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Every time Karma closes his eyes flashes of ice blue fill his mind; blue in a halo of soft yellow hotels lights, feigned innocence begging to be corrupted. Blue shrouded in sickly green making it appear closer to the teal of a glacier, murderous rage threatening to tear it apart at the seams. One word to describe the duality of the color that occupies his thoughts so completely: breathtaking.
He isn't sure when he started seeing Nagisa in a different light, but sometime over the last year it became harder to keep him at arms length. Even now, lying in his own bed, in his own house, he wishes the shorter boy were there to talk with him long into the night.
Karma sighs and rolls over, flopping onto his side with a dramatic huff. He unlocks his phone screen and scrolls to his camera app where he pulls up the photo he took that night. He knows he should have deleted it like his friend asked, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. And so he stares at it, like he had last night, and the night before that, and the night before that.
A warm feeling flutters in his chest as his thumb hovers over the screen, wishing he could reach out and caress that blushing cheek. He wonders if it will be as soft under his rough calloused palms as he dreams it to be.
He imagines what it would feel like to pull him in by his hips and kiss him. Would the talented would-be assassin be shocked? Would he return the gesture with the same passion he had staring down Takaoka that night on the hotel roof?
Blood rushes south at the image in his mind. Something about the expression on Nagisa's face that night had been absolutely terrifying, but still Karma craves more of that intensity.
"This is so stupid!" he says to nobody in particular. Embarrassed he moves to toss his phone aside with a heavy sigh, but decides against it, instead sliding it into the pocket of his sweatpants. He insists that he isn't some lovelorn horny teenager, but even so, he still can't shake that intoxicating color from his mind.
"wonder if he's still awake..." he muses to himself.
He climbs out of bed and slips out of his room, down the stairs to his front door where he pulls on his shoes. He unlocks the door and steps out into the night shutting it quietly behind himself.
Taking off into a sprint, he runs on pure instinct, swinging around corners and jumping over anything that blocks his path. He slows to a stroll and pulls out his phone. He opens his contacts, slides his thumb across Nagisa's name, and holds the device up to his ear as it begins to ring.
~
Nagisa hesitates. He peeks out his door to make sure all of the lights in the house are actually off and that he doesn't hear his mother still shuffling around. When he decides the coast is clear he shuts his door quietly, wishing he had a lock, but this will have to do.
He sneaks over and digs in the back of the closet for the clothes he knows he should have thrown away that night, but didn't. Something about the way others had stared after him with desire made him feel powerful and he wants to see if that feeling still exists.
He shimmies out of his night clothes and steps into the plaid skirt, pulling it up until it settles nicely on his hips. He slips the dark shirt over his head and stands back to look at himself in the mirror not really knowing how to feel.
Objectively he can admit that he looks cute like this, but he had fought so hard with his parents, more specifically his mom, to see him as anything other than the gender he was born into, that seeing what she so vocally wishes him to be is a little jarring.
He is a boy. He knows that, he has always known that. He will never regret all the time and energy he put into convincing his parents to let him get on hormone blockers or the struggle for them to finally acknowledge him by his correct name and pronouns...
But he likes the memories this outfit conjures in his mind of heated orange eyes tracking his movements closely. It makes him feel small and delicate, not weak but someone to be cared for. Maybe he is ok with that feeling sometimes... Maybe he is just a boy who is ok wearing skirts? Or did liking something considered feminine make him less of a boy?
He smooths the shirt and pinches the frilly border of the skirt between his finger and his thumb with a sigh. He really should be going to bed and not spiraling down the rabbit hole of his gender identity and expression on a school night.
He hooks his thumb into the waistband of the skirt ready to slip it off when his phone rings from where it's sitting on the bed. He jumps at the loud intrusion that has his heart racing and fumbles with the device trying to silence it before his mother wakes up and comes to check on him.
He answers the phone without seeing who is calling and holds it up to his ear.
"Hello?" he asks quietly, straining his ears to listen for any movement in the hall, but when he is met with silence he breathes a sigh of relief. "Hello?" he asks just a bit louder.
"Hey, Nagisa." a familiar voice sounds in his ear. "You're up late on a school night."
"Oh, hey Karma," he responds feeling a little guilty, like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Yeah just getting ready for bed." It isn't a lie. He really is getting ready for bed, he just took a little detour getting there. "What are you doing up so late?"
"That's a good question really... I guess I just wanted to see a friend."
"It's almost midnight on a Sunday, don't you think it's rude to visit someone right now?"
"Guess I'll just have to ask my friend when I see him, won't I?"
Nagisa hears a grunt on the other end of the phone line. "What are you doing?" He asks but freezes in place when he hears a knock on his balcony door.
"You going to let me in?" Karma questions when the door isn't immediately opened.
"Just a minute." Nagisa whispers and is about to open the sliding door when he suddenly remembers what he is wearing and curse words fly. "Fuck! Shit! Dammit!" He panics trying to pull the shirt off over his head but in his rush he ends up getting stuck. He is a trained assassin but somehow manages to get bested by a freaking shirt.
