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I.
I can't draw the line between the lie and the truth. I get queasy whenever he lays his eyes on me. They give me the distinct feeling he can read my mind.
~.
You claim that it's bound to happen. But, to what extent? What part of me have you deemed worthy of your attention?
II.
He holds you in his arms as if he's never touched another's body before, running spidery fingers down cloth and flesh until only the cool presence of his affections remain. Unlike that press of digital heat seeping through your pores and frying your heart alive, those narrowed, honey eyes are soft, loose in a way that makes you tremble, unaware that something, something much more than friendship keeps him suspended to your reality.
~.
It's a simple thing to lie there alone, with nothing but words simmering brightly up at you and the low drone of the library's ventilation wiping clear your thoughts. But it's another thing to have his gaze trained on your face the entire time, following the curve of your forehead down to your chin back to your nose and up to your eyes. You almost can't resist the smirk that flits across your expression—because he thinks he's being oh-so discreet, hiding behind his tattered book like that. As if he thinks you don't already know the entirety of what he's looking for—that thing slumbering deep within your eyes.
III.
Hase falls into him unexpectedly, like dying leaves returning to ground come autumn, filling up clean, empty green with vibrant red, orange, and brown.
He smiles in a way that changes color on the same leaf, one stretch of left-to-right that has Sawa confused and agitated, questioning the meaning of their entire existence together. Whatever "together" means.
But he accepts his fall as deeply as the sun falls behind clouds and snow trickles down from skies lit gray to coat them in a fine dust of white. Sawa falls into him coldly and embraces him with arms that never fit just right around the brunet's thin waist.
It's imperfect, and he wonders why it doesn't bother him.
They don't mesh well with one another, like seasons that have clashed much too soon, hastily brought together by pure instinctual nature—he hates that lovely, ugly, lopsided grin Hase uses to keep him captive; Hase can't stand the hesitant, unending rejection Sawa uses to keep him enthralled, fascinated, chasing.
But they smear each other with the presence of something much, much more resilient than mere compatibility—a dangerous curiosity he sees every time he glances into those knowing, keen eyes of his classmate's.
Sunlight doesn't penetrate often through stormy clouds of fall, but for some reason, these clouds part far too easily for him.
Hase pulls him in unexpectedly close; breathes the air that mingles coolly between the branches of their noses and the dying leaves within their eyes.
And when he drops his head down, tilting his neck sideways to expose the pale flesh of unmarred autumn, there's laughter on his lips as he whispers,
"No one's going to see~"
~.
There's an unexpected strength in the way Sawa takes him beneath the slow, steady lull of the empty library.
There's an unexpected urgency in the way he pins Hase down to the annex's couch, clumsily shoving his pants down and yanking his legs apart as if it's the last time they'll ever have this again. Whatever "this" is.
He's messy, unprepared, painful, and he knocks the wind completely out of Hase's lungs as he enters him—but there's something so incredibly intimate about the way he stills, unmoving, the moment he's fully inside.
It's a perfectly uncomfortable position, and it fills him with unexpected giddiness. Hase closes his eyes through dry, red-bitten lips as Sawa crouches over his body, exhaling raggedly, body groaning silently. When he opens them again, lids tucked low, Sawa stares down at him like he can't quite comprehend what they're doing ... or what he's feeling.
Time freezes for just that moment.
In that one endless, eternal suspension, entwined so deeply within each other's reality, they both forget how to breathe. Until Sawa reaches a hand to his forehead, smooths the brunet's wet hair away from his eyes, Hase doesn't realize he's been panting shallowly into the other's mouth the entire time, fists clutching tight around Sawa's shoulders.
Harsh, desperate gasps swallow the air greedily—and they're his, they're all his.
When he instinctively brings his forehead closer to Sawa's, sweating, unthinking, mouth trailing down his classmate's right cheek in a soft, lulling kiss, the raven starts to move again.
But it's different this time.
There's gentleness in the way he uses the brunet's body, each slow and steady motion stretching him loose like the salty thrusts of an ebbing, flowing tide. Hase doesn't flinch as he'd done earlier when his world had yet to intersect with that other; doesn't dare miss the brightness in those wide charcoal orbs as Sawa gazes at him intently, resolutely.
Instead, he absorbs that crooked, handsome smile like a cold breeze on the edges of his lips. Leans back and lets Sawa fall deep, deeper into him.