Chapter Text
Manjiro had been stuck in the bathroom for at least half an hour now. He had told Ken to wait in his room for a surprise, but then he lost his courage.
At first, it was supposed to be a joke—he would come out in a vampire costume and tell Ken he’d bite him. It was supposed to be sweet and innocent. But then, the potential consequences of it all hit him.
He hadn’t thought it through, as usual, he told himself. It was risky, wasn’t it?
For a while now, he had felt that something between him and Ken had shifted ever since Takemichi joined the Tokyo Manji gang. Ken had always been protective of him, but lately, it seemed to have escalated. By "escalated," he meant that Ken looked like he was on edge whenever Takemichi was around.
Ken wasn’t the type to meddle in his business or fights. He let Manjiro handle things, trusting that he would step in when he thought Manjiro was taking it too far—which, given Manjiro’s complete lack of self-preservation, happened often. But this? This was different. It had felt strange, especially after Baji made a joke, which messed with Manjiro’s head more than he wanted to admit. He became hyper-aware of Ken whenever Takemichi was around—whenever Takemichi was around, the atmosphere would shift, and Manjiro couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Ken sighed from the other side of the room. He had been staring at the door for a while now, frustration filling his entire body.
“Mikey, what’s taking so long?” he called out, banging on the bathroom door.
It wasn’t that Ken minded waiting. He just had nothing to do in that room and wanted to leave as soon as possible. He glanced out the window—there was no noise outside, despite the open window. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the breeze caress his face.
It was embarrassing being there alone. He knew it shouldn’t have been, but things had gotten complicated lately—thanks to Baji being a jerk.
Ken had always known he loved Manjiro—not as a friend, not as a brother, not as a gang leader, but as a man. He was aware of it, and it was fine if it stayed one-sided forever. Frankly, just being aware of it had already caused enough problems. But thinking about confessing? That would be insane. Plus, what for? The idea of being reciprocated had never crossed his mind.
It wasn’t that he thought Manjiro would dislike him. No, Ken knew he wouldn’t. He knew Manjiro would stay his friend through it all, but he also knew that the guy he was in love with would start feeling responsible for his feelings—and he didn’t want that. Manjiro was an idiot who’d sacrificed himself time and time again, always taking the difficult road to make sure that everyone—except himself—would be happy. But in a situation where he could be the cause of Ken’s pain, he’d just spiral.
Ken wanted their relationship to stay as stable as possible, to remain equal. It hadn’t been easy to get close to Manjiro. He might look like a friendly, outgoing person, but he wasn’t someone you could easily get close to—not to his core. Ken knew he had been allowed to get pretty far, but being around Manjiro meant having fun. Anything that got too close to the wall he had built around himself would be pushed away. Ken spent a lot of time questioning whether those walls were built to protect Manjiro himself, or to protect others from him—or from whatever version of himself he had imagined. Probably both. Because despite appearances, Manjiro was incredibly fragile. He felt things deeply, and his background had taught him quickly how hard it was just to exist, to be alive. So, allowing others too close would be dangerous. Manjiro couldn’t risk losing himself in the hurt that came from it. And it was terrifying—being so aware of the fact that Manjiro could have figured him out meant ending up on the path where he could lose it all. Everything they had built, destroyed and lost forever.
Despite still being kept at a distance, Ken loved both sides of Manjiro—his fragility, but also his strength within that fragility. And those feelings, that love, would only make the distance grow for the wrong reasons. If Ken crossed that line, he could lose it all. So, knowing where he could fit, where it was safe, was the better choice. Ken knew he was the type of man who would take whatever he could get—any chance he could take, he’d take it. How close was he allowed? He would stay that close. He would step back if it meant securing that place in Manjiro’s life, and as manipulative as it was, it was also a way of assuring himself that he would always be there—able to watch over the person he loved, just witnessing his existence.
And if Manjiro already felt responsible, knowing Ken would sacrifice everything for him based solely on their friendship, imagine if he knew how deep Ken’s feelings truly were. That was something Ken would avoid at all costs. Sadly for him, though, Ken wore his heart on his sleeve. While he was safe with Manjiro, he wasn’t around people like Baji. He had always been sure that a few people in the gang knew about his feelings—Mitsuya and Baji were on that list. Mitsuya would never do anything to make things awkward, but Baji? He belonged to another category entirely.
