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There were a pair of angels at this year’s halloween party.
Shinjiro wasn’t keen on events like these, but Aki had plucked him from his dorm room and insisted he get out for one night— it won’t kill you to talk to somebody other than me and Mitsuru— and thus he found himself loitering near the exit of whatever sorority house this was. Aki had, at least, shoved a drink into his hand before getting pulled away by his groupies.
Everyone was outfitted in some sort of costume, minus himself. Shinjiro always figured halloween was more of a competition as to who could dress the skimpiest, and from one look at the crowd, there were quite a few contenders. Not that this was his type of thing. He hardly showed up to class as it were; making friends or getting laid weren’t exactly at the top of his priorities.
Just this drink, he decided. He would finish this drink and slip out through the back door. Aki still wasn’t anywhere to be seen, undoubtedly busy trying to make an attempt at coherent flirting, so Shinjiro could just knock back the rest of it in a few gulps. It tasted bitter and sour on the way down, leaving an unpleasant taste on his tongue.
“Wow,” someone said, “you like the taste of it that much?”
Shinjiro looked to his left. An angel with velvet blue hair was looking up at him with gray eyes.
He doesn’t remember seeing anyone on either side of him before he took that drink. The angel wasn’t even smiling, lips pulled into a flat line. He looked just as disinterested in being here as Shinjiro felt, despite being decked in a full tunic, wings and halo.
It made Shinjiro a little compelled to answer. “Not really,” he muttered, “I don’t really drink.”
“You drink like you know how to.” The boy looked down at his own drink with a grimace. “I don’t like this stuff, either, though.”
Shinjiro debated on shoving his empty hand in his pocket. Instead, he held his hand out towards the angel, gesturing towards his drink. He looked a little surprised, but handed it over well enough.
“Thought you didn’t drink,” he said.
“I don’t like wasting things.” Shinjiro grumbled into the rim of his cup, before downing the beer just as quickly as he had his own earlier. The angel whistled, impressed even as Shinjiro coughed into his fist afterward. Why did beer have to be so bitter?
The angel took the cup back after he finished. “Well, you saved me from having to drink it myself.” He looked from the empty cup towards Shinjiro, craning his neck to meet his eyes. He looked sleepy despite being at a party, his gray eyes dull against the neon colors overhead. “What’s your name?”
Shinjiro could walk away. Aki couldn’t get on his ass— he had more beer than he’d liked and stayed for all of ten minutes. Even talked to someone. He’d report this to Aki the next morning before telling him to fuck off about parties and girls and whatever college life he wanted Shinjiro to have.
Instead, he answered, “Shinjiro.”
And the angel smiled. “Good to meet you, Shinjiro.”
He didn’t give his own name, and Shinjiro didn’t ask for it. He just watched him lean against the doorframe, knocking his wings crooked as he asked about his major. It was the typical smalltalk Shinjiro hated, but he answered all the same: undeclared. He didn’t tell him about the culinary classes he’d taken and fell in love with. This wasn’t the time or place.
“I get that,” the angel said, crossing his arms over his chest, “I don’t really know what I’m doing here, either.”
“What, here at the party?”
He huffed out a laugh. “That too. I didn’t really wanna come here.” He flicked the gold halo above his head. “And this costume wasn’t my idea.”
“It looks good,” Shinjiro blurted, “I mean— it suits you.”
He grimaced. Maybe he shouldn’t give Aki so much flack for his abysmal flirting skills.
The angel shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes seemed to shift to something more lively, gleaming with the party lights. “You think so?”
It was somewhat of a relief when they made their way towards the second floor of the house and away from the noise. The night was just beginning and while everyone else seemed absorbed in whatever drinking games were happening downstairs, Shinjiro followed the angel into a room that locked behind them.
The bedroom was small. A mess too, but it was private and the perfect place to find himself pressed against the wall by a pretty boy in a skimpy costume. Shinjiro wasn’t sure who kissed who first, but it hardly mattered; he was making out with someone he didn’t even know at a party he didn’t care about. This was more than he set out to do, more than what Aki told him to try.
