He opened it? [ well... mei must have given him too much credit. sawamura is a treasure as always, it seems. you just can't fix stupid, even with a heart that big. that means he probably knows more about the intersect than kazuya is letting on, because that lack of intelligence means a lot of space for something else. you can almost see the calculations going in his blue eyes, gaze intense as he considers what could have happened to someone who actually watched the entirety of the images in the intersect.
it's probably a miracle he didn't die, too. whoops. mei will be sure to send him a nice bottle of whiskey or something for messing up his psyche a little bit. mei laughs. ] Of course he did! Sawamura, he's a real piece of work~
[ with that settled, the predatory nature disappears, to a point. mei's stepped closer to him now, looking up at him with confidence as he always does. if anyone's ever seen said confidence crack, though, its kazuya, who has been there with him for every success and every failure. every night of mei locking himself in his apartment, furious and tempestuous for doing something wrong, every morning of cold fury at the gun range, practicing, practicing, practicing. his ego is obnoxious, but it's earned, and his hard days are there just like anyone else's.
it feels weird to lie to kazuya, now, feels weird to treat him as an enemy, but that doesn't mean mei isn't willing to do it, and he's sure kazuya is the same. he imagines if he attacked him, he'd get a bullet to the brain in a second--kazuya's good like that. picks up what he puts down, on his level. it'd be a good fight.
they don't have to be enemies, but mei's smart enough to know for sure this is a kind of goodbye.
he huffs a laugh that's humorless and lifts his hand--the one without a knife in his sleeve--fearless. miyuki has every chance to grab his wrist and break it in half, but mei's not scared. his hand comes up--and it's to flick kazuya right between the eyebrows. ] When you lose this good face of yours, you'll have nothing to fall back on but your nasty personality, Kazuya. Remember that!
[ and if kazuya leaning in is natural, then it's the same for mei, like a magnet drawn into him.
Of course he opened it, what did you expect when you sent the e-mail to him in the first place? Getting that was like getting a direct challenge from you. [ Mei and Eijun might have been roommates, friends, but it didn't take very long for Miyuki to figure Eijun out, unpredictable as he is. If there's one thing you can count on, it's the fact that Sawamura Eijun will never say no to a challenge, whether it's a legitimate one or something he's perceived as one. Contact from someone that messed up his life? Yeah, that'd count.
But he doesn't say more on it, because Mei is not all bark like some small, yappy dog. No, that look in those blue, blue eyes of his give away more intellect than most people would suspect out of his personality and that face.
He knows this the same way he knows that the hand Mei lifts up towards him doesn't contain a knife, and won't. More than once Kazuya has had one of them held to his throat, thrown at his face, taken them off of him when they were exchanging heated kisses instead of heated blows. So he just watches him rather than his hand, even if his own right hand twitches again around his gun grip. It's not so much an aborted attempt to aim at him, but rather indecision on whether he should finally holster the gun or not.
The flick doesn't necessarily surprise him, but he does flinch with it. Some of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders, the rigid set of his spine, but all he does at first is lift his free hand up to rub his thumb against his forehead. ] That's true, and nobody wants to deal with how shitty I am for long after they realize that's what I'm hiding with my charm and dashing good looks.
[ Except, apparently Mei, who he finally touches, even if it's just a brush of fingertips against his wrist as his hand comes back down. There's a pulse, there, fleeting as it is. There's warmth and smooth, vulnerable skin around thin bone.
Except, apparently, Eijun, but the shower is just white noise that he half-tracks. ]
[ mei doesn't even disagree with him about his charm and dashing good looks, because it is true. kazuya is charming, is good looking, as true as the fact that mei knows a lot of his confidence is pretty fake. miyuki kazuya is the kind of person you have to crack open to understand, and even after years of working together, of dating, stolen kisses and and arguments, mei still has only just touched the surface.
he knows how to read kazuya, that's true. he can usually tell what he's thinking: it's why they make such a good pair as a team. but beyond that? he's a mystery, guarded and careful where mei is brash and open. he knew that betraying him would hurt him, though, and he did it anyway.
mei cares about a lot of things in life, but he'd throw every single one of them away for his ambition. miyuki kazuya was no exception to that rule.
now, though, the touch of his fingers against his skin lights a fire in him, something that had gone unkindled for a long time. mei doesn't hesitate when he brings his hand down, but he takes another step closer. open. unarmed. all he does is chuckle at his commentary, looking up at him with something like a missed opportunity in his blue eyes. ] I can't stay long--I should have left already.
