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Description
Fortune spits on Nikei the second Yuki pivots on his heels.

They catch eyes, and Nikei’s heart drops into his stomach. No words are exchanged. Only the sound of the taser crackling with electricity fills the silence. It sparks and fizzles louder than their heartbeats, and all they can do is listen, their thoughts terminated.

Nikei trembles. He almost drops the taser. He feels his skin crawl underneath his thick clothing. His arms tingle as if ants are running across them, their little legs digging into his pores.

He knows what he must do. Even if Fortune has pivoted from his favor, he can spin the roulette. The chance still exists to enact his plan. All he has to do is strike Yuki with the taser, take him to the energy room, and trick his classmates into believing his scenario. Even if Yuki is partial to his scheme, he still does not know the entire truth, providing Nikei the upper hand as he draws his arm back, more than ready to plunge the taser into Yuki’s chest.

“Nikei,” he whispers, teeth chattering, “what is this? What are you doing?”

Yuki’s questions are foolish. Although he can appreciate them as a journalist, the answers are obvious and reasonable. Yuki should have realized what Nikei was doing the moment he turned around. Nikei smirks when the blood drains from Yuki’s face, the unanswered truth lingering between them, and the taser becomes more than comfortable in his grip.

Yuki’s expression twists. Distress wrinkles his brow and dilates his pupils. His hands shake in front of his chest, and he’s breathing too heavily, the sound offensive to Nikei’s ears. Yuki blinks and gulps almost like a child, lost and confused in a world which refuses to understand him.

“Sorry you had to turn around,” Nikei remarks, “but there isn’t another way.”

“Wai-wait, wait, Nikei, wait!” Yuki cries out, but Nikei kicks off, the taser thrusting towards his neck.

The electricity should have been coursing through Yuki’s body. It should have burst around them, lighting up Nikei’s world a brilliant blue. Then, Yuki should have slumped to the ground, and he would have carried him to the energy room, continuing his plan as if the hiccup hadn’t happened.

But Yuki slaps his wrist. The impact is enough to loosen Nikei’s grasp on the taser. It spins in midair, but Yuki makes no effort to grab it, and Nikei is too shocked to reach up. It clatters uselessly to the floor, skidding to the side and crackling, its presence painfully known.

Nikei gawks. His right hand twitches. The air between his fingers chills him to the bone. His molars gnash together, and he steels himself, ignoring how his stomach churns and sloshes, anxiety pooling in his gut.

But before he can lunge for the taser, Yuki pounces. He’s like a tiger, propelling off his legs and shooting his arms at him. Nikei flinches, gasping, feeling like his lungs are being compressed as Yuki slams him to the ground. His hat flies off his head. His back collides first, cracking, but Yuki’s arms which wrap around him so strongly take his breath away. His heart refuses to pump, stilling the blood in his veins as they remain on the ground, Nikei forgetting how to move when Yuki tightens the embrace.

He gazes at the ceiling. His hat flutters above him and below him, the hem grazing his ankle. The taser is too far away, and his chattering teeth are too loud, overpowering his thoughts and rationality, forcing him to focus on the warmth blossoming in his chest.

Yuki’s face is buried into Nikei’s neckerchief. His breath bleeds through the fabric and hits his neck. A shiver races up his spine, but it’s quickly subdued by Yuki squeezing him so tightly he fears his ribs will crack.

“There has to be another way,” Yuki murmurs, his nostrils flaring and muscles twitching. He chokes on his own breath and swallows it. He flicks his head up, his chin digging into Nikei’s clavicle, his words airy and wheezy as he pleads, “Please, there has to be something better than this.”

A cruel part of him wants to spit laughter in his face. It urges Nikei to sneer, to shove him off and grab the taser. Finishing the job and defeating Mikado is his truest goal. He wants nothing more than to watch Mikado writhe in despair, his glory ripped away from him when the victory line is in sight by none other than Nikei.

But the red in Yuki’s cheeks, the tears brimming in his eyes, and the strength in his hug steal Nikei’s resolve. He feels his lips part, chapped, soundless. For all of his linguistics, speech fails him, and he cannot write what he wishes to convey despite knowing that Yuki would fully understand with or without words.

He shudders, the contrasting warmth from Yuki and the chilling floor sending his body into a sweaty overdrive. It’s too much for someone as sinful as him, for someone who had immersed himself in wickedness for the sake of a memory. He had allowed his teammates to be whisked away and joined them in their desperate search. Two of them had already died, and he is at death’s door, more than prepared to join them if he could not win.

And yet, he tricks himself. He tells himself there is no other way, that he cannot execute his plan. He lets Yuki sob into his neck, his stress palpable and hot. Nikei closes his eyes and rolls them to the top of his skull, willing his own tears away while the game continues on down below.

In the safety of Yuki’s arms, Nikei believes in second chances.

