Chapter Text
It’s been a few months since Teru started taking mood stabilizers, and to be honest, the only change in his behavior was that he became more unpredictable and jealous rather than depressed; fortunately, there were no more instances of him lying in one position all day without saying a word. He also returned to work
It was also clear that he had gained a little weight; he was still slimmer than Light, but you could tell he looked healthier.
Light started going out with him in public, but he felt embarrassed every time they met in a public place because, for example, the way Teru dressed made it obvious that he was open about his sexual orientation. He heard people whispering to each other about how Teru looked, saying they were surprised that someone like Light liked guys. He was embarrassed to go out with him because he heard them laughing at them as they walked past a group of teenagers.
He often wondered if Teru was taking some kind of drug along with his medication (which was very possible, given his fondness for marijuana), he acted excessively happy, and when Light asked him why he was happy, he’d say it was because he’d quit smoking—which was a lie, since Light had seen him with a cigarette in his mouth more than once after saying that. He spoke so quickly and incoherently that Light would just nod along because he couldn’t understand what Teru was saying, not to mention that he would laugh to himself at random moments. Light tried to tell him to stop because it looked like he was talking to his own hallucinations, but Mikami kept saying that he was laughing because he felt good and that he couldn’t control it
He also introduced him to the investigation team, and his colleagues really took a liking to him, but they looked surprised when they found out that Teru was older than Light. Sometimes he even sat in on their meetings regarding the Kira investigation, which really surprised him—that they’d just let him listen in on the case’s progress. He still didn’t know why L wanted Light to introduce his boyfriend to the investigation team, and he probably never would find out why, but his parents accepted their relationship (or whatever they chose to call it). Of course, his father was surprised at first and asked if he was sure he liked boys, but then he gave up when he kept getting the same answer over and over again—hearing “yes” every time. To be honest, Light didn’t feel any romantic attraction to either women or men, but he never talked about it. Sayu found out too, which sometimes led to snide comments directed at him; He explained to her that it was rude and terribly homophobic to ask the kinds of questions she was asking, but of course he knew she wasn’t trying to offend him—yet he could feel the blood rushing to his head when she asked him if he was a top or a bottom, because he wouldn’t let anyone fuck him, least of all that idiot. He felt practically no romantic attraction to anyone; the only one he loved was himself. He would often stand in front of the mirror and masturbate to his own reflection, which was quite embarrassing.
When he said Mikami was jealous, he meant that he was jealous of practically everything; Light sometimes got the impression that he was even jealous of his coworkers who were 20 years older than him. Whenever they were around, Mikami would stick close to him and say all sorts of unnecessary things, which was very embarrassing for Light. Sometimes he couldn’t take it anymore and would tell Mikami in front of other people to shut up, then, of course, he’d get comments that he shouldn’t talk to his boyfriend like that. In short, L was 5 percent sure that Mikami was Kira and 98 percent sure he was an abuser, but this gave him pause because whenever Mikami didn’t treat him very well, people would only focus on how Light treated Teru, which meant that the Kira case took a back seat, since they were worried about Teru. He often heard them say behind his back that Light was toxic and that he should break up with him, and well, he’d probably do anything just to delay the investigation into Kira.
The members of the investigation team cared more about what was going on around them than about tracking down a serial killer, which suited him just fine; it’s possible he even enjoyed playing the role of the toxic partner.
Sarcastic comments and insults from Light toward Mikami started to fly, but instead of responding, Mikami just smiled awkwardly and nodded—and he fucking loved it so much— he liked that he was so obedient and submissive; he liked that he felt in control; he liked that even if he spat on Teru, Teru wouldn’t say a word and would just smile; he enjoyed humiliating him, though he hadn’t shown it during their first meetings and tried not to let it show, Well, just as he’d thought, it worked to steer the investigation team away from the Kira case; the reactions of some members of the investigation team were comical, to say the least—whenever he made some inappropriate comment, they’d look at him with contempt, even his own father gave him that look. It was funny that they paid more attention to Teru and Light’s toxic relationship than to the Kira case.
They were now sitting together with Ryuuzaki and Mikami at a café; L was, of course, eating cake, while Mikami, sitting next to him, was licking an ice cream cone in a very suggestive way. It was pathetic how desperately he craved Light’s attention, He could see that every time Mikami moved his head to take the popsicle deeper into his throat, he’d glance out of the corner of his eye to see if Light was looking at him.
“Listen, sorry, Ryuuzaki, but I’m going to the restroom,” he said, then headed toward the restroom. He knew he’d get there before Mikami, and well, he was right.
As soon as he entered the bathroom, Ryuuzaki knelt down next to Light, trying to unbuckle his belt, but Light pushed him away. Strange… he thought Light had gone to the bathroom to have a quickie with him. Lately, Light had been acting very cold toward him; he treated him completely differently when they were alone compared to when they were around other people.
“Teru, let me make this clear: I have no intention of having sex with you in public,” he said, watching as the black-haired man got up from the floor
He brushed off his clothes and furrowed his brow
“Do you really treat everyone who wants to give you a blowjob with such ingratitude? Listen, Light, I’m going to make something clear too: I have needs as well, and at home I get the impression that you’re more interested in work than in me—I’ve noticed you don’t spend any time with me at all,” he muttered, at which Light frowned; he spent all—and I mean ALL—of his free time with him.
“Stop acting like a 15-year-old with raging hormones—you’re a grown man, so you should be able to control yourself. Besides, I spend all my free time with you—I don’t know what you’re getting at.”
and Teru just grimaced.
“Light, do you think I don’t see that? Do you think I don’t see the way you look at Ryuuzaki?”
What was he getting at? He said it as if he could see something Light couldn’t. Light was looking at Ryuuzaki normally and would never have thought what Mikami had thought. Slowly, he began to wonder if Mikami really only had bipolar disorder and not schizophrenia as well. Damn it, not only is he bipolar, but he’s also schizophrenic...
“I don’t get what you’re getting at. I don’t know what you’re imagining, but you’re imagining things that never even happened, and you’re trying to convince me that what’s going on in your head is the truth. Did the meds mess with your head that much? Are you sure you’re taking the right dose? You’re not taking too much, are you?” — he said in a slightly raised voice, then tapped Teru’s forehead lightly with his index finger
“THE DOSAGE IS PERFECT! Don’t try to make me look like an idiot because I can tell a mile away that you’re after him. You know what? Let him suck your dick from now on—sorry, I’ve got a better idea. Maybe we’ll have a threesome, and I’ll watch you fuck him. You know, I’ll have a great time!” — he said, raising his voice and emphasizing the sarcastic tone of the last two sentences he’d spoken
It was true that he’d been taking a higher dose of his meds for about a week, but he didn’t think that was the problem in this situation. During that week when he’s been taking double the dose, he really does feel better
“Have you completely lost your mind?! Are you hallucinating or something? I don’t know, are you on some fucking mephedrone or what? Because you like to get high, don’t you? You like to shoot up or snort a line of white stuff up your nose, don’t you?” he said, then started waving his index finger under his nose. “And I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m fucking Ryuuzaki—he’s not a faggot, unlike you, because let me remind you that not every man likes having a dick up his ass.”
