Thread by @Iracebeth3

46. ... Out of jealousy, MiriTama

College AU
cw// slightly nsfw

nsfw// drinking,

"What the-!?"

Tamaki jolts, his hands clinging to this guy's shoulders to steady himself. They break the kiss with a wet 'pop.' The sound reminds Tamaki of the champagne- he /probably/ shouldn't+

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shouldn't have mixed that with beer. And he definitely shouldn't have mixed the two together with sake. He's way drunker than he thought. The room wavers when he moves, and he has to cling to the guy's shoulders to try and stay in two feet.

The guy he was kissing (Dai? Tai?) doesn't seem to mind. His body is a tad lankier than Tamaki would've liked, but he still feels solid, with big hands that close on Tamaki's ass. Kissing him was good, too: a little too wet, but hot. His breath tastes of+

beer and candy, a combination Tamaki finds slightly odd, but pleasant. His hands were sure and rough on his body. Things seemed about to get interesting so the interruption, normally just annoying feels kind of aggravating. He's about to tell whoever is at the door to piss+

off, but his words die in his throat.

Mirio.

Mirio is standing at the door, so /murderous/ it took Tamaki an extra second of staring back to recognize him. He regrets looking almost instantly, though: Mirio's girlfriend peeks through the doorway right then, looking at Tamaki+

and his hook-up (Tai, probably) with raised eyebrows.

Just looking at her makes Tamaki feel queasy, but seeing her look at him with /pity/ is downright upsetting. She's always been nice at Tamaki; sweet, in a way that's a tad short of condescending. Tamaki has no+

reason to dislike her.

But then again, disliking and hating are two very different things.

He straightens his back, trying not to look as small as he feels. Her gaze makes him very conscious of the fact that he's at a party he didn't want to come to, making out with a guy+

whose name he can't even remember while she parades around like a beauty queen, saluting from Mirio's side. And she knows. /Of course/ she knows. She'd have to be stupid (or Mirio) to not notice.

He's seriously grateful when the guy speaks again.

"No offense, man, but we got here first."

His tone is /right/ — annoyed and puzzled, wondering why is Mirio still there. Tamaki realizes, with a pang of guilt, that this is what he should be feeling. He should be /annoyed/ that his best friend is interrupting him when he's+

trying to get laid. He shouldn't feel /ashamed/, because he's not doing anything wrong.

He waits for Mirio to apologize. After all, he /did/ interrupt them. Tamaki is waiting for him to crack an insufferable joke he'll have to live with for the rest of his life, and then+

laugh and leave the room, his arm firmly grasped around his girlfriend's waist. But Mirio stays there, looking at them with wide angry eyes. His hands are clenched into fists; an aggressive stance so unMirio Tamaki blinks in surprise.

"Man-" the guy starts again, and Mirio blinks. He clenches his jaw.

"Tamaki, I need to talk to you."

"What-?"

"Tamaki," he pleads, completely ignoring the guy's question, "please."

Tamaki wants to slap him with a chair. It's /unfair/ of him to give him rhat look+

and ask him to ditch his date to talk to him. It's unfair of him to be asking for this when his fucking girlfriend is standing a few feet away, pitying him.

It's unfair because it works.

He sighs, and then he looks up at the guy. He is understandably puzzled, probably+

wondering why in the world isn't he telling this blond hunk to piss off.

/Because I'm an idiot, that's why./

"Can you leave us alone, please?" He asks, knowing fully well this will come to bite his ass later. "Just a minute."

The guy quirks an eyebrow. To his+

credit, he doesn't seem upset. Just- /confused/. He looks straight into Tamaki's eyes.

"Will you be okay?" He asks, his hands moving from cupping Tamaki's ass to the small of his back, "what if he hurts you?"

The question makes Tamaki laugh. /What if he hurts me?"

It's a little too late for that.

"I'll be okay," he answers, smiling crookedly, "he's my friend."

The guy scans Tamaki's face, looking for answers. He must find something satisfying, because he relents. His hands leave Tamaki's body, but they don't move away completely. He+

grabs Tamaki's cheeks and kisses him — open-mouthed and raw and /dirty/. And it's good. Good enough for him to forget everything, even if it's for a second.

But then the second is over, and Mirio is standing there, glaring, looking so mad he doesn't seem to know+

what to do with it. He glares at the guy as he leaves the room, and he closes the door right after him, as if he feared he'd turn back. Tamaki thinks of reminding him his girlfriend is on the other side, and she'll probably be very upset that he closed a door on her nose.

He doesn't say anything.

For a good while, Mirio doesn't say anything, either. The air in the room is thick with tension, and it's maddening. If Mirio is going to call him out on sleeping around he should start now. Then at least they'll be done earlier.

"What happened?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow, "did you-?"

"What- what was /that/?"

Tamaki quirks an eyebrow.

"What was- what?"

"You've known that guy for /ten/ minutes tops, Tamaki. You can't-"

"Are you for real?" Tamaki asks, voice spiking with disbelief, "for your+

information, I'm an adult. I can do whatever the hell I-"

"But you /just met him/! You can't just-"

"If I want to do it, then I will!"

"No, you won't!"

Tamaki's mouth falls open. And then he's gaping like a fish, offended. From the look on Mirio's face, he also knows he said+

something stupid, but he won't take it back. His eyes are stubborn and resolute.

"Won't I?" Tamaki hears himself say, before a chuckle scratches his throat, "and why, if I can know?"

Mirio looks up at him, blue eyes light in the poorly lit bedroom. Tamaki hates him a+

little: it should be illegal for him to be this handsome and pretty. It should be illegal for him to close the distance between them the way he does, too quick for Tamaki to react. It should be illegal, but Tamaki forgets then and there because Mirio is kissing him.

His lips taste of chips and beer and /heaven/. A feeling of relief and rightness and /yes/ fills every cell in Tamaki's body, making him ache with want and /more, please, please, please-/

His back slams on the wall, his hands somehow finding their way to Mirio's hair and+

/pulling/, making him moan. Mirio's lips find their way to his neck and kiss and suck and bite, and Mirio mutters a single word time and time again.

