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pinkaditty · 1 month ago

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Starstruck Coral Part 2 (Romeo Lucci x Reader; Tokyo Debunker)

*tiptoes back on2 my blog only 2 trip and slide over a comically placed banana peel and alert the entirety of my waiting readers*

well. here’s part 2 LMFAOOOOOO i was inspired i guess! let me apologize for… my usual shenanigans… there’s always more than 1 ghoul involved, i fear! its bc im insane. yea.

a/n: sorry i disappeared and have just been reposting or giving out occasional queued posts. idk man i went off grid 4 a minute bc i had a break off of work and spent that entire 4 day weekend playing otome games and relaxing. then it was back 2 work and i just felt tired all the time 😭 BUT i finally managed 2 lock it down and finish it. thank god. hopefully my inspiration comes back full throttle soon.

also this may or may not have a part 3. i have a soft idea 4 it but honestly it might just be me dragging it out idk… ill think abt it.

summary: pt 2 of starstruck coral series. romeo can't get you out of his head. neither can the other ghouls.

cw: mc kinda gets around. sorry. guilty pleasure u can pelt me with stones all u want its how i like it! warning 4 lots of making out and graphic descriptions of it, as well as some petting in some scenes. NOT PROOFREAD sorry :(

MINORS DNI NO SMUT BUT STILL SUGGESTIVE!

Looking for Part 1? Click here!

Romeo knows from the first time you kiss him that he’s not the only one.

Peach-flavored gloss smears across his lips as he hurriedly wipes them with the back of his hand, rushing away from the chapel for the third time that week. He can feel the sticky residue clinging to the edge of his lips and he knows there’s no way he’s gonna be able to get it off of his face without a mirror. Maybe he’ll get lucky and nobody at Sinostra will ask questions. He’d barely managed to salvage his reputation (and yours, by proxy) after that rather suggestive picture Kurosagi had made sure was all over WickHive. Though, he might be digging his own grave with how often he slips away to visit you, now that he thinks of it. He’s not one for pink or peach colors due to how it clashes quite terribly with his hair, and much prefers darker colors, like reds or purples. However, he can’t say he minds the lighter, more refreshing taste of peach lining his lips for once. If he flicks his tongue out to taste the edge of his lips, it’ll be like he’s kissing you all over again.

That’s gross though, so he’s not doing that. He’s not so low that he’ll let his urges get the best of him yet.

He does, however, absentmindedly flick his tongue along his lips, wetting them as they’re exposed to the cool night air. He’s wasted a lot of lip gloss today, and he doesn’t want to arrive at Sinostra with dry lips.

He can almost still feel your lips moving against his, your hands curling into the collar of his uniform, wrinkling it like hell. He sure does mind you wrinkling it, and makes a point to fist his hands into your collar as well. He should've seen it coming when that only spurs you on, further creasing his perfectly ironed blazer. He'd soon find his neck covered in kiss marks, his crisp white collar stained with salmon-colored gloss, a forget-me-not that felt quite flirty for someone like you.

The way you pulled at his hair, sighed against his lips, and brought him in closer immortalizes itself in his mind. He couldn’t believe what he had done, for the third time that week. He may as well have been referring to himself when he warned everyone at the bar to keep their hands off of you. He tries to tell himself again that it was an accident, a fluke, he wasn’t thinking right and something about the night air made him crave closeness in any form. And yet, despite knowing he has a number of women and men to choose from on campus, his feet always lead him to your door, like he can’t bring himself to go elsewhere. He figures it must be that damn lipgloss or the way you hold him or the way you smile, gloss smeared across your lips and your teeth peeking through a teasing smirk. Whatever it was, he’d found himself there again tonight, seeking heat, or tension, or something else he couldn’t name.

But he could tell from the first time. Despite how he can't get enough of it, despite the sweet taste of your lips, despite the surprisingly perfect way your lips slotted against his, he knew for a fact he wasn't the only one.

He can't explain why, but that bothers him. No matter how many times he gets to sign his name on your molars with his tongue, he wouldn't be the only one doing that. A burning curiosity seems to eat at him. Who was first? Who came before him? Would that person come again? And why was he so worked up about this, anyway?

He wipes his lips with the back of his gloved hand again absentmindedly, further spreading the sticky salmon-colored peach-flavored gloss. He shivers as he feels the residue stick to his chin, knowing this would be a pain to wash off.

When he finally reaches Sinostra, he’s rather unpleasantly greeted by Ritsu, who’s dissatisfied expression makes Romeo want to blow his face right off with his pistol. Unfortunately, said pistol was resting in his room, and Ritsu would just harden his body with his stigma anyway.

