Chapter Text
Sievert (Sv), is a derived unit of ionizing radiation dose in the International System of Units. It’s a measure of the health effect of low levels of ionizing radiation on the human body.
There are a few illustration of the Chernobil’s disaster in the book, next to a table of measurements. Keiji peeks without too much interest. There isn’t any risk of cancer until the exposition to, approximately, 100 mSv, when the natural exposition is 2,4 mSv. The aftereffects of subtle radiation exposure- around 50mSv- are there as well: vomits, fever, hemorrhages, infections, diarrhea…
“Akaashi. I brought coffee”.
Instead of looking up, he reaches out for the cup.
“What would happen if people emitted radiation over 50mSv?”
The other doesn’t reply. It’s not necessary.
Akaashi already knows the answer.
“We are stronger in the places that we’ve been broken”.
ERNEST HEMINGWAY
The silence precedes the soft drizzle falling on the city. The neon lights of the room are switched on, despite being around 10 in the morning. There’s a guy with his head buried between his bag and a pile of books, next to another one, who seems focused on his phone. Both of them are the most interesting thing that has happened during the morning, so Keiji slides his gaze upon them a couple of times before jumping to conclusions. The tall, asleep guy, could be either too extroverted or too comfortable around the other to ignore him and take a nap. The other, however, flicks his eyes constantly to the room and, later, to his partner. There is something ironic in the way both bodies seemed to keep the distance, and, at the same time, there isn't any distance between them. Could both of them be his classmates? In case they are, Keiji is sure he would have remembered the weird hair of the tallest guy and his appearance of crawling through the streets at night too often, and the need of the other to disappear, jointly the moody hair after which he tries to hide wholeheartedly.
Nevertheless, they are two parts that pull each other off balance and then stay in balance together, enough as to make the one who wanted to hide kind of be in the spotlight, and the one who stands out more, find shelter in the gravity of the other.
The drizzle hit more insistently the windows, the bark of the rain deafening their heavy breaths and the quick tapping of small fingers on the cell. After five minutes re-reading the same page without retaining anything, Keiji decides to give up.
His life to this exact moment has been a grey misery, reflection of the day through the high glasses, the sempiternal winter lingering on the city, the tall buildings made of iron and concrete. A monotonous and prisoned life, day-by-day, year-by-year. Higschool- not even preparatory- didn't bring a change. The living slow of the teenagers only made him fall in lethargy, a constant wish for the day to finish soon to lock himself in the room, bury himself under the blankets
and not dream of anything.
Nothing changed when he moved to the campus, studying a career he doesn’t remember most of the days, looking at the books or at the screen of his computer, forcing his over-analytical mind to give up, to stay blank, to stop asking why. Why society is so similar to a cattle guided by shepherds, [if shepherds aren’t part of the mass themselves]; what leads him to ask, frequently, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
Sometimes, closing his eyes resembles way too much to fall even deeper in himself. In routine, in the emptiness, waking up and experimenting a life that doesn’t change, a city only conformed by buildings with people inside, unprotecting himself, crumbling down all of his barriers, waiting.
Sometimes, the absolute exposure to the world is another façade.
Another wall.
And, then, only because it is Wednesday at 10:35 in a rainy day of November, the door of the study room opens,
and the atmosphere changes.
“There is no hunting like the hunting of man”.
ERNEST HEMINGWAY
Danger
Danger, danger, danger, Keiji hasn’t changed his pace, expressionless as ever, but his fingers are white from the pressure on the folder he’s holding, his shoulders are tensed, and he’s keeping a fight with himself trying not to break his apparent calm and start running. Since the study room two days ago, someone has been following him through the campus.
This is not the first time he’s dealt with this, but, somehow, he hoped there wouldn’t be any more after the last one. Kids are cruel, after all. However, that thing that is compressing his stomach and pumping his blood and pleading him run run run RUN RUN doesn’t feel like anything experienced before.
Keeping his cool, Keiji considers his options. He can do the same as the first time he noticed he was being followed: enter a random lecture and try to sidetrack his chaser by getting out of the room thanks to the professor’s door next to the podium. Or maybe the same as the second time, irrupting in the feminine bathroom and getting out of the building thanks to the window. Maybe he should stop walking, face whoever is following him and put things under control again. He truly doesn’t like confrontation, but probably his pursuer won’t stop until Keiji deals with this situation, so he turns right in the next corridor, walking to an empty part of the floor, slowing down his pace, forcing his breath to go in and out, repeating incessantly in his mind he’s not a kid anymore, he can deal with this, maybe the guy following him only wants to talk, maybe he’s too shy to talk, maybe he’s just a little weird…
Anyway he has reached the end of the corridor. There’s an iced breeze coming from the narrow, open window over the lockers, raising goosebumps on his skin
or maybe it’s the tension
his lips are parted, his lungs are asphyxiating
or maybe it’s the tangled heart
he’s already turning on his heels when a solid body collides with his and corners him directly against the wall, squeezing all of the oxygen out of him, and, just a second after, a hot breath on the back of his uncovered neck sends a tremor to all of his bones. Two sudden hands rest against the wall at both sides of his head, a body far from his but not enough as not to feel the radiating heat.