The bit of beer he’d chugged made his head swim and limbs loosen against the other boy. Shinjiro’s hands found their way to his waist, squeezing his skin through the flimsy tunic while slender arms wrapped around his own neck. The guy was small compared to Shinjiro and he hated how much he liked it, liked how easy it was to pick him up and push him down onto the unmade bed. Shinjiro hadn’t done this kind of thing in a while and he’d nearly forgotten the thrill of a hookup. The fact he didn’t know this person’s name, his major, hell, maybe he didn’t even go to this school.
None of that really mattered. The angel under him looked at him with gray eyes and a crooked halo and the moonlight from the window draped over him so pretty that Shinjiro couldn’t help grinding his hips. It made the other boy gasp, legs falling open on either side of Shinjiro’s lap as he did it again and again. They were still clothed but it felt too good to stop, and the angel was holding onto him tight, so—
Something buzzed. Very loudly.
Shinjiro’s hips stuttered to a stop as another buzz came from the angel’s tunic. Then another, and another, all while he scrambled to pull his phone from a pocket inside of his costume. Shinjiro’s grip on his waist loosened as the frown on his face grew.
The boy clicked his phone off with a sigh. “I gotta go.”
Just as quickly as this all started, it ended. He pulled away from Shinjiro, taking his warmth and gray eyes with him as he stood from the bed. And Shinjiro, still a little stunned from how quickly it all came to an end, just sat there. He watched him adjust the halo on his head and the wings strapped to his back and reach for the door. The sound of the lock clicking out of place knocked him out of it.
“Wait, uh—” he floundered for a moment before saying, “I didn’t get your name.”
Something like surprise flashed across the angel’s face. His grip on the doorknob loosened just a fraction.
“Minato,” he said, “it’s Minato.”
And he left with an awkward little smile, so different from the ones he’d shown before. Shinjiro knew he’d remember that one more than the other sly, lazy pull of his lips he’d flashed that night.
Shinjiro allowed himself a few moments to wallow in his own pity and regret— he could have asked for his number, his phone was in his hands, was he stupid?— before pulling himself up and off the bed. Whoever owned this mess of a room was just barely saved from two strangers dirtying their sheets.
Navigating back to the first floor was uneventful. Boring, even, now that he wasn’t following a boy with angel wings on his back through the crowd. The anticipation and anxiety from before had completely dissipated from his body, leaving him irritable and grumpy as he made his way back towards the exit he’d been lingering by at the beginning of all of this. He passed through the door and out towards the yard with bitterness in his chest, feeling stupid and a little pathetic. Of course he wouldn’t wait for him there. Whatever he saw on his phone was clearly more important than getting laid.
The yard of this sorority house was big, but not as busy. Shinjiro headed towards the fence that would lead him out to the sidewalk, past a gaggle of girls in the pool and a storage shed in the corner of the yard.
Until he heard a squeak from the shed.
It was dark. Shinjiro slowed for a moment as he neared it, wondering if he really had heard—
“Minako!”
Shinjiro’s stomach flipped uncomfortably. Was he hearing things?
Someone giggled. A girl, Minako, maybe. Whoever this Minako was.
“Relax. No one saw us come in here.”
He should leave. He should really leave.
Instead he crept towards the shed as quietly as possible, round the corner until he found the doors left open just a sliver. It was big enough to peek through, to see a pair of angels pressed against each other in the dark. A boy with dark hair and a girl with bright eyes.
Minato and— Shinjiro felt dizzy. Was this why he had to leave? For her, for Minako?
Shinjiro felt the flush on his face darken until it began to burn. The girl, Minako, was on her knees before Minato on a bench. She was pushing his tunic up and over his thighs, raking her nails over the set of cotton cream panties on his hips. Her other hand was groping at his chest.
“Don’t,” Minato swallowed thickly around his own spit, “Don’t drag this out, just— just hurry.”
The girl clicked her tongue, hand smoothing over his thigh to push his legs further open. Minato’s gasp broke off into a whine as she finally pressed her hand between his thighs. “Can’t I have a little fun with you? You’re always thinking about yourself.”