Ken knew Baji meant well; it was just how he was. He was a serious person at his core, but he loved to turn everything into a joke to avoid making things too heavy. The problem was, sometimes he would take it too far, not realizing the consequences his actions had on others. And this time, he had. Because once you open Pandora’s box, you can't close it again without everything spilling out.
Manjiro heard Ken yelling and jumped on the spot. He was startled by his own reaction—nothing about the situation was abnormal. They were in his room, and he just wanted to prank his friend. So why the hell did Ken’s voice sound different? Why did the hands that touched the door from the other side scare him? And, especially, why was his heart beating so fast at the thought of Ken seeing him in that outfit? It was insane. It made no sense. It was like he was there, but he wasn’t; like the room was spinning, but he stayed in place. It felt like he was losing control. He felt like the oxygen in the room was slowly running out.
He knew he was overreacting to a joke, but the very idea of it—being even a small possibility—was making him spiral, caught in a loop of “what ifs.” And the worst part? He knew he should probably feel disgusted, or at least betrayed, but he didn’t. It wasn’t that Manjiro wanted to feel disgusted because Ken was a man; it was more because they’d been close for so long, it should have felt gross. It was normal, right? Like if Baji had suggested that Emma had feelings for him. That would have been gross. He’d feel gross thinking about it. Or at least uncomfortable. There should have been some negative feeling, even a small one. So why didn’t he feel that way about Ken? It didn’t make sense.
Then again, Ken was his brother—but not really. Comparing his feelings for Ken to his feelings for Emma was probably stupid, and maybe he was doing it on purpose.
Emma.
Emma, who was in love with Ken. Didn’t Ken say he was in love with Emma too, at some point? Manjiro’s heart sank.
Emma, Ken, and him. Guilt. Of course he felt guilty. If the implications were true, how was he supposed to ensure their happiness? Should he push Ken into Emma’s arms? For a moment, he thought about it, but he didn’t want to. Not after what Baji had said…
The air in his lungs slowly returned, but he swallowed nervously.
He was scared, yes. But he was also thrilled by the possibilities if it were true. And that was messed up, because if Manjiro stopped and looked at himself in the mirror, he wouldn’t see a pale vampire with fake teeth—he’d see a tomato where his face should be. He didn’t know he could make that kind of expression, and it looked so wrong on him, especially with that costume. It felt wrong and cruel to have this kind of reaction to the same person his sister loved. He felt dirty and wrong. If it were someone else, he’d never blame them. He’d tell them they couldn’t control it. But Manjiro had a habit of overestimating what he could do, based on the obligation he felt toward others. He touched his cheeks slowly, squeezing them. His face was so red. Just because Ken might see him? But wasn’t that the point of him wearing it? He let his arms fall to his sides.
The sigh, the irritated voice, the bang on the door—all of it belonged to Ken. It was a normal occurrence, part of his routine for years. Yet it was also part of what made his heart race and his face explode like a firework. His reactions were all over the place for so many different reasons, but the look in the mirror focused him on one truth:
He really was the prey here—and a willing one, at that.
Ken had sat down on Manjiro's bed, lost in his thoughts. He didn’t immediately notice that his friend hadn’t answered. It was strange. He opened his eyes again.
He worried a bit. Maybe he was overthinking, but still. He got up and gently knocked on the door, his voice low and careful: "Mikey, are you alright?"
He heard a few strange noises from the other side, followed by Manjiro’s muffled curse words. Then, suddenly, the door opened.
"Yeah, Ken-chin—sorry," Manjiro said, smiling shyly.
Ken’s jaw dropped. And it dropped hard. His mouth went completely dry, his gaze locking on Manjiro. Every inch of his body froze, fixated on him. If the room had exploded at that moment, Ken wouldn’t have been able to tear his eyes away. It was dangerous. Incredibly dangerous.