/Mine./

/Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine./

"You're mine," Mirio whispers, against his throat, more coherent, before sinking his teeth /hard/, making Tamaki moan. It's too high and too strong and too rough and then-

"Hey, is everything alright in there?"

The sound of soft, persistent knocking seems to reverberate in Tamaki's ears. He wants to ignore it. Let it go. He wants to stay like this forever.

But Mirio stops, dead in his tracks. The voice repeats, louder this time, followed+

by a very annoying "honey".

Right. Mirio's girlfriend. She's still there, right out of this room.

Mortification, frustration and /rage/ all climb Tamaki's guts. He pushes Mirio away, angry at him, and angrier at himself and his own feelings. /Why? Why him?/

"Tamaki-"

"Your girlfriend is calling for you," he mutters, with a voice that barely feels his. But nausea climbed his throat and the room is spinning and he has to leave. He has to get out, "you should answer."

He stalks towards the door, rage keeping his steps straight. How+

could he have forgotten? /Stupid. Stupid. Stupid./

"Tamaki-"

Mirio's hand closes on his wrist and Tamaki pulls away. His hand is too warm and it feels too right on him and Tamaki can't have it. Not now.

"Don't- don't talk to me," Tamaki says, bile climbing his throat, "sort your shit out: either break up with her or leave me alone."

He hates the sound of his own voice. He hates that it sounds so shaken and broken and /sad/. He should be angry. He should feel like+

screaming. He shouldn't be /crying/. Not over /this/. Yet here he is, shaken and heartbroken and sad because he let himself forget for a minute that Mirio wasn't his. Not like /that/.

"Tamak-"

Before Mirio can even finish saying his name, Tamaki throws the door open. He comes+

face to face with Mirio's girlfriend: long eyelashes and full lips and so impossibly pretty it makes him want to cry harder. She's cute and soft and strong-willed. She's someone Mirio thinks he could marry.

There's no way in hell he'll be breaking up with her.

Tamaki doesn't know what kind of face he's making. He mutters an "all yours" and then he storms away, feeling his feet heavier with each step.

Mirio doesn't follow him.

(TBC- maybe?)

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The good thing was, the guy Tamaki was makin out with wasn't that far.

The second he left the room, he knew he had to bolt out of the party. He's had enough. He didn't even want to come to begin with. But, of course, Mirio was coming and, in an impulse, Tamaki decided to come+

too.

Not even Mirio and his quintessential faith on him thought it was a good idea. He frowned Tamaki's way, asking if he was sure, and then told him he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to do. Tamaki knew he had good intentions: he didn't want to be that insensitive+

extrovert that pressures his introvert of a friend into stuff. He's never pressured Tamaki into socializing when he doesn't feel like it. The few times he's dragged him to a party he's made good on his promise of staying by his side, always coming back to check on him to make+

sure he's having fun.
Tamaki knew that wouldn't be possible this time. Mirio had a /girlfriend/ this time, and that meant he'd spend the night glued to her side. She's been patient enough with Tamaki's clinginess, but Tamaki was still afraid to take any time with Mirio from her.

Because she /knows/. She's never made an outright threat, but she doesn't need to. She throws a single glance his way and Tamaki panics, thinking she could /tell him/. And then Mirio would know too, and-

Then it'd be over. /They/ would be over.

With that in mind, he's done his+

best to stay out of her way. He's given up more and more of his time with Mirio, even when it made him want to scream and tear his hair out. Even at this hell of a party, he stays out of the way, as unobstrusive as possible.

The hallway keeps moving to the sides, and he has to+

keep his hand on the wall to stay upright. /Why did he let Mirio kiss him?/ That was so dumb. He'd moaned in his arms like a slut, and now Mirio would /know/, too, and they'd have to have "the talk" — 'I was drunk, Tamaki, I didn't mean it,' 'you're like a brother to me.'

/Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck./

A hand closing on his wrist startles him. He pulls his away, panicked, but only for the second it takes him to turn arpund and look at the person grabbing him. Tai (he's almost sure it was Tai) looks at him with a worried frown.

"It's me," he says, although his voice is muffled down by the music coming from somewhere downstairs, "are you okay?"

The question makes Tamaki want to cry.

It must show on his face, because the guy frowns deeper. Tamaki wonders just how upset he looks. The last thing he needs+

is people looking at him like this. /They'll talk/. /They'll ask/, and then everyone will know how truly pathetic he is.

"Let's leave," He asks, "I want to go."

The guy blinks, and then raises an eyebrow. Tamaki is sure he'll refuse but he nods. He places a hand on the small+

of Tamaki's back and guides him through the least populated areas, until they're out of the house. They don't stop to give explanations, but Tamaki knows they won't need them. If he were to leave the party alone, everyone would think he's going home to sulk. But he's leaving+

the party with a guy. Everyone must know what that means by now.

It means they'll have a different kind of fun.

Tamaki doesn't mind the assumption. Rumors are way worse than the truth, of course: being gay seems to make some people think he's some kind of pervert that+

would fuck anyone, but he's not above that using that to hie advantage. If the promise of easy sex gets a guy to take him out of a place he doesn't want to be in, he'll take it.

At least, he tells himself, no one will suspect anything: they won't know about what happened+

upstairs. He hates to be pitied. It makes him feel kinda glad that this guy didn't see what happened with Mirio. He won't know how pathetic he is. At least he'll be able to save face- just a little.

It'd be ideal, he thinks, if he could get the world to stop moving, but he+

doesn't stop walking. It's easier once they're outside: yhe brisk night air fills is lungs and it makes his head feel a little clearer. He waits by the sidewalk until a taxi stops; a distanr rumbling making him think perhaps this guy has tried to start conversation. Not that+

he can follow. All of his brainpower is invested in not vomiting.

As soon as he's into the passenger seat, he takes off his shoes and brings his knees to his chest. He shuts his eyes, trying to get rid of the memory of /Mirio/ — his lips on his and his hands on his hips and his+

teeth sinking in the skin of his neck. /Did that really happen?/

"Where?"

He shakes his head once. His hookup's tone is sweet enough, perhaps even worried. Tamaki knows he must make quite a sight: a grown ass man curled into a ball in public, but he can't care.