Minako tugged at his tunic in a silent request. The angle Shinjiro found himself in wasn’t generous, but it was enough. Minato’s abdomen was smooth when he slipped the tunic from his shoulders, slender all the way down to his waist, but his chest was— Shinjiro clenched and unclenched his hands. Minako groped at the soft, plump flesh, squeezing until Minato made a breathy noise between his lips that went straight to Shinjiro’s groin.
“Do you have to have your fun now?” Minato bit out, lifting his hips for Minako to pull his panties down his legs. “You have shit timing.”
“Oh, was I interrupting something?” She asked, throwing the fabric aggressively to the side. Her tone was teasing, mocking as she dipped closer towards him, close enough for her breath to puff against his cunt. “Was Minato-chan on a date? You said you had no one to come with to this party. That’s why I invited you.”
A sick uneasiness began to stir in Shinjiro’s gut. Minato’s voice dropped to a whisper, so small and frail that Shinjiro had to strain to hear. His hair fell over his face as he ducked his head.
“It wasn’t a date.”
“But you were still with someone else. Even after I went to the trouble of inviting you.”
Minato didn’t say anything. Minako sighed after a moment, slipping her arms under his legs to pull him closer. They looked like they were the same height and build but somehow Minato looked small compared to her. His body was curled in on itself, shoulders hunched and head ducked as Minako maneuvered him like a doll.
Her lips found his navel in a kiss. “I felt bad, you know? My baby brother never gets invited to things. Never gets to go to parties. So I figured I’d invite you this time. ” She continued down, down, down, until the bottom half of her face was covered by the meat of Minato’s thigh. He shivered above her, pressing a hand against his mouth as her head moved up and down. Her voice was muffled when she looked up at him. “Who was it? Who were you with?”
“I don’t know,” Minato breathed, shaky and unsteady, “I don’t— we didn’t do anything.”
He yelped against his hand when Minako turned her head to bite at his thigh. She glared as if she’d been bitten. “Liar. Give me their name.”
The uneasiness began to snowball into nausea. Shinjiro knew he ought to leave before he threw up the beer he downed earlier but his body was rooted to the spot, morbid curiosity keeping him from running off. He watched as Minato eventually loosened his hand enough to speak.
“Shinjiro,” he said quietly, face burning at the confession, “he said his name was Shinjiro.”
This girl— his sister— looked angry enough to kill. Shinjiro worried for Minato’s safety for a moment before she ducked her head again, and the sounds that filled the empty space of the shed made it obvious enough what she was doing. Minato’s legs trembled and twitched and his other hand buried itself in her hair, mussing the autumn colored waves into a tangled mess.
Shinjiro’s own arousal strained against his pants. Minato was everything he thought he’d be and more. His mouth peeked between his fingers, lips still slightly swollen from their tryst earlier and open so wantonly. Soft moans and sighs fell from his pink mouth like water, sweeter than how he sounded with Shinjiro. Minako seemed to know what to do to pull these sorts of noises out. As if they’d done this before. Maybe they had. Shinjiro tried to reconcile the sight in front of him with the possibility of them being siblings and only felt sicker still.
Minako’s nails dug into the meat of his hips. “He can’t do this for you,” she growled, “not like I can. You know that, don’t you?”
To Shinjiro’s horror, Minato nodded. Frantically, hurriedly, like he was scared she’d stop if he didn’t agree. Or maybe he really did agree. Maybe he left before they could even start because he knew nobody would measure up to Minako, to his sister.
Shinjiro felt bile rise in his throat.
“Yeah,” moaned Minato, “I know, I— Minako—”
“You only need me.” She pulled away to replace her mouth with her fingers, instead latching onto his neck. Minato’s grip on her hair tightened, pulling her closer as she bit and sucked against his skin in places everyone would be able to see. Shinjiro watched as she marked him up like he was hers to own, a facsimile to how he imagined he’d have done had he had the chance. But it was clear Shinjiro never had a shot from the start.
Minako’s eyes darted towards the doors to the shed, baring her teeth like a wild dog tearing into their meal.
“Say it,” she said.
“Just need you,” cried Minato, “no one else.”
Shinjiro ran from the shed without another glance. He never saw Minato again after that.