“Why are you back so late? The more time you spend drinking at that bar, the more you potentially ruin Sinsostra’s reputation! Need I remind you it’s already strained?” The emphasis Ritsu puts on the word ‘strained’ makes Romeo want to strain his windpipe. He can’t decide if Ritsu is a daddy’s boy, what with how much he loves law, or a momma’s boy, what with how much nagging he does on a daily basis. Perhaps he’s both. “And what is that all over your face, anyway?” Ritsu’s expression crinkles in disgust as Romeo breezes past him on his way to board the cruise ship that housed Sinostra’s dorms. Ritsu follows after him, and Romeo wonders how to shake him off. “If you’re going to be sleeping around, the least you could do is remove the evidence from your face. It would help you save face, you know—” At the mention of ‘saving face’, Romeo feels his eye twitch. He didn’t need a reminder of that damn picture anymore.

Ritsu doesn’t get to finish his sentence before Romeo whirls around, pointing a finger directly into Ritsu’s chest, his face contorted in anger. He already has the perfect retort in mind, meant to embarrass Ritsu and keep him off his tail the rest of the night. “You want to protect Sinostra’s reputation so bad? Tell your assistant to stop leaving kiss marks where they’re visible.” Romeo’s smirk cracks into a teasing grin when the color drains from Ritsu’s face, only for it to promptly rise again, coloring him as red as his Sinostra brooch.

He sputters for a moment, tripping over his own words before spitting out a desperate defense. “Wh-What are you even talking about?!” He practically spits the words out, backing away hurriedly from Romeo. “MC wouldn’t—!” He appears to be desperately searching for an excuse or way to defend you, but he quickly falters, probably realizing he doesn’t know nearly as much about the honor student as much as Romeo would, having been lip-locked with you only half an hour earlier.

Before he can come up with any other excuses, Romeo turns on his heel and storms deeper into the halls of Sinostra, not even turning to observe the distress on Ritsu’s face. He smiles, however, when he hears a perplexed groan behind him.

He’s grumbling to himself, out late again and headed straight back to his dorm. Dealing with Professor Hyde on Taiga’s behalf could not possibly be more frustrating. All he wanted was to go back to his dorm, take his daily luxury bubble bath, and curl up in his bed, ignoring the endless noise coming from the casino down below. As he’s on his way back, however, he comes across two familiar figures. One of the figures had a shock of red hair, was stumbling quite a bit, and leaning most of his weight onto the other figure, who seemed to be able to hold him relatively well. Romeo watches for a moment, furrowing his brow in confusion. Haru’s never been one to need help making his own way back, and if he did, he’d usually stay at Obscuary. Of course, not that it was any of his business. He’d happily turn the other way and continue on his way to Sinostra, plans for the evening orchestrating themselves in his mind.

It wasn’t until he heard a familiar laugh that he took further interest. It sounded quite a bit like yours whenever you’d open your door to find him on your doorstep again. A knowing, teasing laugh. Romeo stills as he hears it, turning his gaze back to the walking couple. He didn’t know if Haru was doing this for show or not, but him leaning all over you did an excellent job of stoking Romeo’s jealousy. Romeo didn’t know why he was jealous or angered at this, but just knew he had to put a stop to it. He finds himself rushing to you, veering off his path just slightly. His steps pound against the stone pathway, and before he can think better of it, he hoists Haru’s free side onto his shoulder, removing most of his weight from your side.

Romeo glances at you, thankful his assumption was correct, and notices the look of surprise flitting across your face before your Starstruck Coral-colored lips pull into a pleased smile. “Oh, thank you Romeo!”

“Whatever.” Romeo scowls, turning the other direction so you wouldn’t notice his flush, ignoring a laugh from Haru. “Let’s get this idiot back to Jabberwock.”

Most of the walk there is silent, save for Haru’s mindless drunken humming and equally mindless rambling, and your chuckling at it every now and again. Romeo’s mood progressively sours as the walk continues, peeved at the noise coming from Haru, at the added weight of his body, and at the way he seemed to soak up your attention like a sponge. Romeo knew he hardly had room to complain, considering all the times he had employed a monopoly on your attention, but still. After all the time spent monopolizing your attention, he couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t feel occasionally entitled to it. He always wants more of it, and that’s proved in how his feet drag himself against common sense to your dorm at least once a week. Every time Haru exhales, Romeo can smell the anomalous drinks on his breath. It makes him gag. Leave it to Haru to completely overdo it, like he does every time.