Tai asks+

again, sounding worried, and Tamaki shakes his head again, feeling his head pound at the movement.

"Your place," he manages, still feeling queasy, "I can't- I don't want to go home."

Tamaki could elaborate: he could explain /Mirio/ will get home at some point, with his perfect+

girlfriend, and that the walls are so thin so he'll have to hear him fuck said perfect girlfriend, and that he's so pathetic he'll probably jerk off to it, his brain conveniently focused on Mirio's thick harsh groans. He'll have to be there in the morning and talk about how he+

didn't mean to kiss him, and it was all a mistake and /you're my best friend, Tamaki, nothing will change that-/

The car moves. Tamaki should have probably paid attention to the address. He definitely shouldn't be going with a stranger to an unknowns location, but he can't care.

He would sleep under a bridge if that meant he didn't have to hear Mirio fuck his girlfriend /again/; if it means he gets to postpone that conversation.
_____

He must fall asleep in the car, because next thing he knows he's being shaken awake. He yawns waking up and looks+

around.

Now sobered up, Tamaki feels a pang of panic. The place is not completely foreign — he's pretty sured he's walked down this area once or twice before. It's mostly a commercial district, and the bright lights hurt his eyes. Tamaki feels sobered up enough to be+

embarrassed, but not quite enough to want to disappear just yet. The guy doesn't seem mad — he's thanking the driver, and Tamaki takes the chance to put on his shoes quickly and all but jump out of the car.

Lights are bright here, and Tamaki fills his lungs with a deep breath.

He came here with Mirio once: there's an all-you-can-eat restaurant two blocks away, and Mirio took him there to celebrate good grades in last semester's finals. Tamaki had won their ramen eating competition, and Mirio had to do their dishes for a whole week.

The memory makes Tamaki smile, but it also feels like a stab to his chest. Mirio has always been good to him. He's such a good friend.

It would've been perfect if Tamaki had been his friend too. If he could turn off /this/ — the ache, the /feelings/ burning in his chest and+

making it hard to breathe. It'd be perfect. It'd be wonderful. /Ideal/.

But, of course, Tamaki is ambitious. He wants way more than his due.

Even with what happened today, Tamaki can't bring himself to feel hopeful. Mirio was /drunk/ — he didn't know what he was doing. Even+

if, for some miracle, he could get him to acknowledge it, it wouldn't change anything.

With the feeling of watching a horror movie, he rememebers Mirio's girlfriend questioning. She'd cornered Mirio in the kitchen of the apartment that they shared, and then she asked+

him about Tamaki. /Do you like him? Because if you do-/

/"It's not like that," Mirio had answered, with a long-suffering sigh, "we've been best friends since we were kids. He's like a brother to me."/

Mirio's girlfriend answered something else, and Tamaki took it as his cue+

to leave, going back to his bedroom walking on the tips of his toes. When Mirio came to offer breakfast, about a quarter of an hour later, Tamaki pretended to be asleep. He didn't leave his bedroom until much later, right after hearing their front door open and close: he+

knew Mirio's girlfriend had to leave at some point, and that Mirio would be too much of a gentleman not to walk her home.

The kitchen was like it always was, except for a Tupperware sitting in the center of the counter, with a yellow post-it on top.

"Don't forget to eat! Good luck studying =)" It read. Mirio had even drawn a smiley face on one side, the long shape of the eyes surprisingly similar to his own.

Tamaki sat to eat, all but inhaling his food, trying (and failing) not to cry.

A hand on his shoulder startles him back. Taishiro mutters something and then starts walking. Tamaki has no option but to follow him.

Instead of a building, Taishiro guides him into a restaurant. It's one of the few eating places open at this time: an exhausted guy with+

purple hair walks closer to write down their orders. The guy starts ordering a bunch, and Tamaki wants to feel offended that he's ordering for him, but to be completely honest, he's grateful: he doesn't feel like he can think.

Then the guy turns to look at him.

"Do ya want something?"

Tamaki blinks.

"Was that- was all that for you?"

"Problem with that?"

Tamaki shakes his head.

"I'll- hm, I'll order the same. Thanks."

The guy seems a little more exhausted just from imagining carrying all that food to their table, but he+

walks away before Tamaki can apologize.

The amount of food it's not too much for a bad night: Tamaki always eats more when he's upset or after drinking, and tonight he is /both/.

Normally, in dates, he orders less than what he normally eats. It's a habit: his first boyfriend+

always had something to say at his eating habits, and Tamaki can't help feeling self-conscious. He always feels it'll be too much, and he'll end up getting /some/ form of commentary, which he'd rather avoid.

Because of that, he ends up eating again almost after every date+

night. Eating instant ramen with Mirio on their balcony late at night ends up being his favorite part of every night, which probably has to do with how none of his relationships has been able to end his big fat ugly crush.

A few minutes go by in complete silence. Tamaki thinks+

of checking his phone, but swiftly discards it. What if he has a message from Mirio? And what if he doesn't have any? Both options sound awful.

A couple of minutes later, the first part of their order comes. Tamaki sees the guy down several gyoza, and focuses on eating his own+

trying not to feel too sorry for himself. But it's hard. He is hopeless. He /feels/ hopeless.

"So, that guy- is he your ex?"

Tamaki is startled at the sound. Taishiro has finished his first plate, and he's started with the next one, giving Tamaki space to answer.

Truth be told, Tamaki doesn't want to tell this story, but he guesses the guy that took his pathetic ass out of that party deserves an explanation.

So he starts explaining. Before be realizes, he's telling him everything: how he'd met Mirio and how they'd stayed friends for+

years, and how he'd developed and tried to get rid of the biggest crush in the existence of crushes. He explained how sweet Mirio was, and how every little thing just made his crush feel /worse/, because he couldn't have him.

Explaining the /kiss/ is way harder, because Tamaki doesn't understand it. He can understand why Mirio wouldn't /love/ the fact that he hooked up with someone he had just met, but how that ends up in him just /kissing him/ is- not as easy to explain.

