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The door shut behind Isagi like it didn’t care. There was no goodbye— there never was.
Outside of Rin’s room, Isagi’s shirt clung to his back with sweat. His belt was hardly pulled through the loops. And his mouth tasted bitter, the flavor of intense frustration. Something that would never be sweet no matter how many times he tasted it. No matter how hard he bit down.
He pressed a palm to his forehead and felt the damp warmth. Eyes closed. Sighing deeply. He didn’t mean to go.
But after practice, when Rin found Isagi lingering alone in the hallway and looked at him like he had something to prove, he couldn’t help it.
They were in his room. Against the wall, then on his bed. It all happened so quickly— Isagi couldn’t remember whether he had even been kissed or whether his clothes were ripped straight off. They didn’t run their hands through each other’s hair, whimper each other’s names asking for more. The entire thing was just a mess of breathing and moving and effort. Like a match to be won.
And Isagi had lost. Again. He always did.
Hiori’s lights were off, but Isagi thought he’d try anyway. He knocked once. Nothing. Then twice. And light spilled out from under the door.
Hiori was right there when the door opened, gaze nowhere near surprised but not quite pleased, either. A crisp and loosely fitting t-shirt and pajama pants hung over his body gently. Like Hiori himself was soft and rounded. And Isagi couldn’t look.
So he walked straight past Hiori like he was sleepwalking. Like this walk had been done a million times, because it had. Because Isagi always found himself here after being with Rin. And because Isagi was still trying to figure out why. And he dropped to the floor, cross legged like a child waiting for instructions.
Hiori closed the door gently— far more gently than Isagi had closed Rin’s door just moments ago. It was like Hiori’s room was a genuine escape. Nothing could open that door. It was just Isagi. With Hiori.
And Hiori sat on the floor, across from Isagi but not too close. There was an imaginary bubble around Isagi— he could tell Hiori wanted to be a little closer
but didn’t dare move forward like he was afraid if he touched Isagi, something would break. Shatter.
It was reasonable, given Isagi’s state. His hands quivered in his lap, veins tensing in his wrists as he stared at the floor. The look in his eyes was delicate yet rough. He was angry, but a specially vulnerable kind of angry that he didn’t know how to contain. So it all manifested in those short quivering movements of his limbs.
“I told myself I wasn’t doing this again.” Isagi said, biting his bottom lip just a little too hard. The pain was somehow pleasurable; it offset the pain and pleasure he had felt with Rin earlier, grounding him in the moment with Hiori. “And I went anyways.”
Hiori didn’t say ‘I told you so’ or ‘you shouldn’t have’. He just watched Isagi unravel.
“He touches me like I’m a competition.” And his fist balled up, shaking more uncontrollably than before. “He just… he gets angry, we fight, and then he…” He trailed off like he didn’t know what to say, as if there were a million ways he could describe what Rin had done to him time and time again.
His voice broke. “It’s like he wants to win. Even when we fuck.”
Hiori swallowed, eyes fixed on Isagi despite his attention being elsewhere. “Does he hurt you?”
“I— not like that, but…”
Isagi knew Hiori didn’t mean bruises or bite marks. He was even okay with the scratches Rin left on his back, and had clawed back at him sometimes drawing blood. That was okay. That was physical.
But emotionally? Rin touched Isagi like he was achieving something. And the worst part was that Isagi let him.
“For a second, it feels like he sees me. That’s why I go back. I keep thinking it’s different.” Isagi sighed. His breathing was stabilizing, albeit slowly. But he could collect himself and say a full sentence. “He won’t even look at me when we’re done.”
Hiori’s eyes flitted away from Isagi. “So you come here to let me look at you instead?” A tinge of something unrecognizable was behind his voice. It wasn’t the same gentle sternness Isagi expected after these encounters when he would vent to Hiori. It was almost… pained. And it made Isagi hurt all over again.
It hurt more than Rin. Because it was true.
“This makes it worse.” Isagi said.
“I know.”
“Because when I come here— you’re so kind and I feel… I feel fucking disgusting.” Something broke in Isagi. It wasn’t just his voice, now. His chest was collapsing in on itself, his very heart. And his eyes reddened and he started to cry.
“You’re not.” Hiori was unmoved by the emotional display. He looked at Isagi like he always had. It was steadfast and reliable.
Isagi looked up at him. “Why did you let me in?” His shiny eyes like a puppy’s were filled with tears that glistened on his cheeks. His eyes were so innocent. Like he had never been capable of being hurt before. Like this was his first time being loved.
“I keep thinking it’s different, too.” Hiori sighed. “That you’ll come here first.” He was quieter. He was hesitant. But he was being real.
And this time, Isagi pulled closer, folding his knees under himself and positioning himself right in front of Hiori. Their knees touched, transferring warmth between their bodies faster than they realized. Faces reddening whether with tears or the heat of some unspoken intimacy.
Isagi had stopped sobbing. But his breaths were uneven and heavy in his chest. He leaned forward, and soon, the scent of Hiori’s shampoo replaced his own sweat and grime. When his forehead touched Hiori’s, the guilt and anger was suddenly diluted by softness. He wanted to do more— to kiss Hiori, to even just slightly feel his lips. But Hiori didn’t move. He closed his eyes like their foreheads touching was more than enough.
And it was the first time that night Isagi was touched like he was wanted.