Teru just laughed sarcastically at Light’s remark
“Oh, right, I completely forgot about my sexual orientation—thanks for reminding me. Do you feel like a man now? And do you realize how pathetic you sound right now? I’m sure you realize that the two of us are in a relationship TOGETHER—I’m not forcing you to do anything. As for the accusation that I’m a junkie, tell me just once when you’ve seen me taking hard drugs.” Silence. “Exactly—you haven’t seen me, so you have no right to accuse me of that.” Teru opened his mouth to say something else, but Light cut him off
“You fucking hypocrite—I can’t assume you’re doing drugs, but you can accuse me of fucking my boss?”
At that moment, Teru’s face turned bright red with embarrassment because he knew that what Light had just said was true, and the words on his tongue began to get tangled; he wanted to come up with a sharp retort, but all he could manage was a stammer.
“B-but it’s n-n-not quite the s-same thing.”
“It’s exactly the same—only today you’ve swapped your brain and your penis!”
Mikami couldn’t think of a single reply—what the hell was he supposed to say to that? So he just stood there, staring at the taller man
“Ran out of arguments? Not going to say anything else?” Light cleared his throat with that irritating smirk, as if to symbolize that he’d won the argument
“L-Light, can’t you see how much I want you? I’m trying to be nice, but lately you’ve been treating me worse than trash—don’t you like me anymore?” he mumbled, staring at the bathroom tiles beneath his feet
“Oh, s-so I’m t-treating you b-badly?!” Light said, mimicking how Teru had stuttered at the beginning. “Should I bring up what you just did? You accused me of cheating just because I didn’t want you to suck my dick in public! Didn’t it occur to you that I’m treating you the way you treat me?!”
Mikami looked up from the tiles at Light and grimaced in surprise.
“Oh no, no, no—you’re not telling me that I’m the one who treated you badly. I treated you like a fucking prince, and you liked treating me like a doormat. You liked showing your dominance over me; you let yourself treat me like your footstool because you knew I’d run after you like a dog anyway. But suddenly, when I dare to defend myself by responding to your snide comments, I’m the one who’s messed up—is that right? My responses hit your fragile ego so hard that the only thing you can do to defend yourself is to claim that you’re the victim and hope that eventually I’ll feel guilty about what I said and apologize to you. “IT HURTS YOU THAT I WON’T LET MYSELF BE MANIPULATED!” — he said triumphantly, clenching his fist
“If you’re so unhappy with me, then fuck off! Go! I don’t give a shit!” — he shouted, waving his arms left and right
“You bet I’ll go,” he said, then began heading toward the exit
“Well, if you’re leaving, don’t ever come back! Don’t come back later begging for forgiveness! And anyway, no one’s going to want you because you’ve got a fucking barcode on your hands! Go cut yourself, you bipolar faggot!”
The two of them stood there, processing what they’d just heard. Mikami turned his head toward Light, and a look of disgust spread across his face.
“Are you feeling better now?” he mumbled, staring into Light’s angry eyes.
“You bet I am.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, then turned and slammed the door.
It was a low blow—after all, he knew Teru hated it when people brought up his scars, and he knew that was one of his weak spots, so why did he say such disgusting things to him?
Light stood staring at the door that had just slammed shut. He didn’t regret what he’d said—Mikami deserved it. Instead of taking the insults lying down as usual, that jerk suddenly started talking back to him? That’s ridiculous! Not long ago, Teru had trouble moving, and Light had pulled him out of his worst state; if it weren’t for him, he’d still be in the worst possible condition—both mentally and physically—and for that, he deserved at least a little respect. Besides, sooner or later Mikami would come and beg him on his knees for forgiveness for what he’d said—he knew him too well for that not to be true.
Teru left the café and just walked straight ahead; he didn’t know where he was going, he was just walking somewhere to calm down.
Why was Light such a jerk? Lately, they’d been arguing a lot after Teru told him that his snide comments were disgusting. Of course, those arguments didn’t end like this one usually did—they’d just stop talking to each other for a while, but then they’d apologize to each other.
Teru thought he wasn't the only one in the relationship suffering from bipolar disorder. When they first met, Light told him he was too skinny and should gain some weight, and recently he’d heard comments—supposedly as jokes—that he should lose a few kilos because his face was getting chubbier, and he didn’t know why Light liked to make those kinds of comments to him. At first, when Mikami reacted with irritation to Light’s remarks, Light would just laugh and tell him not to take everything so seriously—that it was just a joke. But jokes are supposed to be funny for both people, and they weren’t funny to him at all.
He wondered if Light even liked him at all, because when Teru brushed against Light’s penis, Light didn’t even get hard—Mikami had to masturbate Light to elicit any reaction from him at all. During sex, Light looked and acted as if his mind were somewhere else entirely. It wasn’t just about their bedroom activities; Light didn’t even want to hold hands or cuddle with him, and Mikami couldn’t remember the last time Light had said he loved him—not to mention that Mikami was the one who always initiated all intimate acts. Sometimes he even thought Light was ashamed of him.
He was too embarrassed to admit it, but sometimes he’d slip some Viagra into Light’s tea (I think that’s against the law—actually, not “I think,” but definitely…) to get him aroused in some way. He’d watch as Light would start sweating and get an erection caused by the pill. He’d then lightly run his fingertips along the inside of his thigh and offer to pleasure him with his mouth or hand, but Light probably turned him down more often than he agreed. Was he really such a loser that his own boyfriend didn’t want to make love to him even after taking fucking Viagra? He had to admit he was sexually inadequate.
He started to think that Light wasn’t visually attracted to him, so he began wearing tight T-shirts that accentuated his waist; he’d stretch so that the shirt would “accidentally” ride up, revealing his stomach, He tried to get his attention; it annoyed him that Light devoted more of his attention to work than to him. His desire for Light’s attention became so intense that Teru practically followed Light around all the time; he could see that Light got irritated when he tried to grab his hand in public. He started taking him on dates—or rather, he tried to; there was a twenty percent chance that Light would agree to go out because he was busy with work. He started buying him jewelry that Light never wore anyway. He even started sending him intimate photos when they were apart, but Light continued to act the same way—he’d stare at him with a blank look in his eyes when they made love.