[ he never once thinks of saying sorry. ] Tell Sawamura hey for me.
[ because it's unspoken that "i should have left already" meant something more like "this is the last time", because he thinks it might be. this was fate telling him to get in his goodbyes, but mei's ignoring them, even if the urge to reach up to cradle his face and kiss him is still there, as if it was just a rainy sunday morning in their apartment, alone. ]
[ In Kazuya's hand, the weight of his gun is heavy, a reminder of the divide that stands between them now. Betrayal is a lingering wound, one that rubs itself raw at the faintest memory, and it's not one that he suffers lightly. Whatever they'd had, no matter how toxic it might've been at the end of the day, it was theirs. It was his, and he let himself have it for once in his life instead of dismissing it and remaining detached as always.
He should holster it, put it away along with the hurt if only for this goodbye. (Because that's what it is, it's goodbye.)
Miyuki knows he shouldn't. Mei betrayed more than just him, this isn't just personal.
He does anyways.
Reaching out this time once his hand is empty, he brushes his fingers just barely along the curve of Mei's jaw, and then he's cupping his face in a rough palm, thumb sweeping over his cheek as he ducks in and presses their lips together. It's lingering rather than fleeting, and his left hand comes up to join it
Layers upon layers built up to protect himself, to show the world a confident farce - fake it 'til you make it, they say - Miyuki isn't the type to let people understand him. Mei came close, peeling away layers and making his bed in them, tearing them apart in his tantrums, leaving them in tatters in their failures and their accomplishments. He left a trail of destruction in his wake, and Miyuki's still working to compile it all together, to reinforce it to protect himself from this happening again, to make people believe he's not hurting still from the loss, the knife in his back.
But here, now, it's all the more obvious in his touch, the way he kisses Mei, putting emotion he'd never say aloud into it. It's nothing like his bruising kisses, the drag of teeth, that left their mouths flushed and plush.
It, truly, is a goodbye to everything they were. Because for as different as they were, are, they still were partners. They still worked in tandem, like clockwork, on their best days, no matter how their bad ones ended. And Miyuki came to enjoy Mei's early morning whining, his energy bursting at the seams when he got going, the sharp white of his smile and his sly, deft fingers.
And he mourned the loss of it in every way a man can. ]
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it's probably a miracle he didn't die, too. whoops. mei will be sure to send him a nice bottle of whiskey or something for messing up his psyche a little bit. mei laughs. ] Of course he did! Sawamura, he's a real piece of work~
[ with that settled, the predatory nature disappears, to a point. mei's stepped closer to him now, looking up at him with confidence as he always does. if anyone's ever seen said confidence crack, though, its kazuya, who has been there with him for every success and every failure. every night of mei locking himself in his apartment, furious and tempestuous for doing something wrong, every morning of cold fury at the gun range, practicing, practicing, practicing. his ego is obnoxious, but it's earned, and his hard days are there just like anyone else's.
it feels weird to lie to kazuya, now, feels weird to treat him as an enemy, but that doesn't mean mei isn't willing to do it, and he's sure kazuya is the same. he imagines if he attacked him, he'd get a bullet to the brain in a second--kazuya's good like that. picks up what he puts down, on his level. it'd be a good fight.
they don't have to be enemies, but mei's smart enough to know for sure this is a kind of goodbye.
he huffs a laugh that's humorless and lifts his hand--the one without a knife in his sleeve--fearless. miyuki has every chance to grab his wrist and break it in half, but mei's not scared. his hand comes up--and it's to flick kazuya right between the eyebrows. ] When you lose this good face of yours, you'll have nothing to fall back on but your nasty personality, Kazuya. Remember that!
