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There's a knock on the door. Three raps of the knuckles that are always a bit too harsh to come across as friendly, but it's familiar enough that the sound leaves Adachi more annoyed than startled.
It's so familiar at this point that Adachi could almost smell the food through the closed apartment door. He could never identify what Narukami gave him, since he always threw it out right as he'd close the door in front of the kid's face after waving goodbye at him.
But as he opens the door, the feeling that somehow- this played-out interaction will be different, sinks in his stomach like a stone. It’s only exemplified by the strange glint in the other’s eye as Adachi says one of his many canned, rehearsed greetings. The kid’s holding a bag full of the soon-to-be trash in his left hand, right hand outstretched, as if to hold open a door that Adachi’s surely gonna slam in his face. Any minute now.
He looks at Yu’s expectant face, there’s static in his ears as they’re speaking, about what? Fuck if he knows, or cares for that matter. He’ll close the door and throw whatever horrifically sentimental concoction is in that bag straight in the garbage. Any second now.
It does smell good though, even if it’s made with pity for poor detective Adachi and his measly paycheck. Maybe he should start figuring out when the kid goes to Junes, put up some sort of stalker-ish schedule to avoid him at all costs. So he doesn’t pull this shit under the guise of good-will. Adachi’s hands twitch on the doorknob.
He invites him inside.
They sit down at the couch, separate yakisoba containers sitting in front of them- he really thought everything through didn’t he? The thought brings chills down Adachi’s spine, better get this whole awkward situation over with. He grabs his chopsticks and begins taking slow, tentative bites; he notices the other hasn’t started eating yet, and the thought of being poisoned passes by in his mind.
It’s surprisingly good, but he’d never say that; the kid probably knows his shit’s good, that’s why he keeps on giving it to poor ol’ Adachi. With a rather loud slurp of his noodles, he decides to fill the empty space with some conversation, and by turning the television on, just in case.
“So! How’s school going for you? Is it exam season yet?”
His eyes making the smallest of flickers, darting back and forth between, between what? Like he's choosing the right option on what to say. Psh... the right option. Is that how he schmoozes up to all of those high school girls? By choosing the right option? He takes a sip of his beer, the liquid burning his throat on the way down. Well, whatever he says, it won't work on him.
Whatever response Yu responds with, it goes through one ear and out the other, with the only acknowledgement that Adachi actually heard it being a noncommittal hum.
He tips back the can of beer, feeling a slight sting as the liquid pours down his throat. He tries to mask his cough with a little chuckle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
“Hey, you want some of this? I won’t tell your uncle.” Obviously he won’t, but a little persuasion never killed anybody. Gee, it looks like the kid’s actually deliberating on it.
“Only if it’s mixed in with some water.”
“What? Can’t stand the taste?” He sneers, and Yu hides his eyes with his bangs, obviously out of his league when it comes to this specific subject. Finally, something Mr. Perfect isn't completely knowledgeable about.
“I’m not used to it I suppose.I don’t- I’ve never, probably, had a beer."” The response makes Adachi pause a little bit.
God, when he talks like that, talks like a teenager, it makes Adachi want to vomit. They're so young like this, any wrong move or bad comment could shatter their little brains. But isn't that the point of why they– those people, the ones who spill snot all over his suit from how hard they cry over their child bride who "tempted [them] to taboo" do what they do? Have the chance to ruin that kid for anyone else? God, he can already feel the handcuffs hang heavy on his wrists.
“Alright then, hope you don’t mind tap water.” He replies, hoping it sounds casual enough as he gets up to make the concoction, he feels like a shitty bartender. Serving drinks without checking IDs? “How scandalous,” Adachi thinks to himself, even if the joke falls flat, even when he’s the only one privy to it. He throws his now-empty beer can in the trash, it makes a hollow thunk noise against all the containers already buried deep in there.
His knees make a popping noise as he bends down to open the fridge, though none of Yu’s containers are in there. Barely anything is in here, save for a few beers and some leafy greens that are well past their expiration date. He hopes the kid doesn’t take a peek in here or something just as nosey. Maybe he could make the excuse that he ate all of them and put the empty containers in the pantry.
Adachi turns his head away from the glow of the fridge to look at the kid in question, his eyes straining to adjust to the dark before making out a figure on the couch. He’s still sitting there, glued to whatever the Hell is on the television, some idol competition show. Well, he is at that age, hormones and whatever. He’s pretty sure Narukami’s already got some, what with all those girls he calls “friends” fawning around him. Geez, he’d tell him to just pick one to be his girl already, but maybe guys like him don’t need to pick. They can just lead them on forever and ever until they pass out from how hard they’ve been chasing him. God, it’s like those bitches he’d see in the city, chatting on the phone while some poor chump is trailing after her, probably carrying one of her bags too. Maybe that’s what Yu is, one of those.