He knew he should be grateful that Light was even putting up with Teru’s personality, but his jealousy got the better of him
When Light started insulting and verbally humiliating him for unknown reasons, he began to notice that Light would get an erection whenever this happened. He started to think that Light was turned on by violence or simply enjoyed being dominant. Besides, he’d been humiliated his whole life and didn’t really see it as a problem that it was Light who was humiliating him. He started wearing collars that squeezed his neck and suggested sexual positions that were as humiliating as possible for him. He was probably trying to convince himself that he liked what Light was doing to him, he didn’t like it when Light yanked his hair or grabbed his hips so hard that bruises remained; it hurt him, but he never mentioned that anything hurt—his desire to make Light happy was so strong that he sacrificed his own comfort
He missed their first encounters; he missed how Light had treated him before, how Light had asked him out, how gently he’d touched him—it had been romantic.
He thought Light just had some kind of fetish, but he didn’t ask any questions; he was surprised that Light started humiliating him in public places too—he’d thought it would stay strictly between the two of them. Once, when he dressed quite provocatively for a get-together with Light and his coworkers, Light simply said that Teru looked like a male prostitute. It’s true that he’d dressed rather provocatively that day, but he’d done so to catch Light’s attention—and, all things considered, you could say that Light had indeed taken notice of him.
He despised himself for not liking what Light did to him—he was supposed to like everything Light did to him. He tried to convince himself that what Light said didn’t hurt him, but the longer it went on, the more he hated it
He thought that if he started taking double doses of his medication, he’d be much calmer, but the medication didn’t work the way he expected.
He simply forgot about Light when he wasn’t around, but when Light appeared next to him, he became… too honest and spoke his thoughts out loud.
And that’s exactly how this argument started.
Now he didn’t even know where he was; it was getting dark and cold, so he went into a nearby bar and sat down somewhere out of the way.
He didn’t like places with a lot of alcohol; they reminded him of some rather embarrassing memories from the past. He didn’t trust himself when it came to alcohol. He was afraid he might fall back into his old habits
When he was fifteen, he started hanging out with a pretty shady crowd; they paid him attention, and Teru liked that—he felt noticed and wanted to impress his older friends. They were the ones who let him smoke his first cigarette, even though he threw up right after. His mother told him to find a group of friends his own age because she was afraid he’d be taken advantage of by his older friends. But he just nodded at her words; as time went on, one could agree with what his mother had said—it was quite strange that he was the only fifteen-year-old in a group full of nineteen-year-olds, but apparently that didn’t bother the younger Teru; perhaps he was trying to convince himself that his “friends” liked him and weren’t just treating him as someone to make fun of. But Teru was young and foolish; he tried to rebel against his parents in some way.
He started sneaking out of class just to meet up with them; he tried to suck up to them because he wanted to be accepted by anyone and not called a weirdo
They bought large amounts of alcohol, and to impress them, he’d get so drunk that he couldn’t stand on his feet and would just fall to the ground; of course, no one helped him up, so if he wanted to get anywhere, he had to crawl.
It was pathetic that he would humiliate himself like that just to get a little attention from his older friends.
He often drank himself into a stupor, and they would just laugh and take pictures while he lay unconscious in his own vomit and urine
His mother noticed that he often didn’t come home at night or that he’d skip class; she’d ask him where he’d been and why he smelled like alcohol, telling him it wasn’t normal for a fifteen-year-old to be using substances, but he’d just tell her to fuck off because he thought he was mature for his age and knew what he was doing
Now he wondered how he had even managed to function while consuming such enormous amounts of alcohol.
He literally couldn't even sober up in peace; you could say he was drunk the whole time. If someone had asked him at that moment what day of the week it was, he certainly wouldn't have been able to answer that question.
He wanted to erase those memories; he didn’t want to remember them, didn’t want to remember what he looked like or how he behaved—at that time, his personal hygiene had hit rock bottom. His hair was, sadly, sticky from the alcohol he’d been pouring over his head, he could go weeks wearing the same clothes, which were often stained with alcohol and vomit; his face bore large, easily noticeable bags under his eyes from sleepless nights; his body was covered in bruises from constantly falling onto hard surfaces; and he walked around all the time with half-closed eyelids—not to mention that he stumbled even on a straight path.
He wanted them to face the consequences for how badly they had destroyed him mentally, for how they had exploited him for their own pleasure, for how they had recorded him doing embarrassing things while he was under the influence of drugs, and for how they had forced him to lick spilled alcohol off the floor.
Of course, they didn’t stop at just giving him huge amounts of alcohol; they also started offering him lines of cocaine, showing him how to snort it, and he would copy them. Due to the combination of a hard drug and a large dose of alcohol, he often suffered seizures and nosebleeds; he was in such a state that he was out of touch with reality—he could hear what was going on around him, but his body was paralyzed, and he couldn’t utter a single word.
He couldn’t blame them alone for his cocaine addiction, because whenever he was alone in a room, instead of trying to get some sleep, sober up in peace, or do anything to at least get himself together a little, he’d snort like the worst junkie, all by himself—which was probably even worse than if he’d been using around others, because when he was alone, he’d get paranoid and it seemed to him that someone was calling him all the time, even though he was alone
He was already so broken that he would go out in the middle of the day to a place where he could be alone and snort lines or drink hard liquor. When he was sober, he immediately felt the urge to take some kind of substance to feel even a little better; sometimes he’d lose track of himself and walk into the room where his parents were sitting, with a cigarette in his mouth or a bottle of beer in his hand, and his mother and father would look at him in surprise, and then, of course, he’d get an earful about what he thought he was doing, drinking and smoking at such a young age.
But deep down, he was grateful to them for never hitting him over it; I think the first and last time his father hit him was when Teru gave a rather interesting and detailed speech about his sexual orientation, and that was the only time physical violence was used against him. He was very glad they never hit him again in his life, because if, back then—when he was already at rock bottom—they had started using physical violence against him as well, he doesn’t think he’d be alive today.
He remembered that time when, after a week of not coming home, he finally decided to return because he had nowhere to stay and didn’t want to sleep outside—but he also didn’t want to go back home; he didn’t want to answer questions about why he’d been gone for the past week and why he hadn’t been in touch, why he couldn’t stand on his own two feet, and on top of that, his nose was constantly running.