Description
Fortune spits on Nikei the second Yuki pivots on his heels.

They catch eyes, and Nikei’s heart drops into his stomach. No words are exchanged. Only the sound of the taser crackling with electricity fills the silence. It sparks and fizzles louder than their heartbeats, and all they can do is listen, their thoughts terminated.

Nikei trembles. He almost drops the taser. He feels his skin crawl underneath his thick clothing. His arms tingle as if ants are running across them, their little legs digging into his pores.

He knows what he must do. Even if Fortune has pivoted from his favor, he can spin the roulette. The chance still exists to enact his plan. All he has to do is strike Yuki with the taser, take him to the energy room, and trick his classmates into believing his scenario. Even if Yuki is partial to his scheme, he still does not know the entire truth, providing Nikei the upper hand as he draws his arm back, more than ready to plunge the taser into Yuki’s chest.

“Nikei,” he whispers, teeth chattering, “what is this? What are you doing?”

Yuki’s questions are foolish. Although he can appreciate them as a journalist, the answers are obvious and reasonable. Yuki should have realized what Nikei was doing the moment he turned around. Nikei smirks when the blood drains from Yuki’s face, the unanswered truth lingering between them, and the taser becomes more than comfortable in his grip.

Yuki’s expression twists. Distress wrinkles his brow and dilates his pupils. His hands shake in front of his chest, and he’s breathing too heavily, the sound offensive to Nikei’s ears. Yuki blinks and gulps almost like a child, lost and confused in a world which refuses to understand him.

“Sorry you had to turn around,” Nikei remarks, “but there isn’t another way.”

“Wai-wait, wait, Nikei, wait!” Yuki cries out, but Nikei kicks off, the taser thrusting towards his neck.

The electricity should have been coursing through Yuki’s body. It should have burst around them, lighting up Nikei’s world a brilliant blue. Then, Yuki should have slumped to the ground, and he would have carried him to the energy room, continuing his plan as if the hiccup hadn’t happened.

But Yuki slaps his wrist. The impact is enough to loosen Nikei’s grasp on the taser. It spins in midair, but Yuki makes no effort to grab it, and Nikei is too shocked to reach up. It clatters uselessly to the floor, skidding to the side and crackling, its presence painfully known.

Nikei gawks. His right hand twitches. The air between his fingers chills him to the bone. His molars gnash together, and he steels himself, ignoring how his stomach churns and sloshes, anxiety pooling in his gut.

But before he can lunge for the taser, Yuki pounces. He’s like a tiger, propelling off his legs and shooting his arms at him. Nikei flinches, gasping, feeling like his lungs are being compressed as Yuki slams him to the ground. His hat flies off his head. His back collides first, cracking, but Yuki’s arms which wrap around him so strongly take his breath away. His heart refuses to pump, stilling the blood in his veins as they remain on the ground, Nikei forgetting how to move when Yuki tightens the embrace.

He gazes at the ceiling. His hat flutters above him and below him, the hem grazing his ankle. The taser is too far away, and his chattering teeth are too loud, overpowering his thoughts and rationality, forcing him to focus on the warmth blossoming in his chest.

Yuki’s face is buried into Nikei’s neckerchief. His breath bleeds through the fabric and hits his neck. A shiver races up his spine, but it’s quickly subdued by Yuki squeezing him so tightly he fears his ribs will crack.

“There has to be another way,” Yuki murmurs, his nostrils flaring and muscles twitching. He chokes on his own breath and swallows it. He flicks his head up, his chin digging into Nikei’s clavicle, his words airy and wheezy as he pleads, “Please, there has to be something better than this.”

A cruel part of him wants to spit laughter in his face. It urges Nikei to sneer, to shove him off and grab the taser. Finishing the job and defeating Mikado is his truest goal. He wants nothing more than to watch Mikado writhe in despair, his glory ripped away from him when the victory line is in sight by none other than Nikei.

But the red in Yuki’s cheeks, the tears brimming in his eyes, and the strength in his hug steal Nikei’s resolve. He feels his lips part, chapped, soundless. For all of his linguistics, speech fails him, and he cannot write what he wishes to convey despite knowing that Yuki would fully understand with or without words.

He shudders, the contrasting warmth from Yuki and the chilling floor sending his body into a sweaty overdrive. It’s too much for someone as sinful as him, for someone who had immersed himself in wickedness for the sake of a memory. He had allowed his teammates to be whisked away and joined them in their desperate search. Two of them had already died, and he is at death’s door, more than prepared to join them if he could not win.

And yet, he tricks himself. He tells himself there is no other way, that he cannot execute his plan. He lets Yuki sob into his neck, his stress palpable and hot. Nikei closes his eyes and rolls them to the top of his skull, willing his own tears away while the game continues on down below.

In the safety of Yuki’s arms, Nikei believes in second chances.