When you get to the Jabberwock dorm's entrance, Romeo wastes no time in wrestling himself from Haru's side, leaving him to lean into you before he can regret it. He watches as Haru sags into you again, and he has to bite back a rude comment as Haru's head knocks into yours, and the two of you giggle with amusement. Nausea wells up in his throat at the sickening display. He covers his mouth with a hand and turns away, waving the two of you off. He had to get away from you two before he could taste bile.

“I'm leaving. Leave him at the door, he'll find his way in." Romeo's words had a hint of experience, having dealt with a drunken Haru before. He doesn't think much of it when you don't immediately shrug Haru off, nor when you call after him to thank him. He hardly acknowledges you and simply waves his hand behind his back, unwilling to subject himself to another glimpse of Haru burying his nose into your neck and you nearly buckling under his weight.

As he trots off, he can't help overhearing your small giggles and Haru's satisfied hums. He’s tempted to tell the two of you to knock it off and make up some excuse about disturbing people this late, but it’s not like anyone hangs near Jabberwock’s corner of the campus regularly anyway. He feels ridiculous, coming up with excuses to deflect and absolve himself from any involvement. Usually, he’s not one to steer clear of letting everyone know what his opinion is on any given thing, but for some reason, he didn’t want to reveal his discomfort with Haru literally all over you. And he had been, quite literally, all over you—it was ridiculous, the way he leaned his body into yours, his lips hovering near your ear and his hair tickling your forehead. The vision makes Romeo shiver; it left an unpleasant taste in his mouth and a crease in his brow. He didn't want to think about Haru invading your personal space, even if that was exactly what he was doing as Romeo walked away. Romeo hears you giggle again, a sound that sounded suspiciously similar to the smacking of lips, and then Haru's satisfied hums again. He wonders what's going on when his dilemma from a few days ago resurfaces: He's not the only one, is he?

A sickening feeling settles within him. His trot slows to a halt. Of course it'd be Haru. Of course, of all people, it'd be Haru. He’s willing to bet that if you didn’t fear death, it’d be Rui too. Every time he sees the two of you, it’s quite obvious both of you have roaming eyes and wavering resolve. He’s more often than not awkwardly inserted himself into the conversation, trying to find any kind of reasonable excuse for pulling you away from him. But of course, of course it was Haru. He should’ve known from the way you calmly sat in front of him a few weeks ago, letting his fingers trace the side of your face until they reached your lips. For you to be so comfortable with such intimate physical contact, clearly Haru’s been… touching you for some time now. Romeo grates his teeth together at the thought. Before he could think better of it, he whirls around and heads back towards you and Haru, hiding behind a nearby wall and peering around the edge, watching the two of you.

He doesn’t know what he expected, but what he sees sickens him anyway.

There you are, in a liplock with Haru. Your hands are holding his cheeks and pulling him towards you; not that that’s needed considering how he’s leaning into you, his arms wrapped around your waist. Romeo shivers uncomfortably as he watches Haru’s hands roam, his fingers pressing insistently into your ass, getting rather close to lifting your skirt. Romeo sighs, more out of relief than disappointment, when you shoo his hands away and break the kiss, though his discomfort bubbles back up when you giggle at Haru’s pouty expression.

“Not here.” You wag a finger in Haru’s face, playfully poking his nose. Haru’s face falls, his hands moving to settle on your hips instead as he continued to lean into you. Romeo felt his own hands twitch as he imagined holding you the same way.

“But whyyyy?” Haru whines, still pouting as he looks at you. Romeo can’t see your expression, but assumes it must be one that implies you aren’t budging as Haru groans and plops his forehead into your neck with a small “hmph”. When you stiffen shortly after, Romeo tries not to let his imagination run wild with what Haru could possibly be doing with his tongue or teeth right then. “You could stay, y’know…” Romeo figures he’s lucky Haru’s whining so loud, or else he wouldn’t be able to hear that, what with how Haru’s face seemed glued to your neck.

You giggle and stroke Haru’s back. “Hah, no can do, sorry! I’ve got class early tomorrow.”

Haru lifts his face from your neck and pulls you into him further, pushy as ever. Romeo finds himself gripping the wall he’s hiding behind as a way to stifle his sudden urge to pull you from Haru’s grasp. “Then skip with me.” Haru’s words are interrupted by drunken hiccups, which makes it hard to take him seriously, but his expression turns determined. “If they’d let anyone get away with it, it’d be you, y’know.” He moves to press his forehead against yours. The volume of his voice lowers considerably, and Romeo has to strain to hear him. “I could just say I pushed you into helping me at Jabberwock. ‘S not like anybody would know…”

Romeo stiffens. Go figure.

