from.

“Thanks Yuu,” you murmur softly, and he grazes his thumb along the dips and peaks of your knuckles. The night comes to an end as your jaw stretches with a yawn. He insists on walking you to your room, and takes a large amount of persuasion on your part for him to settle on leaving you by the elevator.

“Come with me tomorrow morning,” he stands a little straighter in his enthusiasm, eyes consciously flickering to the changing numbers above the elevator doors, “I’m going on a boat trip to one of the coves. I want you to come”.

Take the leap, you think.

“Okay”.

Morning comes. The curtains are drawn, the light barely shut out from behind the thin fabric. Lying on your side facing the window, you force your eyes closed in complaint, sluggishly blinking to adjust to the brightness. Your phone is buzzing in place on the bedside table, vibrations inching it closer to the edge with each ring.

Vision bleary, you squint to read the text on the screen. Most of the notifications had been your alarm: ‘Yuu @ 11AM’ written below the digital clock in all capital letters. The rest were from friends and family, inquiring where you were and why you left.

Your thumb hovers for a short while over the call button, only to be interrupted by another alarm. You’d set multiple the night before after parting ways with Yuu — you knew yourself well enough, knew you’d try to crawl back into bed as you always wanted to.

Not today.

Yuu is waiting exactly where he said he would be. Today he opted for some brightly coloured mid thigh swim shorts and a black vest top, no cap in sight to cover his golden kiss curl. You pull your beach bag further up your shoulder, clutching tightly at the strap.

It takes less than five minutes after meeting him in the lobby for you to realise that Yuu is very much a morning person. He talks a lot, not just with his words but his body. He’s tactile, but in a casual way, as if it were natural for him to press a palm to your lower back mid conversation as a new distraction takes hold of him along the pier.

Oddly enough, it feels natural for you too.

“Look!” he exclaims, accompanied by a drawn out sound of awe. Following his line of sight your gaze falls upon an egregiously decorated stall on the promenade, loud and decorated in every colour you could imagine. Two stands are placed either side of it, each adorned with large sunglasses in various sizes and shapes.

Yuu picks out the most flamboyant pair from the rack, big heart shaped lenses in iridescent pink, the frames covered in glitter. He slides them onto the bridge of his nose, gesturing to them with his hands and raising his eyebrows.

“They look good, right?” his smirk lifts into a crooked grin when he adds ‘sexy’ in a thick Japanese accent. The two women passing by find him amusing, his back straightening in pride at their girlish laughter, and you find yourself again attracted to his natural charm.

It’s true that the sunglasses were ridiculous, but you quietly conceded that they looked good on him. You could assume that anything would when worn by someone so magnetic. Part of you wants to put the damn things back on the rack just so everyone would stop looking at him. In the end that isn’t necessary, because he pulls them off himself, turning them over carefully between his fingers and gently sliding them onto your face.

“Better on you,” he muses and a wave of heat rushes through you. From behind the lenses Yuu is tinged with a cherry pink, the hue completely covering the blue of the sky into a soft purple.

The man behind the stall, presumably the owner, stretches across to tap roughly against the sign propped above the rack. It reads €10.

“I got it,” Yuu calls as he slides the €10 note onto the surface of the wooden counter. Completely unperturbed by the slight possibility that he’d agitated the local, simply resolving the issue with ease and a lazy grin.

You envied how free he was within himself.

The sun beats down onto your bare shoulders, a dull and telling sting beginning along the bridge of your nose beneath the frame of the glasses. You pull them off, tucking them into your beach bag.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmur as the two of you continue on foot, milling slowly through the sparse crowds that have gathered around the seafront.

He tilts his head to watch you expectantly, and you resist the urge to shrink beneath his undivided attention.

“What made you come here?”

He hums, lifting a hand to shield his eyes and holding out the other in front of him as if he were searching for something. “I found a map and—” he begins to mutter in Japanese as he loosely wiggles his fingers, the tune familiar to your ears. It reminds you a little of ‘eenie meenie miney mo’.

