In Kongou Agon's eyes, girls are either pretty or not pretty, and boys are either trash or slightly above trash. Still and all, he sees none of them as his equal.

And it probably is fair of a genius to think he's better than everyone, except it just can't be true all the time.

+

When this strange, blond boy comes to tell him he's got a pretty sister he could fix him up with, Agon agrees to beat the shit out of some asshole for him. The thing is, Hiruma Youichi exceeds everyone at lying, at manipulating, and at scheming, but Agon doesn't learn about this until later, when he finds there was no pretty sister to be had in the first place.

"Then what the hell did I beat up this asshole for?!"

"Hey, I'm trying to video here; d'you fucking mind?"

It's one thing to be duped, but it's another thing to be duped and used and then be disregarded like he was some halfwit or desperate fool.

Agon twists his hands into Hiruma's shirt and drives him up against the alley wall. "I'm going to kill you, you goddamn scum."

"Doubt it, fucking dreads."

And Hiruma's even grinning and chomping on his gum, looking every bit unafraid, that Agon has to wonder if he's dealing with some nutcase, after all.

-- which doesn't convince him, in the end, that this is all worth it. Pummeling a guy who'd probably just cackle through the whole thing -- it just isn't worth Agon's time. So with one last shove, he lets go of Hiruma's shirt. "The hell with this shit."

+

But then, later in the week, Agon beats up the second asshole Hiruma asks him to beat up, because all the same there's hardly any honesty on his part, either, when he claims he's just doing this because he's bored.

+

The way it works every time is, in narrow spaces or behind a tree, Agon does his thing with his fists and Hiruma does his thing with his devices, and then they go their separate ways.

But at some point in between, every so often, they get along and talk. Sort of.

"Who needs high school, anyway?" Agon says to Hiruma, one humid evening they're lying stretched out on someone's roof.

"Are you fucking serious?" Hiruma says. "We need high school to get to the Christmas Bowl."

Agon snorts. "Fuck football. It's all about banging the hot teachers."

"But all the hot teachers go for the genius football jocks!"

"Really?"

"Even more if they play in the Christmas Bowl!"

Agon makes a grab for Hiruma's shirt. He hauls him bodily over to his side so Hiruma's almost half on top of him. "I'm getting sick of your bullshit," he scowls.

"I know," Hiruma smirks.

Hiruma tries to writhe out of Agon's hold, and pretty soon they're nothing but a furious, scuffling twist of hands, feet, and limbs. But one of them shifts the wrong way, a knee brushing against a thigh, and suddenly there's this need for harder, closer contact so strong that Agon tastes blood on his bitten lip when he tries to fight it.

And then they're hips to hips, thrusting hard into each other. Agon closes his fingers around Hiruma's wrist, and in the wild, sultry haze of palpable sensations, the last thing Agon feels before he wets his jeans is Hiruma parting his lips against his cheek and gasping, "I'm gonna kill you, fucking dreads."

And Agon just grins and says, "Doubt it, trash."

+

After he fucks Hiruma the first time, the same humid night they're out on someone's roof, Agon convinces himself that he isn't crazy enough to want to do it again.

But as it turns out, he is.

+

It comes to a point where Agon looks at Hiruma and all he wants is to be inside him.

Sometimes it gets so bad and out of hand he forgets he's supposed to like girls. Pretty girls, even.

+

The sun is a stark orange ball from this part of the city, from this empty back lot of an abandoned sweatshop, but Agon notes this only because Hiruma's standing against it, before him, and in this light it looks a lot like his wild yellow hair's on fire. Agon pulls his sunglasses down over his eyes.

"The fuck you doing?" Hiruma sounds like he's baffled, and he probably should be.

"I'm sitting, what the hell do you think?" Agon brings his feet up to the edge of the crate he's on and leans back against the mesh fence. There's no one around to beat up, no real reason for him to be here.

"Whatever. Fucking dreads."