Romeo’s surprised (and relieved) when you shake your head, turning Haru down. “Maybe next time. I need to learn as much about anomalies as I can.”

Haru groans, pulling you in even closer. “Come onnn,” his words are drawn out and increased in volume. He hiccups again. He pulls your hips flush against his, letting out a throaty exhale and pressing his forehead further into yours. Romeo’s grip on the wall turns knuckle-white. His hands slide over your ass again, holding you against him. “I still haven’t kissed your other pair of lips yet…” Haru’s voice drops to a dejected whine and a pout forms on his face.

Romeo retches and turns away, hiding himself behind the wall in case he was heard. That line wasn’t just cheesy, it was also gross. Perfectly in line with what he’d expect from Haru. He must be more drunk than Romeo had initially thought, considering how he was being more physical and pushy than usual. Sure, that was it. That had to be it. Romeo finds himself beginning to stagger away, one hand covering his mouth as though he could spew chunks any minute now. Haru being super drunk and too far out of his mind was the only excuse he could come up with that made sense. It just wouldn’t have made sense if Haru had said that because he’d done that before. That couldn’t be possible, right? Haru couldn’t have gone further than Romeo already, right?

Romeo pauses and finds himself chewing on his thumbnail through his glove. He was already a fair distance from the wall he had been hiding behind. He couldn’t even see the two of you anymore, but he knew you were still there. He gnaws harder at his thumb and turns away, shaking his head. He had to get a grip. Why did he even care? It doesn’t even matter. So what if Haru got ahead of him? So what? Romeo hadn’t spent the past few weeks dubbing every visit he made to your place a complete mistake for nothing. He’d done it to avoid you, to get over you, to get to a point where he would feel okay going more than a few days without your sticky lipgloss smeared across his face and neck. It would be fine. Surely, it would be fine.

He pulls his thumbnail away from his mouth and licks his lips. There is a very distinct lack of the taste of peach-flavored gloss on his lips.

He couldn’t help the envy that welled up within him when he reminded himself that Haru has tasted more.

The following afternoon, Romeo has made it his mission to confront you. He wasn��t sure what he hoped to gain from that, if he hoped to gain anything at all. Hell, for all he knew, there might be nothing to gain. Maybe he was sending himself on a wild goose chase as an excuse to see you again and hash out his residual complicated feelings from the previous night by forcing his tongue down your throat. The mere thought of losing himself in you again has him gulping down saliva and his body rapidly warming up. He shakes his head, groaning at the unwelcome sensation. What was happening to him?

As he rounds the corner towards the chapel, his pace slowly quickening, he catches sight of green hair ducking into view, exiting the chapel. The figure waves at an unseen figure inside the chapel, before turning away and heading down the stairs at a relaxed pace. Romeo tries not to immediately go on high alert, but finds his heartbeat rising anyway. He manages to prevent himself from immediately halting out of shock. Kusanagi notices him as he approaches, and waves, heading towards him.

Romeo groans internally. Great, the campus heartthrob wanted to speak to him. And right after he’d seen him exiting your dorm, no less. Romeo swallows down as much negativity as possible and puts on a neutral, if not irritated face.

“Hey, Lucci.” Kusanagi seems completely at ease, his pace slow and his posture relaxed. He has an easy smile on his face in tandem with his greeting. Romeo can’t shake it, but something feels uncanny about his appearance. His gaze flickers to Kusanagi’s lips. No sign of lipgloss. Romeo feels some tension leave his shoulders.

“Kusanagi.” Romeo greets him stiffly in return. “Did you have something to say to me?”

“Yeah. It’s about Hoshibami still eating all the anomalies he comes across.” Kusanagi’s smile turns lopsided, and his eyebrows crease in something between annoyance and resignation. He reaches for his neck without thinking about it, rubbing the back of it absentmindedly before flinching and moving his arm to his hip instead. Romeo could only sigh, feeling himself groan internally. He’d been trying to get him to stop eating everything with reckless abandon, but hadn’t had much luck. If Taiga was going to do anything, it was his own thing.

He nods to Kusanagi, a sign for him to continue. “I’m considering putting him in a muzzle,” Romeo grumbles in response. Kusanagi lets out a sudden laugh, before shaking his head.