"Nagisa?" the red haired boy calls out upon hearing the commotion. He pushes open the door more curious about what is causing the other boy to swear than anything.
Both boys freeze, holding eye contact for much longer than necessary before Nagisa is pulling the shirt back into place and waving his hands nervously in front of himself. He swears that it isn't what it looks like and tries to fumble over an explanation but nothing he says makes it any better.
Karma chuckles at the blush the spreads over his cheeks and shoulders and shuts the balcony door behind him.
"None of this is making it any better, huh?" the blue haired boy asks.
"Nope." he says with that stupid grin still on his face.
Nagisa plops down on the edge of his bed, drops his head into his hands, and just groans.
"Please don't tell anyone..." he asks and the words are muffled through his fingers.
"It's not like half of the class hasn't already seen you in this outfit."
The light haired boy's head whips up and pleading blue eyes meet orange. "Please, Karma, you can't say anything!"
The sincerity in his voice and his eyes is more than Karma can take, and he looks away. Where his words would typically be filled with sarcasm and teasing, only a genuine response remains.
"I don't understand why it's such a big deal, but I won't tell anyone... You have my word."
Nagisa offers him a soft smile. "Thank you, Karma..."
"Yeah, it's not like I'm doing you a favor or anything." This time it's his turn to blush.
"Of course you aren't." Nagisa indulges him with a teasing lilt to his tone. "The brutal Karma would never do favors."
"I don't think you're in much of a position to be teasing," he bites back, but there is no malice in his tone.
Nagisa smiles at him. It's a genuine one that reaches his eyes, those deep blue eyes that sometimes keep the redhead awake at night, and Karma finds it difficult to calm his racing heart in the silence that settles between them.
"What are you doing here so late?" The blue haired boy asks, interrupting the quiet.
Karma has two options. He can shrug it off and not actually give an answer, or he can be honest. And well, he has never had a problem speaking his mind before, so maybe he can take a page from Professor Bitch's book.
"Well, I was just coming to see my friend and chat, but I didn't expect to find him looking oh so delectable... Not really thinking much about chatting anymore." He says it so nonchalantly that Nagisa's cheeks flush and he looks away.
"You shouldn't tease people like that." He admonishes looking down at his hands in his lap not caring to see the taunting look he is sure to find situated on his friend's face.
"Who says I was teasing?" Karma asks. He leans back, his arms outstretched behind him brace his upper body weight. He casts a sideways glance at the blue haired boy. He looks even cuter flushed red with embarrassment.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what I said." He answers without hesitation. "I think you look good in that outfit... thought you looked good the first time too."
There was a pause before Nagisa speaks again, his voice coming out much quieter, nervous even. "You really think so... You don't think it makes me less of a boy?" He finds himself thumbing at the lace lining the skirt once again, the act somehow soothing.
"Well that's a dumb question." He answers and Nagisa frowns. "It's just clothes. What do they have to do with anything?"
"I..." the blue haired boy starts, but doesn't continue.
"Exactly." Karma affirms. "Clothes, just like other people's opinions, only matter if you let them."
He mulls over those words. He is right. Clothes don't make the man. "Well, I guess, they don't really matter then." He says with more confidence.
Karma finds it hard not to stare, with the boy he likes here in front of him, smiling at him like he just gave him a precious gift. He can feel his heart squeeze in his chest, and he has to fight the urge to reach out and touch him. It feels like it has been too long since they were alone together and suddenly he can't remember how he is supposed to breathe.
It's his turn to frown down at his hands, the hands that threaten to betray him. He misses the weight shifting beside him on the bed until he feels soft lips press a gentle kiss to his cheek.
"Thanks, Karma." Nagisa says softly. He doesn't retreat or put more distance between them, instead opting to lay his head on Karma's shoulder.
All rational thought goes out the window and he asks, "Can I kiss you?"
Nagisa head comes off his shoulder and he can feel him staring at his profile. In the silence that follows Karma can only hear his blood rushing in his ears. He refuses to look. If he doesn't see the rejection on his face he can pretend for a minute that the answer will be yes.
"Why?"
The question is said so softly he almost misses it.
Karma looks at him not sure how to answer the question.
'Because I think you are cute, and strong, and powerful. Because my heart flutters when you smile at me. Because I don't deserve to even be acknowledged by you, but you still somehow encourage me to chase my dreams. Because you trust me and I would do anything for you,' is what he wants to say, but the words don't come out. Instead he reaches for the sky and caresses his cheek softly, staring into the cerulean that has held him captive.
Blue gazes back into orange, searching for any hint of trickery or deception, but he finds none. He gives a small nervous nod and closes his eyes, leaning in slightly.
Karma wants to take in this moment and really admire every little feature, but he doesn't want to lose his nerve. He closes the distance between them quickly, their lips meeting in what he had meant to be a quick peck, but he loses himself in the sensation.
Drowning in the brush of soft lips and tangled breath is sweeter than he could have ever imagined.