He remembered that as he tried to make his way home, he kept tripping over his own feet; he fell to his knees so often that he tore his pants in those spots. It hurt so much, like scraping his knees until they bled as he scraped against the asphalt.
His legs hurt so much back then that it’s actually a miracle he made it home on his own. In fact, he was surprised that, in that condition, he even remembered the way home at all
He remembered that his mother opened the door for him and helped him inside; she held his face with both hands and asked, with tears in her eyes, who had done him such harm. He also remembered that his father was looking at him, but not as he usually did—he was looking at him with sadness in his eyes, as if he felt sorry for him. He must have really been in terrible shape if even his own father was worried about him
It’s a shame they weren’t just as worried about him when he was becoming addicted to self-harm; he had issues with self-harm when he was younger, but they got worse when he turned fifteen. He was so mentally broken from drinking alcohol day in and day out that he spent most of his time lying in bed doing nothing—not because he wanted to do nothing, but because he couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed. Because of this, his mother often cried; she would kneel by his bedside, drenched in tears, holding his hands or stroking his head, and repeating that she should have intervened sooner, that if she had, he wouldn’t be suffering
But he felt no suffering at all; he felt nothing—he didn’t even have the strength to suffer
For several weeks, he did nothing but lie there—and in any case, he couldn’t have done anything else even if he’d wanted to, because he was constantly writhing, shaking, and drenched in sweat due to the sudden withdrawal from drugs. His mother took time off work to take care of him; she tried to feed him, bathed him, dressed him, helped him walk, and put him to bed
After what felt like two weeks of doing nothing, he finally felt strong enough to get out of bed on his own and get dressed by himself. When his mother saw him standing in the hallway by the kitchen, she burst into tears and began hugging and kissing him on the cheeks
From then on, his mother was overly kind to him. She bought him albums by the bands he liked, asked him if he wanted to go to the store with her to buy some trinkets, and bought him his favorite candies
It hurt him that his parents only came to love him after he’d nearly killed himself with drugs.
That fact cut him like a razor; he hated to think that the only reason his parents were nice to him now was because they didn’t want him to end up in that state again.
He might have cut himself because of a few people—but what was the point? Teru himself probably didn’t know why, but that’s just how he dealt with his problems. He was addicted to lines—not lines of cocaine, but lines on his arms. He liked watching the blood flow from the wounds; it was mesmerizing
Week after week, there was no more space left on his arms, so he started looking for other methods. He’d tighten his tie too much around his neck and choke himself. It didn’t give him the same sense of relief as cutting his arms, and that annoyed him.
He deliberately wore longer shirts that could cover his hands and neck, but it was inevitable that someone would eventually realize he was self-harming again.
All in all, it was pretty easy to see that something was wrong, and I guess only a complete idiot wouldn’t have noticed that he was constantly scratching his hands. At that time, his palms itched practically all the time, so his mother asked him if he wanted to see a doctor because she thought he’d just gotten some kind of rash
At one point, his mother must have finally had enough; she told him to take off his shirt because it wasn’t normal for him to be scratching himself all the time, and she was afraid the rash might develop into something worse. She was a little surprised when, instead of a rash, she saw scabs. She started asking him why he was hurting himself again and said she thought he’d stopped doing that several years ago. Teru didn’t answer because he didn’t see the point in explaining himself for anything. Was he hurting himself? Yes, he was—but so what? He didn’t see a problem with what he was doing. They should be glad he didn’t end up as a new keychain.
She tried to disinfect the wounds, but he pulled his hands away and told her to back off because he thought he knew exactly what he was doing, and there was no need for anyone to interfere with his mental health— after all, he wasn’t snorting cocaine anymore or getting drunk to the point of passing out, so he had absolutely no idea why his mother was so worried about him—he couldn’t possibly make himself any worse off than he already was. He hated the way she was looking at him at that moment, as if he were some kind of victim of fate; he saw pity in her eyes, but he didn’t need pity.
He’d heard that his mother had argued with his father that night about sending him to a psychiatric hospital because she was afraid that, after what Teru had seen, he would take his own life.
But his mother was wrong; he didn’t want to commit suicide—he was simply trying to numb his emotional pain with physical pain. The pain he felt in his hands was completely different from what he felt inside; the emotional pain was unbearable, while he actually enjoyed the physical pain—he liked that it was the only kind of pain he could control himself, rather than someone else.
And although his father was a little kinder to him, he was still the same strict parent. He said that Teru didn’t need a doctor and that he was self-harming because he didn’t respect himself and was trying to get attention that way—or that he was simply a masochist. Not to mention that he was kinder to him solely to prevent Teru from doing anything that might damage his father’s reputation. His father was a lawyer whom everyone considered outstanding, so it was obvious that people would start talking when they found out that the son of a famous lawyer was not only gay but also a junkie who was high twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. As for the accusations that he was a junkie, people were right, and it was good that they avoided him because of those rumors. He was stupid back then for starting to stuff himself with drugs, but they really didn’t have to be so hard on him, seeing the state he was in.
And the rumors people spread made his life miserable; and he often couldn’t leave the house because his parents had heard so much gossip from random people about him—some of it was so nonsensical and stupid that he himself was surprised anyone would even say such things, let alone believe them, because what kind of person with even a shred of intelligence would believe she was sleeping with a man twice her age? Of course, when his parents heard about it, they gave him quite a lecture, and he didn’t know what they were talking about; he said it wasn’t true, that people were just making up anything and everything just to have a reason to hate him. Of course, in the end, there had to be a homophobic comment: that to get people to stop talking, he should find some girl who would fuck all the “faggotry” out of him. Which was pretty disgusting, since he was a fucking teenager who hadn’t even had sex yet—
“Hey, cutie! It's been a while—maybe I could buy you a drink,” he heard a man with an exaggerated British accent say from behind him
He didn’t recall walking into a gay bar. Was it really that obvious that he was queer, or did he simply have “I’m gay” written in huge letters on his back that men were approaching him in regular bars and hitting on him?
He turned his head to see the man who had spoken to him.
The man was shorter than him, had short black hair and piercings in his lip and eyebrow; his build resembled Teru’s. He looked Japanese, so he was surprised to hear a British accent. Judging by the slight blush on his face, one could tell the man was a little tipsy
“Um, excuse me, but do we know each other?”
The shorter man furrowed his brow as if surprised that Mikami didn’t recognize him.
“Yes, we know each other—or rather, we used to know each other. Ren Osano.”
What a coincidence.
He started to feel a little embarrassed for not recognizing his ex-boyfriend, but he remembered him completely differently and hadn’t expected him to look the way he did now.
