Captivated (BL)

"Hiro . . ."

Not more than a word was able to escape Jin's lips, refusing to acknowledge what he just heard.

Why did he . . .

The corners of his eyes continue to widen, dumbstruck, as his last shed of tear melodramatically rolled down his tangible red cheeks, in sync with the shivering breath that escaped from his moist lips.

He was momentarily lost in his heartfelt confession and even his subconscious disappeared to nowhere, dragging his coffin with him without notice.

Why must it lead to this?

He studied his unsettling behavior and it baffles him why were his callous fingers shivering against his delicate touch on his face and the way his tired eyes twitched is worrisome.

Hiro looked horrified while looking back at him, pale, scared, tired, and utterly anxious.

And Jin wonders if this is what a person's reactions are after confessing.

It was nothing like what he saw in dramas on the television.

His cold and stiff hands reach up to him and cup his face, pulling him closer to him, and though his heart painfully trembled at the touch of his thumb against the swollen skin under his eyes, he looked at him, searching for any hint of humor of sarcasm.

But there was none. His eyes have never been abstract and genuine.

He's truly an odd book to confide in.

His lips bents downwards. A crestfallen and disheveled frown stretches across Jin's lips as he finds nothing more than the plangent expression on his face and his eyesore bags.

He gently rubs his fingers against them as if he had touched a fragile masterpiece in a museum.

They've gone worst.

An odd feeling of something light as a feather, tickled his heart, melting his worries away upon seeing how sympathetic he is. There's no point denying the obvious.

"You're killing yourself."

Jin whispers to him and as the young fellow traces his thin fingers around his eye, Hiro dissolves at his words and leaned a little weight on his head to his touch, grinning timidly in relief and closing his eyes.

"Then my death has a worth."

An exhausted breath escaped Hiro's lips as his hands went down from his face to his slender waist, holding him firmly.

Just like this, holding him near is more than enough, for now. He could never ask for more. He didn't know his simple presence and kindness can already make a whole world of a difference than it was before.

"I doubt that your father will be pleased to hear that," Jin pointed out.

He can't believe how perplexed he is talking about death.

He gave up hiding behind his barriers and instead voluntarily stepped into his, and he never felt more than satisfied with what he did.

But did his clumsy self actually made a decision worth thanking for?

His cold touch went up to his now tousled hair and skims his fingers right through his thick and straight strands of healthy slate black hair, officially ruining his waxed tendrils.

Perhaps, he did.

He felt more secure with him. Maybe because of the constant number of occasions where he saved him a face from his usually full of embarrassment self.

Instead of cursing him, Jin heard him groaning in appreciation deep in his throat upon feeling his dainty fingertips rubbing against his scalp, his eyes now half-closed, pupils dilated.

"Are you worried?" Hiro asks.

Jin shakes his head. Yes, perhaps his rayless epitome had saved him. Light without darkness expands without knowing the end.

In such a bizarre situation he felt relaxed. Maybe because he already knew what his true intentions are. His fingers went to the back of his head, massaging him more.

Hiro likes him . . .

He felt an odd sensation from his behind, clenching deeply within his belly.

It happened again . . .

Hiro opened his eyes and wiped the remaining wetness off his cheeks, his brows furrowing, "What are you thinking about?" Why is he flushed?

"If it's about my father's approval, he doesn't have to." His jaw clenches. Not any one of them should.

He's here standing in front of him and holding him approximately close, yet he's thinking of someone else. His lips thinned, feeling neglected, "Talk to me. Listen to me." He squeezes his waist, "Focus on me."

Like a spoiled child, he whines at him for attention.

Jin's lips thinned like his and his cheeks flamed more. He marvels at how his chest stirs simultaneously with the solemn void circling around his already diseased heart. He understands what he meant.

Neither of their parents would be pleased to even take a glimpse of their position right now, but instead of worrying over that, he wanted him to focus on him.

Focus on him . . .

His gaze softens, but what should he do? He liked seeing and holding him dearly up close. He has no right to demand things from him as he has sinned greatly, too.

But he couldn't find the strength to tell him that . . . These unsure feelings could also be because he's too overwhelmed by his presence.

So much has happened this day.

"Just think of me." He pleads.

And Jin gazes through the anguish and burning passion in his eyes. All his hesitations dispersed and his tears finally ceased as his breathing turned shallow, his entire attention drawn to him.

He felt just like a moth enticed to the dangerous flames.

"I already am," He replied. What a foolish moth can he be . . .

"I meant what I said," Hiro whispers, panting as his warm breath heatedly caress his skin, "About how I felt towards you."

Jin shuddered weakly, lost into his eyes that are glowering over him with its usual dangerous glow, but this time, it was one that mixed with longing and desperateness.

Slightly tilting his head to the other side, Hiro pressed a gentle kiss at the base of his palm, "But If you insist and wish to think it through, then do what you want."

He'll even deal with whoever dares to offend him, "The very least, grant this man what his heart desires."

Once he agrees so, no words can define that this man shall be the happiest of his time.

Hiro rubbed his wet lips around the delicate skin of his palm, placing small wet kisses along the way before diverting his attention to his dainty fingers, pampering and smooching his lips to each and every one of them.

He hoped one day that man can be him.

"What your h-heart d-desires?"

Jin gawks at him from what he's doing against his fingers, distracted, and a notorious grin appeared on Hiro's lips, satisfied to have his whole attention to himself now.

Does he even like him that much for him to act this way? Jin's teeth captured his bottom lip in hopes to stop it from trembling.

"Yes," Hiro smiles, his gaze smoking as if answering his unanswered thought whilst caressing and squeezing his waist at the same second, "My heart's desires." He repeats, staring at him like an utterly smitten cougar.

The ethereal darkness inside his eyes suddenly changes pace, hobbled by extreme need.

There's nothing more worth seeing apart from him. His new favorite piece that outshines the rest.

"What is it that you . . . d-desire?" Jin stutters.

You.

The young fellow cleared his throat once again, embarrassed, "I'm not sure whether I can give you what you want, Hiro."

Hiro's slick brows furrowed as he gazes through his worried amethyst eyes, feeling his body deprived of the extreme need to have him. He was giddy like a child of embracing the feeling of being lost in the harsh waves of desire he never had wanted badly to have.

Nobody knew completely who was cornering who from who.

Even a heartless man like him can feel suppressed and imprisoned by his presence, who's also currently cornered between his arms, clueless and as innocent as a sparrow of what he has done to him.

His once merciless eyes stared at him like tomorrow doesn't exist, reassuring himself once again that he's real and he exists.

How did such pure and undiluted creature bravely light up the darkest part of his perilous chamber?

Desperate to be nearer to him, he inch his face closer to his, cautiously watching his reaction, and only then he was satisfied when the tips of their nose poked against one another, touching and acknowledging each other's presence.

Jin . . .

Nevertheless, without the harshest waves, the sea will remain lonely without him.

"I believe you're mistaken."

His naughty hands slip inside his uniform. His warm fingers skimming against the smallest waist he's ever touched. . . They were softer than marshmallows.

He could hold him all day long, "I clearly said 'desires'."

And he prayed the devil's soul to turn merciful and hear what his sinful heart craves for.

Hiro's brows suddenly furrowed in disturbance, are marshmallows even soft?