Manjiro was a mess—his face completely red, obviously embarrassed about something. He’d rushed to the door in a panic. He was soaked in sweat. Ken hadn’t realized he might have a thing for sweat, but then again, maybe he just had a thing for everything about Manjiro.
And the worst part? The fake teeth. They were ridiculously cute. If Ken didn’t have control over his body, he probably would’ve kissed him right then and there—just because those teeth were so damn adorable.
But, thankfully, Ken had control. Around Manjiro, he had to.
Manjiro should have looked scary in that vampire outfit—seriously, what was he even thinking?—but instead, he looked so cute that Ken honestly thought he might lose his mind. Not even seeing Manjiro naked had ever gotten this kind of reaction out of him; he’d gotten used to that by now. But this costume? It was completely different.
Was it Baji’s stupid comments that had him so hyper-aware of everything? Or had he been ignoring all his past reactions to Manjiro on purpose? Maybe it was just this damn costume. Whatever it was, Ken knew he needed to get it together.
He quickly shut his mouth and swallowed, hoping to calm himself down before he completely lost it.
Manjiro panicked when Ken called his name a second time, his tone soft and sweet like honey. It drove him insane how he was noticing it now. Ken sounded worried—genuinely worried—and it made Manjiro’s chest feel unbearably tight. If Ken could sound like that over something small, like him not answering right away, how did he sound when he was truly scared for him?
He swore he never paid attention to things like this before. Fuck you, Baji. Mental note: beat Baji up for messing with his head.
Reacting on pure impulse, Manjiro rushed to the door, knocking over a few things in the process. He cursed under his breath, reaching for the handle. He opened it without thinking and blurted something—he couldn’t even remember what. The second he looked up at Ken, his mind went blank.
Ken’s jaw dropped. And there it was.
Baji had joked that Ken had been acting like some territorial beast ever since Takemichi joined the gang, constantly on edge, glaring at anyone who got too close to Manjiro. At the time, Manjiro laughed it off, imagining Ken as some overprotective puppy. It was ridiculous—hilarious, even.
But then… he started paying attention. And now? Yeah, there was no puppy. Just a damn hungry wolf. And he was absolutely the prey.
The funny part about it all was that, since Ken was the quiet guy who always followed around, people probably would’ve thought the beast in the room was Manjiro himself.
Ken would definitely look stunning with that embarrassed face Manjiro had worn earlier, he thought. But Baji was right. This wasn’t the face of someone surprised by a stupid prank.
No, there was desire in that expression.
Ken was looking at him like—like something to eat. Something to own. The thrill was obvious in his eyes, the way his face lit up with wanting, like he was already imagining how he’d touch him.
Manjiro’s chest tightened. How long had Ken been looking at him like that? How had it taken him this long to notice?
It felt strange, almost laughable, to think that someone—Ken—could look at him like something desirable. And yet, the idea made him laugh inside, bitterly, because it was so foreign to him.
He wanted it, though. He definitely wanted it.
And if even Manjiro could tell, he wondered how long he had actually been ignoring it.
How many others knew about it? And why was it scaring him so much?
It wasn’t that he thought Ken was dangerous, no matter how much he wanted him—Ken wouldn’t do anything about it. He’d hold himself back, time and time again. So there was nothing to fear. Then again, it wasn’t like Manjiro was powerless. Realistically speaking, if Ken tried anything, he could easily kick his ass.
The problem was: he knew Ken wouldn’t.
Anyone else touching him? Looking at him like that? It would be disgusting. They’d be beaten up just for looking at him like that. But… this? This was different. He didn’t feel against it—the idea of it being Ken to do any of those things—and it scared him.
He knew Ken would never act on those feelings. If Manjiro decided to pretend he didn’t notice, Ken wouldn’t move a single finger. That’s the kind of person Ken had chosen to be—someone who would sacrifice his feelings just to stay by Manjiro’s side. He’d rather walk alongside him, as he always had, than risk burdening him with the weight of those emotions. Ken made sure to carry it all on his own.
In that sense, they were alike, though there was one difference: if Baji hadn’t said something, Manjiro would never have noticed. He wasn’t as perceptive as Ken, nor did he think anyone could ever look at him that way—especially not Ken. So, while the taller man could always tell when Manjiro was pushing things too far, Manjiro himself often overestimated how much Ken could endure.