Mirio and him have made out a few times before: first when they were in highschool, just to see what kissing someone was like. Once alcohol got in the picture, the little slips became somewhat worse. Never /frequent/, but more intense. Tamaki can't remember most of those, but+

he has a vague idea: Mirio's body, solid and firm and hot under his fingers, and his hot breath in his face and the feeling that everything was /right/ in the world. But then again, Tamaki can't be sure that ir wasn't a dream: it didn't change anything. First, they+

were young, it was "experimenting", so it didn't matter. And later on they were drunk and foolish and Mirio likes girls better and they are /friends/. Best friends. Probably the most important person in the other's life. But /friends/. Nothing else.

Placing the kiss in that scheme is hard. Tamaki doesn't get it: why would Mirio /kiss him/ then? With his goddamn /girlfriend/ standing at the other side of a fucking door?

Taishiro, who was kind enough to repeat his name once he realized Tamaki didn't remember stares down at+

him. Tamaki doesn't like the way he looks at him: as if Tamaki were stupid, or making a really bad joke

"Dude, he was /jealous./"

Now it's Tamaki's turn to blink and stare. His mouth falls open, his brain running in overdrive trying to understand that /possibility/.

Suddenly, Taishiro starts cackling. It's so loud people across the street turn around, and Tamaki pulls up his hoodie to hide his face, stomach twisting. He glares at Taishiro that keeps laughing, the fucker, as if he'd told the funniest joke ever.

"It's really cruel of you to+

mock me like that," he mutters, glaring at his plate and stabbing his food with his fork.

He decides right then he'll pretend to have forgotten his wallet. To hell with his manners. He'll make Taishiro pay for everything. It'll serve him right.

"Look, I get it. I know I'm pathetic but you don't have to-"

"What-? Wait- no dude- I'm not making fun of you."

Taishiro's laughter /finally/ stops. Tamaki wants to roll his eyes at the feigned innocence. This /asshole./

"You don't have to spell it for me. Laughing like that at me in /public/. Why don't you-?"

"I'm not laughing at you," Taishiro says, lying, because the next thing he does is laughing /again/, "okay, now I /am/ laughing at you. But /only/ because you're being kind of dumb now."

"I /know/ that. Why do you think I'm-?"

"I don't mean it like that!" Taishiro interrupts him, "damn, are you always like this?"

Taishiro laughs again, shorter this time, and continues before Tamaki can interrupt him.

"What I mean is- that Mirio guy was jealous as fuck. He+

looked at me like he wanted to kill me or something. You denying it? That's the dumb part. Not anything else."

Tamaki takes a moment to process his words.

It's not that he can't see how would that make sense. If anyone were to lay out the events of tonight and ask for his+

opinion, he'd probably point at the same conclusion. But that would be for other people. Not for Mirio and /him./

"We're not like that," he says, finally, shaking his head, "I'm like a brother to him."

Taishiro laughs again. There's something /odd/ to this laughter. He sounds+

/surprised?/

"I don't know about you, kid. But I don't stick my tongue in my siblings' throat when I see them kissing someone else. And something tells me he doesn't either."

Tamaki thinks about it again. And then he buries his face in his hands.

"If something were to happen+

between us it /would have happened already/. We're- we're not like that. He doesn't /want/ us to be like that."

Tamaki can't see Taishiro's face, but he can hear him click his tongue. He can hear his voice go low, almost confidential.

"You sure about that?"

(TBC~)

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Taishiro is insane.

Tamaki is sure of that: either he is insane, or he's completely and utterly evil; evil enough to try to get Tamaki to ruin his friendship with Mirio.

Or maybe he's just insane. He /looks/ insane with the messy hair and the toothy smile, as if+

he was a mad scientist that just figured out the secret for his beloved monster to live. Except there's no monster: this is about Tamaki's crush, and with that plan Taishiro is more likely to kill it.

The man doesn't stop eating as he explains his plan: according to him, they+

should let Mirio see them kissing. That's bound to cause a reaction, he says: either he gets jealous and does something dramatic or he doesn't. But either way, Tamaki would have his answer: at the very least, they'd have a reason to start that conversation.

From the way Taishiro explains it, the getting-jealous-and-doing-something-dramatic is the only possible route. Taishiro seems to be expecting Mirio to get violent: either try to beat him up or yank Tamaki away from him with a cheesy declaration.

The notion alone makes+

Tamaki want to disappear from embarrassment. And Taishiro is completely insane for thinking something like that could ever work. He's regretting ever getting near him; ever telling him anything about his dumb pathetic romance. Because that (his whole plan) is impossible.

Tamaki tried to explain him that. He tried telling him Mirio isn't like that. He is a chill guy. Despite what people might assume from his size, he's not violent: the kind to de-escalate a fight instead of throwing fists. Even when he people picked up on him, it never+

ended up in a fight. The idea that he would scream and yank him away from someone else would be hilarious if he didn't want it so bad... But it won't happen. Mirio isn't like that. He isn't. He-

/You're mine. Mine. Mine. Mine-/

But he /did/ that, didn't he?

/Mine./

He did. Tamaki isn't crazy enough to make up a memory like that, and his imagination would've never made up something so /vivid/. That was all Mirio. /Mirio/ being irrationally possessive, not of his girlfriend, but of /him/.

Tamaki bites his bottom lip, trying to make sense of the contradictions. Mirio saying he's like a brother to him. Mirio kissing him and digging his teeth into his neck and-

They're both true: two sides of the same maddening coin. Tamaki knows what side he wants to look+

at.

Maybe it's time for him to check — what side Mirio wants to look at.

If he doesn't want him like that, even if it's just a little

If Mirio denies it, Tamaki will know he has to leave. It'd be downright masochistic, to stay there when Mirio has a girlfriend and things are+

starting to look serious. He'd have to put some distance: move out of their shared apartment and find a way to fill that Mirio-shaped hole in his life.

