(no subject)
"I'm pitch black," Akito sings while he's like this. He has a paintbrush, he has three cans of paint surrounding him, and he definitely has this crazed, panicked look to his eyes, as he doodles in little scribbles of black all across the white paneling.
"My life is pitch black," he hums, outlining a mouse onto the wall before he covers it in violent scribbles.
Yuki doesn't look at him. Doesn't move or breathe out of step, just keeps his head down, his mouth shut, his own brush painting in gradual, methodical squares. Akito wanted the walls black, and he wanted Yuki helping, and what Akito wanted... he got. He compares his contained, geometrical patches that he's painted to the ones Akito has; giant, gaping lines all across the walls. He stops, after long enough, and wonders how long before Akito simply tires and Yuki will have to paint the rest himself.
"Pitch black," Akito murmurs, smile coiling up his face. "And Yuki's will be too."
"Akito," Yuki whispers, and stops painting long enough to throw a pleading sort of look back to him. "Please."
Slow, concise squares again, blocks of black as Akito's arms slip around behind him, squeezing and playing along his sweatshirt. Yuki tries not to pay attention to the smudges of paint he's getting all over. "Bothered, Yuki? Don't want to be pitch black too?" Yuki stiffens, shoulders bunching as Akito pulls at the zipper of his shirt a little. "You will be, once I'm done with you. We'll both be. We match, you and I. We match."
The square Yuki's painting turns into a chaotic sort of scribble that peters off into nothing, when Akito grabs for him, tugs him back hard enough to send Yuki's brush flying. "You want to be like me, Yuki, don't you? You want to be pitch black too?" Akito still has his own brush in hand, and he dips it in some paint as he pushes Yuki against the floor, straddles over him with a smile.
"Akito--"
"It's okay. I was slow to it too." He unzips Yuki's shirt, and pushes up his t-shirt. Yuki breathes sharply and clamps his eyes shut when Akito draws a line across his pale, exposed stomach. "You can be pitch black too."
"Akito--please--"
Fingers wrap into his hair and pull - hard - yanking Yuki back up to look Akito in the eyes. Yuki lets out a soft cry of discomfort, hands grabbing for Akito's wrist, to try to get him to let go. But he doesn't. Let go. Instead, he snakes a hand, smudged with black paint, around Yuki's throat, stains porcelain skin and holds him tight enough to have Yuki's eyes fly open again.
"You will be," Akito breathes against Yuki's skin, drawing his nose along the line of Yuki's cheeks, and his tongue delicately up the curve of his jaw. He tightens his fingers into Yuki's hair again and yanks his head back hard, other hand trailing southward as Yuki lets out a shuddering kind of whimper. "Don't be such a baby. Man up. The rat is strong. The rat is pitch black, just like his god."
He's undone Yuki's trousers, jammed a hand inside and strokes Yuki a few experimental times, before grabbing him a little too firmly. "I want you to feel it, Yuki. Show me you're excited." Yuki's hands scratch helplessly down the front of Akito's kimono, snagging into fabric and holding on, hard. "Yuki."
"I-I c-can't, Aki-kito."
Akito releases his grip on Yuki's hair, slides his other hand along the cool, pale skin of Yuki's back, up his shirt, and Yuki latches onto him. Hugs him tight and digs in his nails and sobs into his shoulder. Akito eyes the ceiling, pumps Yuki a little more, as if testing him, and when Yuki doesn't oblige, pries his hands off and pushes him to the floor, sending brushes scattering and some paint dribbling across the floor.
"Pathetic." He stands over him for a moment, straightening his kimono and taking a step back. "Finish painting. Clean up this mess. You'll be pitch black too, soon enough. I will see to it."
Yuki doesn't answer, not more than a cough as he starts pawing at his own clothes, desperately, trying to cover himself back up. He's smudged with paint and he's taken his first step to being colored in black. Akito sneers at the tears still streaming down Yuki's face, Yuki can barely make it out as his vision blurs and he squeezes his eyes shut like he can fix things just by trying to make it go away.
He hears footsteps once he shuts his eyes. Something slamming when Akito throws it against the wall. And then silence, buzzing silence.
Inside Yuki's eyelids, inside his safe haven, everything's black.
Everything's pitch black.