Resonatingmirage: { I have something for you and it’s not even complete because that’s what you get u.u
A mix of medieval times kinda and reincarnated lovers with only Hanamiya with the memories have fun Michie *throws at and flees* }
HimuHana
——
It was a fairly warm night compared to the rains beating down on the lands past five days, shaping the ground to its liking with help of muddy feet and passing carts pulled by sturdy hoofs sinking into soft and giving dirt. Makoto had opted for the long black cape draped over his shoulders still, hood pulled up and barely covering his face from any curious eyes during his trip to the one place he should not be seen in.
Where he kept coming back swore after another to himself to steer away from for good.
He never truly, actually believed in being capable of that, even more irritating was how he wasn’t the only one aware of this fact so painfully obvious and rooted in him Makoto knew it was a vain attempt at best trying to fight his.. urges. The man sneers at the word, how it sits on his tongue and sounds seven kinds of wrong because that’s not what it is at all and knowing this makes the whole thing that much more grating on his nerves. It’s pathetic what it is, but he can’t stop the feeling of longing, the memories flooding in like a painted canvas behind closed lids in the quiet of the night.
It’s a lost battle. Has been from the very beginning.
Kicking the drunk passed out on the alley smelling of something offensively rotten and a lot like piss out of his way Makoto makes his way towards set destination whilst ignoring groans left behind and anyone else loitering on the edges of the narrow alley, tries not to pay attention to knowledge over how he does this every week, same day – take or give a couple hours- same time.
Grateful for only a second to get away from the smell of filth Makoto doesn’t bother hiding his disgruntled face when he steps inside the warm house brimming with noises and movements visible outside as humming beat and occasional giggles, mere shadows dancing in the corners of curtained windows. It smells vaguely of sweet apples and cheap perfume, sweat clinging to exposed skin of every other person he decidedly does not glare at.
The male takes steps forward, impatient for a whole another reason than what drove him here in the first place, eyes searching but not finding their mark Makoto scoffs, about to shove the nearest couple engaged in indecent activity which would get them arrested anywhere but here out of his path when long, bony fingers find his, a fleeting touch and then they’re slipping under the sleeve of shirt and wrapped around wrist.
“Lord Hanamiya.” It sounds almost mocking if the sharp smirk accompanied and an entirely too pleased tone carrying the name weren’t the first thing the male noticed, narrowing his eyes briefly before nodding his head towards the stairs at the side.
He’s met with an unreadable smile that puts Makoto on edge, the muscles around his mouth constricting like he’s not sure whether to answer in similar fashion or growl at how even now the raven haired male remains a mystery to him. It’s infuriating. And a lot pathetic he decides when Tatsuya maneuvers them through the crowd of people packed in the hall, hand firmly clasped on the male’s wrist even when there’s no need for it, heading up the stairs and into the far back of the second floor where his room is.
It should make his skin crawl at the way it’s all so natural, the idea of it, but he doesn’t care as much for what he’s doing here (liar) than what the other male has to do on a daily basis, chained to the house for life unless someone frees him and—it’s ridiculous, fucking gross. Makoto wants nothing more than to do exactly that, pay for the other to walk away but knows far well it is impossible. At least he’s aware where Tatsuya is, now. Alive.
However little that eases him, it doesn’t make it any less aggravating and the deep desire of wanting to hunt down every single one of the fuckers who has so much as touched a hair on Tatsuya’s body and make sure they won’t be back. Won’t be nothing left to come back with.
A door is pushed open and one visible brow quirked up in almost question as Tatsuya looks back but does not give voice to his own thoughts, instead pulling the male in and locking the door, flashing yet another insufferable smile at him. “Missed me?”
It’s not really a question, Makoto realizes, but doesn’t bother doing more than shooting a venomous glare at the slightly taller male when the other brings his hand – the one not loosely gripping a thin wrist, so annoyingly warm – to move the hood off Makoto’s face, knuckles brushing at cheek before the cloth is pushed all the way off to reveal minimally disheveled hair beneath and bring a flicker of light into brown orbs.