When was the last time he was truly /without/ Mirio? Tamaki has been his friend for so long he can't imagine what his life would look like without him. It feels impossible. It feels /wrong/, like waking up one morning to find out the sky has gone green. They share a /life/. They+

have a /schedule/ for chores and movie nights and study sessions together. Mirio makes his favorite meals on Sundays and brings him pastries on his way home from work. And he's such a /dork/ that loves his Sci-fi movies with zero actual science and still sits through Tamaki's+

documentaries, because he knows he can't delete them without watching them, and he loses track halfway through, but still sits down through the whole thing and watches them, because Mirio knows they make Tamaki happy.

He's the best thing to ever come to Tamaki's life and Tamaki+

wants him so much it hurts. He wants to kiss him, and bite him and cover him in purple marks. He wants to fuck him. He wants to know what it'd be like to be full of /him/. Mirio would fill him just right. He'd pound him into the mattress and fuck him stupid, until he can't+

remember his own name. But he knows he'd still remember Mirio's name.

It'd be nice, really, to fuck the right person for once. To be fucked by the person he's thinking of just /once/.

He looks at his phone, trying not to feel pathetic. His wallpaper is a picture of the two of+

them, because /of course/ it is. Their faces are covered by all the notifications Tamaki has refused to look at. His phone is set to "Do Not Disturb" permanently, which means it never makes a sound, but the messages are still there, one after another.

Most of the new notifications, are from Mirio. He has ten missed calls, and about half a dozen texts. Not to mention messages in each and every one of the apps on his phone.

It feels good and bad. Mirio is worried about him, and Tamaki hates worrying him. But-

But it also+

feels good, in a way that's probably unhealthy, but that Tamaki can't help.

It's nice to know Mirio cares about him so much. A soft, gentle warmth feels his chest. It's always been like this: having Mirio's attention makes him feel important. Special.

But then he remembers Mirio's girlfriend. He remembers her perfect face and her perfect lips and her oh so perfect angelic face and he feels queasy, almost sick. He wonders how much it'll last: how much until he can feel nothing but this- this /pain/? This yearning that+

threatens to burn a hole in his heart.

He loves what he has. He /does/. But he can't help wanting what /she/ has: he wants Mirio to be /his/. He wants to be his "plus one" — his companion dor everything. He wants to be the most important person in Mirio's life without doubt, no+

significant other to get offended at the affirmation. He wants to kiss Mirio for /real/ — in the middle of the afternoon in a Thursday between study sessions, with no alcohol or darkness or /excuses/ implied. He wants to know Mirio won't make out with someone else in /their/+

couch, or fuck someone else in /their/ apartment.

Maybe it's crazy. Maybe they were never meant to be: maybe Mirio just wants to be his friend and they've been both letting their possessiveness get out of hand. It's crazy. Tamaki /feels/ crazy. It's not normal to want+

want someone this much- to /own/ them. If it was anyone else, Tamaki would be disgusted. But it's /Mirio/. Everything (even this) feels alright when it's him.

At the end of the day, he is what he is, and he wants what he wants.

The message visible on screen reads "I'll wait at home," with no emojis attached. Tamaki doesn't need to think too much to know the previous messages must be some form of "we need to talk." Mirio must have sobered up, then. And he wants to talk.

Well, Tamaki will give him something to talk about.

"Fuck it," he mutters, saving his phone in his pocket, "let's do it."

(TBC~)

(I'm facing some unexpected medical bills right now, so any tips will be greatly appreciated
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After a short quarrel because of the bill (Taishiro refused to split the check, even after how hard it was for Tamaki to drop his plan to forget his wallet) they're back onto a taxi, and up to the other side of the city. To his apartment.

His cellphone feels warm in his pocket. He should probably call Mirio. He might be asleep. He might be out doing /something/. People often defined Mirio as a golden retriever, and Tamaki could see the resemblance: he is warm, friendly, and gas way too much energy for staying+

indoors for extended periods of time. He could've gone out to pick a coffee and go to the gym. It's what he does after late Saturday parties: according to him, going to sleep so late on Sunday would mess up his schedule, so after a night out he spends the day out and+

about, doing everything he can to stay awake the afternoon. Then he'd sleep twelve hours straight and wake up on Mondays... Which means he might not be home when they get there.

What if they have to wait? What if he has to call Mirio? How in the actual world would he justify+

calling him and then make out with another guy on their couch?

But Mirio said he'd be home, didn't he? He said he'd wait for him... But what if he thinks Tamaki is not coming? What if he thinks he stayed somewhere else? Tamaki didn't answer. He should've /texted/ him at least.

He fishes his cellphone from his pocket. Maybe just a quick text. "Coming home" or "will be there in ten" or "I want you to breakup with your perfect girlfriend and date me instead and I'm about to do something very stupid to get you to do it."

The black screen of his phone greets him back. He presses the button on the side, but it doesn't answer.

Right. He had- 8% battery last time he checked. So now his phone is dead.

Anxiety does what it does best: curl up in his gut and fill him with dread. He turns towards+

Taishiro, trying very hard not to sound /desperate/, only for the man to inform him he didn't bring his phone with him to the party last night: it was almost dead, so he left it at home, charging.

Tamaki buries his face in his hands, feeling miserable. This will be a+

disaster. Such a colossal disaster it'll get some kind of record on disasters. Mirio won't be home. Or he'll be asleep. Or he'll be wide awake and then he'll see Tamaki and know being jealous on his account was a huge lapse of judgement. He'll see Taishiro kissing this+

pantomime of a human that looks like a zombie about to be killed in a movie and will pat Taishiro's back and thank him for taking the bullet for him.

"You okay?"

He looks up. Taishiro is looking at him with eyebrows furrowed. He's worried now, of course. Because Tamaki+

can't get his act together even for twenty minutes of a taxi ride to do something that should help him. He's just /that/ pitiful.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, uselessly, before hiding his face in his hands again, "I want to do it. I /have to/. But-"

"Ya don't have to do+

anything," Taishiro interrupts him, his voice stern, "it's yer life. You can do whatever you want. We can call the thing out, or do it some other day. It's yer call."

Behind his hands, Tamaki smiles, although it's slightly bitter. Taishiro sounds like Mirio sometimes.

It's /painful/, but that alone seems to be enough to make his brain code him as /good/.

Pitiful, but effective.