“—bam! I put my finger down, and it was on this island!” he grins, and you can’t help but mirror his expression, amused by his own impulsivity.

“So then you just bought the next ticket here?” you laugh incredulously, and he nods.

“Why?”

“Why not?” he counters, widening his stride to gently nudge his shoulder against your own.

The dock comes into view, and your eyes immediately fall upon the tour boat nestled beside a large pontoon. It is entirely white aside from the green net stretched between its two hulls. As you approach you can see some people are already crawling across the hammock to sprawl over the water.

“So cool,” you hear Yuu’s quiet amazement at your side, piloted by his enthusiasm as he rushes forward onto the narrow metal plank allowing entrance onto the deck.

“Come on!”

He beckons you with a wave of his arm, waiting with one foot atop the makeshift bridge. Hesitantly you make your way towards him, taking it one step at a time, pausing each time the water rocked the boat.

As you reach the end he takes your hand, the other gripping your waist to steady you while he lowers you into the boat unprompted. Your pulse quickens as his hold lingers, searing through the fabric of your shorts.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says earnestly as he squeezes your hip, “I’ve got you”.

Flustered, you clumsily return greetings with the crew on board, Yuu following closely behind wearing a pleased grin. Tempted, you kick off your flip flops and lead him over to the hammocks, feeling his hands hover at your sides while you walk towards a free space. Below the nets the sea rolls gently, the water perfectly clear and tinted a cyan-green teal that you thought only existed in pictures.

While you slowly lower yourself, cautious of the gaps between the rope, Yuu stands over you with his shadow cast over your eyes. The sun frames his silhouette, and you find it fitting.

“Good?” he asks, settling beside you and pulling at the collar of his thin shirt. Your beach bag bunches awkwardly at your side, ears drawn to the sound of your suncream clashing against your water bottle.

Rummaging through, you find the bottle and hand it over to him, the plastic awkwardly bent inwards. You laugh as he releases a dramatic sob of relief, stare lingering on the bob of his throat as he drinks, watching the stray droplet of water trail from his mouth to his chin.

Averting your gaze before he catches you, you slowly begin to notice that you’re surrounded by couples. Each one wrapped up in their own worlds, in each other’s arms, barely cognisant of the bustling crew members around them. A knot pulls tight in your chest at the thought that someone might make that assumption about the two of you, too.

Your vision is obscured suddenly, half empty water bottle suspended in the air where Yuu holds it to grab your attention. “You have some too,” he encourages, “it’s really hot today”.

Yes, you think as he reaches behind his neck to tug the material of his vest over his head, warm toned abdomen flexing with the action. Hot.

“Are you wearing sun protection?” you clear the swell in your throat, reaching out to touch his bicep in allusion to testing his temperature, “you could burn, there's not a lot of cover”.

“I forgot,” he leans into your hand, heat and amusement simmering behind dilating pupils, “do you have it?”

His spoken English is stilted when he’s distracted, you realise, and the implication is pressed into the soft skin of your lower lip as you bite back a smile. Reaching into the beach bag for the suncream, you feel the engines of the boat begin to rumble, sending vibrations through the netting.

“Here,” you hold it out towards him, but his arms slack forward into his lap and he makes no move to take it from you. With a less than innocent pout and pink cheeks, he says:

“I don’t think I can do it,” he exaggerates the laxness of his arms by flopping them back against his thighs, “my arms won’t work!”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laugh, genuine and unrestrained. The sound causes his entire demeanour to brighten, visibly enamoured and growing ever-pinker.

The boat begins to gently work its way out of the dock as you gesture for him to turn around, shaking the bottle before squirting it into your palm and rubbing your hands together. The rope net digs uncomfortably into your knees as you shuffle closer, sliding the pale cream over the curve of his broad shoulders and down the planes of his back.

You can’t help but indulge yourself, fingertips ghosting the divots in his stomach as you lather up his waist, noticing the sparse beauty marks dotted near the small of his back.

