#enzn エンザン coffeeshop!au

Zanka had a bad day. He was so close to beating up anybody who dared to come close to him when he was in a foul mood. He had been better, but definitely not right now. He had been staying up late, getting his assignment done before the first class, and he still woke up late because apparently the snooze button on his phone could be pressed millions of times and still failed to wake him up. He didn't have his daily intake of caffeine, because he was epically late, and on top of that, after starting the day that horribly,

#enzn エンザン

Riyo has a plan. It's a clever, guarantee-to-not-fail plan. It's a foolproof plan, because it's Riyo and she's pretty thorough about things when she's determined to do it. She has seen enough, she has heard enough.
Tonight, she ends it.
Or starts it, depending on

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how ones see it. Either way, the plan she has been working on for weeks, will finally come to fruition.
The fruit that is hopefully sweet, so sweet it will free her from all of the mutual-pining that has soured the air, whenever she's around.
Riyo can't wait for the execution.

#enzn エンザン

Zanka is fucked.
Literally and figuratively.
Let's ignore the 'literally' part because he can't stop thinking about it without having all the blood rushes to his face, and probably to a very specific other place too.
The 'figuratively' part is less embarrassing,

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but to know that it interconnected pretty tightly with the other part, still colors his face red. Not as bad, but still enough to prompt Enjin to grab his face, examining him closely.
"Zanka, are you sick?" He observes him with those sharp gazes, getting Zanka weak on his knees

#enzn エンザン

When he saw the sight, Enjin moved on instinct. Abandoning all of his logic, ignoring every coherent thought to ever present.
When he saw Zanka welcoming him in his fluffy chinese-style jacket, Enjin didn't even bother to second-guess himself.
The determination

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already locked in.
"Zanka," he didn't care, if he sounded embarrassingly clingy. In long strides, he walked towards Zanka, who opened his arms to say, "Welcome back—"
But to Enjin, it was the invitation to settle himself there, pulling the fluffy and warm and comforting man

#enzn エンザン

It's probably because of the rush of the adrenaline, it's probably because of the wave of relief surging in. Enjin was usually clear-headed, known to be calculative, always thinking about the consequences of his actions. Especially when it comes to his team. Lighthearted jokes and teases were his forte, trying to keep the head of every member of the Akuta above the water. Leaving the worrying part, the second-guessing things, the hesitation to Enjin, his team needs to focus on the task on their hands and to do so, they shouldn't be

#enzn エンザン

Five Times Zanka Adores Enjin's Hands and That One Time Enjin Shows Him What His Hands Can Actually Do

—or things about Enjin that Zanka discovered slowly as their relationship progressed. 1) Zanka hadn't realized how warm, Enjin's hands were.
Before dating, of course, Zanka had touched Enjin's hands. Briefly, when he passed the older man something; accidentally, when he and Enjin walked too close to each other and their hands brushed; securely, when Enjin helped

#enzn エンザン

Zanka froze. He wasn't exactly sure what was happening; either his brain had just short-circuited or perhaps, he had exhibited the sign of getting a heart attack. He wouldn't know.
His spoon stopped midair; his mouth stopped working, having the soup in mid sip with its content unchewed; he could feel his shoulder tensed, he could feel his body petrified.
Zanka froze, simply froze.
"Careful," he heard the voice. It should be enough to wake him from his trance.
And, yet.
"Is it time for some hair cut, Zanka?" He could feel the calloused

#Enzn エンザン

Zanka had every bit of the required qualities:
- he was hot (it wasn't even his personal opinion, many women and men who sought him whenever they visited the bar could testify to this)
- he was smarter (he'd like to think he was, to a certain degree and matter)
- he had a nice curve (he was very confident of this)
- he could be a little naughty (well, once he overlooked the embarrassment that followed, he could very much be)
- he was definitely a forgiving person (if he wasn't, he would constantly have beef with rudo and literally

#Enzan エンザン

Zanka didn't expect it to be this soft. If anything, he expected it to be stiff, perhaps a little bit brittle on the edge. If anything, he expected it to be hard to slide in between. The blond was always styled spiky, sticking out in the right places. Zanka watched the sand-colored strand entangled with his fingers so easily, amazed him that they had zero resistance at every comb. He tried once and two, it had become too many. He liked the way the hair slipped between his digits, he liked the way they weaved with his hand.

#enzan エンザン

Zanka didn't know where the idea was coming from. It was so random, that he wouldn't even have guessed he could get into this situation.
The situation being Enjin, with a bare chest and mussed hair, gently holding Zanka's hand, doing something Zanka had never envisioned his whole life.
Enjin was painting his nails.
It started with a simple conversation after they had just finished a whole two rounds of sex (Zanka still blushed when he thought he actually did it with Enjin), and they should be tired, but they couldn't fall asleep.