He supposed it was because of the illogical, absolute faith he had in Ken. He trusted him implicitly, believing Ken would always know how to handle everything, no matter what.
So the fear came from within—a fear of wanting to be wanted, of craving that desire and everything it meant. Or maybe it was the fear of truth, the unsettling thought that he might actually be seeing things clearly for the first time. “Maybe I’m wrong,” he told himself, lying as effortlessly as breathing—just as he always had. Because there was no way to fake something like this, not when you’ve known each other for so long. How could you pretend it away? How could you act like everything was the same as before, when it so clearly wasn’t? When it wasn’t enough anymore?
And what would be enough, anyway?
There was so much weight in that wanting—too much to carry, too much to ignore. One single look, the way those normally calm black eyes turned into something darker, something consuming, left him breathless. It wasn’t just a look; it was a pull, a force so heavy he wondered if it might swallow him whole.
Just one single joke, and everything had been revealed. It had always been there, hadn’t it? He’d just refused to see it all along.
Manjiro blinked, snapping back to reality after his long internal monologue and the panic that followed. He told himself it was pointless to think about it anyway—nothing was happening, so no point in all that overthinking. He smirked. There was something else he could be doing, which was the whole point of that costume.
So he settled, looking Ken properly in the face—mentally kicking his own fears and embarrassment away.
He raised his right hand slightly, making the most casual gesture he could, then said with the smoothest expression he could manage:
“So, Ken-chin. Is it trick, treat, or dorayaki? Trick would absolutely be biting, though.”
Ken wanted to die. He actually thought he was already dead. Dead and in Hell. It could be his version of paradise, but given the guy had so much willpower to actually contain himself, it was definitely Hell.
What the actual fuck was going on? He was about to burst, probably. Yeah, he was soaked in gasoline, just waiting to catch fire—combust on his own. Just explode right there while flames tore through his entire body.
Yes, he was definitely going to explode like that and die. And then he'd be free from this madness.
Manjiro had just pulled the most stupid joke ever, and every part of Ken's body was about to explode. He didn't know if he should just laugh it off like a joke or fucking run for his life.
How could this goddamn asshole be so friggin' cute? It was insane.
Ken froze. He inhaled sharply, thoughts spiraling out of control. He wanted to touch him, feel him, completely lose any kind of reservation he had left, and totally make him his.
The joke caught him off guard, and the way Manjiro was looking at him—damn, it made him feel dizzy, like he was actually losing it.
He should’ve looked ridiculous at his age, with that damn vampire costume and the stupid joke about dorayaki and biting—which he was not going to think about at all—but instead, it was driving him crazy.
Fuck Baji. Fuck the vampire costume. And fuck Ken for not being able to keep himself together around Manjiro.
So he just laughed, because what else could he do at this point?
“Isn’t dorayaki supposed to be part of the treat, though?”
“No!! But you could choose both candy and dorayaki. Though, I guess you’d enjoy the trick too—being bitten by me would drive you insane,” Manjiro said, that mischievous grin showing on his face.
Then, the weight of his words hit him.
Manjiro had crossed the line. The implication was clear, and it hit hard. Normally, Ken would’ve laughed it off, but after everything? Not this time.
Ken’s face went dark again, and this time, he knew exactly why. Desire. It was written all over his face. No trace of playfulness left in his eyes. His body was on fire.
But it wasn’t just that. It was worse. He could feel it.
His pants were tight.
He was hard. Because of that stupid joke. Because Manjiro was the one saying it. Because his mind had run wild.
Ken had thought Manjiro wouldn’t notice. He wanted to believe that. But deep down, he knew Manjiro wasn’t dumb—just not that aware of it.
Truth was, Manjiro hadn’t caught on to Ken because he refused to let it happen. As much as Ken didn’t want to face his feelings, neither did Manjiro.
It was a joke. A joke that usually would be totally overlooked, with no real meaning behind it.
But the way Manjiro had said it, the look on his face, everything that had happened before—it wasn’t like usual.
That was the thing.