Once you’ve found your way to his arms the wind has started to whip through your hair, finally departing the main dock and gliding out into the far off expanse of blue. The breeze is warm even as speed picks up, jolting you forward into Yuu’s side when the boat rides over a large wave, and he turns to steady you.

You let yourself fall and he holds you against his chest as you laugh, barely audible over the roar of the wind, eyes narrowed against the faint spray of the ocean.

To think that only two days ago you were holding back tears mid flight, shaking at the thought of switching your phone back on.

Still entangled, your bodies slide left as the boat makes a hard right into the mouth of an open cove, bracketed by tall cliffs and conjoined to an untouched beach. The engine cuts off, stopping centre between the two peaks, unable to proceed into the shallower water.

It’s then that people begin to move, couples parting to head towards the bar while others begin to take pictures. A crew member crosses the net without hesitation to easily unlatch the lid between the nets, a testament to how often he must have to repeat the action.

Where the lid could lead you weren’t sure, because Yuu is already pulling you to your feet and to the left hull, passing the door entirely and leaving your belongings behind. He steps up onto the platform, glancing over his shoulder excitedly and gesturing for you to join him.

“Let’s go for a swim,” he encourages, backing up until the heels of his feet are teetering over the edge and he’s playfully pretending to lose balance. He does it again, only to enjoy your nervous yelp of his name, and the way you reach for him.

“Wait,” you tease, “I need to take my shorts off–”

With a final inhale and his fingers loosely around your wrist, Yuu drags you over the hull with him, and your eyes squeeze shut as you go willingly.

The water is cold, even with the day-round attention of the sun, and it provides relief from the heat while instinctively willing your lungs to breathe. As if time were momentarily suspended, you can hear the muffled cheers from above and you fight the urge to inhale, kicking your feet beneath you.

You gasp, embarrassingly ungraceful as you break the surface, leaving only your head and neck exposed. Yuu laughs warmly from your left and you startle at the feeling of his fingers encircling your wrist once more under the water. He reels you in easily, the weight of your body lighter in the ocean's embrace, and one you’re in reach he wraps his other arm around the small of your back.

Between the two nets is an opening that leads to a ladder beneath the bridge deck, which has been lowered into the sea. That must’ve been where the latched door led, you think, as he languidly pulls you into its shelter.

Assisted by the gentle roll of an incoming wave, Yuu guides you up onto the step to sit and using the support of the ladder, stands between your thighs. Here, like this, his body cages you in between the side rails.

He leans in close, determined, and your pulse quickens. His tanned skin glistens even under the shadows of the boat, droplets of water running along his arms and torso. Your eyes track them as they disappear into his low hanging swim trunks, appreciating how the material clings to the thick of his thighs.

“Look,” he murmurs, raptly staring past your shoulder, close enough that all you’d need to is tilt up your chin. Glancing in the same direction, your sight falls to a large shoal of fish, all a greyish pink and moving in sync while the people above throw them food.

Further below you can see the ocean floor, tendrils of sand shifting as the water ripples and rocks the boat. It’s there that you see a stingray pass through, it’s pectoral fins fluttering like wings.

“Wow…” you breathe, the ebbing tide lapping at your sternum, and Yuu hums in agreement. But his gaze is on you, half lidded and admiring how your shirt clings to your body from behind his wet bangs.

The atmosphere shifts into something physical, thick enough that it could be malleable. The other people on the boat have either swam in the opposite direction toward the cove or chosen to stay aboard, their voices muffled and varying in language. It’s just the two of you under the hulls.

He exhales your name, lilted like a question and pleading. The lift of your chin is all the indication that he needs, his body curling inwards to kiss you. It’s chaste and tender, droplets of water still slipping down his cheeks into the seam of his mouth, the salt lingering on your tongue when your lips part.

You sigh against him, pleased, and the kiss deepens. You cradle his jaw in your hands, thumbing the curve of his cheekbones and pulling him in, wanting him closer. He moans quietly into your mouth, a gentle rumbling in the back of his throat that has your thighs rubbing together, and it is just as he licks over your tongue that the boat jostles.