“I’m sure there’s a more tame solution to that. Why don’t you try…”

Romeo logs out of the conversation, nodding along with Kusanagi’s words but failing to absorb anything of value. While he would like to consider muzzles for Taiga, his thoughts wander to Kusanagi’s appearance. Something still rubbed him as uncanny. He wasn’t wearing his tie, and his sleeves were rolled up, which was normal. Kusanagi tended to value comfort over elegance, anyway. His clothes didn’t appear any more mussed than usual, at least from the spare glances Romeo was able to catch without awkwardly seeming like he was observing Kusanagi. Something was wrong, but he couldn’t place it. Well, whatever. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with you and Romeo was just being paranoid.

“...And if you do try that, I hope it ends up working for you.” Romeo tunes back into the conversation just as Kusanagi’s ending it. Maybe his luck had marginally improved. Kusanagi nods at Romeo before moving around him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Gotta get going now, but keep me updated if that muzzle ends up working.” Kusanagi’s eyes glimmer with mirth before he continues walking past, shoving his hands in his pockets. Romeo rolls his shoulder uncomfortably, turning to watch Kusanagi as he left. He wondered for a moment if asking him why he’d stopped by here at all would be worth it, or if it would end up giving Kusanagi too much of a glance at what preoccupied his mind.

Romeo watches as Kusanagi walks away and reaches up to rub the back of his neck again. He frowns when Kusanagi flinches again, pulling his hand back to his side and quickly wiping the tips of his fingers on the front of his jacket. The tips of his ears turn pink. And that’s when Romeo notices: Kusanagi’s left earring is missing. Immediately he grates his teeth, closing his hands into fists, trying not to jump to conclusions. This would be one hell of an assumption—assuming Kusanagi’s earring is gone because of you, and in turn, assuming you’ve left something on the back of his neck—as a reminder. Romeo knew that—if what he was assuming was true—you didn’t leave that there just because you could.

Kusanagi is oblivious to Romeo’s turmoil as he finally turns the corner, and Romeo remains watching him, feeling his face burn with anger and envy. He swiftly turns his gaze back to the chapel, staring up at its dilapidated glory. He wonders if, the last time he’d been by, he should have left something of his. Something flashy, something loud, something unmistakably his so that anyone who came by would know. Hell, he wonders if it would’ve been better to leave a hickey on the side of your neck. Curse him for getting so enamored with the way your skin glistened with perspiration that he hadn’t thought of defiling such supple scapes with a bruise. Not to mention the entire campus would’ve caught on to it much sooner if he had dared. But now, it was different. He’d do anything to do it now—kiss you harshly like he’d done before and swallow any protests you’d have and leave a mark. A reminder. That’d show Haru. And Leo. And Rui. And Haku. All of them.

He’s too far gone to wonder if he’s getting ahead of himself now. It doesn’t matter. In his head, he knows why you’re leaving marks. And it’s to rile him up. Or, so he assumes—or wants to, at least. Part of him hopes he’s important enough for you to go to such lengths.

But, of course he was.

Scowling, he stalks off, passing by the front of the chapel, slowing his pace as though hoping to be seen through a window, and hoping to catch a glimpse of Kusanagi’s earring on the steps to prove him wrong. His eyes flicker towards the steps and back each step, checking as thoroughly as he could.

No red earring.

Romeo clenches his jaw. It’s definitely inside the house. He mentally postpones his confrontation of you until tomorrow. He couldn’t do it today, not when he’d learned he had more than one competitor.

Romeo is making it a point to avoid the chapel until the later hours of the day. And he wishes he could call himself successful.

The wind picks up as he finds his footsteps lingering longer than they should before a turn that would take him directly towards the chapel. He can see it’s peak, the cross shadowy against the sanguine sunset, like a warning. An omen, even. The day’s been getting colder, and the piercing wind says so, whispering warnings and pushing him away from the chapel, away from you.

He curses himself and takes a step forward anyway, the call of destruction far more alluring than the safety in biding his time.

With every soft click of his shoes against the paved stone path, something in him twists and writhes. The red of the sky should be a warning. The direction of the wind should be a warning. The way he can feel himself preemptively fill with dread should be a warning. So why does he not heed these warnings? Why does he continue straight forward, eyes still set on that damned cross, his heart thrumming in his chest like he’ll find salvation in all the wrong ways? Maybe it’s the desire that couples with the dread filling his stomach. Maybe it’s the remnant glitter from days past left on his chin. Maybe it’s the inevitability of it all. He would have to come here, eventually. He had planned to when it was dark, but maybe a red sky would have to do. It wasn’t like he could turn on his heel now. …Well, he could. But he didn’t want to. And he wasn’t going to.

