From Mutual Hate

This was a birthday gift to one of my friends, inspired by the prompt in the photo. I was trying a new style with this, so.

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It isn't a secret that Heracles Karpusi and Sadik Adnan, with all of their beings, despise each other.

Frankly, Heracles can't stand the way the other man always seems to be somewhere near him. They do nothing but bicker all the time – and he knows because he's typically the one to initiate it – but somehow, they always end up in the same room or building or with the same person. Heracles is really beginning to feel sorry for Kiku; he serves as a medium between two forces that can't be reckoned with once they've started fighting.

A part of him feels as though the Japanese man must be growing sick of it by now. He concludes that it will be all Sadik's fault when Kiku stops bothering. Then again, Kiku is a very patient person. He's been dealing with Heracles and Sadik for years.

Years. The word rings oddly in his head. Heracles only pauses to wonder if it's really been that long; he's known Sadik for years. He finds it rather amusing that nothing changes between the two of them, at least not outwardly.

It isn't a secret that Heracles Karpusi and Sadik Adnan, with all of their beings, despise each other.

Lately, Heracles is feeling something new. He doesn't like the way his chest tightens at the thought of the other man; Heracles can pass that off as anger. He doesn't like the way the poison sting of jealousy strikes him when he sees Sadik flirting with someone, arguing with someone else; Heracles can pass it off as him being annoyed that Sadik is at it again. He hates the way that he wants Sadik to move closer, closer still, close that gap, when they're arguing; Heracles cannot pass that off as anything and he hates it.

If he's being honest, Heracles does not hate a lot of things.

His shoulder is shoved roughly and his eyes flicker open. He recalls the fact that he's in class and probably shouldn't have fallen asleep, but he can't really bring himself to care. Sadik glowers at him, face inches away. Heracles freezes; his heart stops and his breath catches and his mind stops functioning for a split second before he screams at himself to react, pull away and don't listen don't close the gap don't.

He remembers he's supposed to be throwing curses and insults at Sadik now, grumbling about being woken up. A part of him doesn't want to, and he forces himself to do it anyways, planting his palm against the Turk's face and shoving.

"Don't make me wake up to something so hideous," Heracles tells him; Sadik takes offense and they plunge into one of their not so uncommon arguments.

To Heracles, this is natural. He doesn't have to pretend here, shooting insults back and forth with the Turk. It's a normal occurrence but he can't quite forget how much he wants to close that insufferable gap, feel the other's skin and hair beneath his fingertips – inwardly, Heracles absolute insists that the thoughts mean he wants to fist fight Sadik, that's all. Heracles rather wishes he could just go back to sleep, but it seems as though class is over.

He shoves Sadik aside with one last mutter of a curse and drags his feet all the way out, ignoring the annoyed words Sadik shoots at his retreating back. Usually, Heracles seems to have a bit of a hard time resisting any sort of urge to whirl around and get into it with the Turk for what is no doubt at least the sixth time that particular day, but he frankly finds he's too tired at the moment.

It's a process, he supposes.

He hears a familiar voice that makes him pause just within the doorway and listen.