A More Despairful Route

‘You know he’s going to die tomorrow,’ Enoshima said, during their post-coital chat.

‘What?’

Amami had mentioned checking in with Komaeda, that was all. But Enoshima said it and her lips curved in a smile as if it were the most delicious thing she’d ever spoken.

‘Usami’s going to declare Akamatsu and Saihara are in love. So Komaeda –’ She gestured a hangman’s noose, her tongue lolling. Amami’s stomach turned.

‘But Akamatsu-san isn’t even talking to Saihara-kun anymore.’

‘So? You think love always has to be spelt out? Geez, it’s like you’ve never been fucking someone for two months before realising that you’re in a relationship.’

‘… is that something you did?’

‘Sure. And then I cheated on the guy with his sister and made sure he walked in on it. Boy, was she a screamer.’

‘You’re disgusting.’

There was that grin again. ‘I don’t see you walking out. Like that guy did. He walked straight out of the apartment and into a bus.’ Enoshima made a demonstration with her hands.

Amami didn’t know why he didn’t walk out, except for the feeling he might meet a similar end if he did.

‘Anyway, Akamatsu and Saihara are in love if I say they’re in love. Who’s going to prove me wrong?’ She put a hand proprietarily on Amami’s chest and tapped her finger. ‘Which means your darling Komaeda is gonna kark it if you don’t do something about it.’

‘He’s not my darling.’

‘Oh, whatever.’ Enoshima rolled away from him and off the bed. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t wanna stick your dick in that. I can always tell when I screw a guy who’s not into pussy.’

‘Then why are you here?’

‘Coz I just love it when a guy fights through the self-hatred and does it anyway.’ She picked her panties up from the floor and dangled them from one finger. ‘Like, usually I don’t have to take these off myself, tiger.’ She pursed her lips at him. ‘You know what, I bet you’d really suit having my panties shoved in your mouth.’

‘Can we not?’

Enoshima laughed. ‘Way to prove my point, buckaroo. Anyway, I’m getting distracted. There was something I meant to tell you. What was it?’

It was pointless to engage. She’d tell him or she wouldn’t.

‘Oh yeah. If you don’t want Komaeda to die, you better screw him quick.’

‘What?’

‘Like in the next 12 hours.’ Enoshima pulled her panties back on under her skirt. ‘If you do that, he can have immunity and no-one has to die. Oh, except Celestia. Even if you fuck her too, I’m not counting it.’

‘You’re crazy.’

Enoshima laughed. ‘You’re the one who just stuck your dick in that.’

He couldn’t respond. He couldn’t even explain why he had done it. Or, more accurately, let her do it. He supposed she was right and it wasn’t that he was interested in her. Only …

Well, she told him things if he kept her around. Information he hadn’t been able to get elsewhere.

‘I guess that’s something me and that guy have in common,’ Enoshima said. She leaned over the bed, and he found himself sitting up abruptly. Getting away from her.

‘You’re wrong,’ he said. It was easier to say when he wasn’t looking at her face.

‘Rantaro-kun,’ she said, in that stupid babyish voice. ‘If you think that boy’s not loco … well, I guess I haven’t been working hard enough yet!’

Amami looked back to find Enoshima’s expression sharp-cut as diamond.

‘If you fuck him, he can live. I want full penetration.’ She made the gesture with her fingers, her eyes fixed on his. ‘Course, I don’t care who’s sticking it in who.’

‘He’s not going to go for that,’ Amami said. He knew how Komaeda had reacted even to the threat of a kiss. He wasn’t bitter about it.

‘I don’t care if he “goes for it” or not. It’s up to you to make it happen.’ She tapped a finger on her lips. ‘I guess I can let you use Usami’s supply cabinet if it helps. I think we’ve got some of that love-love essence left. Or you can go for a straight-up roofie. It’s your choice.’

‘Get out,’ Amami said.

Enoshima laughed. ‘I’ll tell her to leave you the key.’

---

If Komaeda hadn’t come round that evening, maybe Amami could have let it go. What Enoshima said wasn’t always true, after all, and she was less interested in hurting Komaeda than in winding Amami up.

