Maki had dreamt of Heito, figuratively and literally, many nights. He wanted to do good for him, maybe he thought that he would be able to fix whatever was wrong with Heito, or assure the killer that what he's done was justified. Maki was enthralled with Heito so much so that he believed his parents shouldn't of raised that boy at all if he would only grow up to kill them.
He was a heavy sleeper. Maki knew this because there was two, only two nights, where he was caught like a fly. Laying down in the dank closet, dirty clothes became the web he stuck to for the rest of the night. The scent aroused him. An itch in the back of his mind told him that it was messed up, a drip in the back of his throat ached to scream.
Heito would come to his room while Maki was in it, he would brush his teeth while Maki smelled his clothes, and he would undress while Maki watched from the closet, Heito being so unaware. It made him hard.
He would reluctantly touch himself, wishing that the now sleeping boy's hand would do the work instead. He didn't have a gauge of how good or bad Heito would be at anything like this, but he would stare at Heito's crotch throughout the day. That was enough to satisfy him. He knew Heito had scarred muscles. Maki would fit perfectly beneath, trapped between pillars. He let out a moan, a cry of desperation. He wrapped cloth around his dry cock, squeezing it. He moaned a bit louder, feeling embarrassed at the vibration of the closet walls. _Fuck._ He wished that he could see the color of Heito's clothes so bad. Everything was dark, black, a void - lost in the night, losing track of time. He came into whatever he was holding, wiping himself off without a care. Heito's clothes should smell better riddled with traces of Maki.
The other night he was caught, things didn't go as smoothly... for Heito, at least.
“What the hell are you doing in my room?” Heito hissed.
Maki hummed, unphased. The last thing he would be is scared of Heito. His sweet, beloved, damaged wolf. “Water. I was instructed to give it to you by-”
“I don't give a damn.” He snatched the glass from Maki's hand, dangerously grazing the boy's fingers, swallowing it all. Maki wanted to fall apart right there.
He had used too many old excuses - a pencil that Heito definitely didn't drop, a scrap that certainly wasn't in his hair. Maki would watch Heito watchq him. The time Heito's eyes truly met Maki's, he knew. Heito's eyes weren't angry. They were hurt. Only Maki could understand that - he would often be disgusted at the way his classmates were so quick to pass judgement onto his beloved. Anyone who didn't understand should just keep their mouth shut.
Heito returned the empty glass to Maki, wiping his mouth, lips parted just enough to display sharp bottom teeth. Maki watched some of the undissolved ecstasy slide down the clear glass. His mind started racing faster than his heart for a change, praying to whoever heard that this actually worked. Would Heito's stomach be too strong? If so, Maki couldn't blame him. Was there not enough? It would most definitely be Maki's mistake. _This is the only way he will love me. This is how I get close._
“Hey, while I'm here...” Maki was desperate to speak, uncomfortable silence screaming his misdeed.
“Yea...?” Heito growled. His voice sounded like dirt, it sounded like claws, tearing right into Maki.
“Are you ok with me staying? I heard that... you have a knife collection, and I'd really like to see it.”
Heito was staring daggers into Maki now, each one falling into the center of his heart. _Have I gone too far?_ He silently walked, and Maki assumed he should follow. It was the closet, though. Maki's entire body fell red, hot, shaking. He begged to the same whoever that would hear, _Please... don't realize. Don't see it._ Maki saw it, only because he knew where he was hiding that night. Heito removed a large, black box from a shelf, turning away from the closet.