“You know that drinking alone is alcoholism, right?”
“I’ve never heard of anything like that—”
“So can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure,” he replied, then watched as the man pulled up a chair to the table where he was sitting. Jesus, what is he doing? He told himself he wouldn’t drink anymore.
“So what do you want to drink?”
“A Negroni.”
“Oh wow, I didn’t expect you to order something so bitter. I remember you always liked sweet things—I remember when you used to eat caramel candies and share them with me. They were so sweet that I really don’t know how you could eat them by the kilogram.”
Teru blinked a few times in surprise; it struck him that even though he’d had a drink, he still remembered things that had happened so long ago.
And it was true—he loved sweet things. He didn’t know why he pretended not to like them. I guess he thought that if he said so, he’d be seen as more serious.
He remembered how much he loved those candies—he could stuff more than six of them into his mouth and still want more. Because he stuffed so many candies into his mouth at once, he heard people say he looked like a hamster; he pretended not to like the comment, but he kept doing the same thing just to hear more comments about his appearance, and every time he pretended to be annoyed, even though his smile and the blush on his cheeks suggested something quite different. You could say he was blaming his bitter life on the candy.
Ren told him he worked as a piercer and gave him a business card in case he wanted to get some piercings. To be honest, he thought Ren would end up being some kind of photographer because back in high school, he had the impression that Ren was always walking around with a camera; it seemed to me that Ren would pull out that damn camera in situations that were awkward for him. He remembered that once he got way too high and started hallucinating, and he began kissing the wall. He had to admit that the photos were pretty funny, but it annoyed him a little when people brought up how he’d been making out with the wall.
“Thank you so much, but I’m afraid that in my line of work, I can’t wear piercings.”
“So where do you work?”
“I’m a prosecutor.”
Teru didn’t know why he felt himself blushing—after all, Ten wasn’t flirting with him or anything like that. He tried to explain it away as the alcohol he’d drunk, but he knew he’d had too little to be unaware of his own behavior.
Maybe Teru was blushing because of the way Ren treated him—he didn’t treat him like the others did, he didn’t treat him like a child, he treated him like an adult, and Teru liked that. He felt safe in Ren’s company, even when he was drinking, and he had to admit that Ren was kind of handsome.... Who the hell was he trying to fool? Ren was insanely attractive. He couldn’t stop staring at him as Ren licked the last drops of alcohol from his lips with his tongue.
I guess you could say he still harbors some romantic feelings for his ex-boyfriend.
He had to admit that he was having a good time with Ren; he enjoyed listening to the other man tell old stories from high school—it made him feel strangely nostalgic. Usually, he preferred not to think about his teenage years because everything he’d done back then was pathetic, but now, sitting next to the other man, he felt at ease.
He felt butterflies in his stomach every time they made eye contact, but each time he’d get embarrassed and look away
At first, he didn’t want to get drunk, but then he remembered that he could afford to have a little more to drink than usual that evening because he’d had a tough day—not only was everyone pissing him off at work, but he’d also had yet another argument with Light. Besides, he didn’t want to go home for the night, so he figured he could afford to stay at the bar a little longer; tonight, he’d probably rather book a hotel room nearby than spend the night with Light.
He heard himself starting to slur his words and didn’t even realize when they were looking into each other’s eyes—and he had to admit that he was a little (?) turned on by the other man.
If Ren brushes against his thigh one more time, he swears he’ll lose control and throw himself at the man.
He rested his cheek on his hand and stared at the shorter man (that’s normal, right?) (Is it also normal that he’s literally drooling at the sight of him? Teru probably doesn’t want to know the answer to that question)
“Fuck, I’m so horny—”
Did he just say that out loud? Judging by the other man’s reaction, it seemed so. Ren was now staring at him with furrowed brows, apparently waiting to see how his uncontrolled outburst would play out
“Uhmm… fuck, I’m really sorry, that’s not what I meant… I don’t know how to explain it… you know, I didn’t mean that I have a crush on you—fuck, I don’t mean that I want you to bang me, like, you know, I wouldn’t mind, I mean, what? I meant that I’d like to sleep with anyone, not just you… Jesus... that sounded like I’m a slut—I really don’t sleep with random guys...”—Teru tried to explain himself, but apparently he just dug himself into an even deeper hole—or maybe not that deep, because the other man started chuckling
“Yeah, right, I believe you.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“Come on, man, I don’t care who you sleep with—you don’t have to explain yourself to me.”
Ren’s words didn’t help; he still wanted to sink into the ground from the embarrassment he was feeling at that moment.
To chase away the shame, he probably drank whatever was offered to him, and from all that alcohol, his vision began to blur.
He’d probably had a little too much to drink; he should probably get some sleep...
“Listen, uh… I’m feeling a little sick… I should stop drinking and go home,” he mumbled with narrowed eyes, clutching his nose, then began to get up from the table.
“I can walk you home if you live nearby.”
Damn it, he doesn’t even know where he is, let alone where he lives in this state.
“Listen, a slightly funny situation came up… Do you know of any hotels nearby?”
“Why would you need to book a hotel? Do you live far away?”
“Ummm, you could say that...”
“Come on, you don’t have to waste money on a hotel. If you want, you can stay at my place tonight.”
This can’t end well… but he nodded anyway and left the bar with the other man
Did Teru mention that he had absolutely no idea what street he was on? All he knew was that the street was in the middle of nowhere—besides that bar, there didn’t seem to be anything else around here
The walk was boring—absolutely nothing was happening—and the two of them walked in silence.
Well, okay, maybe something was happening after all, because he could see that the neighborhood wasn’t exactly the best; he’d noticed some junkies trying to say something to them.
He didn’t know how many minutes they’d been walking; it seemed to him that they’d reached the other man’s studio apartment incredibly quickly.
In fact, everything around him was happening so fast—he was seeing through a haze and was already a bit out of touch with reality—and he thought it was downright astonishing that back in his teenage years, it had been the norm for him to get himself into this state practically every day
Jesus, why did he drink so much today? Not only does he not know what’s going on around him because of the alcohol, but the next day he’ll probably have such a massive hangover that his head will explode
Not to mention that she’s now going with a guy from the bar to his place, where they’ll probably be all alone together—and that couldn’t possibly end well. After all, he was already drooling over her at the bar; who knows what he might say—or worse, do—once they’re alone.
He didn’t even realize it until they were already inside; the place was a mess. He didn’t like being in a mess, but tonight he didn’t really care where he was going to sleep. He looked around the small apartment and could clearly see some women’s underwear lying there, but there were only the two of them nearby, and he neither saw nor heard the owner of the underwear.