His eyes flicker over towards Adachi, locking on once he realizes he’s been staring for a bit too long. Before he could open his mouth to say something, Adachi quickly grabs and opens the beer can with a resounding crack that could be heard over the shrill singing playing from the television.
If he can feel Narukami’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his head, he pays it no mind as he kicks the fridge door closed and fills the glass a little less than half-way with water. He pours the rest of it with beer. He contemplates getting another full can for himself but decides against it. He can drink himself drunk at Dojima’s, not-so carefully dropping breadcrumbs about the case in front of the kid so he can report it back to his gaggle of yesmen. It’s better like that, more fun.
He remembers through the foggy haze of those alcohol ridden nights a pained, too-grown expression from Nanako’s pudgy little face and winces at the thought. Yeah, let’s just drink this half-empty can of beer.
Trudging back over to Yu (who’s still staring at him), he hands over the glass before tossing himself back on the couch- its springs are clearly not designed for such force, but who’s he to care? He makes it a point to sit further away from the other this time. Just ‘cause.
He watches from the corner of his eye as Yu takes a pretty confident swig from his glass, his cheeks already rosy from the single hit of the diluted-as-shit beer, it must be some sort of placebo effect. It leads him to remember how red the Konishi girl’s face was when she slapped him. How pale it turned when he put his hands on her.
There's a nagging voice in the back of his head, tucked in the wrinkles of his brain, those little vibrations having long since made their home in Adachi's mind ever since he stepped foot in the Amagi's inn. It's a constant ringing, to the point of being nauseating, and it's only gotten louder since the other's gotten here.
He looks from the corner of his eye as Yu picks at his noodles; his lack of hunger is obvious, but neither of them say anything about it. The wooden, almost-splintered chopsticks Adachi got from some restaurant still holding up as he watches him sift through the vegetables. Spreading the food around so it looks like he's eaten more.
He covers his scowl by shoving the rest of the noodles in his mouth; seriously, where does this guy get off on doing this? Sure, it's good to be nice and all– it's how Adachi's gotten this far without earning more than just a kick to the curb that is this hick town, but there's having manners and then there's being a bit too well behaved, like a dog.
...Then again, if either of them were even a bit less polite, then the both of them wouldn't be in this awkward situation right now. He finishes the last of his noodles with a loud enough slurp to make the other chuckle a little, though it sounds more like a puff of air than anything else. Narukami's pitying him. Of course he is.
There's clapping coming from the television, and a quick glance at it shows a teary-eyed starlet accepting an award that's too heavy for her to hold. Narukami would be able to hold that thing just fine. Of course he would.
The ringing in his ears grows even louder. A hand comes into his view, hesitantly hovering over the bowl as if asking permission to take it. He tears his eyes away from the screen only to see an almost demure expression on the other. Hm. No, he's seeing things, it's unassuming is what it is; like those ditzy-faced women who think if they speak softly enough you'll look right past their uselessness. Either way, it doesn't look good on the kid's face at all; in fact, it's like he feels more trapped than swayed by it. He can't bring himself to look away.
"Would you like some more? I made enough for seconds."
God, he could throw up right now.
Adachi hopes his smile reaches his eyes, but both he and Yu know it doesn't.
"Yeah! It's so nice I'll have it twice y'know?"
An obnoxiously loud and grating "aww" emits from the tv with a tinny whine; a response to the same girl from before wiping away another set of tears as she confesses her previous career as a gravure model. For some reason, he thinks of Risette.
He places the half-eaten container of yakisoba down a bit too harshly than he wanted to; a chopstick bouncing off and spreading its oily remnants all over the table before falling to the floor with an unceremonious clatter. Instead of picking it up, Adachi merely slaps his hands together to signify that he’s done. With the food? He’s actually still a little peckish, but he’d be damned if he could still eat. Is he done with Yu? With high schoolers in general? Most definitely.
“... Adachi-san?”
“On second thought, I’m feeling a bit queasy, I think I’ll have to head to sleep earlier than expected. Besides, I think that’s enough TV watching for the both of us, doesn’t this burn your eyes or something?” He knows he's spouting some bullshit, words running out like a faucet, but he can’t be bothered at this point. The kid- Narukami has to leave, now. Before his thoughts get any louder and he does something he really regrets.
“... I think that’s only if you sit too close to them.”
Adachi waves his hand, dissipating that response into dust. Really now, shouldn’t he just follow along? What’s with him making even more awkward conversation?
“Either way, shouldn’t you be getting home now? Dojima will definitely get on my ass if he hears I’ve been keeping you here.”
Yu only shakes his head at that, his bangs making a small, almost inaudible “swish swish” noise with every tilt. It makes him want to grab those stupid fucking bangs and-
“Uncle’s working late, you should know that,” a beat. “Nanako’s sleeping at a friend’s house too.”