The moment is cut short and Yuu’s foot slips from the step that is still submerged, his body plunging into the water and distorted as it ripples around him.

A few seconds pass and he finally breaks the surface, coming up with a startled breath that dissolves into loud, contagious laughter. There’s no hint of embarrassment in his expression as he returns to his spot between your legs, hair saturated and sticking flat to his face.

He kisses you again, barely — your mouth is preoccupied with grinning, with catching your breath between laughs. He kisses your cheeks, mumbling Japanese words into your skin that you don’t understand. And the hours pass like this; lost in the kindling of the waves and of each other.

Eventually a crew member stands off to the side of the ship and calls out for everyone to return, as the ship was to be taken back to the pier. The two of you are handed towels as you board, a younger woman in uniform smirking knowingly, and your shorts are left to dry under the afternoon heat.

By the time you dock the horizon is a purple seam where the dimming blue sky and the ocean are stitched into a thin line of white. Yuu kisses the back of your shoulder and you feel yourself sink against his chest, smitten at the nonchalant manner in which he shows you affection. Like it was something normal, like you’d known each other for months.

“I had fun,” you tell him blithely, picking at the loose strands of fabric splitting off from the towel and readying yourself to part ways. This wasn’t your forte, and you weren’t sure where the lines were drawn when it came to something as casual as a holiday romance.

“Just fun?” he says lowly, smiling like he knew something you didn’t, “it was amazing. I’m happy I came here”.

I’m happy I met you.

Much like he had that morning, Yuu helps you off the boat onto the wooden pier. With your beach bag slung over your shoulder, still-damp shorts clinging to your waist and flip flops in hand, you both descend onto the sand in an attempt to prolong the walk home.

The sun is almost completely set now, a warm orange hue blanketing the surface of the ocean and glistening as it palpitates. You stop to admire it, Yuu only a few steps ahead, and the waves lap gently at your bare feet.

“It’s beautiful,” you comment aloud, worried that he may have misinterpreted your pause, but when you look back at him he’s smiling affectionately. Something simmers in his irises, a flickering amber glow reflecting back at you, and he is noticeably shorter as he sinks in the saturated sand.

“Yes, beautiful,” he replies, “kirē”.

“Kirē,” you repeat, the word simple enough to pronounce and pleasing on the tongue. He visibly lights up, the close lipped smile pulling into an easy grin.

“You,” his eyes appraise your body purposefully as he draws near, “kirē”.

Drifting in from the promenade you hear the gentle music of a live band. The melodic twang of a mandolin as it's strummed, mellow as it intertwines with the hum of a violin. Yuu’s hips subtly follow the beat, head tilted toward the sound like a puppy, but eyes still firmly locked with yours.

He stretches out his arms. “We should dance,” he insists with a come hither motion. Anxiety and affection intermingle in your chest, heart fluttering at the show of romance.

The entire day felt like a script, as if you were an unsuspecting civilian that had walked onto a movie set. The last thing you’d expected when you bought your impulsive two way ticket to Sardinia was to meet a man like Yuu.

“I can’t dance,” you admit awkwardly, pulling at the strap of your flip flops hooked between your fingers.

”Everybody can dance,” he grins, accent bleeding through and pronouncing it as dansu.

Eyes lingering on the crowd of teenagers laughing and playing around along the beach up ahead, you cautiously take the hand held out to you.

“Won’t it be embarrassing?” you murmur self-consciously.

Yuu smiles, his other arm slipping around the small of your back and gently closing the distance between your bodies. “That’s up to you,” he says, “will you let yourself be embarrassed?”

Resting your cheek against his shoulder with one hand pressed to his chest, your body languidly rocks side to side, syncing with Yuu’s timing. You can smell the ocean in the line of throat and the coconut suncream still lingering on his skin. His touch is warm through your shirt, branding as it dips lower and curves over your shorts.

Typically, the passage of time was something of a comfort to you. Nothing ever stood still, days spent staring at the blinking numbers on your phone screen just longing to go home and sleep, so you could do it all over again.