As he approaches the corner on which the chapel lies, he allows his gaze to drop from the cross at last, surveying his surroundings. Not many students lingered outside at this time. usually getting dinner or slinking back to their rooms, letting night fall slowly and peacefully. The only sounds around were the whistling of the wind through the trees and the clicking of his shoes on the stones. The eerie silence leaves him with his thoughts as he turns to gaze at the jagged stone wall of the chapel. His mind flashes with memories, each one more concupiscent than the last. Romeo feels heat crawl up his neck as he remembers the traces you left on his skin. He wishes he held you tighter those nights, enough to leave a bruising grip. There was no guarantee it’d show, but maybe it’d have been a better reminder to you that he was the reason for all the attention you received. In his mind, you owed it to him anyway. Or, at least, that’s how he haphazardly chose to justify his anger, pushing the thought from his mind.

He arrives on the corner, at last, feeling saliva collect in his mouth and his breathing pick up as he gazed seemingly longingly at the door. It was now or never. He wipes at his lips absentmindedly and swallows down his collecting saliva, feeling shame and arousal build within him as he walks to the door.

He only takes about two steps before a familiar figure rushes out, quickly slamming the door behind himself and looking around frantically, only for his panicked eyes to fall on Romeo.

Kurosagi.

It takes mere moments for the shock to pass and give way to anger, and he notes the same emotion flashing on Kurosagi’s face as well. What luck he had, truly.

Romeo found himself at a standstill, facing Kurosagi, but not daring to approach him, Kurosagi doing the same. Kurosagi’s face was flushed, reflective of his rush, and potentially indicative of the activities he’d been up to only moments earlier, if Romeo dared to go that far. Though, further examining Kurosagi, it seemed he wouldn’t have to. The smears of sparkling gloss across his face, missing tie, and long, thin bruise on his neck were enough for Romeo to connect the dots. He scowls, heading up the stairs and fisting a hand in Kurosagi’s uniform before he could react.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Romeo speaks lowly, his voice bordering on a growl. The hostility in his voice surprises even him, but he can’t be bothered to wonder what he’s so angry for.

“Woah, the hell’s your problem?” Kurosagi shoves himself out of Romeo’s grasp, smoothing out his uniform where Romeo had carelessly wrinkled it. His expression pinches into a frown, and he crosses his arms, looking Romeo up and down. “Sorry your girlfriend’s not loyal, but I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

Romeo has to stifle the urge to punch Kurosagi as his face curls into a smirk at his own remark. “She is not my—”

“Whatever.” Kurosagi blows him off, rolling his eyes and absentmindedly licking at the glossy residue on the corner of his lips. “Say what you will, but I doubt anyone would believe you.”

Romeo huffs, turning away. “That’s a lot of talk considering you’re the one who started that abhorrent rumor.”

Kurosagi laughs, pride seeming to leak from his pores. “I did! But I also started a rumor that she was my girlfriend a while ago!” Romeo’s eyes flutter open in shock for a moment, before he remembers that old post. Kurosagi had, indeed, “jokingly” laid claim to you some time ago. “If anything, all these rumors paint me as the broken-hearted lover, trying to win his girlfriend back!” Kurosagi flutters his lashes and smiles cheekily, his eyes narrowing with mirth at Romeo.

Romeo’s hands curl into fists as Kurosagi struggles to keep his giggles under control. “Not to mention—” Kurosagi starts, his voice shaky with laughter. “I don’t think it helps your case that only one of us looks ‘lucky’ right now, Ro-Ro.” He pulls out his phone, brandishing it like a threat. “I’m tempted to commemorate this moment.”

Romeo knows he’s overreacting when he reaches a hand towards Kurosagi’s phone and murmurs, “Tiris—”

Kurosagi immediately shoves his phone back in his pocket, scowling at Romeo. “Damn. No need to go nuclear.” Kurosagi bites his tongue before a smile spreads on his face again, clearly having thought of another remark to get under Romeo’s skin. “If anyone saw how you’re acting now, they’d think you’re quite the jealous boyfriend!”

Romeo stiffens and crosses his arms, turning away as Kurosagi blows a kiss towards him. “That one’s from your girlfriend~!” He trots down the stairs before Romeo can react, laughing to himself. Romeo boils with anger, wondering if it’s even worth it to retaliate.

“Does it not even bother you?” He calls after Kurosagi anyway, watching him turn around with a bored look on his face.

“Eh?”

“Does it not bother you that you’re actively in competition with nearly every other ghoul on campus?” Romeo knows he’s overexaggerating, but still. Regardless, the comment seems to get under Kurosagi’s skin. His expression darkens for a moment before he looks back up at Romeo, his jaw clenched unusually tight.