Swallowing down a plain mockery he grins, tasting something wicked and equally miserable on tongue as Makoto presses into the other man’s space, pushing him firmly against the door a breath away from devouring Tatsuya. “Speak for yourself, wench.”
|| And I love you for choosing one of my OTP and bc you’re an awesome person!
Name: Masuyo (f)
Gender: male
General Appearance: -
Personality: He prefers to watch other people than to engage himself in the conversation, mainly he is silent, staring at one with his blank glare. Masu is not reasonably shy, he just do not like it to be surrounded by many people, he prefers the silence - sometimes it can happen that he hits somebody, even though he has a friendly personality, but after all - a part of Hanamiya is in him as well, so he hardly cares whether his opponent suffers small or large injuries as long as he wins.
Who they like better: Hanamiya (because he can better express his feelings unlike Tatsuya, even though they are mostly negative)
Who they take after more: Himuro (blank stare + his ”calmness”)
Personal Headcanon: Thanks to his parents, which jare not really social people, he himself has problems to show his feelings openly and Masuyo’s not a team player, he prefers to do everthing all alone. IQ over 120.
No, he would not accept this. That was not his future. He did not want all this. It was not his own will. He would never fall in love with a stranger, just because a clock on his wrist said so.
00:00:24
Less than half an hour. If Hanamiya wanted to, he could still make it to his apartment, hide there and hope that their next meeting would happen in a few years and not today.
00:00:21
Makoto hated that thing on his wrist. It was a cage. Knowing who was your soul mate, and to know when you meet this person was something that no one should know, but the people here have never known something else. But it was a burden for him. His shoulders began to ache, as if someone would place rocks on them.
00:00:14
A soulmate. Someone who was perfect for you. What kind of person would be the perfect match for a guy like Hanamiya? He was a monster for many. ..
00:00:12
It was evening and many people were ready to go home, crowds gathered on the footpath and it was quite difficult to move forward. But that did not bother the raven. He was used to the jostling of the people.
00:00:10
The closer the meeting came with his soulmate, the harder it was to keep going, each cask of his body told him to run away. Why? Makoto did not understand. He felt no fear, nor was he nervous. He just wanted to get away, as if he knew that this was not a good idea. Where did this strange and familiar feeling come from?
00:00:04
Makoto was trapped in a gray mass of people, how should he find his soulmate in this mess? Maybe it was better if they did not meet each other, because Hanamiya had reached a state where he felt more dead than alive. His soulmate? It no longer interested him, nothing interested him anymore. He just wanted to get rid of the burden that lasted on his shoulders.
00:00:01
With an indifferent expression, the raven stopped walking in the middle of the crowd, he did not know why, he did not even notice when the other people bumped into him. Everything around him was a gray mass. Empty. Meaningless…
00:00:00
You Liar..
That was Makoto’s only thought, as an unknown but at the same time familiar person stopped in front of him. The other did not say a word, he showed no reaction, he just stared at the raven with an indecisive expression. Coal-black hair covered his left eye. No tenderness, no feelings, he saw in his right eye. Only emptiness.
-00:00:01
"Zero. The clock is at zero.." whispered the taller one without looking away, the corners of his mouth twitched briefly as if he tried to grin, but his muscles would not obey him.
{ I GIVE UP FUCKING HAVE IT I'M OUT *screeches in the distance and regrets everything* }
He had deliberately asked Hanamiya to behave, knowing if the male truly wanted to put his acting game on he was a master in deceiving first impressions, however short that diversion may last in reality, but this has been in planning for months, and against Tatsuya’s better judgment he’d agreed to go with it. Perhaps it’d finally get his parent’s to shut up about how the male directed his life and hid this supposed life partner. Strange title for Hanamiya and one he’s not latching onto, it’s just ridiculous and silly, yet despite the years they’ve known each other and time spent together, he wasn’t necessarily in a hurry to get rid of the man either. At this moment.
Which of course led to this, Hanamiya agreeing only because he was curious most likely or if in that mood looking to stir something up with meeting Tatsuya’s parent’s finally, most likely both but he hoped the other would keep his rueful comments to himself.
