fighting for my life to choose a man (what’s new) but let’s go with sanemi + 11:59pm
shinazugawa sanemi x reader
@ 11:59 pm
Genya must pay a fortune in rent for this view.
You mull over the thought as you gaze out over the vast expanse of the city skyline laid out in front of you, the lapping waves of the bay beyond glittering under the reflection of the moon. The balcony’s metal railing is cold against your bare forearms, and you spare a longing thought for the coat that’s now buried under a pile of other jackets deep inside the warmth of your best friend’s apartment.
The muffled sounds of music and laughter suddenly shift into loud clarity, shoes scuffing against concrete as someone steps outside. Silence falls back into place as quickly as it left when the sliding glass door hisses shut.
“For fuck’s sake,” a voice that you know like the back of your hand grits out, weight dropping over your shoulders, ensconsing you in lingering body heat and a musky scent.
You don’t have to turn to know that it’s Sanemi standing behind you, but you do anyway, chiding yourself for the way your chest swoops under the heat of his disgruntled gaze. He crowds you against the railing, boots grazing your heels while he mutters something else under his breath and adjusts the jacket.
His white hair’s mussed, like he’s been running one of his scarred hands through it. You avoid letting your eyes trace the path where the top two buttons of his shirt have been left to their own devices. The sleeves are rolled up to his forearms.
You try not to think about the last time you were alone together.
About the feeling of Sanemi’s mouth of yours. His hands on your hips. His thigh between your legs.
You try not to think about the sting of his rejection, his rough tone as he said, “We shouldn’t.”
You try not to think about the way you’ve been more than a little in love with him for far too long. About the way your heart unfurls, stretches like a flower toward sunlight even now as he traces the lip of the beer bottle clutched in his hand.
You can’t blame him, can’t fault him for the misguided guilt that flashed across his face when your phone screen lit up with Genya’s name inches away from where you were arching and panting beneath him on the couch. As the sobering, stark reminder that you were his little brother’s best friend yanked him back to reality.
You wish it made you want him less.
“You should be inside,” he mutters, adjusting the jacket again like he can tuck you even deeper into the thick fabric.
Like some part of him isn’t already nestled deep inside of you, in the narrow gaps between your ribs.
“So should you,” you counter, swiping the beer out of his grasp and downing the rest of it.
He huffs as you blanch at the taste, taking the empty bottle back and placing it on the little round table to your right.
“Genya buys shitty beer,” he comments, looking almost amused as you frown, wiping your lips on the back of your hand.
Both of you go quiet after that, Sanemi’s eyes sliding over your face. His gaze softens, if only minutely.
“Weird way to break your streak of avoiding me for almost two months,” you breathe out, shifting restlessly under the weight of his stare.
“Weird place to be during a party just before midnight on New Year’s Eve,” he counters.
You shrug, rolling your eyes as you start to turn back around. He catches your arm, steps closer into your space.
Your fingers itch with the need to touch him.
Inside, the sounds of the party hum louder through the glass in what you can nearly make out as a countdown.
“Maybe I like doing things that I shouldn’t,” you counter, looking over his shoulder at nothing in particular. It sounds childish, petulant.
The voices inside reach a fever pitch.
You let your gaze slide back to his, to the frown on his stupidly handsome face.
He grasps your—his—jacket, tugs you against him.
“You’re gonna catch a goddamn cold out here,” he growls, his breath hot as his lips hover inches from your own.
The party inside erupts into cheers, a sound that echoes throughout the city below. A cold breeze whips against your cheeks. Fireworks burst into the sky.
Your hand tentatively finds a home pressed flat against the warmth of his broad chest, his heartbeat thumping into the curve of your palm.
Sanemi’s mouth crashes into yours.
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