Kamijou, Hiroki

oOo

All Hiroki could process at first was how bad his mouth tasted. His head was aching up a storm and his eyelids, which felt tender and swollen, stayed resolutely shut, but what he wanted more than anything was a toothbrush; he could taste the reek of at least ten shots—fifteen?—emanating from the back of his throat and it made him want to hurl.

But he could hardly see and the headache, which had started out fierce enough, was mounting. Not caring where or who he was, he let out a wheezing groan and curled into a ball of nausea and pain. Kill me, he thought weakly at no one in particular, just fucking kill me. He would consider it adequate compensation for his misery.

Dammit, I can't remember a thing...

"Awake?"

The voice—which he couldn't place for the life of him—was mild enough, but it sliced through his hungover brain like a cleaver. Hiroki fought the urge to keen and clenched his eyes tighter shut.

Back at it again, am I?

"If you can manage to open your eyes at all, Kamijou, you'll find some painkillers on the bedside table."

That's a big "if". He dragged an arm out from underneath his blanket, dimly registering that he was naked in the process, and felt around blindly. First sun-warmed wood, then three pills presented themselves to his fingertips; was he even hydrated enough to swallow them dry?

"Just stretch a bit further, there's some water too", came the voice, right on cue. Hating it, himself, and everything, Hiroki crammed the pills into his mouth as his free hand closed around a glass. There was more water on the pillow than in his churning stomach by the time he was finished. He couldn't bring himself to care.

Didn't I decide to stop living like this?

Slowly, the pulsing in his temples ebbed until it no longer blotted out everything else in his mind. He was still on the fence about taking the trouble to open his eyes until the nameless voice spoke up again.

"Kamijou Hiroki-kun", it drawled, "it is twelve past ten on a Monday morning. You are a twenty-two-year-old student who ran into me when looking at housing adverts on the sidewalk; being a real estate agent, I offered my assistance, a few drinks eventually entered the equation, and here we are. This is my apartment. Oh, and my name is Shinoda", it added casually, as an afterthought.

God.

The events of last night were certainly taking their time coming back to him, so he had no choice but to take "Shinoda's" word for it. With a superhuman effort and a couple of enthusiastic curses, Hiroki wrenched his eyelids apart.

The man sitting upright next to him had dark blond hair, a broad, unmuscled chest, and a face that—though certainly appealing—seemed to be on the wrong side of thirty. His tan vaguely reminded Hiroki of the Sterotypical American that seemed to be turning up more often these days in the B-movies his dates dragged him to sometimes; not a correlation he'd have thought to make if his mind wasn't scrambled, but in his present muddle, it both disturbed and annoyed him. Just my luck, coming across this kind of guy when I was looking for something to take my mind off...

Akihiko swam back into his consciousness like a broody stormcloud.

That. Yet he supposed he could have done worse. At least his partner was attractive.

"Party hard, Kamijou", the man chuckled. It was the voice that'd introduced itself as Shinoda.

"So I had a bit too much to drink", Hiroki snapped as viciously as he could muster through a throat that felt stuffed with wool. "Happens to everyone." Does it, though? How many of those people invariably chose to have one-night stands with men who were nothing like the one they were meant to replace? I thought I was going to stop this bullshit... how did I end up here again?

"Not to me", Shinoda said idly. "Would you care for a late breakfast?"

Just the thought of food was enough to make his insides heave. "I'll pass, thanks. I should be leaving anyway."

"Your clothes are in the drawer", Shinoda shrugged, cordial as ever. Hiroki was all too conscious of how he stank as he pushed himself upright, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. It was a small mercy that drunk him had at least thought to retain his boxers; he didn't care for the idea of walking around in his birthday suit before this curiously sleazy man, regardless of what they'd already done.

He was pulling on his trousers when the silence broke again. "You doing anything later today?"

"Yes", he said brusquely. With little deviation, his one-time hookups typically remained that way. None of the men he slept with were particularly promising as long-term partners—he was certain he sought such people out on purpose, ensuring few of them, if any, came to him again. Ever since he could remember, his sex life and love life had inhabited different universes.

"Well, it's a little late for you to be going to class now, isn't it?" said Shinoda. Hiroki was thankful he could not see the expression on the man's face. "Fair enough though, fair enough, surely you have other things with which to occupy your time... but I take it I'm correct in assuming that you're single?"