Here you felt it slipping through your fingers like the sand beneath you. For the first time in perhaps ever, you wanted things to remain as they were. You wished a bubble would encase the two of you where you could remain hand in hand under the balmy evening sun.

You had to go home in a few days. That was an everlooming fact. But the unread messages on your phone and the responsibilities awaiting your return home are long forgotten as you continue to sway together in the soft sand. While the trip would eventually need to end, the night did not — not yet.

The song fades out, and your nose brushes the underside of his jaw once you lift your head to speak. “Walk me to my room tonight,” you say. His expression is unguarded and open, filled with warmth that rivalled the humidity as his tongue wets his lower lip.

“Yeah?” he rasps, and when you nod he exhales a heady ‘wakarimasita’ under his breath.

The rest of the journey to the hotel couldn’t happen fast enough. Anticipation thrums through you, Yuu unable to keep to himself as he pulls you into narrow alleys and overshadowed corners to kiss you. You can feel it in your belly, the restlessness and the heat, a warm twist of what’s to come.

Your cheeks ache as you shakily unlock the door to your pseudo-studio, Yuu crowding against your back with his hips pressed into your behind, half hard and nuzzling the nape of your neck. The tiles are cool under the soles of your feet, stray flecks of sand tracking into the room and rough on your skin, turning in Yuu’s embrace to take his face back into your hands as he kisses you again.

“I want you,” you say quietly into his mouth, “Yuu, I–”

He curses, or at least you think he does, fingers tightening where they sit on your hips. You trust him to navigate you through the narrow hallway into the bedroom, his tongue wet and warm as it teases with yours, a thin line of saliva stretching until snapped as you bump into a corner and startle away from the kiss.

“Sorry,” he pants, reaching to cradle the back of your head, “shit. You’re going to kill me, you’re so–”

The bedframe digs into the back of your calves uncomfortably, gravity shifting as he leans his weight forward and hooks an arm under your thigh, body falling back onto the bed. Yuu cinches his fingers around your wrists and presses them into the mattress, your lips parting in a soft laugh as he kisses you again, cautious and tender, growing steadily confident when you push back.

Then he pulls away, smiling amusedly at your whine of complaint and tucking his nose to the underside of your chin, nipping at the sensitive skin of your throat. You force yourself to push through the heat simmering under your skin, his slow descent down the length of your torso causing your thighs to clench either side of him.

“Yuu”.

Knelt between your thighs he curls his fingers into the fabric of your shirt, tugging it lightly, and you notice that they’re trembling. His lips are bitten red and shiny, agape while he catches his breath. “I want to see you,” he says.

“You too,” you murmur, pushing yourself up to remove the clothing only after he sits back to pull off his own. Indulgently, you reach out to trace the divots of his abdomen, relishing how his nipples pebble and his stomach flexes under your fingers. You can see the outline of his cock, thick and warm in the confines of his swim shorts.

“Sugoi kirei,” he groans, quick to press his face to your chest as soon as you’re bare to him. His hands knead at the thick of your thighs, smoothing over your hips and to your breasts, gently squeezing and turning his cheek to suck your nipple into his mouth.

Your fingers thread into the dark tresses of his hair, the throb between your legs hot and insistent. “Can’t…” your heart stutters where it sits, back instinctively arching up against the flick of his tongue, “...can’t understand it when you–”

“Sorry,” he says, his expression a drunken stupor as he pulls back from your breast to kiss the valley of your chest, “gorgeous– you’re gorgeous. Hard to think around you”.

“How–” a hand slips beneath the fabric of your shorts, pausing as your voice stammers and waiting for permission. Your hips lift slightly from the bedsheets, encouraging the touch further between your legs, “–how can you just say things like that?”

"Easy. You think too much," he huffs lightheartedly.

"You think too little".