But Komaeda came over with Akamatsu, and Amami couldn’t stop thinking of Enoshima’s threat. Akamatsu wouldn’t be smiling then. And Komaeda … how would Enoshima kill Komaeda?

She’d told Amami he had the power to stop it.

When Komaeda and Akamatsu were leaving, Amami followed them out into the hallway.

‘Before you go,’ Amami said, ‘Komaeda-kun, I wanted to talk to you for a minute. Privately.’

‘Sure,’ Komaeda said, surprised.

‘I’ll see you in a bit then,’ Akamatsu said. They waved her off before Komaeda turned to Amami.

‘What did you want to talk about, Amami-kun?’

‘Not here,’ Amami said. ‘We can use one of the spare rooms.’ He walked away from Komaeda – abruptly, but abruptly was the best way to get Komaeda to follow.

‘It must be a serious conversation,’ Komaeda said, ‘if we can’t have it around the others.’

‘Something like that.’

Amami had already checked out the other rooms. He’d prepared for this. He’d prepared, and been sick at himself for preparing. If only Komaeda hadn’t come over.

But Komaeda entered the room with no apparent concern for his life or virtue. Amami shut the door behind them and locked it.

‘Do you want a drink?’ he said, heading to the mini-fridge. ‘I want a drink.’

‘Amami-kun, you didn’t ask me here to drink with you.’

‘Maybe not,’ Amami said, with a laugh that hopefully wasn’t too forced. ‘But I think I need it.’ He pulled out two drinks, and handed Komaeda the can that Usami had prepared earlier. They sat down, Amami on the chair by the desk, and Komaeda on the bed.

Amami took a slug of his drink, drinking in gulps until he saw Komaeda to open his own drink and swallow.

‘What if,’ Amami said, ‘I knew who was behind this?’

‘If you knew that,’ Komaeda said, ‘why didn’t you say something earlier?’

‘They’re blackmailing me.’ Amami took another drink, and wished it were something harder. He didn’t like to get smashed, usually, but he felt like this would be easier if he were drunk.

‘Have you got something that’s worth blackmailing over?’ Komaeda asked.

Amami rubbed the fabric of the chair. ‘Well … more like they’ve got information I need. That’s why I’ve been keeping quiet.’

He wondered how long it would take for the drug to work. If that wasn’t another trick Enoshima was playing on him – it wouldn’t surprise him if the drink Usami had provided wasn’t drugged at all, and Amami would have to carry his crimes out on his own.

‘What information could you need,’ Komaeda said, ‘that’s worth all of us going through this? If it’s just me, I don’t mind, but –’

‘Do you mean that?’

‘Huh? That I don’t mind?’ Komaeda took another drink, as if to give himself time to consider the question. ‘Well, it’s not like I can stop it, is it?’ Komaeda leaned forward. ‘The guilty party hasn’t revealed themselves to me. Except now you, I suppose.’

‘Right,’ Amami said. ‘I’m a “guilty party”.’

‘So who is it?’ Komaeda said. He held the can loosely in his hand now, so Amami thought he might drop it.

Amami finished the rest of his own drink, and set it aside. Komaeda waited, kicking his leg against the bed.

‘I can’t tell you,’ Amami said.

‘Hm.’ Komaeda tilted his head. ‘Are you sure it isn’t you?’ The can did slip out of his hand, knocking against the floor – and miraculously staying upright. ‘Oh, whoops.’ Komaeda leaned down to pick the can back up again, but paused with his hand halfway down. He lifted it again. ‘Amami-kun.’ He frowned, eyes narrowed like he had to squint to see Amami. ‘Did you give me something?’

Amami laughed, a nervous laugh. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘I feel …’ Komaeda’s eyes drifted away from Amami, but he still frowned as if he were focused on something.

‘If you’re not feeling well, maybe you should lie down.’ Amami stood up. He didn’t know what he was going to do, just yet. If this was something he could do.