Tamaki raises his head and takes several deep breaths, trying to put his thoughts in order. His usually anxious brain is running on no hours of sleep, which is+

is probably why his self-talk seems more negative than ever. But it's probably also why he's even managed to /try/. Sleep deprivation is a lot like intoxication.

"It has to be today," he mutters, "shaking his head. If we let jt pass, I- I'll chicken out. I won't want to do it."

/Because I'm pathetic like that/, he thinks, but he keeps that to himself. Taishiro has dealt with enough self-deprecation for a lifetime by now.

Taishiro doesn't say anything, but Tamaki can feel his eyes on him. He feels a little guilty for spoiling+

this for the other man. Before Tamaki spoke, he seemed excited: Tamaki heard him say something about never getting involved in drama like this when he was in highschool. Smart, he thinks. Tamaki never got involved, either. Because it was /stupid/.

As they reach his apartment building, Tamaki can't help wondering what his highschool self would've said about this. Probably that it's too high of a bet: and worthless, because Tamaki will not stop being in love with Mirio, even if this doesn't work.

But he ignores the voice. He'll manage. Somehow. There /has to/ be a way to fall out of love with your best friend.

The elevator ride is filled by a short explanation: the building is a little too nice for two students to afford it, which makes Tamaki start another explanation.

As long as they get good grades, Tamaki's parents pay rent on their apartment, even if they won't pay for anything else. There's other bills and books and food to buy, so both Mirio and him have part-time jobs.

The arrangement is one of the reasons why Tamaki hasn't left, even+

if he'd never say it out loud. His parents love Mirio (like pretty much everyone who knows him does) but Tamaki is fairly certain they wouldn't pay his rent if he moved out. Mirio's dad is a single dad, and he probably wouldn't be able to help him much. And this place /is/+

expensive. Mirio would have to find somewhere else to live. Who knows if he'd be able to stay in college?

The knowledge sits in his stomach, bitter, as they make their way down the hallway, but it seems to turn into bricks when they get to the door. It's still there+

when he opens the door and crosses the threshold, and the bricks seem to turn into lead when he sees Mirio's shoes on the genkan.

At least it's/only/ Mirio's shoes. Tamaki doesn't know what he'd have done if he'd seen Mirio's girlfriend's high heels there.

Now they need to do the next part. Move to the living room- or was it the kitchen? And then-

"Tamaki?"

Mirio's voice comes from the kitchen, and then the sound of steps.

A tiny, not very coherent part of his brain, processes that he was worrying over nothing: Mirio is+

here, home, alone. It really couldn't be better than that.

The rest, about 95% of his brain, is panicking.

He didn't think this through. He /didn't/. He's not ready! What is he supposed to do now? He's not ready. He'll never be. He-

The genkan swirls around him. Before Tamaki knows what's happening, his back is slamming against the nearest wall. His left shoulder protests, but before he can complain there's a mouth over his, because Taishiro is kissing him.

It's nothing like kissing Mirio, for once. Tamaki's head doesn't feel fuzzy and desperate. His body doesn't /burn/ with want and need. But it's, overall, a good kiss. Taishiro's mouth is firm; demanding. His body is really close, suddenly, and Tamaki has about a second to wonder+

what does that look like from the side before Mirio finally enters the living room, where he can see them.

It happened so quick, Tamaki didn't get to close his eyes. He hears a gasp and looks to the side — to Mirio's wide, surprised blue eyes.

(TBC~)

(SO- there's two alternatives in my head for how this could play out, but I'm feeling generous so I'mma let the crowd choose 👀✨

(QRT to comment! Tell me your thoughts on each option or just the thread! It's excellent for motivation (つ✧ω✧)つ

Please do NOT reply to the thread 😂)

Tamaki's eyes lock on Mirio's. Nothing moves for and eternity and a half: it could've been a second, or an hour.

Then the world moves again, and Tamaki sees the emotions flash on Mirio's face: surprise that turns into incredulity that bleeds into hurt and anger.

Something sparks within Tamaki; a vicious sort of satisfaction lits him inside out. It's cold and dark and /wrong/, but he can't help it. /It serves him right/, he thinks, as he kisses Taishiro back, because at the very least Mirio will understand how /he/ feels for once.

It's not his best kiss. It's sloppy and kinda awkward; he can't get comfortable. Taishiro is holding him off the floor, and it's not comfortable with him. Tamaki tries to find a better position; push him off a little so he can get comfortable, but it's like trying to move a wall.

Taishiro is passionate, kissing him as if he didn't know there's someone else in the room. He's passionate enough for both of them: biting Tamaki's lip and claiming his mouth with his tongue when Tamaki gasps. It feels invasive, his tongue a little too big to truly move /right/+

in his mouth, but Tamaki bears it, because Mirio is looking and now he'll /know/. Maybe next time he gets a girlfriend he'll think twice before bringing her here, to /their/ place.

He hears an odd sound, like something falling and breaking, and then quick steps on the wooden+

floor. There's a tiny second where he fears Mirio will walk past them and leave.

And then several things happen at once.

There's a dry noise, a gasp, and then Taishiro is flying away from him, his whole body slamming on their front door.

Tamaki blinks. Mirio is standing right in front of him, looking angry, an arm shielding Tamaki from Taishiro's view. It looks like he wants to hit him again; something hot and hard boiling in his eyes.

Tamaki loves it.

It tastes like joy, like /victory/ glistening in his+

chest. Because Mirio has never been this jealous over anyone before. Anyone but /him/.

He smiles. He can't help it. It feels /good/ to know at last. That Mirio does care; that he feels /something/.

Then Mirio turns to look at him.

"What the hell was /that/!?"

Tamaki blinks.

He has to say something. He has to explain: tell him this was all to see his reaction; to see if he'd care enough to do something.

Even in his head, it sounds bad.

And Mirio is angry, sure. Tamaki had been hoping for that. But it never occurred to him that Mirio could also+

be angry at /him/. For the first time in their lives.

He can't figure out what to say, to make this sound- not awful. Confronting the anger and pain in Mirio's eyes /it serves you right/ sounds unfair.

Mirio didn't do anything to hurt him. It's not like Tamaki ever told+

him how he felt. He's pretty sure Mirio wouldn't have brought in someone's to make up with them to /test him/.