[ and if kazuya leaning in is natural, then it's the same for mei, like a magnet drawn into him.
(the shower's still going in the background.) ]
no subject
But he doesn't say more on it, because Mei is not all bark like some small, yappy dog. No, that look in those blue, blue eyes of his give away more intellect than most people would suspect out of his personality and that face.
He knows this the same way he knows that the hand Mei lifts up towards him doesn't contain a knife, and won't. More than once Kazuya has had one of them held to his throat, thrown at his face, taken them off of him when they were exchanging heated kisses instead of heated blows. So he just watches him rather than his hand, even if his own right hand twitches again around his gun grip. It's not so much an aborted attempt to aim at him, but rather indecision on whether he should finally holster the gun or not.
The flick doesn't necessarily surprise him, but he does flinch with it. Some of the tension bleeds out of his shoulders, the rigid set of his spine, but all he does at first is lift his free hand up to rub his thumb against his forehead. ] That's true, and nobody wants to deal with how shitty I am for long after they realize that's what I'm hiding with my charm and dashing good looks.
[ Except, apparently Mei, who he finally touches, even if it's just a brush of fingertips against his wrist as his hand comes back down. There's a pulse, there, fleeting as it is. There's warmth and smooth, vulnerable skin around thin bone.
Except, apparently, Eijun, but the shower is just white noise that he half-tracks. ]
no subject
he knows how to read kazuya, that's true. he can usually tell what he's thinking: it's why they make such a good pair as a team. but beyond that? he's a mystery, guarded and careful where mei is brash and open. he knew that betraying him would hurt him, though, and he did it anyway.
mei cares about a lot of things in life, but he'd throw every single one of them away for his ambition. miyuki kazuya was no exception to that rule.
now, though, the touch of his fingers against his skin lights a fire in him, something that had gone unkindled for a long time. mei doesn't hesitate when he brings his hand down, but he takes another step closer. open. unarmed. all he does is chuckle at his commentary, looking up at him with something like a missed opportunity in his blue eyes. ] I can't stay long--I should have left already.
[ he never once thinks of saying sorry. ] Tell Sawamura hey for me.
[ because it's unspoken that "i should have left already" meant something more like "this is the last time", because he thinks it might be. this was fate telling him to get in his goodbyes, but mei's ignoring them, even if the urge to reach up to cradle his face and kiss him is still there, as if it was just a rainy sunday morning in their apartment, alone. ]
no subject
He should holster it, put it away along with the hurt if only for this goodbye. (Because that's what it is, it's goodbye.)
Miyuki knows he shouldn't. Mei betrayed more than just him, this isn't just personal.
He does anyways.
Reaching out this time once his hand is empty, he brushes his fingers just barely along the curve of Mei's jaw, and then he's cupping his face in a rough palm, thumb sweeping over his cheek as he ducks in and presses their lips together. It's lingering rather than fleeting, and his left hand comes up to join it
Layers upon layers built up to protect himself, to show the world a confident farce - fake it 'til you make it, they say - Miyuki isn't the type to let people understand him. Mei came close, peeling away layers and making his bed in them, tearing them apart in his tantrums, leaving them in tatters in their failures and their accomplishments. He left a trail of destruction in his wake, and Miyuki's still working to compile it all together, to reinforce it to protect himself from this happening again, to make people believe he's not hurting still from the loss, the knife in his back.
But here, now, it's all the more obvious in his touch, the way he kisses Mei, putting emotion he'd never say aloud into it. It's nothing like his bruising kisses, the drag of teeth, that left their mouths flushed and plush.
It, truly, is a goodbye to everything they were. Because for as different as they were, are, they still were partners. They still worked in tandem, like clockwork, on their best days, no matter how their bad ones ended. And Miyuki came to enjoy Mei's early morning whining, his energy bursting at the seams when he got going, the sharp white of his smile and his sly, deft fingers.
And he mourned the loss of it in every way a man can. ]