“It’s fine…” Kurosagi’s gaze shifts off to the side, staring at the stone path instead of at Romeo, a frustrated look on his face.

“Liar,” Romeo calls out before he can think about it, feeling his face curl into a triumphant smile.

“You didn’t let me finish.” Kurosagi’s eyebrows twitch downwards in momentary irritation. He looks away again, his entire face stuck in a frown. “I don’t care. So long as I’m her favorite, I don’t care.”

‘Liar,’ Romeo echoes in his head again, watching as Kurosagi turns his back, ending the conversation and walking at a hurried pace away from the chapel. He’s one pathetic liar, and it’s written all over his face. Romeo ignores the parallels that has with his refusal to admit his own infatuation.

Finally, he was alone, at your door. He could only hope you hadn’t heard all that had transpired. Romeo feels his head swim with indecisiveness at the last minute. He faces your door, feeling the sun burn his back. He felt laden with the weight of a thousand sins, which was probably underestimating all he had committed at this rate. He’s never been one to linger too long, however, and he doesn’t want the last light of sunset to feel like a burden. He curls his hand around the doorknob, not really caring what state he finds you in, and pushes in the door.

He hears a comically loud groan as soon as he opens the door, and assumes it’s you. He scoffs in mock response, closing the door behind him, as you stumble into the room, holding a black and yellow tie. Kurosagi’s tie.

“Kurosagi,” you start, wagging your finger in the air and holding your head in your other hand. “I told you, don’t come back here until—” You look up, making eye contact with Romeo. He stiffens, analyzing the look on your face, which appears blank, until curling into a knowing smile. He notices your lipgloss has been recently fixed, small clusters of telltale glitter sticking to your chin and cheeks. “Oh?” He watches as you wipe your hand against your chin, as though attempting to hide evidence. As though that would be possible. “It’s you.”

He tries to ignore the teasing lilt to your voice, his eyes dropping to the tie you held. “Yes, it’s me.” His voice comes out rougher than intended, but he can’t be bothered to fix his words. He notices the tie is tied in an odd fashion, almost like… a collar?

He notes how you shift, hiding your hands behind your back and smiling at him. Your smile almost seems suspiciously genuine, your eyes seeming too earnest and soft to be true. “I’ve missed you.”

‘How crude,’ Romeo thinks. He feels like a fool for being drawn in regardless, wanting to slide his lips against yours again and forget the past week in its entirety. Instead, the images of all he’d witnessed and suspected in the past week come flooding back. He’s tempted to believe your display, but he knows he can’t. Not when it’s only partially true.

“Me, specifically?” He asks, feeling his residual anger broil forth. He couldn’t tell if this was anger at himself for not claiming you earlier, anger at you for breaking a nonexistent promise, or a mixture of both. It made no sense to be angry at you. There had been very little communication and neither of you had made any effort to show affections outside of those sporadic nights, regardless of their intensity. But, at the same time, how could he be mad at himself? Why claim you earlier on, anyway? He’d had little interest in holding you close, he was sure, it was only mere infatuation. He wasn’t sure when his mere infatuation had turned into heated ardor, but the transformation had occurred nonetheless. He didn’t know what to be angry at, or angry for. He just knew he was angry. “...Or did you simply miss having a hookup?” His words don’t sting, but he says them with enough seething resentment to get the point across, he thinks. His face drops into a frown as he says it, no longer willing to save face by keeping himself neutral.

He watches as you roll your eyes, and can’t help but feel somewhat put off by that. You seem to drop your earlier earnestness, that quickly replaced by an exasperated expression. “You know better than that. Kurosagi himself just walked out.” You gesture vaguely to the door, Kurosagi’s tie still in your hand. Romeo bites his tongue. Fair enough, but that only served to confirm his suspicions. He still can’t pinpoint why this bothers him. It should hardly be a problem. It’s not like either of you had made a promise. So why? Why did this bother him?

“You know,” he starts before he can think to stop, the words tasting bitter on his tongue before he spat them at you like scathing attacks, “I should be getting far more thanks from you than just this.” Romeo’s expression drops further into a scowl. “You have me to thank for all the attention you’re getting now, anyway!” That’s right. You owed it to him. Right?

With the way your expression progressively darkens, Romeo almost regrets his wording. Your eyes flash with a unique anger, your jaw hard set. There’s a moment of heavy silence in which Romeo’s words linger in the air, before you respond, souring the mood even further. “So, what? You feel entitled?” You look up at him, and despite himself, Romeo flinches.

“That’s not—” he starts, but his words die in his throat when you take a step towards him.