The two of them sat down on the couch, and the other man was saying something to him, but it all seemed so incomprehensible to him. He only knew that they were sitting so close to each other for some unknown reason that if either of them leaned in just a little closer, their lips would touch.
And who could guess what he did at that moment?
He leaned in slightly and pressed his lips against the other man’s, trying to slip his tongue into his mouth, but to no avail—Ren didn’t return the kiss, but he didn’t push him away either. What the fuck was he expecting? After all, even back at the bar, Ren hadn’t shown any interest in him—so what was supposed to change now that they were alone? Jesus, what he’d just done was so stupid that even under the influence of alcohol, he felt embarrassed
He pulled his head away from the man and ran his tongue over his lips, then began wiping the remnants of saliva from his mouth with the sleeve of the sweatshirt he was wearing
So what was he supposed to do at that moment? Just apologize and pretend nothing happened, or jump out the window out of embarrassment? I guess he was leaning more toward the second option—or anything that would make what he’d just done seem less awkward.
“Jesus, uh… I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to… it just kind of happened on its own. I promise I’ll never do it again,” —he mumbled, staring at the other man with slightly narrowed eyes while still running his tongue over his lips. To his surprise, the other man’s gaze wasn’t one of disgust, as he’d expected; he was just looking at him, probably because he had to figure out for himself what had just happened.
He didn’t hear a reply, but Ren tilted his head toward him so that he could feel his warm breath on his face, and their lips met again—only this time, it wasn’t his fault.
He returned the kiss; their tongues began to entwine, and with each passing moment, the kiss grew more passionate, and he could taste a faint hint of alcohol on his lips, coming from the other man.
It had been a long time since he’d kissed someone as passionately as he was now. Why did the best things always have to happen when he was in this state?
Teru felt Ren start to kiss him more aggressively, pressing himself against him harder and harder, as the other man’s warm hands slid under his sweatshirt and T-shirt
His hands moved toward the belt, and he ran two fingers along it before slipping them under the leather strap
“Can I?” Teru mumbled, pausing for a moment to stop sucking on the man’s lips, gently choking him as he felt that his lips were swollen from constant biting
“Do you want to?” he murmured as he planted careless kisses on Teru’s jawline.
“I really want to,” he said, seeing that they were both throbbing with erections.
“Then you can,” he murmured into his neck, then stopped sucking on it and pulled his hands out from under his T-shirt so Teru could kneel down.
Teru dropped to his knees in front of Ren; he wanted to show off his skills today because, often, when Teru performed well for his former partners, he’d hear them jokingly say that if his career as a prosecutor didn’t work out, he should do this professionally. Of course, every time he heard that praise, his face would turn bright red because he wasn’t used to frequent compliments, and he really liked it when anyone praised him, even for something small. He was surprised that they were praising him for it because, at first, he’d generally avoided the topic of oral sex like the plague; when they asked him why he only did anal and never offered to go down on them, he was too embarrassed to admit that, up until that point, he’d never done it in his life, and he was a little stressed that he might accidentally bite them or fail to satisfy them. But apparently, he’d worried for nothing, because it seemed to him that since they were praising him, they must have liked it. Actually, he didn’t really like giving someone oral pleasure because at that time he had some strange oral fixation—if he felt anything in his mouth that could be considered dirty, he’d go and brush his teeth; he might brush them four times a day or even more. To be honest, it really disgusted him, and he grimaced at the very thought of someone putting their genitals in his mouth. All in all, the only reason he did it was because he wanted to be complimented, and he was willing to sacrifice himself and kneel before someone just to hear a few kind words directed at him. He sometimes wondered if, when one of his partners gave Teru a blowjob, they felt the same disgust he did, or if he was just weird for being repulsed by the idea of touching human genitals with his mouth.
He thought that since someone had praised him for it, that meant he was good at it, so he tried to show off his skills to Light, but Light just told him to hurry up and grabbed his hair, controlling Teru’s head himself. Teru hated it when Light did that because he forced him to move so fast that Teru would simply choke and feel the urge to vomit, which left his esophagus sore for the rest of the day.
Actually, he didn’t know why his former partners had some strange obsession with pulling and yanking his hair. He didn’t quite understand what was so exciting about pulling his hair; sometimes he wondered if they’d perhaps organized a contest to see who could yank out the most hair. He really didn’t know why they liked pulling and yanking his hair so much; once, when his ex came on his hair, he spent about an hour and a half afterward trying to get rid of the sticky feeling on his head. He wanted them to stop, to treat him a little more gently, but he never asked for it—he didn’t want his whining to leave him all alone—so he just tried not to think about how they treated him, because, strictly speaking, they weren’t causing him any permanent physical harm. All in all, you could say that the only person who was hurting him was himself.
He was afraid that if he said he didn’t like something, they would break up with him, and he didn’t want to be alone. When he had no one by his side, he didn’t really know what to do with himself, so he desperately looked for someone to be with him—even though deep down he knew that this was only destroying him even more. He knew full well that he was always at their beck and call and would do whatever they asked of him, even if it took a toll on his mental health. He tried to please his partners in every possible way to prove that he was useful in some way; he did this, in part, because at that time he believed he had to “earn” good treatment, and I suppose that symbolized, to some extent, that he needed professional help—but at that moment, no red flags went off in his mind at all.
He felt awful doing things he absolutely didn’t want to do, but at the time he thought he was being picky and had extremely high standards, when in reality, from another person’s perspective, he was the easiest person to pick up and had practically no standards at all.
He felt guilty for being “ungrateful”—after all, that’s exactly what he wanted: his partner’s attention. But even when he got it, he still wasn’t satisfied. He should have been happy to feel useful, yet he had the nerve to be picky about what he liked and didn’t like, so he started taking sedatives. This would have been completely normal if it weren’t for the fact that Teru was already excessively calm, and the pills just made him dazed all the time, out of touch with what was going on around him—maybe because, instead of taking one or at most two pills a day like a normal person, he took five a day, convincing himself that one pill had no effect at all.