Hiroki felt his shoulders stiffen halfway through buttoning his shirt, but he gave no reply.

"Well then", Shinoda continued cheerfully, "why not try going out with me?"

N...? No...?

What the fuck, buddy.

He'd just opened his mouth to say as much, then it hit him between the eyes. "I mean, I'm no 'Akihiko', but—"

Painkiller or not, his head gave a sharp throb as he whirled around, his face already flaring up with heat. He ignored it. Shinoda's face was impassive, a light smile playing around his lips as Hiroki glared at him with wide eyes. He could feel his heart pounding from his eyes to his ankles.

"No need to be so surprised, Kamijou. You have quite the loose tongue when you're drunk is all."

God. God! Dammit!

"I don't think I received an answer, though", he continued, unperturbed. His composure was maddening. "What do you say? We give this a go?"

"No, thank you", Hiroki spat, turning gingerly away to spare his head. "I'm good. Thanks for the medicine."

He managed to reach the sidewalk without further incident. Shinoda hadn't risen from the bed the whole time.

oOo

"Do you mind not stalking me?"

I barely even know you! For fuck's sake! If he never saw this man again it would be too soon—he was heartily sick of that mechanized civility, those cool grey eyes. That they had to bump into each other on the train, of all places... Hiroki seriously considered using one of his book bags to hit him in the face and make a break for it, only jettisoning the idea lest he damage the hardcovers.

Shinoda raised an eyebrow in the evening sun streaming through the windows. "Flatter yourself much? This is the route I take to get home from work."

"Ah", said Hiroki after a moment of humiliated silence, praying for the railroad tracks to open up and take him to hell. "I suppose so."

Shinoda nodded at the bulging bags dangling from the other man's hands. "But while I'm here, need help with those?"

Why do I end up book shopping when I'm frustrated... Well, I guess it's harmless considering the alternatives, but...

"I'm—" fine, he was going to say, but two of the bags had already been taken off his protesting fingers; despite the immediate relief, he glared daggers at Shinoda, who was extracting the books from one as easily as they were his own. "Hey!"

"You've got to put one bag inside the other", said Shinoda, demonstrating. "All the books can go in there together. The bag's less likely to break that way, see?"

I hate you so much.

"And—ah, what a pleasant surprise! Looks like we get off at the same station, Kamijou!"

Hiroki was neither pleased nor very surprised.

"I can carry the books myself now", he growled as they exited the train together. Surely the creep wouldn't go so far as to walk him home?

Shinoda laughed sincerely. "Sure you can. But there's no real need to now, is there?" Ignoring Hiroki's efforts at snatching the bag from him, he regarded the fuming student with polite expectation. "So, which way do we go now?"

Hiroki turned on his heel and marched off without another word.

"'Kamijou' doesn't suit you, you know. I wonder what else I can call you...? Kami-kun? Kami-chan?"

He was strongly reminded of Satou. Wonder how he's doing... when was the last time I even saw him?

"I don't think '-chan' works that way", he said through gritted teeth. What was it with older men and their tendency to treat him like a schoolboy?

Shinoda's forehead was furrowed in thought. "In that case, would it be alright if I addressed you as 'Hiroki'?"

The burning was no longer in his face but his chest. "But you're the only one who calls me Akihiko." It mattered not one whit if Akihiko was an oblivious moron... Hiroki had no intention of letting a gesture like that go unreciprocated.

"No", he said, with a dull finality. I'm never letting anyone but him call me that.

Shinoda's face registered surprise for all of a split second, then it was gone, his usual smile back in place. "Well, then, let's just go with 'Kamijou-kun'."

Or let's not go with anything at all. Why are you even here?

Any attempts at small talk on the rest of the route were met with a stony silence from Hiroki. He was half-expecting Shinoda to pointedly drop the bag and leave at any moment, saying something like Well if you'd rather not have me around I don't see why I'm bothering to help, which was a prospect he was more than alright with. Lugging these books home was child's play compared to tolerating the bastard's company. But they were getting closer to his apartment now and Shinoda showed no signs of tiring; he strode confidently along like he'd been doing this for years, his smile so beamy he seemed on the verge of breaking into a whistle.

"Hey", Hiroki said at last, stopping in his tracks. His companion followed a split second later. "I'm not cool with letting you know where I live."

