Against All Odds || Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu x Fem!Reader

What's Best For You and Me

    "Come on, come on..." You mumbled, opening and closing drawer after drawer. "Come on, where the hell is it? There's bound to be something here, I'm sure of it."

You were in the supermarket, specifically in the staff room rummaging through desks. What were you looking for? Anything to get your mind off of the killing game. You were so cool and collected until things start to even slightly go downhill. Then, you're a wreck.

It's not like you were addicted, you wouldn't let it get that far. You only used drugs and alcohol when things like this was happening. 

So, when you couldn't find anything in the aisles of the main part of the supermarket, you had resorted to the staff room. The storage room was next on your list.

"Fuck!" You shouted, slamming closed the drawer you had been rummaging through. Moving to the next drawer, you bent down below the edge of the desk and rummaged through it as well, tossing papers and pens and sticky notes onto the ground.

"The hell are you doing in here?" A rough voice somewhere in front of the desk piped up, and you heard the slam of a door as it shut. You peeked up, locking eyes with Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu.

You knitted your brows, ducking your head back down and continuing to search the drawer as Fuyuhiko rounded the desk to stand beside you. 

"And why is the entire supermarket trashed out there?" He asked.

"I'm looking for something," you sighed.

Fuyuhiko sat down in one of the chairs and leaned forward to rest his chin on his knuckles. "Looking for....? What?"

Not bothering to look at him, you kept throwing things out of the drawer in search of anything to help you. "I dunno. Any pills and any alcohol," you shrugged before tilting your head to the side in consideration. "I could go for some cough syrup. That worked for me one time."

"... You seriously want to get fucking high?" He asked, and you could've sworn disappointment laced his voice.

"Yup," you responded, slamming the drawer shut in anger. "Damn it!"

"What the fuck?" He asked. "Aren't you supposed to be the cool and collected poet or some shit?"

You tilted your head from side to side, tossing the idea around in your head. "More or less."

It's true that you were often stereotyped as such. And you were just that. Most of the time. And yes, poetry does help you express your emotions. But, how did he think you won so many awards for poetry about subjects you don't care about? That's right. You wrote while you were high. Or drunk.

Fuyuhiko tilted his head, knitting his brows. "The hell does that mean?"

"Dude, half the time, I was winning awards for poetry I wrote about the things I saw while I was tripping balls."

"So you just half-assed it?"

"No, I didn't half-ass my poetry. I half-assed what it was about."

"That's still doing a half-ass job, dumbass."

"Shut the hell up, will you?"

"What, so you can go off on your own and start poisoning yourself?" He scoffed. "I don't fucking think so."

Standing up, you turned toward him after slamming the drawer closed. "Why do you care? You wanna do it with me or something?"

He turned his head away, scratching the back of his neck. "Uh- no. No, of course I don't wanna do that shit. It's dumb. And it's bad for you. And- I have a sworn sobriety or whatever you call it."

Your eyes widened for a moment as the words left his mouth. Sworn sobriety? Huh. Strange, for a Yakuza. 

Sighing, you turned away. "So, you're not a normal Yakuza, right? What about tattoos, you got one? You gonna get one?"

"No, dumbass," He snapped. "I don't have tattoos, and I'm not getting any either! What's the point? Just deal with what ya' got."

"Huh," you hummed, opening the door and leaving the employee area of the supermarket. You heard footsteps behind you, and soon enough, Fuyuhiko had caught up to you, now walking by your side.

"What the hell's that 'sposed to mean?"

"Just surprised," You shrugged. "It's not everyday a Yakuza says he has a sworn sobriety and doesn't see the point in tattoos."

Fuyuhiko let out an annoyed hmph, turning his slightly reddened face away as you approached the storage room. His eyes read the label on the door and his eyebrows furrowed. "The fuck are you doing at the storage room?"

You smirked, resting your hand on the handle before looking back at him. "There's gotta be something in here, right?"

But as you twisted the handle and began to open the door, Fuyuhiko grabbed your arm and dragged you toward him.

"What the hell, man!?" You shrieked, fighting his hold to the best of your abilities.

His cold eyes avoided yours, turning away but not loosening his grip on your arm as he began to drag you toward the exit of the now-trashed supermarket. 

"Hey!" You snapped, still tugging to get free as he kept walking. He didn't answer.

"Fuyuhiko! Let me go! What the hell is wrong with you!?" You hissed, and suddenly he swivelled around, jerking you to him. 

He had pulled you so close to himself that his face was just inches from yours, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. 

His irritated gaze bore into your eyes and you struggled to hold his stare as he spoke. "What is wrong with me? No, Y/n. What is wrong with you? You tried to kill Sonia sober, what the fuck do you think you'll do wasted? Hm?"

You clenched your jaw, unable to respond. In the back of your mind, you knew he was right. You couldn't think straight sober. Imagine what you'd be like high or drunk. But in the end, you didn't really care. You just wanted that freedom it gave you. 

"Exactly," he murmured, and a moment of silence passed before he spoke again. "Listen. This is what's best. It's what's best for you and me."

You heart lurched, but in the end, he couldn't know that. So you scoffed, holding his gaze. "Since when was there a 'you and me,' Fuyuhiko?"

His eyes softened and he opened his mouth to say something, but you finally jerked your arm from his grasp and turned away before he could speak. And without another word, you left him in the supermarket, letting the doors slam shut behind you.