‘I wanted to talk to Hinata-kun before I went to bed,’ Komaeda said. He put a hand to his forehead. ‘He was mad, you know. He pretended not to be …’

‘Lie down,’ Amami said. He took Komaeda by the shoulders, and pushed him firmly back onto the bed. He followed that by scooping Komaeda’s legs up and manuveuring them onto the mattress as well.

‘I shouldn’t have done it,’ Komaeda said. ‘I should have made Usami let us out –’

‘I’m sorry about that,’ Amami said. Komaeda’s eyes searched for and found him again.

‘Why?’ Komaeda said. ‘Did you, perchance –’ He looked so unsuspecting that it hurt Amami’s heart.

‘You know. Revenge. Because it was the rules.’

Komaeda’s expression didn’t change.

Amami sat on the edge of the bed beside him. ‘Because I wanted to,’ he said. If the drug worked like it was meant to, Komaeda wouldn’t remember this anyway. There would be a hole in his memory, within which Amami could do anything and have it mean nothing. Except for what it meant to Amami himself.

‘I’m not sorry,’ Amami said, ‘except that you stepped back.’

‘Did you want to get free with me? That’s too bad …’

He didn’t actually want Komaeda to fall asleep. He placed a hand on Komaeda’s stomach, and Komaeda with a seeming half-heartedness knocked him away.

‘Don’t mess around,’ he said. His eyes were half-lidded and his breathing was shallow.

‘Am I messing around?’ Amami said. He kept his voice light, like this whole thing might still be some kind of joke. ‘Try to relax, will you?’ He replaced his hand, feeling Komaeda’s warmth beneath it.

Komaeda’s lip twisted as if Amami’s touch were something painful to endure. He didn’t swat him away again, but Amami wasn’t sure if that was acceptance or simply the drug making it too difficult.

Amami slipped his hand under the fabric of Komaeda’s t-shirt, stroking his skin with small movements. Komaeda’s hand twitched, but he didn’t – couldn’t – strike out.

‘Don’t,’ Komaeda said. As if he were protesting something in a dream; there was no force to his voice.

‘Relax,’ Amami said again. ‘I know if won’t seem that way, but I’m trying to help you.’

He sat higher on the bed to brush his hand into Komaeda’s hair. As if he could comfort him with such an affected kindness.

‘Don’t lie,’ Komaeda mumbled.

‘I’m not lying.’ Amami stroked his hair, and with his other hand, he undid the button of Komaeda’s jeans. ‘I wish I could explain but I can’t.’

‘Liar.’

The word was as soft as breath. The word settled like a film over Amami.

‘But I guess if it keeps your hope alive,’ Komaeda mumbled, ‘it doesn’t matter what happens to me. So … it’s alright.’

The film snapped.

Amami had told himself he was doing this to save Komaeda. But maybe that was an excuse. He’d wanted to fuck him before Enoshima had made the suggestion, after all. He’d seen Komaeda’s body, when the two of them were on their so-called date, and he’d imagined that body against his. Imagined Komaeda moving against him.

But Komaeda didn’t even register him. He was so focused on some guy who was too straight to even appreciate him. To deserve the affection Komaeda so obviously wanted to lavish upon him.

And now he said this was alright. As if Amami’s attention were a thing to be endured. And even though Amami knew he was in the wrong, the rejection still curdled inside him.

With an affected detachment, Amami unzipped Komaeda’s jeans and pulled them down to his ankles. He was going to do this. Komaeda couldn’t do anything about it. Amami laid a hand on Komaeda’s soft dick, still separated from him by the fabric of his underwear, and felt his own dick stir in interest. More than Komaeda’s did, that was for sure. Even Komaeda’s cock was apparently loyal.

Amami pulled down his underwear too, down beneath his body knees. Komaeda was so skinny, the frame of his bones so close to the skin. Amami could have been scared he might break him, but it wasn’t like Komaeda wasn’t giving it up to Hinata anyway. So obviously he could take it.

With that thought in his head, Amami unbuttoned his own jeans. Cupped his own dick with that image of Komaeda wrapped around Hinata in the front of his mind, pushing back all doubt.

