reversefool:
Souji incenses Adachi as much as he draws Adachi too him - and yes, he’ll admit that much, the draw. Whenever Souji approached him with intent, to further their bond, there had been a pressure at the back of his head, a gentle nudge forward.
It was after October that he recognized the feeling, in retrospect, as Magatsu-Izanagi reaching for Souji, reaching for something in him. He wonders, bitterly, if it’s deliberate, or if it’s a happy coincidence and Souji feels the same pull. He doesn’t want to ask.
Magatsu-Izanagi has his strongest hold when Adachi is feeling a strong surge of negative emotion. Adachi grits his teeth, tells himself not to react. Souji gets another beer, and that alone is calling his bluff.
You could do it right now. He’s thought about it. If not for what that would do to Dojima and Nanako, Adachi might have done it too, there at the beginning before anyone got attached.
Now, he had the distinct feeling that if he tried to put Souji in, Adachi would fall through the screen right after him. Then, of course, there is the option of killing Souji with his bare hands, with the gun, whatever. Adachi’s never been able to stomach the act itself. What a lousy killer he is, doesn’t even enjoy doing it.
The empty beer can rolls across the table with a tinny sound where Adachi drops it. He gets to his feet, makes a beeline for the fridge. “I’d tell you to fuck off, but honestly, I don’t know why I haven’t done it yet either.” That’s supposed to be more venomous than it is. It’s sharp and unpleasant, sure, but there’s an uncertainly that shines through in his voice anyway.
He takes another beer from the fridge, too cold in his hands. The tab pops too loudly, and he takes a few long drinks without looking at Souji. There’s a silence, and when he does look, it’s with a twisted, ugly expression. Souji looks tired, but Adachi feels wired, on edge, like something in him might snap at any moment.
“You know we can’t do this, right?“
It should be reassuring, that Adachi doesn’t quite know why they’re still moving in the same, ever shrinking circles. But it isn’t. If Adachi had a reason, something he could voice to explain why he’s keeping him around, even if it was petty or so he could simply use Souji as a patsy later, that would be better. It would be something.
But apparently that’s not an option for them.
Souji forces his face to stay carefully blank when Adachi addresses it, the tension pulling tight between them. For a moment, he almost wants to laugh. And here he thought that was another one of those things they would never look at directly. If they don’t talk about it, it’s not real, it can be ignored, brushed past. Another in a long list of discomforts they both have to live with.
Meeting Adachi’s eyes, unflinching, he sets down the beer. It’s mostly gone anyway, the buzz not as pleasant as he would have hoped, nor as warm. He’s half sure the fog’s crept under his skin, made everything colder, harder to feel. Maybe it’s better that way.
He takes a step closer, stretching one arm over Adachi’s shoulder, palm flattening against the fridge, shifting to half block his way. The alcohol hasn’t made him unsteady yet, but Adachi could push past him with ease if he wanted to. Still... there’s something satisfying about being able to loom over him, even if only for a few moments. With how big Adachi talks, he doesn’t seem to understand just how small he is.
“Do what, Adachi-san?” Souji tips his head to one side, letting his expression take on a curious lilt. “Burn more evidence? Push another poor girl into a tv? I think we’re more than capable of doing whatever we want, partner.”
With all the other lines that have been crossed, what’s one more? What’s the harm in crossing one that might actually make him feel something more than the simmering agitation that never fades away? Haven’t they already done far, far worse?