"Then we're perfect". He traces the tips of his fingers through your folds, eyes widening imperceptibly from above you, body weight braced onto his left forearm where it rests beside your head. Your lips part with the whine of his name, a soft admonishment as he toys with your slick, sliding his wet fingers over your clit in one smooth motion. Your thighs fall further open for him when he finally sinks into you, “nueteru,” a hot flush of embarrassment flooding through you at his amazed whisper.

The stretch that comes with two of his fingers is familiar, slightly bigger than your own. It’s endearingly awkward at first, your body reacting naturally to the sensation as his wrist twists between the apex of your thighs, finding a comfortable position for his thumb to lightly circle over your clit.

“Okay?” he murmurs, accent thickening with his arousal, the weight of his cock pressing into your hip. You exhale a quiet moan as he fucks you on his fingers, brows drawn together in mild frustration and you reach to encircle his wrist.

“Just—” you shift your hips, bearing down on his hand as he steadies his rhythm, “like that. Fuck”.

His chestnut eyes are dark, swallowed by his pupils and enraptured as your hips twitch. He ducks his head to kiss you again, skin burning at the lewd sounds reverberating around the room, and he muffles something foreign into your mouth.

As if a match had been lit in your stomach, the warmth began to kindle and spread, arousal ebbing through you like a pulse. You’re helpless to the clamping of your thighs at his sides, to the short wet gasps of someone trying to catch their breath, your muscles winding tighter around his fingers as you reach the edge and—

You feel a sudden onset of pain, a tight sharp twist in your right calf that yanks you forwards and into reality, automatically curling in on yourself to reach for the source. Yuu curses, pulls away at your yelp as if it burned him, hands hovering near you and still sodden.

“What’s wrong, did I hurt you?” he frets, the heaviness of the atmosphere quickly dissipating as you clutch at the lower half of your leg.

“Cramp,” you manage to choke through your clenched jaw, nose wrinkling in discomfort when the muscle contracts once more. Yuu’s expression relaxes into understanding, and he settles his hand atop yours.

“Let me help,” he says gently, helping you roll onto your front and murmuring quiet reassurances at your meek whimpers. Crossing your arms beneath the pillow to tuck your face into it, Yuu presses his thumbs into your calf muscle and works his practiced fingers over the knot, the pain gradually softening into soreness. And with that, embarrassment.

He bends to kiss the back of your thigh, and your breathing hitches. “Does that feel better?”

“Yes,” you groan pathetically, not wanting to look him in the eye. There’s a beat of silence that weighs heavily on your chest, and you wondered how he might try and leave now without making it awkward.

But then he’s crawling up the bed and nuzzling affectionately into your hair, lips grazing the shell of your ear while he speaks. “Do you want to stop?”

The immediate counter of ‘do you?’ falls unbidden from your mouth, mildly accusatory to veil how insecure you suddenly felt. You feel the shake of his head, eyes still squeezed shut, and he grinds his hips against your ass as a reminder.

“I like you,” he says patently, “I want to keep going if you do”.

You hazard a glance over your shoulder to meet his gaze, greeted with desire and sincerity, golden bangs hanging loosely over his eyes. In reply you push your hips back, and watch his jaw slack at the friction.

“I want to...” you murmur, attention drawn back to the neglected throbbing between your legs, “...need you to fuck me”.

“Ok, I can—, do you—” his hands grope at your hips, rutting against the curve of your ass again like he can’t help himself, “condoms?”

Fuck. “I think I have some in my suitcase, the inside pocket, let me…”

“I'll get them,” he rasps, his weight moving to the other side of the bed and deciding to get rid of his swim shorts on the way. Your suitcase sits open in the corner of the room, belongings half strewn out from your rush this morning, and Yuu crouches beside it naked as the day he was born with his arm buried in the front compartment.

You can’t help but laugh a little at the image.

He glares playfully in your direction as he continues to rummage, eyes lighting up once he finds what he’s looking for and then… brows lifting as he finds something else.

He stands upright and makes his way back to where you’re laid on your back, still far too clothed. Your eyes linger on his cock, hanging hard between his legs and bobbing as he walks. Had you not been so distracted, you would have seen what he was holding.

