“‘Cause baby now we got bad blood,
you know it used to be mad love.
So take a look [at] what you’ve done
'cause baby now we got bad blood.” - Taylor Swift, Bad
Feet pounding the pavement, pounding the grass, pounding the
mud, pounding the field, feet to the floor as hard as he could press them down.
And maybe if he ran hard enough his feet would leave the ground long enough for
him to find the sky instead of the dirt, but azure blue’s were for Miyuki and
Kuramochi’s place was the ground, dark greens and browns,
that earthly smell clung to his skin. And all he smelt against Miyuki’s skin
was the sun and wink that he beat against the other’s body, feathers picked up
in the breeze.
He’d growl, bare his teeth and dig his fingers into the
other’s flesh, but Miyuki would only smirk. That haughty look, straight down
his nose and at the end was Kuramochi just waiting to bite it off.
If Miyuki bled it was onto Kuramochi’s skin, and it just
made him look more like a predator. Knuckles bruised and open, blood stained
concrete wall, it was nothing like the flesh, blood and bone that he wanted to
feel beneath his fist.
“What’s that about?” Miyuki asked flatly, one brow
arched as he looked down at Kuramochi.
The way you make me
feel makes me want to tear you apart whilst I stick my tongue down your throat.
“Just feeling a little fucked up,” Kuramochi said,
chest heaving from the way he was trying not to confess to the other.
“Because that’s a normal reaction to emotions,”
“At least I don’t pretend that I don’t have them,
robot,” Kuramochi spat back, squaring up to Miyuki.
Of course Miyuki was taller than him, everything in this
world was designed to have him climbing from the bottom towards the other. Miyuki
looked away, out on the field where Sawamura was still running.
“You know Kura, it’s easier to climb to the top from
the bottom, than it is to fall from the halfway point and start again,” he
muttered and Kuramochi couldn’t stand the way his hand fisted and shook.
“Kaz,” Kuramochi called soft and stepped toward
the other, he stumbled on the edge of the path and tripped, slamming his body
against Miyuki’s side. Fingers caught in Miyuki shirt and Miyuki’s hands on his
biceps, holding him in place and looking down at Kuramochi.
“Yes,” Miyuki said and the word was so brittle
that Kuramochi couldn’t help but dig his fingers in harder and drag the other
down to his level to swipe his tongue across the seam of Miyuki’s lips.