“You feel like I owe it to you, in some part?” You step towards him again. Despite himself, he instinctively backs away, replacing the distance between you as you close it.

Romeo swallows, beginning to realize the hypocrisy in his own words. It wasn’t like him to falter or wilt in the face of blame. Normally he would deflect, and he wasn’t above deflecting onto the objects of his affections. Yet, there was nothing to deflect here. He’d been caught in his own hypocrisy. All he could think to do was hide from you. But there was nowhere to hide here.

He can’t back away from you fast enough before you catch him, his perfectly ironed blazer caught between your nails again. This felt eerily similar to your last meeting, but in starkly different contexts. He feels his breath catch in his throat, feeling himself at a loss for what to do. Your fingers crawl from his blazer to his buttoned shirt, and he feels helpless to stop your advances as you force one of the buttons open. “What do you want from me, Romeo?”

Your question feels honest and expectant at the same time, as though you’re curious but you know the answer anyway. And yet, he himself can’t settle on one particular answer. To be yours? To be your favorite? To collect his due? To feel like he can put all his swirling anxieties from the past week to rest? Perhaps a mixture of these, or none of them at all?

As you force open another button, he wonders if he’s on a time limit. He realizes this is completely unlike him. He feels frozen like a deer in headlights, waiting for the inevitable crash that would scatter his truths all over your wooden floors and leave a shell of himself to be picked apart by you. This all felt completely unreal. He had to get ahold of himself before this went any further.

He grips your wrist, forcing his resentment to bubble up again. He glares down at you, feeling heat rise in his cheeks as reality comes crashing down on him. He tosses your hand away carelessly, scoffing at you. He takes a step back, replacing the distance, and reaching up for his buttons to put them back in place. “Nothing you could ever hope to give—”

He’s not sure what his heel hit, but before he knows it, he’s tumbling backwards, losing his balance and falling flat on his back. He blinks, staring up at your ceiling before he sees you. You hardly miss a beat, kneeling over him and caging him in with your arms before he can even let the shock wash over him.

He growls in frustration, feeling somewhat defeated when you only smirk at him. He looks away from you indignantly, his cheek touching the floor, only to notice something glinting at him from under the nearby couch. He strains to look at it for a moment before its shape finally clears, red string and glinting metal hook winking at him from just behind the leg of the sofa. Kusanagi’s earring.

He can’t bring himself to feel a mixture of disbelief, disappointment, and anger for long. You grab his chin and turn his gaze back towards you. He doesn’t bother resisting, but he does glower at you. If he’s going to be humiliated, he figures the least he can do is resist via emotion. Not that his front would last long, anyway.

“Let me remind you of something, Romeo.” Something about the gentle tone of your voice and the ease of your smile sends unwelcome shivers down his spine. He raises his shoulders, on high alert, despite knowing you aren’t much of a threat.

He feels your fingers carefully start to undo his tie, and he can only sigh internally, figuring he’s in for it. He cannot deny the way his heart accelerates in his chest all the same, or the way saliva gathers in his mouth again. He’s excited, but hell will freeze over before he admits that to himself.

“I’m about to die.”

The reminder feels like a slap to the face, and for a moment, he almost confuses your words for a slap to the face. He looks up at you incredulously, wondering what motive you could possibly have for bringing that up now. As though noticing his internal questioning, you smile, tilting your head at him. You successfully loosen his tie, slowly untying it.

“I am also very greedy.”

Oh.

“I am a very greedy person who’s about to die soon.” Your smile seems to cut into your cheeks a little too wide. Romeo begins to connect the dots. His confused expression melts into understanding.

“One would never be enough.” You hold the two loose ends of his tie in front of him, pulling him closer to you. He follows, holding himself up by his elbows.

“You alone would never be enough.”

Somehow, the words hurt so much more than he expected and so much less than he wanted.

Of course. He wouldn’t be enough for a dying girl with a hunger for life. Who could?

“Kiss me?” You smile at him plain and true, as though your own words hardly have any effect on you. He’s wholly tempted to smile back.

How could he deny you?

a/n: well. idk i hope this was good. im a little too sleep deprived 2 tell. i fear i genuinely cannot tell if this is total trash or total heat so regardless. i hope u enjoy.

shameless reminder that i love likes, comments, asks, and reblogs!!!!! please please lmk what you think!!!!!!!!! im always excited 2 see how u guys respond 2 my writing <3

I ALMOST 4GOT the way leo's tie is tied and the bruise around his neck are indeed a reference 2 pavlov's ghoul yea <3

ok my head hurts gn

also tagging @aayakashii ur man makes a guest appearance here

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