He opens his mouth, starts to say something and then closes it, time and time again. What is he supposed to say now? 'I thought you could like me so I decided to+

make out with someone else to test it'?

It sounds cruel.

His stomach twists. He tries to start a sentence again. Once. Twice. At the third time, Mirio groans, a long-suffering sound that lacks every grain of that patience he always seemed to have for Tamaki's fits. When he+

he speaks again, his voice sounds pretty close to screaming.

"You know, if you didn't /want/ to be with me, you just had to say it. /This/ is a bit much, don't you think?"

Tamaki shakes his head, quickly, feeling nausea climb his throat.

"I don't- that wasn't-"

"What? That wasn't for me?" Mirio chuckles; dry and humorless, "you're an awful liar. But it's fine, don't worry. Message received."

"I'm not- I'm not lying-" Tamaki starts, and then stutters again, "I didn't mean- I didn't mean- that's not. That's not it."

"Then what is it!?" Mirio almost screams again, "at this point, I really don't know what you /want/!"

Tamaki looks at his feet. His chest feels tight, way too tight. Mirio has never been mad at him. He wasn't ready for that. He wasn't ready for any of this. The answer is at the+

tip of his tongue 'I want /you/'. 'I want to be with you/.' 'I want to be the only person you look at.' 'I want you to break up with your damn perfect girlfriend and be with me instead.'

"Y-your girlfriend-"

It was the wrong thing to say. Mirio groans again. He sounds+

about ready to lose it.

"Tamaki, you /told me/ to break up with her!" Mirio half-screams, half-groans, "remember that!? It was about five minutes before you left the party with /that guy/!"

Tamaki blinks. Once. Twice.

"You mean- you- you broke up with her?"

"Of course I did! You told me to! And i thought we'd finally-" he stops, and then goes on, his voice smaller, /hurt/ "that we'd finally be together."

Tamaki's mouth falls open. He stutters. His eyes search Mirio's face, half eager and half desperate.

Mirio is not looking at him. He seems deflated, somehow, his anger dried up with all the screaming.

"Finally?"

Tamaki's voice is tiny and thin. It sounds broken, even to his own ears. He can see Mirio's jaw clench, his blue eyes clouded by a frown.

"Yeah, finally," Mirio grimaces, "I'm an idiot, aren't I?"

Tamaki blinks, and then frowns. If there was any space behind him, he would've taken a step back.

"Since when-?"

"Tamaki," Mirio starts, shoulders still tense, voice even tenser, "I've been in love with you since we+

were kids. Can you please stop pretending you don't know?"

Mirio's voice is low and tense, half hurt and half angry, but for once the anger in his tone doesn't distract him. Tamaki gapes like a fish out of water, his forehead twisted into a frown.

It's probably not his best+

move, but it's instinctive: Tamaki shakes his head and says "No."

Mirio blinks, surprised, and then frowns.

"No?"

"You're not- you're not in love with me," Tamaki stutters, "it's not- I'm not-"

"Tamaki- I think I /know/ what I-"

"Mirio, /I/ am in love with you! You're not-"

"Wait, what!?"

For a few seconds, they both stare at each other. Tamaki can feel his frown; can see Mirio's face looking at him as if he had been speaking in some strange secret language. But in his eyes there's the tiniest, slightest glimmer of /hope/.

"Did you read /any/ of my messages?"

Tamaki shakes his head. He wants to explain everything: the doubts and the thoughts and the /fear/ of what the messages would say. He wants to know what they /did/ say. Because maybe it wasn't any of the things he feared. /Maybe-/

"His phone died," Taishiro's voice says, from the door. Tamaki blinks and stares at him. Funnily enough, he forgot Taishiro was there.

Apparently Mirio forgot, too, because he's /glaring/ at him, as if he wanted nothing more than slam his face with a chair.

"Why are you still here?"

"I'm helping my boy here."

"He's not /your/ anything."

Mirio's glare is intense. /Murderous/. It makes more of that dark satisfaction bubble in his gut.

Taishiro seems to find it amusing. He laughs heartily as he stands up. And Tamaki has to+

blink, and wonder how in the world did he not notice Mirio had thrown Taishiro to the /floor/.

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving," Taishiro says, still amused, hands raised, asking for peace, "I think you two have a lot to talk about."

Even with those words, Mirio doesn't stop+

glaring at him. He glares at the door for a few seconds even after Taishiro is gone, as if he thought he could come back.

It doesn't happen. The door stays closed and, eventually, Mirio relaxes.

It's quiet, but it's not the kind of quiet that feels oppressive. Tamaki can feel+

it vibrating between, them, sparkling up with questions and hopes. He tries to think of what to say, what to ask, /where to start-/

"We should- probably sit down... Couch?"

For the first time since Tamaki opened the door, Mirio sounds like /Mirio/. His voice is soft around+

the edges, hopeful and almost cheerful. When Tamaki nods, he smiles, and he holds his hand as they make their way to the living room.

They sit down at the couch, each at his own corner. Mirio doesn't let go of his hand, and Tamaki doesn't ask him to. When he speaks, his voice+

is hopeful.

"So- you're in love with me?"

It's the best place to start, Tamaki guesses. He nods once, and it's amazing, how much lighter he feels when he says it; when he can /finally/ admit it to Mirio's face.

Mirio beams, and then laughs. Tamaki would've been+

embarrassed, but there's nothing akin to mockery in Mirio's voice. The sound is gleeful, at peace, as if a heavy weight had been lifted off his shoulders after a long time.

Tamaki can get the feeling.

He plays with Mirio's fingers, trying to wrap his head around+

the idea. Mirio /loves him/. Mirio loves him the way he loves him.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He asks. He hates how /reproachful/ his voice sounds, but he can't help it.

"I didn't think you liked me like that," Mirio says, half sheepish, half gleeful, "when we kissed-"

"You acted as if- it didn't mean anything," Tamaki mutters, "like- like it didn't matter."

Oh, he hates how his own voice sounds. He hates that he can't just /enjoy/ this moment. Mirio loves him. He should be happy and let it be... But he can't.