His father had answered the door, both an unfortunate thing and relief- the faster they get through the man the quicker he can focus on the important, like sending pointed looks at Hanamiya whenever the other saw a chance and was sure to entertain the thought of spilling it, but he didn’t need to stay worrying about such small things, aggravated by the numerous and detailed questions both his parent’s threw at them, at Hanamiya- he’s just lucky there’s some tiny sliver of self-restraint buried somewhere deep down in him, more on his toes over keeping himself in check.
Hanamiya had kicked him once under the table, when dessert was being served and Tatsuya had left him to deal with what excuse to come up by himself in favor of skipping the sweet stuff completely. He had without any visible restraint played the devious smile taking over his features as some sort of joke between the two of them, entertained at least in watching the other fail in saying no to his mother, she was as stubborn as Tatsuya himself sometimes. It almost made him pity the other as he watched him eat the damned cake in silence, clear irritation pulling at his muscles and threatening to morph his mostly civil kept expression into a scowl, there’d be no going back from there. He almost wanted to see it.
Pushing thoughts that had no room in his parent’s dinner table Tatsuya engaged in talk with his mother over what she had done lately and such, ignoring everything else – especially the looks of promised murder from Hanamiya when the male thought no one would notice, only turning to smile at the other once he’d finished his piece of cake. Taking the plate from the shorter male’s hand he stood up before any suggestions of how to spend the rest of their time could be brought to table with him present, excusing himself to wash the dishes against his father’s disapproved shake of head and mother’s stern warning to leave them, which he obviously ignored entirely so she followed after- leaving Hanamiya alone with his father.
This turns out to be the worst possible scenario when he emerges from the kitchen only to see the two with what looks a lot like a family album open on the table, a photo of a six year old Tatsuya staring up and trying to reach for the camera. When he still had a- what his mother called; a normal, sensible haircut. He wasn’t aware they even had a photo album. Less of his father actually knowing where it was. “This,” The man starts as he flips to the next page and Tatsuya is already moving once he sees the group of pictures, of him – at age seven – with a less than happy expression on most of them and bandages covering his left eye and wrapped around his head, “—was a little after the accident.”
The two male’s look up as Tatsuya plasters on a smile and snatches the photo album right before them, shutting it quickly as he directs a look at his father and sets the thing back down, daring him to do anything about it. “We’re going to get the beds ready and I will show Makoto around before leaving for town, if you don’t mind.” He turns to Hanamiya and can’t decipher whether the look on his face is simply for appearances or once they’re out of ear shot of prying parents the male is going to say something very unimpressive. “Come on, there’s still a lot to do.” He manages to slip on a tone that the man on the end of the table would assume him to use when addressing the person he’s boyfriends with and motions for the other to follow, in few swift strides leaving the dining room as Hanamiya says his apologies or whatever he intended for his words to be taken as, Tatsuya is not sure whether he’d like to laugh or punch the shorter male, but he’s highly aware he needs a break from all this.
He knows Hanamiya desperately needs one too, preferably all the way until they have to – can finally – leave back to Japan, he’s surprised the man hasn’t broken anything yet.
The thing with the two of them though, when they’re finally behind closed doors and both can drop the act is that Tatsuya lets the tenseness in his muscles fade and disappear whereas Hanamiya succumbs to it, letting all that raging desire for destruction consume until it has been dealt with accordingly.
Accordingly, in their current situation means taking it out on Tatsuya, something he’s been half expecting since the moment they’d sat down to the dinner table, a lurking knowledge in the back of his mind every time his gaze fell on the other male, so it’s not entirely a surprise to find himself pinned against the door of the bedroom he once habituated and an extremely pissed looking Hanamiya at his face, a sneer on his features and a near mad grin on lips.
“You wanted to go with this.” Tatsuya says before the shorter man can begin. “You wanted to meet my parents- don’t tell I didn’t warn you.” He adopts a minutely amused grin, perfectly aware he’d been the one to bring it up in the first place, even if only because his mother was persistent and Alex has been laughing at that particular image for as long as he can remember, and Hanamiya had with a calculated glance said why not and this is what its led them to.