He might have thought that confusion to be genuine had it been literally anyone else. "Ehh? What's the harm in that? It's not like I'd just walk up to your apartment whenever I felt like it—sneak in and cook you a nice little meal so you don't starve to death—I was a student too in my time, you know, I remember the feeling of n—"

"Shut—up!"

"Beg your pardon?"

"You heard me", Hiroki snarled. It was taking every ounce of his restraint not to hit the man. "I don't know or really care who you are and why you're so interested in me letting you into my life, I don't know why you're singling me out of all the people in Tokyo, I don't know what you stand to gain from any of this but you're slimy as all fuck and I'll be dead in the ground before I—"

The rest of his words escaped him in a winded breath as he was roughly yanked into an adjoining alley and slammed—hard enough to make him cry out—against the wall. He had just enough time to hope he hadn't split his skull on impact before Shinoda's lips descended on his own in a maze of teeth and tongue.

The only thing that kept him from reacting immediately was the sheer technique of it. His hands scrabbled uselessly against the solid forearms as they kept him pinned; he knew he easily had the strength to break away if he put some force into it and yet... God fucking kill me, he's a damned good kisser.

"Better now, are we?" Shinoda purred as he pulled away, his face still too close for comfort in the light of the setting sun. Stiff with rage, Hiroki spluttered furiously as their foreheads brushed against each other. "You're so much more appealing when you're flustered. I've been trying to talk to you about certain things, Kamijou-kun, and you just won't listen... What do you have against me, anyway?"

"What indeed?" spat Hiroki. It went unacknowledged.

"Like it or not, you can't escape the fact that we're well-suited to each other. I know you've got something—someone—on your mind, but let's make this clear: I don't care about any of that. All I really care about is that you're the kind of person to catch my eye—hard-working, cute—"

Hiroki's eye twitched.

"—you know, you severely underestimate the impression you are capable of leaving on others", Satou finished. Wait, what? This is Shinoda. Did it even matter? What did it matter which man of the week was trying to date him just days after he'd promised himself he'd stop?

"We'd be dynamite together, you and me." He's still talking. Holy shit. "Just give it a try, Kamijou-kun. Any objections? No? Alright then—"

And the man dropped to his knees, smoothly, casually, and the reality of what was going to happen if he didn't put an end to this hit Hiroki. The sheer absurdity of it. The mortification.

His mouth still tasted like a stranger's spit. His vision went black.

"GET—YOUR GRUBBY PAWS—OFF MY BODY!"

When he regained his sight, he was panting savagely and his fists felt numb; Shinoda was slumped against the wall, hands pressed to his face, silent but evidently in too much pain to move. Or so Hiroki hoped. He was ready to beat him up again if need be. If need be, he was ready to beat him up a hundred times.

Part of him wanted to run again. Instead, he stayed where he was, willing Shinoda to get back up, half-praying he would. The frustration of a week—a year, four years, twelve—had finally begun to burst forth, but it would take more than a couple of well-aimed punches to quell the way it burned in his chest. His eyes. His very skin.

For a moment, he thought he saw his assailant's blond hair turn silver. Surely it was because the streetlamps had just begin to flicker to life against the greying sky. Definitely.

And one of them threw a shadow before him that was too tall to be his own.

"Hiro-san?"

oOo

I'm just entertained by the idea of suburban white dad Shinoda. He's still one of my favorite characters to write (as is Akihiko, and exactly no one was surprised).

On a more serious note, I wonder if anyone caught the canon throwback following Shinoda's surprise kiss. I know it's customary for that line to follow Hiroki beating up someone he perceives as a threat to his relationship with Nowaki, but this seemed more fitting considering I'm trying to write an AU where Nowaki's affections lead to not codependency (as they do in canon) but self-assurance.

Not even in canon would both their states of mind hinge so solidly on each other if they had someone else they could call a close friend. And since Hiroki is definitely still in love with Akihiko at this point in the story, Nowaki's best course of action is to consolidate his role in Hiroki's life as a friend and source of emotional support before going down a different route. The two of them would ideally come to see each other as people first and lovers later. Love at first sight is all very well to romanticize in stories and I do enjoy the way it pans out in canon, but the fact still remains that it's hardly the healthy way to go about a relationship with someone you want to see for the rest of your life.

I wonder how much of the word count is taken up by my author's notes. Apologies to anyone who just clicked on this fic for a cute purry little Nowaki.