“If I’m crazy you fucking drove me crazy,” Ruki hissed, rouge-flames smeared across his eyes and russet hair burning bright with the glow of his cigarette, fingers curling around the embers tight.

Aoi glanced at him, drawling lazily around his smirk, “Okay.”

Ruki flicked his Menthol, gold contacts melting into a million galaxies, swallowing every black hole that Aoi could press his maw against, “You don’t know what crazy looks like.”

Aoi whispered against the ashes, “I think I have a fair idea.”

“You fucking bastard,” he murmured against Aoi’s knowing grin, leaning in to bruise their lips.