Completely at My Mercy

The apartment was always a mess. Not the kind of mess that invited chaos, but one that lived in the fine balance between clutter and comfort. Giyuu didn't care. Clothes were strewn over the couch, a couple of mugs had become semi-permanent residents on the coffee table, and the remote was always lost in the cushions. He wandered barefoot through the small space, his black sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his shirt tugged halfway up to scratch at his abs.

He was thinking about what to eat. Or maybe he was thinking about Sanemi, who would be back from work in twenty minutes. He wasn't sure which thought had him more distracted.

Giyuu pulled open the fridge, finding it mostly empty. "We should really go shopping," he muttered to himself, grabbing the last beer from the shelf instead. He twisted off the cap with his teeth and took a swig, the cold liquid washing down as he leaned against the counter.

Sanemi would give him shit for not going grocery shopping again, but Giyuu would shrug it off like he always did. "It's fine," he'd say, with that half-smirk he wore when he wanted to wind Sanemi up. And, if he was lucky, Sanemi would start yelling, all fired up and hot, giving Giyuu more material to poke at. Giyuu found it amusing; Sanemi was just too easy sometimes.

As if on cue, the front door swung open, and Sanemi walked in, tossing his keys on the counter. "The hell is this mess?" Sanemi's eyes narrowed as he glanced around the apartment. "Have you done literally nothing all day?"

Giyuu glanced up lazily, leaning his head back against the fridge. "I showered. And drank this beer." He waved the bottle like it was some grand achievement.

Sanemi huffed in frustration, running a hand through his white hair. "You're unbelievable."

"I've been told."

"By who? The voices in your head?"

Giyuu grinned, tilting his head slightly as he watched Sanemi kick off his shoes and stomp over to the kitchen. "Might be."

Sanemi rolled his eyes, yanking open the fridge door only to find it just as barren as Giyuu had. "Goddammit, Giyuu. You could've at least gotten food. We can't keep living off takeout."

Giyuu shrugged, unbothered. "Why not? It's convenient."

"Convenient is your middle name, isn't it?" Sanemi shot back, grabbing a water bottle before leaning against the counter, just a few feet from Giyuu.

"Sure. If you think so," Giyuu said with a sly smile, taking another long drink of his beer. He let his eyes drift over Sanemi for a moment, the way his muscles tensed under his tight shirt, his jaw clenched in frustration. Giyuu was always watching, always noticing. Not that he ever said anything. Sanemi didn't need to know how often he crossed Giyuu's mind—how easily he got under his skin in ways no one else did.

Sanemi's annoyance was like fuel to him, a thrill he didn't know how to quit. Maybe it was because, in all the chaos of his own mind, Sanemi was the only constant. Strong, unwavering. It made Giyuu want to push, see how far that stability would bend before it snapped.

"You're staring," Sanemi said, not even looking up from his water.

"Am I?" Giyuu's voice dripped with teasing sarcasm. He didn't bother to deny it. What was the point? He'd always been blunt, unashamed. Bisexual, fierce, and unapologetically so. He had a reputation for not caring about social norms, or really, anyone's opinions.

"You're being weird again."

"I'm always weird."

"Yeah, but this is you-level weird." Sanemi shot him a look, catching the way Giyuu's eyes lingered on him. "You need a date or something. Go find someone to bother who isn't me."