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The man hadn't broke this much sweat since the first time he'd been caught at an adult parlor with a fake ID. First time, because, well... The man hadn't felt the tips of his fingers buzz with each beat of his heart, reverberating to the spine. The electricity extended like spider webs, like spider works.. His mind were in chaos yet not, focused yet far away - a total game of opposites..
Being overwhelmed was freeing for him.
Adrenaline was still spiking within the mans body when he'd left the aircraft, still flourished through his bloodstream as he shut off the door, the realization of it being the last time took way too long to coat over him, to bite into his skin.
The words were at the tips of his tongue. We did it.
Ryoma Nagare wobbled his way to the centre of the ground to meet his co-pilots. The first person who'd made contact was Musashi, with a hearty slap to Nagares back.
"We've done it!" the man celebrated with a wide smile.
"Yeah!" the other reflected Musashis grin, albeit a bit belatedly. His nervous system was still catching up.
There was talk of celebration. Of getting drunk off their asses somewhere, and letting the whole thing rest as a messenger of the past. With an arm wrapped around his neck, Ryoma nodded dumbly at whatever his friend parroted off. He were aching for a hot shower first, but sure, drinks sounded good too.
Though, one thing was missing.
Ryoma scowled, squinting toward the clouds of smoke in front of them until he could make out a silhouette.
He's still there. Good.
'Just a sec,' he mumbled to Musashi and walked off to the distance, relieved to see that Hayato was not.. Well, freaking out or acting insane in the way he usually would within the jet, of course, - and God knows why he had such a drastic change going on, - but also still there. Not gone yet, to wherever it is that he ran off to after each mission. With a swift pat on the mans shoulder, Ryoma turned towards him and greeted him with a loopsided grin.
"Where ya off to? Gonna get wasted with us?"
"No," Hayato responded evenly, his voice lacking any enthusiasm.
Typical, Ryoma thought, and went on, "..Not like you have to drink. So you coming?"
When Jin replied with a yet another no, it took Ryoma a second to compute it. He was all but about to direct the guy toward Musashi, to continue on in high spirits, and then…It dawned on him that Hayato wanted nothing to do with that.
"What do you mean, no?" he frowned, genuinely confused. Saving the world was a big deal, no? He even looked around himself to double check that he was still in the same universe as before, that they truly had done it. The hell? He looked back toward Jin like he had two heads.
Hayato glanced back at him as if the question itself were pedestrian. A slight line formed between his eyebrows.
"..No," he repeated slowly and kept eye contact this time, as if teaching to a child. "It's over, Ryoma."
Ryomas smile slowly left him, so did the spark in his eye. The man looked over his shoulder at the jets they've left behind. At the bigger mess just a few meters after them. Piles upon piles of things that soon enough will become ash for the wind to carry away. And soon, Ryomas own solemn exhale were carried away by the wind, too.
He knew where this was going.
"So that's it then," he mumbled.
"Yes," Hayato replied, just as monotone as before.
"…
"Why?"
Ryoma kept looking at their surroundings. Remembering it all, tying that memory with that of Hayato taking distance from him anew. Within his daze, it took a second to register the others voice again.
Until Hayato begun to raise its volume.
"Why? Why?! Because, Ryoma! We did what we had to do, it's over!"
Hayato begun to pace.
Ryomas eyebrows shot up. Hayato doesn't pace. He just doesn't.
The man went on:
"What did you expect out of this mission? Friendship, camaderie? Hand holding? You want me to kiss you while we are at it?!"
Hayatos face twisted just as ugli-ly (Was that even a word?) as it would when he'd go crazed within his jet, overwhelmed with its power alone. He got all up at Ryomas face too, making sure he would see it in all of its ugly glory. And in an annoying way, that expression both captivated and enraged Ryoma right back. He squared up toward the man, threw his hands up in the air like an offended cab driver and declared loudly:
"YEAH! YEAH, MAYBE I DO!"
…
Ironically, Ryoma did pull a confident face, smug of having shown Hayato his place, until he'd also realized what the hell he just said.
Now, he did want to be a pain in the ass and combative, but that- He did not mean to say that. All in all, it truly slipped out of him, because he were thinking of saying something completely different - Such as, screw you, you got a stick up your ass, this and that, you got an ugly mullet - But… Smugness changed to embarrassment, and Ryoma had almost shrunk away at the quiet rage in Hayatos eyes, wondering if this victory shall be followed by a black eye or two.
Yet, the man didn't get the time to properly backtrack anything as his lips were too busy being covered by Hayatos.
Pushed to the ground with the other mans hands twisting at his collar painfully, Ryoma could all but grunt against Hayatos lips and squirm awkwardly. Which, on its own, only made him more aware of the others closeness.
Of his body.
Its warmth.
As much as he could pretend to hate it, though, that act was short lived. Hayatos lips were rough against his, but beneath their spell, Ryoma felt it again. It wasn't adrenaline. It wasn't just excitement, either. Ryoma wasn't a stranger to lust, to arousal - to the maddening sensation of wanting to give and take and mold ones body against anothers. It wasn't just that rushing through his veins right now, no. It was that same thing that enveloped him in its arms when he'd piloted the getter. When he'd soared the skies, for the last time tonight.
He chased after the feel in Hayatos body and mouth, fearful of it slipping away. Knowing that, if he didn't dig his nails in and grab on tight, it would abandon him once more. Ryoma tasted that unnamed feeling on the mans tongue, on the rows of his teeth, heard it in his restrained half-moans; he wanted more, and more, and more - he wanted to possess it whole.
Even if that included getting roughed up a little, because, good grief, this man was not gentle on him.
The kiss were cut away just as brashly as it were initiated. Hayato withdrew from Ryoma, still straddling him as he caught his breath and wiped the back of his hand against his lips to clear away the saliva.
'Messy,' Ryoma could have sworn he heard Hayato chide.
In his stupidity, Ryoma took ahold of the mans hips to keep him steady just in case. After all, he did look a bit out of it. And secretly, he felt proud of that. Kissing him made Hayato feel woozy. What a sight.
Hayato glanced down at him after a while. Stared at him, then. Really stared, like during those moments where they'd been seconds away from tearing each other up, except this time there was a sense of…Something else that Ryoma couldn't quite name, so he wasn't all too worried. It wasn't a violent energy, or malicious per se.. So he stared right back, looking about as laid back as he were seconds ago.
Except, something burned at his chest.
He was nervous.
"…That did nothing," Hayato mumbled after a while, and got off the man without offering him a hand. Then, he made a motion of cleaning his suit knees off.
Ryoma propped himself up by the elbows, already scowling at how he were left to lay there. Can't a guy be kissed and helped up, too? Or is it hot to watch him struggle?
"You and I got our fill," Hayato declared to the ground. "This will go nowhere-"
"And if it doesn't?" Ryoma cut in, his voice taking on an angry tembre. "Then what?"
Hayato stilled. Ryoma still could not see his face, but at the very least he knew his words made an impact. The other man slowly turned his head, not enough to make proper eye contact, but just enough to throw those last words over his shoulder, to let Ryoma see the stone-coldness of his face as he did.
"I do not wish to see it."
And then, he said it.
Farewell.