Whenever someone broke up with him, he’d start isolating himself from the world and tell himself how stupid he’d been to let himself be taken advantage of like that, and he’d convince himself that he wouldn’t let himself be treated that way again—but it turned out he’d say one thing and do another, because usually, whenever he said that, the same situations would just repeat themselves
Of course, not all of his partners hurt him—there were better ones and worse ones—but it seemed like fate usually picked the worse ones just to spite him; yet when he came across the better ones, to be honest, he learned things about himself that he hadn’t known before. Well, to his surprise, they did things to him that he really enjoyed, and to put it mildly, he went crazy with joy when they sucked and licked the inner sides of his thighs, or when they ran their hands through his hair and stroked him while whispering praise and compliments in his ear and calling him affectionate names, or when they teased with him. It was safe to say that his life literally revolved around sex, and at times he wondered if he might be addicted to it, but what could he do? He loved making love to someone—it gave him the feeling of being desired by another person and of being needed, and that was exactly what he wanted. It was his weakness, and some people took advantage of that weakness to slowly make him dependent on them—perhaps even unconsciously at times.
That’s why his adult life seemed to revolve around constant sexual encounters. But was that a bad thing, something he should be ashamed of? After all, the whole point of sex was to show intimacy to another person—it wasn’t his fault that society had turned it into something bad and lustful.
To be honest, he didn’t understand at all why he liked those particular things. I suppose you could say he liked them because, for most of his life, he had been treated like an object and expected to be obedient and free of any flaws—otherwise, he would be useless. But that very lack of flaws was his only flaw; when people spat on him, he pretended to feel as if it were raining. People had driven him to such a state that Teru fantasized about them being gentle and tender toward him instead of the way they actually were; he wanted them to look at him with love rather than with lust or pity. That was probably his greatest unfulfilled fantasy; he was aroused by the fact that people treated him in the most normal way, because for half his life, it was safe to say that people had simply been taking advantage of him, and he had simply gotten used to such treatment and considered it the norm—so when another person literally gave the absolute minimum of themselves, he considered that to be special treatment already.
It was downright baffling that someone as intelligent as he was could be so submissive and let himself be treated so poorly—
He moved his fingers toward the buckle of his pants and began to slowly unbuckle it, and he felt a hand on his head, but this time the hand wasn’t pulling his hair—it was just gently running through it—and well, he had to admit that he liked it.
He began to pull the other man’s hard cock out of his pants so he could lick its entire length
He wrapped his hand around the shaft of his erection and began to plant gentle, wet kisses on the head of his penis, and Ren gasped, tilting his head back so that it rested on the couch
He stuck out his tongue and, in a slow, circular motion, licked up the pre-ejaculate dripping from the tip. He did this for quite a while before tilting his head to run his tongue along the rest of the penis several times
He returned to the head of the penis, took it into his mouth, and began to suck, slowly moving his head up and down. He heard a quiet whimper escape from Ren’s lips, which at that moment sounded melancholic to his ears
The man’s hand, which was still tangled in his hair, tried to guide Teru’s head. He felt the hand pressing down on his head, which was probably meant to signal that he should take the penis deeper into his mouth
Jesus, why did everyone always want to control his head as if he couldn’t do it himself? It annoyed him so much that at first, despite having the penis in his mouth, he tried to mumble for him to let go of his head—which apparently didn’t work, because he still felt the pressure.
At that moment, what was left of his pride must have hurt a little too much. Finally, he pulled the penis out of his mouth, which caused the other man to groan, and a trickle of saliva appeared from the corner of Teru’s mouth
“Fuck, why’d you stop?” he said, staring at Teru, apparently a little surprised.
“I swear, if you don’t take those hands of yours off my head, I promise I’ll bite your dick off,” he mumbled, raising his voice slightly, and felt the hand on his head relax and finally let go.
He ignored the arrogant smacking sound he’d heard and simply went back to what he’d been doing before
He moved his head up and down, this time trying to shove his cock as deep as he could into the back of her throat
Time was dragging on so much that he wasn’t even sure if it was his mind that was so exhausted that everything felt like it was taking forever, or if it was just his imagination—and it was actually Ren’s fault that he couldn’t reach orgasm after some fucking six minutes of her giving him a blowjob.
Not only were his eyes closing on their own and he felt like he was about to black out, but on top of that, all his limbs ached, and his still-throbbing erection wasn’t helping the situation.
He was so busy feeling sorry for himself in his thoughts that he didn’t realize Ren had finally come. He felt a stream of semen hitting the roof of his mouth.
He pulled away and swallowed, but today the taste of semen was so exceptionally revolting that it made him grimace. Could it be that alcohol had so corrupted his taste buds that what he was swallowing tasted disgusting? After all, before, when he swallowed it, he hadn’t felt such revulsion—he’d just done it—but now? Now, the moment he swallowed, he actually felt like throwing up. Not that he’d ever liked the taste of semen before—even when sober, he’d found both the taste and the texture repulsive—but today, in particular, it was unappetizing.
Another reason for Teru to stop drinking—semen tastes bad. Not that he often gave blowjobs to people when he was drunk, but it was still another reason for Teru to put an end to his completely nonexistent alcohol problem.
He was a bit torn by his own thoughts because, on the one hand, he told himself that everyone likes to have a drink sometimes and that he isn’t an alcoholic since he doesn’t pass out every day, but on the other hand, he kept telling himself he should quit drinking because he didn’t want a repeat of what he’d gone through as a teenager.
He really needs to get his act together. Starting tomorrow, no drinking, no smoking, no drugs—that’s the second voice in his head speaking up right now. Teru denies that he’s a drug addict; he was simply a frequent user of a natural plant that you can smoke—which, in his view, are two completely different things
Jesus, it’s only now that it’s dawned on him just how much of a loser he is. Not only is he a junkie (a frequent user of a natural plant that can be smoked) and an alcoholic who convinces himself he’s not one at all, but he also has a boyfriend who doesn’t want to be his boyfriend at all—he just wanted to hook up and dump him at the start of their relationship, and this idiot insisted that since there was sex, there must also be a relationship.
He started making out with some random guy who was buying him drinks. He was basically the perfect guy—the kind you can only dream of. Jesus, he didn’t realize at first just how easy he was. I don’t think any sane person gets turned on by someone who was just nice to them.
Teru promises himself that one day he’ll change. Just maybe not today, or tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow—but someday for sure. Right now, he didn’t want to change—he just wanted to relax a little, to take a break from all those events he’d been reminiscing about today
He rested his forehead on one of the man’s knees—the man was still sitting in front of him on the couch—and narrowed his eyes. He didn’t even feel like dealing with his own erection anymore; if anything, he’d just masturbate tomorrow
I don’t think he even realized he’d blacked out.
He’ll wake up covered with a blanket on the couch. It’s a good thing Ren didn’t leave him to sleep on the floor, because he probably would’ve fallen asleep there, and everything would’ve hurt even more than it does now—and right now it hurts a lot.
