Hotter Than Love

Dreaming Of You

"Saru! That was amazing!"
Fushimi clicked his tongue at the smaller boy and tried not to notice how his amber eyes sparked. "It's just a video game Misaki. No need to get so excited."
"What are you talking about?" red hair filled his vision as Misaki got into his personal space, something he did quite often. "That combo move was the best! Where'd ya learn that?"
Pushing him away with a scowl, Fushimi powered down the console and stood. "It was a simple maneuver, even an idiot could have figured it out."
His roommate pouted and avoid his gaze, mumbling, "I couldn't of."
"Yes well, what does that say about you? Eh Misaki?"
Fire lit the redhead's eyes, darkening his irises to a tantalizing shade of copper. "Shut up stupid Monkey! Not everyone can be as smart as you."
He rolled his eyes because it was better than staring at the flush that had bloomed across Misaki's face. A tingle developed in the tips of his fingers so he clenched then into fists. He wanted to touch, to take, to claim. He wanted to burn his essence within the very soul of this boy; to make him his completely. Turning away to climb atop his bunk, he gave his back to his roommate and to the feelings bubbling up inside him
When had that started? The want? The need? When had he begun to see Misaki as more than just a friend, his only friend? Probably from the very beginning, he'd just been too naive to notice the complex feelings. The desire to make himself the center of Misaki's pathetic little world was near to impossible to ignore.
For every time the little fool looked at him with adoration, he felt like a junkie procuring his high after a drought. Elation rushed through his veins, jump-starting his heart with adrenaline and making him feel like a king. Because he was a mother-fucking king. Here in this dilapidated building, in their threadbare apartment, he ruled. Or, at least he had.
Before the Red King. Before Suoh Mikoto. Now, more often than not, Misaki's eyes shone for another.
Fushimi opened his laptop and started typing away at new code, trying to take his mind of his thoughts.
But it burned. It melted and charred his flesh in a way that hurt worse than a physical wound. A constant, annoying throb that would not subside no matter what he did. And therein lied the true problem, the real reason for Fushimi's aggravation. He wanted- craved Yata's full attention, nothing else. 
Niki had taught him from a young age to become self-reliant. Only around when it was convenient for him or out of boredom, his father used mental abuse as a way to kill time. Fushimi would lock himself in his room on those days. It was safe there, hidden under his blankets with nothing but this computer.
From the day he had been born, he'd only had himself and that was fine. It had been how he'd preferred it. But now... 
It was all Misaki's fault-
"Saru!"
Misaki's boisterous voice broke his trance and it was only then that he realized that his keyboard was hot. With a grimace, he pealed his fingers of the melted keys. When had his aura flared up?
"What the hell was that!" the redhead spat.
"Nothing." tossing the laptop aside, he flopped back against his pillows, pulling the blanket up to cover his head as he went.
Misaki yanked it back down. "Bullshit! What's gotten into you lately? Everyone thinks you're being weird. You don't want to hangout, you ignore them. All you want to do is hole-up in here like some kind of damn hermit!"
"I'm being weird?" he felt his temper flare and jerked to a sitting position, nearly knocking Misaki down the ladder in the process. "Take a good look at yourself!" he hissed, jabbing the boy's shoulder with one long finger. "You're the one who's changed. I suddenly don't fit in your perfect little world and you want to saddle me with the blame? I don't think so Mi~Sa~Ki." another jab of his finger proceeded each syllable.
His hand was slapped away as Yata narrowed his darkening eyes. "You have changed. You treat Homra like its a waste of you time, like it's beneath you. What about our pride? Mikoto-"
He laughed, the sound resinating from deep within his gut, clawing its way out of his throat like a feral beast. Misaki leaned away from him a bit, delicate brows drawn into a frown. "Pride? What pride? Mikoto has none. He's nothing more than an average man, a nobody who happened to come across power and now thinks he's owed the world."
The redhead looked like he wanted to punch him. Good, let him. Then he'd have an excuse to wrap his hands around that slender neck and squeeze.
"Don't you fucking dare talk about Mikoto like that! He saved us you ungrateful bastard! If it weren't for him, we'd-"
"Have been just fine!" Fushimi finished for him. "We'd been on our own before meeting him or have you forgotten? He was just a means to an end. A source of power and nothing more!"
"Not to me! Mikoto, Totsuka, Anna, they're our family."
The hurt in Misaki's eyes made him sick. Fushimi clicked his tongue and laid back down, facing the wall. "I have no need for your self-proclaimed family nor your pride." it was silent for a moment and Fushimi swore he could hear the sound of Misaki's breath hitch. His lip curled in a sinister smile.
"Whatever." the boy said quietly. "I'm outta here. Send me a text when you're done being an ass."
Fushimi listened to Yata as he retreated from their apartment. The sound of the door slamming echoed through the small space and it was like the final nail driving into his coffin.

Fushimi jolted awake. Momentarily disorientated, he called out. "Misaki?" The sound of his former friend's name felt awkward on his lips from disuse. It was almost as foreign to him now as another language. He reached for his glasses and put them on, sitting up on the bed and looking around the room.
His room. At Scepter 4. Where he was alone.
He clutched at his heart, nails digging into the scarred flesh over his collarbone as a fleering grin shaped his mouth. It seemed it was time to pay his favorite person a visit.