Keiji has been haunted for days, chased through the corridors, stalked by an imminent threat now almost breathing his skin, and he’s feeling all the cells in his body vibrate, shiver, Keiji pants
he’s been haunted
and something has to be wrong with him because the sudden tightness of his jeans screams I don’t care and /more/.
After a few short breaths, he finally manages to turn back, now facing a pair of eyes very open, terribly focused on him, absorbing. The rest of the corridor disappears from his sight when those eyes attract all of his attention. The guy who’s cornering him is not a stranger, Keiji’s positive he’s seen him around in the café and maybe in a few morning lectures. And, definitely, he was the guy who entered in the study room two days ago. It’s difficult to forget the sharp angle of his eyebrows, followed by streaked hair styled in some resemblance to a crest, or maybe horns, and a deep undercut.
Fe
(fascination)ar
“Akaashi. Keiji”. If the alluded was waiting for something, that, definitely, wasn’t it. The deliberate slow slide of the tongue spelling his name sends a new shiver down his spine; electricity, adrenaline, crawling their way to his lower abdomen.
Keiji obligates to keep a deadpanned expression.
“First year student of psychology, lives on campus, doesn’t have any friends, doesn’t come back home on weekends, doesn’t have any extracurricular activity”.
He’s digging his nails in his palms, locking his eyes in the other’s and pleading, praying, they will stay like this and nobody will notice the erection he can’t hide in his too tight jeans or in the t-shirt that barely reaches his waist.
Prays, hides the tremor in his hands, the tremor in his guts, the anticipation, his dry mouth, taking a shaky breath, swallowing the lump in his throat and licking his lips. He’s not going to throw up, he’s not going to throw up. Suddenly the guy is even closer, or maybe the space between them has changed, the heat burns his skin as much as the breath of the other, and,
despite how frightening this situation is,
he challenges him.
Keiji raises his chin, and challenges him.
He’s never been expressive. There has never been a display of emotions in his features, however, they have been always there. In the tensed line of his mouth, or in the straightened back or maybe in his eyes, or in his whole body screaming
devour me now or I’ll do it first
And the guy seems to understand the language of his body better than any word, because his eyes are now volcanic, radioactive, all of his skin vibrating and communicating and Keiji is trapped, trapped
trapped trapped
He doesn’t find his own voice. Both of their legs are dangerously close, the overwhelming arousal and the constant blood flowing to his crotch find Keiji separating his hips from the wall, lightly touching the other’s knee,
this shouldn’t be as exciting as it is,
even if he’s challenging him with his eyes he’s pleading him with his body and, one or two seconds later the distance between them has disappeared, Keiji’s erection now evident against the leg of the white-haired guy.
He opens his mouth, to protest this is sexual harassment, but only a strangled pant comes out.
All the alarms in his mind pop out at the same time with the desperate please go away please go away please go away but his legs are entangling with the other’s, his hands are searching for something to cling onto and Keiji has to bite his lips to refrain the asphyxiated sounds trying to scape when experienced fingers unzip his jeans and touch his exposed hips.
He hasn’t given his consent he hasn’t even talked to this guy in his entire life they’re in a public space what is happening why is this happening why is Keiji not running why does he desire this to happen what if the guy wants to hurt him what if he’s dangerous
but what if this is just something different
he’s never been this focused before, not since he can remember
and the air escapes from his lungs as an asphyxiated moan when those hands that doesn’t seem to know gentleness close in a fist around his length. Shame.
Shame, shame, shame
the pounding pulse
shame
steps in the distance approaching
sham-
The strong squeeze make his hips jerk, searching for more friction, and he has to steady himself in the other’s shoulders, pleading his knees won’t give up now, burying his face in his neck and watching that rough hand pump his length in a constant rhythm.
“Who… are you…” Keiji manages to spit out between his closed teeth, breathing deeply the scent of the other, feeling dizzy, absolutely aroused, wanting to die as much as wanting the building of his orgasm to last forever, feeling the muscles under his palms tense and move, trying to keep his eyes open to see if someone approaches, feeling himself fall
fall
fall
fall
until the guy snarls, low and primitive: Bokuto Koutarou and holds him in place, a strong arm behind his legs and lifting him slightly from the floor.
Keiji’s head is spinning as quickly as he’s climbing the high, panting, shivering, meeting the guy’s fist with his own hips,
shame
shame shame shame
pathetic
He’s getting a handjob from a stranger in a public space and he
Likes it
And wants /more/
More more more more
Keiji chokes in an intake of breath while coming, harder than ever, spilling in the guy’s hand, scratching the back of his neck almost desperately, until he comes down from the high and all the tension, fear, fascination, dissolve with the sudden tiredness and regret that dominates his body.
Then, the guy is lowering his mouth to rest it on Keiji’s neck. Words spelled slowly, carefully, holding a threat Keiji’s sure he shouldn’t listen, but he’s never been one to back down to any menace.
“You will come to the gym tomorrow at 5 pm. I guess you don’t want people to know how dirty you are… ”
and with that Keiji was left there, with his jeans unzipped, his boxers wet, and his whole body on fire.
There’s only one thing in his mind:
bokuto koutarou
bokuto koutarou
bokuto koutarou