He tried to lift his head off the pillow, but to no avail, because it felt like his head weighed about five metric tons. To be honest, he’s not surprised that he hurts so much because he doesn’t even know how much he drank, but he definitely drank a lot—he doesn’t even remember half of what he did yesterday, but he’d bet he said or did something stupid
What an idiot—he knew what alcohol used to do to him, so why the hell did he even reach for it in the first place? I could understand small amounts, but when he drinks, there are only two options: either he manages to control himself while he’s drinking and doesn’t drink at all, or he promises himself he’ll have just one glass—and then he wakes up God knows where. Now, too, he didn’t know where he was; the room he was lying in was a mess, so logically speaking, it wasn’t a hotel. All in all, he didn’t really care where he’d slept—what mattered was that he was in an apartment, because he just as easily could have woken up on the street with that awful headache.
He buried his head deeper into the pillow and tried to remember what had happened yesterday.
What on earth had he done while drunk? All his limbs ached so badly—he understood that his head hurt, but his whole body? On top of that, he felt something sticky between his legs, which probably didn’t bode well. A thought popped into the back of his mind: that he’d let himself get fucked
No, that’s impossible...
He wasn’t that easy—or at least that’s what he thought—and besides, they wouldn’t let someone he’d spent barely two hours with get laid. Or rather, they wouldn’t have let him if he’d been sober; when drunk, he might not necessarily have refused—he didn’t know what might have crossed his mind, so it was highly likely that he would have let himself be taken advantage of while in that state.
Teru should start piecing together a timeline of events based on what he remembers, but the problem was that he couldn't remember anything except that he'd gotten into a half-fight with Light first.... Yeah, he did get into a fight—and when he remembered that, he felt a twinge of guilt over what he’d said yesterday. Maybe it really was his fault that Light was treating him that way? Light was actually somewhat right in what he said; maybe he was a little too paranoid, and MAYBE just a tiny bit jealous that Light wasn’t paying him enough attention, but he didn’t mean any harm. When he gets home, he’ll definitely make it up to him somehow—
Yeah, once he gets home...
How was he supposed to get home when he didn’t even know where he was right now, or what time it was?
He started rummaging through his pants pockets to find his phone. He held the phone up to his face, and the screen’s light stung his eyes. 10 o’clock—that’s not so bad, I guess... He ran his hand over his face, realizing that something was missing.
He swore that if he’d lost or broken his glasses, he’d probably go crazy. Not only were the glasses damn expensive, but he didn’t feel like going to the eye doctor again this year—he’d generally had enough of doctors this year anyway.
So whose fault is it? He should’ve worn contact lenses—then he wouldn’t be half-blind now. He knows full well he has a -2 prescription—he should’ve watched his glasses like the apple of his eye, but he didn’t have to get wasted and lose them somewhere
I guess he should start pulling himself together—after all, he can't just lie there for the rest of the day calling himself an idiot.
He rubbed his eyes a few times and started to get up, and oh my God....
A disgusting smell hit him—one he recognized all too well. He grimaced, determined to get out of there as fast as possible.
What the hell kind of normal person would decide to smoke weed in a closed room (and judging by the strong smell, a lot of it), and then not even air it out?
Today, it seemed like the world had decided to punish him for some sins he’d committed—there couldn’t be any other explanation.
He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry—he was probably going for a third option: throwing up. He felt like everything inside him was overflowing, and with the silence in the room and the only sound he could hear being the ticking of the clock, his head probably hurt even more
Listening to the empty silence, he realized he was alone in the apartment. He was a little surprised because few people would let a barely acquainted person stay alone in their own apartment.
Unless it was so quiet because Ren was asleep too—but he wouldn’t be wandering around an apartment he didn’t know at all, so he probably preferred to think he was alone.
It wouldn’t take him too long to get himself together; the hardest part was probably just managing to get up, and he’d already done that—the rest should be easy, because, after all, he was already wearing clothes and shoes, and all he had to do was walk out.
And he should also check to see if his glasses are nearby; only if he finds them can he leave.
Teru’s gaze began to wander around the room, and almost immediately he spotted the black frames of his glasses lying on the floor next to the couch where he was sitting.
I guess he shouldn’t have panicked so much at first that he didn’t know where they were.
He bent down to pick them up. It was very likely that he’d dropped them without realizing it and they might be slightly scratched, but I guess slightly damaged glasses are better than no glasses at all.
Well, he probably exaggerated a bit about them being damaged, since the lenses were only slightly scratched, and that probably won’t bother him much in everyday use
He put them on and didn’t notice much of a difference.
He got up from the couch surprisingly gracefully and began wandering around the apartment, scanning the room for the front door.
When he found the door, he grabbed the doorknob and stepped out into the narrow stairwell hallway, which was littered with cigarette butts
He stepped outside and felt a pleasant, warm breeze hit him; he breathed in the fresh air through his nostrils, which was a welcome change from the smell of cigarettes and who knows what other substances
All in all, he didn’t know where this feeling came from—that he didn’t know where he was—because now, looking out at the street, he knew exactly where he was and how to get home. Maybe it was because it was dark, and he was perhaps too drunk to recognize the streets. It was a street he didn’t frequent very often because he associated it only with junkies lying around and a high crime rate, and I guess it seemed normal that he didn’t recognize where he was in the dark.
Maybe he was being too paranoid, but it seemed to him that every passerby he saw was staring at him. He probably left a little too soon—he could have run his fingers through his hair and washed his face—because now, from a passerby’s perspective, he was sure he looked like someone whose favorite treat was crystal meth.
He nervously began running his slender fingers through his hair to try to fix his disheveled hairstyle in any way he could, and to be honest, now it seemed to him that he looked even more ridiculous.
He took his hands off his head because he’d already managed to make himself look even worse than he did before.
They started walking at a brisk pace because, on the one hand, he wanted to go home, but on the other hand, he didn’t want to, since that meant he’d have to see Light’s face again, and the thought of admitting to his probable betrayal sent shivers down his spine. After all, he didn’t even know for sure if he’d slept with him, so this information probably wasn’t essential to Light’s survival. But if he didn’t say anything, he’d still feel guilty most of the time for not having said it.
He’d just realized what a jerk Ren was. He’d probably slept with him and then just walked off somewhere—it made no sense. What normal person does that?
Sometimes he felt like he was the only normal person around, but only sometimes
He was terribly stressed out about having to explain himself at home for things he wasn’t even sure he’d actually done. But what else could he do? He kept walking, trying to think positively, but it wouldn’t leave him alone
I think he’s panicking a little too much—after all, Light’s reaction can’t possibly be as bad as he expects