What Enoshima wanted, she would get.

Amami undressed from the waist down, leaving his clothes heaped on the floor. There was lube stashed in the bedside drawer; Amami pulled it out before he clambered onto the bed, to position himself between Komaeda’s legs.

Komaeda could have been sleeping, now. Amami shoved his t-shirt up high on his chest, so that his nipples were exposed, and he circled one nipple with his thumb. Something passed over Komaeda’s face; his eyes were shut but Amami knew he wasn’t sleeping. Komaeda just didn’t want to engage with what was happening.

Amami could have laughed, or wept. Instead, he one-handedly pumped lube into his left hand, and stroked himself, while playing with Komaeda’s chest with the other hand. It was easy to stimulate Komaeda’s nipples into stiffness, but that didn’t change the state of his penis, still flaccid within the curls of white wiry hair.

But it wasn’t necessary, was it? Komaeda didn’t have to enjoy this. He didn’t have to be aware of it. This was a punishment for Amami alone, to rub it in just how thoroughly he was bent to Enoshima’s will.

It didn’t matter if Komaeda wasn’t aroused, because Amami was. He was

(sick)

hard in his own lube-slicked hand, but he knew that it would feel better

(to stop)

to thrust into Komaeda’s tight hole. Like he’d thought about when he’d had the hotel bathroom to himself.

(But not like this.)

Amami picked up the lube again and poured it over Komaeda’s ass. Rubbed it against – into – his hole. Komaeda’s legs twitched when Amami touched him there, but his sphincter offered little resistance to the breach of Amami’s fingers, only squeezed him with an encompassing heat. Amami wanted that pressure on his dick, not just his fingers.

He didn’t make more than a cursory effort to stretch Komaeda out; the drugs would make it easy on him anyway. Amami lined his cock up with Komaeda’s hole, and he pressed himself inside, using his own hand to guide him.

And Komaeda’s body yielded in inexorable delicious heat.

Amami whimpered at the sensation, the sense of being swallowed up dick-first.

‘Feels so good,’ he said, as if Komaeda could still hear him. If only this were for real, Amami fucking him because Komaeda wanted him to.

Komaeda wouldn’t even remember, but Amami would.

He built up a rhythm, thrusting shallowly, Komaeda’s legs pulled up around his waist. He would have liked to take him from behind, but he was a little worried about turning him onto his front. It didn’t matter. This was good. Better than masturbating in the bathroom; better than letting Enoshima mess around with him. Komaeda’s ass was tight, and not tight like Enoshima’s pussy when she’d decided to make things hard on him.

He shouldn’t be thinking about her.

He did turn Komaeda over. He saw Komaeda’s eyes flutter beneath his eyelids when Amami turned his head against the pillow; he wished he could get more reaction than that.

It was even better, fucking Komaeda from behind. Easier for Amami to thrust deeply, plunge in to the hilt. At the same time he could breathe in the scent of Komaeda’s hair, one hand fisted against his scalp.

He could almost pretend …

It was too much. It was enough. Amami didn’t bother to hide his moan as he came; even afterwards, he kept thrusting as long as he could manage it. He didn’t want to let go of this feeling. He didn’t want to come down.

But coming down was inevitable. And then Amami knew what he’d done.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, behind Komaeda’s ear. ‘It was the only way, you see. I have to do what she wants me to.’

She’d demanded penetration. She’d probably been watching them. She was probably watching them right now.

Amami rolled off of Komaeda. He didn’t want to see his face. He had this fear that Komaeda would be looking at him with open eyes, and that Komaeda would hate him. Amami didn’t want Komaeda to hate him. That was why he’d asked for the drugged drink, wasn’t it? So that he wouldn’t have to face Komaeda hating him.

It didn’t stop Amami from hating himself.

The drug would only last so long; Amami would have to clean Komaeda up, get them both dressed again.

Lie, about why Komaeda was waking up from being passed out in the spare hotel room. Like he’d only fainted.

He’s not an idiot, Amami thought. He’ll know.

Plausible deniability, that was all Amami was going for.

It wouldn’t be enough.