Distant
Azumaya Junta had always been an oddity for the entire of his life. Ever since he had been young, he'd known, if anything, that he had been different. He had been seeing himself as this exhibit people would flock to see, and there was never a day led through without him feeling indifferent.
The solid glass separating him and the world had cracked when Saijou Takato appeared in his life. The other man had, without even trying, pulled him out of his own cage and allowed him to see the brightest colours of the world, with the shine and vibrance Takato had shown him almost demanding, almost too overwhelming. Junta found himself desiring him, the emotions he felt too strong for even himself to decipher.
It was as if he'd found refuge in Takato's every expression, warmth flickering up in his chest like raw flames whenever he's in the presence of the other. He would find himself mindlessly flocking to him, trying his best not to annoy him in the process, his sense of reason all over the place.
But lately things had been different.
Junta would notice Takato setting some distance between them when they had perfectly no problem standing next to each other before. Even during the times they were together in private, Takato had, bit by bit, seemed to grow distant, his gaze a little hard to read each time he did so.
Junta had questioned it after it grew all too obvious the other actor was trying to avoid him. Takato had laughed it off, pulling a tense face as he went back to his duties. It was unsettling, to say the least.
It all came down during their trip home. Takato hadn't seemed to be in the mood to talk to him at all, his eyes clouded. He looked like he was brooding over something, making every attempt of Junta starting a conversation in vain with Takato's short, precise replies.
... Well. He supposed the other man would reciprocate after a while.
Takato had grabbed his arm the moment he stepped into the house, his face dark as he set down his bag. "Chunta, we need to talk." The words weren't easy shapes for his lips to form. He looks like he's put a lot of thought into this.
"What is it?" He's smiling, gazing at him, expectant, his mind a frenzied mess beneath.
Was he going to ask for a breakup? What had happened? What caused this between them to change?
What had he done?
He wasn't going to let him leave no matter what.
Resorting to his usual ways, Junta pulled him to the bed, pressing on top of him, with his knees on either side of Takato's hips. He silenced him with a fierce kiss, running his hand through his hair, hoping to feel him relax.
He didn't. Takato shoved him off with a huff, sitting up, yanking his slender wrist out of Junta's grasp. He's rubbing it harshly, a scowl on his face. "Chunta-- hear me out--"
No. No, this was not good.
He leaned close, pressing Takato to the sheets, peppering his neck with kisses he knew the other man was weak against. Rolling his hips against him, Junta expected him to go along with it like how he always responded, but instead this time Takato fought back.