“I do not eat cake, asshole,” The male snarls, like this is news, eyes flashing dangerously as he adds pressure to the arm thrown up to Tatsuya’s throat to keep him in place, a warning, one he does not heed “Disgusting.”
He chuckles, three responses immediately on tongue but it’d be stupid even for him to provoke the seething man too much here so he swallows any sarcastic remark, lifting a hand up in an almost mocking gesture to brush a thumb over Hanamiya’s lower lip, as if attempting to wipe the hated taste of sweetness away. “You could have said so.” And see the woman upset, he thought, briefly, as the man bit down on the finger and continued to glower at him. Tatsuya withdrew his hand shortly, expressionless beside the small grimace and eyes gleaming with amusement as much as his own growing desire attempting to break free.
“This whole affair is disgusting. I’m done playing house here. Don’t think you have me fooled by this setting of a perfect family you all seem so desperate to cling to. You detest your father, don’t you Tatsuya, what is it, he never acknowledged you as his golden boy?“ There’s a certain edge to his voice and he believes it’s entirely because of how irritated the man is by this all. He’s good at acting pleasant when situation calls for it, but it’s not something the male does willingly, especially with anyone ordering him to.
“Oh I never said I didn’t. What do you think?” He’s gotten so used to being at the receiving end of such words it hardly phases him, and he’d known some would be tossed around here, but he’s surprised it’s not about the things Hanamiya actually wants to ask about. Yet. Which.. “You got what you came here for though, didn’t you.”
Eyes narrow and Hanamiya closes the small distance between their bodies, pressing against him and Tatsuya almost sighs, looking down at the other as his expression darkens and eases at the same time. The move is not sexual for Hanamiya, not when he’s in this state of mind, but personal, so very much he wants to tear in closer to see the turmoil he leaves behind. He wonders, startlingly, if he’ll ever get tired of staring at him, even when he hates the man. “And what would that be?”
He leans forward, as much as the arm still positioned against his throat allows, but it’s enough as their breaths mingle and Tatsuya feels warm in all the wrong ways, he should want to push the man away, he should want a lot of things, but all he can think is how to move them to the bed on the other side of the room, his room, his old bed, and it’s a little stupid how excited this gets him. “My childhood photos.” He whispers and slowly slides the hand previously assaulted by the mouth only an inch away to Hanamiya’s waist, a faint smirk dancing on his lips as the male presses the fingers into the fabric of the man’s shirt. He’s been stressing over this all, despite acting he wasn’t bothered or worried over it, and it’s been days since they’ve done anything, he’s burning, flaming up with desire he hasn’t let free due to this ridiculous meeting up being the only thing on mind, but he’s not thinking about the two people downstairs now, doesn’t care.
“You weren’t even a cute child.” Hanamiya retorts. He probably knows what he's thinking, definitely knows now, and he looks simultaneously annoyed and like it’s not on his list of things to do in other people’s homes, much less Tatsuya’s parents, but this close he can see the same thoughts staring back, maybe the other is feeling something neither can describe and have no desire to do such with all this information of who Tatsuya was before Japan laid out on a platter for Hanamiya and more than he’s ever gotten out of him in one conversation.
“Horny bastard.” There’s a growl and Tatsuya isn’t sure who its coming from when they kiss, and suddenly there’s a whole different kind of pushing and pressure taking place and his hand finds its way to the other male’s hair, fingers sliding up the back of his neck. It’s almost messy the way they move, desperate in its harshness and he can faintly taste the cake on the other’s tongue, own sliding against it in a half-hearted battle for dominance, it’s an eternal war and fight and Hanamiya pulls away only enough to trail his mouth down the side of his jaw, from there to vulnerable neck and bites down. Tatsuya moans and tightens his grip on the silken locks with a tremor of fervent need beating in his chest, a decision made.
In the end, it took them three hours to leave the house to start the adventure of showing Hanamiya absolutely everything - he couldn’t care less whether the man wanted to go ‘sightseeing’ or not - his parents nowhere in sight. He counts it as a win.