Mirio sighs. He squeezes+

Tamaki's hand tight.

"You seemed- panicked," Mirio mumbles, at last, "to me it seemed like- you regretted it."

"I didn't- I didn't regret it," Tamaki shakes his head, "why would you-?"

"The first time I kissed you, you ran off," Mirio reminds him, smiling wryly, "and the+

second time-"

"I didn't run off."

"You didn't," Mirio concedes, "but you didn't seem- happy? You looked at me as if- as if I had done something horrible. And after- what happened after Hadou's birthday, I thought-"

"What- what happened after Hadou's birthday?"

Mirio stares at him. He laughs, but it's a little exasperated. Then, he frowns. He looks at Tamaki warily, as if he was gauging something dangerous.

"Tamaki, you- you do remember we had sex that night, right?"

"We- what!?"

Tamaki's jaw hangs open. He can feel his face go+

hot.

Mirio nods, seemingly to himself, eyebrows raised, lips pursed. He squeezes Tamaki's hand.

"I- can't remember it very well," he says, chuckling, "I was drunk. But I didn't- I hadn't realized you didn't /know/."

Tamaki struggles to remember. Hadou's birthday party+

had been awfully stressful. He'd drank- a lot, even for his standards. He remembers making out with Mirio, and he /thought/ he had gotten into his room after they came back, but-

"I thought- getting into your room had been a dream," Tamaki admits, embarrassed, "I was in /my/+

room the next morning. And I couldn't feel- anything in my- /in-inside/."

Mirio laughs, somewhat awkwardly.

"Well- /you/ couldn't feel it," Mirio mutters, his eyes gazing through the window, "/I/ couldn't sit straight for a week."

Tamaki's jaw falls open again, perhaps+

he should just let it there. At the very least it can't fall any /more/ open.

Mirio looks back at him and laughs; probably at his shocked face.

"I didn't know you- why- /how/-"

"You asked," Mirio says, somewhat guiltily, "I have a- hard time telling you no."

Tamaki raises his eyebrows, trying to put the pieces together. He /fucked/ Mirio, then: the memories of that massive, firm body under him were not his imagination.

"Why- why didn't you say anything?"

Mirio laughs again and, this time, the sound is bitter.

"Tamaki- you /disappeared/ in the middle of the night. And didn't want to talk about it the next morning. I thought-"

He pauses. Tamaki squeezes his hand, trying to give him some reassurance. /It's okay. You can tell me./

"All things considered, I just thought- you didn't want+

a relationship," Mirio says, finally, "that- maybe you wanted- the physical part, without changing labels. At least- not with me."

Tamaki looks at their clasped hands, trying to think of what to say.

"I think- maybe I woke up to- go to the bathroom or something. And then I+

went back to my room. But I wouldn't have- I can't- /not/ want you. I don't know how."

Mirio smiles, his cheeks tainted bt the slightest bit of red.

"And we're only having this conversation- six- maybe seven years late?"

Tamaki laughs. His chest feels lighter, somehow, as if

someone had pullet out a bunch of rocks from there.

But he can feel one more rock. Just- /one/.

He thinks of asking Mirio about his dating, but he knows immediately it wouldn't be fair: /he/ was also dating during those years, even if none of his relationships seemed to last.

He got lonely, sometimes. He got tired of his own pining; angry at himself for wanting someone that didn't want him.

It- wouldn't be too crazy to think Mirio would feel the same. Tamaki can't wait exactly blame him for dating around when he did the same thing.

But things were different with /her/. More serious.

"Do you love her?" He asks, instead, "your- ex-girlfriend. Do you- love her?"

Mirio sighs. He scratches the back of his head, embarrassed.

"Not- not the way I love you," he starts, with a sigh, "I- I /couldn't/."

Tamaki swallows hard, and nods.

In a way, he gets it: he dated good guys, too. Guys that were good, or fun, or interesting. But, in the end, they were not Mirio.

"So, when you told her you loved me as a brother-"

"You heard that?"

Tamaki blushes, but he nods. Eavesdropping+

sounds /bad/, but he's coming to realize, maybe trying to save face will cause more problems than it solves.

Maybe it's better to be honest.

"I didn't mean to- spy on you. I just- I was on my way to the kitchen and- I heard."

Mirio sighs. He seems- tense. Almost reluctant. Tamaki can tell he doesn't want to talk about this.

But he must also be thinking about being honest. Maybe they're both done lying.

"She was jealous of you," Mirio explains, with a sigh, "we argued- a lot about that. She said- she said- if you gave me a chance, I'd leave her in the blink of an eye. I told her that to- reassure her, I think. But I didn't- I didn't /want it/ to be a lie."

Unexpectedly, Tamaki feels a pang of guilt. It must've sucked to be in a relationship like that, with someone she thought could leave her at any minute. Specially because she was /right/.

Her animosity towards him suddenly makes an- awful lot of sense.

Mirio sighs. He squeezes+

Tamaki's hand, tight, his eyes sad.

"I wish I'd never- if I had /known/."

Tamaki nods, even before Mirio finishes. He understands the feeling all too well. If they had /known/-

"We're two idiots," he says, and nothing has feel truer in his entire life.

Mirio laughs: that burst of laughter of his that bubbles like champagne right out of a bottle. Tamaki stares and smiles, his chest warm, as if he were about to start laughing, too.

Little by little, the sound dies down. And then they are sitting in the couch, holding+

hands, together. And for the first time in his life, Tamaki is absolutely sure of what that means.

His smile grows a little wider.

What comes afterwards feels natural: Mirio is so exhausted he'll break his rule and go to sleep, and Tamaki, still very close to a zombie ready+

to crash, follows him.

They both end up in Tamaki's bedroom, nested in each other's arms.

Mirio is warm and comfortable, his body somehow both rock-solid and soft in all the right places. Everything about him feels /right/. Perfect. Like coming home.

Tamaki rests his head on the space between Mirio's chest and shoulder, pretty sure that he doesn't want (and probably won't ever have to) sleep anywhere else.

Even after he falls asleep, his mouth is still curled up in a smile.

(~end)

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