Like he read his damn mind, he can feel his hands twitching, blood boiling, maybe the screen-watching really did a number on his eyes, he can feel his optic nerves beating to the sound of his increasing heartbeat. And before the other knows it, Adachi’s already got his hands on him. Fists bunched up in the sleeves of Yu’s dress shirt, he was aiming for the collar, but hey, plausible deniability right? He’d laugh if it didn’t hurt to breathe right now.
“Go home, Yu.”
And if he sees that stupidly impassive face floundering for a response, Adachi doesn’t allow it to happen. He pulls his grasp on him away as if it burned him, watching as the imprints of his hands linger in the wrinkles of the other’s shirt. Maybe Yu will iron it later, thinking about how he could’ve easily overpowered the cop who lives off of instant noodles and cheap cabbage.
“Go home.” He repeats himself, just for good measure. The other looks at him for what feels like forever before peeling himself off of the couch, and Adachi would let out a sigh of relief if he could. He’ll save that for when the kid leaves his fucking apartment.
He watches, stalks even, as Yu walks over to the hallway, putting on his shoes and grabbing his bag, noticing how his eyes still flicker back to him. He’s probably traumatized or something, would he tell Dojima? How the nasty, pervert of a detective decided to use his power over him and cop a feel? … No, he may be a teenager but he’s not a girl. That wasn’t anything remotely regarding sexual harassment.
… So why did he think that?
He does that same fucking flicker with his eyes as he hovers in the hallway, deliberating on what to say. Really? The bleeding heart, even as Adachi almost- almost what? Nevermind. Adachi shakes the thought from his head before standing up with a pop in his knees. Yu watches this happen, opening his mouth to finally respond,
“Adachi-san, I-”
He’s interrupted by a particularly loud crick as the other stretches his neck. It's a facsimile of nonchalance, but he’d rather hear the sound of his own body failing himself at such an early age than whatever canned response the kid’s got. Adachi watches in silent glee as Yu’s expression flounders before getting ready to speak once before. Not on his watch.
“It sure is getting late! Isn’t it a school night or something?” He makes the motion to yawn, but no sound comes out.
Yu can only stand there as his attempts to resolve the painfully awkward atmosphere sputter and die as the other only makes things worse. Adachi rubs his head, picking and prodding at a particularly tender spot; Dojima’s fault, probably.
Good, let that dread and awkwardness set in, it's what the brat deserves. If he can’t shove him in the TV, this is the next best thing; if he can’t ruin him for anyone else, then this is the next best-
Adachi winces, he pulls back and sees there's blood underneath his fingernails, if Yu notices, he doesn’t say anything.
Well, maybe he does say something, but Adachi wasn’t listening; why would he anyway? It’s not like the kid would say anything meaningful. The most he could do right now is getting the hell out of his apartment- Hell, as far away from him as possible.
…
It’s like the other could read his mind, or at the very least interpret the complete opposite of it. ‘Cause why is it, when he hopes, prays, begs to anybody listening to get Yu as far away from him, that they decide to pull the cruelest prank known to man? He feels the other’s arms wrap around him, hugging him close and leaning into the crook of his neck like a baby. How the Hell did this happen?
He whispers something about how the case has probably been difficult for Adachi- ha, that might be the biggest understatement of the century. He croons on and on about how even adults need comfort, that it’s okay to be overwhelmed but he really should eat his food, and he can feel the bile bubbling up in his throat. Is that what this was about? Did he forget to throw out the trash this morning? It was probably filled to the brim with his containers of homemade niceties. Did he think the shaking was ‘cause Adachi was overwhelmed?
…How long has it been since he’s been held like this? He thinks of Mayumi Yamano, and his hand over her mouth.
God, he might actually vomit.
Without thinking, Adachi slumps forward, forehead touching the other’s shoulder. He’s gonna regret this in the morning. It’s best to blame all of this on a bad dream- God, this better be a dream. Even through the layer of his shirt, he feels Yu’s body heat; or maybe he’s imagining it, like the kid would ever get flustered over something as pathetic as this.
Well, he is a teenager, maybe this is the first time anyone other than his family has touched him like this. Wouldn’t that be a riot; not the idol, not the inn girl, or any of his cronies, it’s good ol' detective Adachi whom he hugs, and all he had to do was have a meltdown over some shit beer.
Ruin him for anybody else.
He makes fists in the other’s shirt, trembling with restrained fury, it only makes Yu hug him tighter, Adachi could feel the bile building up from the pit in his stomach. There’s probably something to say here about how pathetic this all is; how he can’t even get one single high schooler off his back, both physically and metaphorically. He’s stuck, this kid is gonna send him to jail, if not for the murders, but for… something, if he doesn’t nip this in the bud quick enough. If it even is a bud at this point.
“You got school tomorrow, go.”
But it seems those words only spur the other on, he holds on tighter, hard enough that Adachi can hear his ribs creak.
“Adachi-san…” he starts, but all he can hear are the sirens in the distance, it’s not for him, obviously.
But it should be.