Only when he drops the items beside you to curl his fingers into the waistband of your shorts do you see it. A condom packet and your three inch bullet vibrator.

“Yuu—!” With a tug he drags your shorts down your legs, pulling your body down the mattress with them and reminding you just how much strength he held in his compact body. He’s grinning knowingly, all teeth, his eyes crinkling at the corners when he looks at you. Molten, hungry.

“Daijobu, don’t think,” he drawls, crowding into your space and hooking your thighs over his own. He takes the packet between his fingers to tear it open, slipping the condom over the head of his cock and down his length with a hiss, bucking into his fist. You squirm underneath him impatiently.

Teasing, he tilts forward to push the tip of his cock through your folds, rolling over your clit and soaking himself with your sex. It feels good, slowly being coaxed back to where you left off, still sensitive and twitching.

The sudden incessant buzz of your vibrator startles you out of your stupor, attention drawn to the space between your bodies where he holds it only a centimetre above your clit, watching carefully for signs of discomfort.

It was a little surprising, and attractive, that he’d even wanted to use it on you in the first place. Not many past partners had, too proud or insecure to try.

“Please,” you exhale, arms curling up over your head to clutch at the bedding. As the end of the bullet is pushed onto your clit, Yuu slowly sinks his cock into you, the vibrations easing the sting.

Your body arches like the string of a bow against the steadfast rumble of the vibrator, full and throbbing around Yuu’s cock. His breathing is heavy as he draws back and rocks forward, fucking deeper into you as you stretch to accommodate him.

He whines your name, a wanton sound and clumsily pronounced as it catches in his throat, brows drawn together and lips parted in concentration. With hips rolling up against him, you urge him on as you find yourself quickly barrelling back toward the peak, thighs clenching involuntarily.

A click echoes around the room, and the vibrations become more intense, pulling a wounded sob from your throat. It’s indelible, made overwhelming by the humidity of the night and your warm breaths sweltering throughout the room.

“Yuu, I’m—”.

“Yeah,” he groans roughly, unperturbed by the awkward angle of his wrist as he tries to keep the bullet steady, other arm curled around your thigh and holding it close to his chest.

You hold your breath, coiled unbearably tight and waiting. You feel yourself reach the crest, the distinct swoop in your stomach as you’re tided over, head tilting back into the bed sheets as your hips jolt. You cum around his cock, body flushed hot and clenched, until you finally come back to yourself and the tension releases.

The vibrations continue and you hiss in discomfort, still hazy and eyes half lidded, Yuu quickly understands and throws the bullet aside. Still rutting into your cunt, he finally leans forward to brace his body over yours, rhythm growing desperate as he pants your name into the curve of your throat.

“Cumming,” he chokes, a pained sound pulled deep from his chest as his body stills after one final thrust, and you exhale a soft moan alongside him.

Around you, the atmosphere settles. He remains curled against your chest as the two of you catch your breath, the bullet vibrator still buzzing mutedly somewhere between the sheets. Yuu’s hand pats blindly around the bed in search of it, causing you to laugh, and he groans as you contract around him.

When he finally softens and slips from you, the vague sense of loss is uncomfortable, your body clenching around the emptiness. He shuffles across the mattress only to reach for the tissue box on the bedside table, rolling the condom off of his cock and wrapping it up.

He flops down beside you, grunting as he gets comfortable, grasping something from beneath his back and finding it to be the bullet. With a click, the room falls truly silent. You reach across and intertwine your fingers together, squeezing gently. He doesn’t startle or flinch, the smooth pad of his thumb stroking the back of your hand, and it feels as if everything has truly fallen into place.

“That was…”

“Amazing,” he breathes, lips jutting into a pout when you snort. He turns onto his side to take you in his arms, tucking your head under his chin and running a hand along your spine.

“Pretty good,” you finish. You can’t see him, but you can feel him grin into your hair.

“Pretty good…” he repeats mockingly, voice rough with exhaustion and drifting. As sleep pulls at your consciousness, you hear him mumble:

“Good thing I’ve got all week”.

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