Hiruma turns back to his laptop and proceeds to do a great deal of tapping on the keyboard. After a minute, Agon grows bored from being ignored, so he sticks out his hand and pulls Hiruma's laptop from under his fingers.

He says to Hiruma, "Let's fuck."

And they do, Hiruma on his back on Agon's jacket spread on the ground and Agon gripping the side of a crate as he moves inside Hiruma.

At some point, Hiruma brings his fingers up to Agon's face, the knuckle of Hiruma's thumb brushing, the faintest touch, against Agon's jaw. But it's only after they're done, even later, in his bed in the middle of the night, that Agon actually feels it.

He spends the whole night awake, thinking he's going to be sick.

+

It gets worse that, for the first time in days, Agon goes to class.

School sucks, but he figures it's easier to divert his thoughts in the context of equations, definitions, and uniform writing on the blackboard, and if he just keeps his thinking in a straight, rigid line like he always has, then nothing could dissuade him from knowing, and believing, that he shouldn't be letting some piece of trash consume him because, seriously, he is goddamn better than this.

His day goes smoothly enough. Before first period class, he throws a classmate out the window for asking what shampoo he uses. At third period class, he twice yells "Moron!" at the teacher. For lunch he has three meat buns he swipes from random trays; in the time remaining, he flirts with some members of the Makeup Club. He dozes his way through the rest of the afternoon and wakes up to a piece of paper on his desk, a list of homework for tomorrow which the class president has kindly scribbled down for him.

Agon scans the items, starting with number one. Kokugo: Compose 25 haiku. He snatches a pen and sheet of paper from someone's desk and begins scrawling.

"What the --"

And so Agon ends his school day thrashing his desk.

+

Phone's ringing.

"Yeah."

"Fucking dreads, train's at fifth stop in a minute--"

"I'm done with this crap. Don't call me again."

Agon tosses his cell phone off the bridge into the river.

+

It's almost like he can sense Hiruma everywhere he goes. But it's different this time. It's real this time.

Agon stops in the middle of the sidewalk. He glances just halfway over his shoulder when he says, "You're persistent. That's something could get you killed, you know."

Hiruma snickers, not stopping until he's just inches away behind Agon. "By your hand?"

"Yeah, by my hand. Slowly."

"I'd recommend quickly; I could pull a fucking gun on you, you know."

"I'm not scared of your pussy gun."

Somehow Agon forgets how fast Hiruma can move sometimes. Against the nape of his neck, he can feel the cold black metal of a handgun.

He's quite sure, though, that Hiruma's constantly aware of how fast he moves at the same time. Almost all at once, Agon disarms Hiruma, seizes him by the collar, yanks him off his feet and into the alley at hand.

Hiruma grabs him back, fingers trying to rip into the toughness of his arms. He's flouncing and struggling against Agon's brawn, as anyone should be --

except Agon realizes this is Hiruma with him, the only son of a bitch he knows who's every bit unafraid of him, who should be snickering and mocking in his position rather than growing abnormally tense and trembling.

It makes even less sense the moment Agon looks into Hiruma's eyes and sees shit like... alarm. There's ire also, but it's not until Agon feels the quickened pounding in their pressed chests and the rise of heat between their breaths that a stupid thing dawns on him.

"Fuck!" they hiss out almost at the same time.

Neither one budges nor eases his hold, until Hiruma grits his teeth, twists his mouth, leans just a bit, bit closer. And then finally Agon pushes his sunglasses up his eyes, brings his open mouth down, and goes in for their first kiss. He takes Hiruma's mouth, moving insistent lips and tongue over every bit that's soft, wet, hot. And tastes good.

It makes him wonder, for one hasty, angry moment, what the hell took them so long to get to this.

When Hiruma makes this smooth, thick sound under his breath and presses further into the kiss with his body, Agon realizes things can still be a little bit better, so he brings his hands down from Hiruma's shirt and eases down Hiruma's jeans past his hips.

At some point in their kiss, Agon thinks he might actually be crazy.

+

"Just so you know, fucking dreads: you're a pretty crappy kisser."

END