#enzan エンザン
Zanka didn't know when it had become a routine.
Or maybe, he actually did.
He just didn't want to acknowledge it.
Because it started as an accident.
He wasn't usually one to lose control of himself but on a particular night, at the height of the moment, Zanka did. He got drunk.
Despite liking the way alcohol warmed his body and helped him loosen up, he was also aware of his low tolerance towards alcohol. He could manage some, but he knew when to stop because he would much rather have control of his consciousness.
That night, Zanka

#Doramitsu

"Hello." A pause. "Ryuuguuji's speaking."
If Draken didn't possess a remarkable balance, one wrong move and he would end up on the floor. Luckily, one wrong move wasn't too many, when he had great reflex.
"Oh, yes," the voice continued, now accompanied by the rustling sound of paper and scribbling pen. "That's very true. This Friday, yes."
For some reason, Draken was so caught off guard that he didn't think to get off the ladder, and instead he listened on top of it, a lamp bulb went forgotten on his hand.
"Ah, I see. Of course, I understand."

#Doramitsu
Draken is sulking.
Mitsuya had his suspicion, of course he did. Having known Draken for years, it was almost too easy for Mitsuya to read him. He could tell from the way Draken's participation in the Toman group chat was minimal. Even Mikey who's usually into this kind of things should be the one who sulked more, considering the situation. But even if he was throwing tantrums, he still talked his ass off through the chats, mostly accusing Baji and Kazutora for being unfair, and how Chifuyu and Mitsuya were complicit in this crime.

It's for the best, Mitsuya thought.
It had been long overdue, he had tried to keep it to himself, he had tried to contain it as long as possible, but in the end, he had to put an end to it.
For once and forever.
"What did you say?"
The laughter that echoed in the quiet bridge died in instant. The words were said with genuine surprise. Like they were never meant to be pronounced out loud.
Mitsuya inhaled slowly, to compose himself.
It's for the best, he thought.
"I'll be leaving by the end of the year," he said.
The quiet that came after was deafening.

A continuation of this

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The night descended way earlier than Draken had expected. It wasn't true though. When you are in denial of something coming, you will always wish time to move slower to postpone it from happening.
Well, sooner or later, he would need to face the sobering reality, though.
And it

If he could, he would casually hit his own with a wrench. Maybe that would knock some senses into him. Maybe it would make his brain work better and more aware of the situation. And if not, he could just forget about the whole thing and restart.
Because, this?
This was never what

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he intended to happen.
Everything was the opposite of what he tried to make to happen.
When he booked the room for this trip, he did remember saying something about a room for two. And he didn't say that without reason. The booklet of the inn he planned to stay in, was in his

Mitsuya didn't notice it at first. It wasn't a strange thing after all. He had gotten used to this for years. Especially because Mitsuya secretly enjoyed it too, when Draken glued to him like he couldn't bear to be separated from him, even for a second. After keeping his own feelings for what seemed to be forever to himself, Mitsuya would never take the copious amounts of attention from Draken for granted. Mitsuya loved being loved by Draken, sue him. Years of being in a relationship never ceased the giddiness of having that feeling.
This time, it

You can't blame him, okay?
If anyone, if you were put in his shoes, Draken would be 100% sure you would act exactly the way he did.
It wasn't like Draken wanted to justify anything, because what he did is 100% justifiable.
"What am I supposed to think?" Draken finally spoke. There was no response, so he continued.
"You both were crouching together like that, head to head—" Even just replaying the scene in his head, it lit the untamable fire in himself. He tried to be rational, but it was hard when all he could see was rage. "and all that happened

"Who did this to you?"
Mitsuya bit his lips, trying to hide the pain, when the alcohol was dabbed on his injury. It had been so long since the last time he was involved in any brawl, he was used to living a normal adult life, that he forgot that fighting used to be his routine when he was young. This kind of injury was nothing, back then. Just some bruises and cuts on the corner of his lips, Mitsuya had it worse.
And, yet.
"You can scream, I won't judge you."
Mitsuya made a mistake by snorting. Damn if the punch on his nose had showed itself now.

Doramitsu, 27 years later

Mitsuya was heavily drunk after he found out that his boyfriend (from work) had cheated on him. Instead of sad drinking, what he did was actually rage drinking. He took Draken for his drinking session because Draken would be able to match his pace and definitely could be reliable, when Mitsuya was wasted.
Mitsuya ranted about how awful his ex was, and Draken chimed in here and there, enough to fish out more stories out of him.
His ex was a model and that bastard always thought that he was desirable enough to fuck around.

The soft brush against his nape was familiar that it didn't surprise him anymore, despite being unexpected.
"You're up so early," Draken murmured, as he landed a soft kiss on the back of Mitsuya's head. "I thought I overslept."
Mitsuya chuckled, angling his head for the deserved morning kiss that surely would come. He let Draken linger for a moment, before he patted his cheek.
"Come sit with me, it's about time."
Draken pecked him just because and took a seat next to him. Good thing, Mitsuya brought a thick blanket with him, Draken was grateful he didn't