Bottom of the Bag ( APH GiriPan )

Kiku was very attractive. Heracles loved watching him. Especially when he was angry—he liked the crease in between Kiku’s eyebrows, the slight tug down at the edge of his lips, the way he would speak. Quick and sharp and very much there, in the conversation.

He was focused. Maybe that’s what Heracles liked about Kiku. If Kiku had something to do, he wouldn’t stop until it was done. Heracles would try, sure, but he would get distracted.

Kiku snapped his fingers, and Heracles blinked.

"Hmm?”

Kiku let out a frustrated sigh. “I was talking to you.”

Heracles nodded. “Oh, I know. I was listening.” The lockers dug into his back, and Heracles wondered if they could go for a walk. Kiku tended to like to stay inside, but Heracles wanted to get a chance to enjoy the weather while it was still good. “Can we go outside?”

“You weren’t listening,” Kiku said, and his eyebrows pulled down and he looked away. “You have to take these things seriously. I asked you to do something.”

Heracles stood up, fumbled with his backpack. Kiku asked him to do a lot of things, and most of the time, Heracles didn’t do them. He didn’t mind though, usually, because half the time Heracles was half-asleep when Kiku asked.

But maybe he should have paid more attention. After all, sometimes it was important. Important to Kiku.

“Heracles—”

“I’m sorry,” Heracles said. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t,” Kiku said. His English had gotten so much better. “But I wanted to keep it a secret. You know I did.”

Heracles looked at Kiku’s sweatshirt. He had worn suits, to begin with, but he had quickly realized most people didn’t really care about school here. He dressed better out in public.

Heracles looked back at Kiku. “I didn’t even say anything. Not…” Maybe he had. He had never been one for picking up on things. He fumbled with them. He dropped his backpack and looked at it. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You have to think before you speak.” Kiku stepped forward and scooped the backpack off the ground.

Heracles watched Kiku fuss with the backpack. “Does it matter?” He looked away when Kiku’s eyes flicked up. “Who cares?”

“I care.” Kiku’s words were short. Vowels clipped.

“Okay,” Heracles mumbled.

There was a silence Heracles didn’t know how to fill. Kiku rummaged around his backpack, and eventually he sat on the floor and pulled out the various papers Heracles had let accumulate at the bottom. Heracles stood over him.

“Bro!”

Heracles looked up, gave a vague wave at Alfred. The boy bounded over and grinned at him, leaned against the lockers and tried to take up as much space as possible. He had decided not to wear his glasses. According to Kiku, this was because contacts were better.

“I have a question,” Alfred announced. “I have to ask the logistics of something, because fuckin’ Braginski is starting shit again. Kiku would settle it. I dunno’ if you were listening.”

Kiku glanced up. “We were out here, Alfred.”

Alfred shrugged. “How does a threeway work?”

Kiku’s face didn’t change, but Heracles watched the way his shoulders hunched, slightly. How he dumped the backpack’s contents out. Heracles looked at Alfred.

“In what way?” Heracles sat down, knees touching Kiku’s. He didn’t move away, and Heracles felt a little better.

Alfred crossed his arms. “Alright, say I have these two chicks, right? They totally want to bang me. Like, they totally do. So, how would I go about that? Like, the logistics.”

Kiku smoothed out Heracles’ math homework. “Do we really have to talk about this? Don’t you think it's—”

“Don’t be a prude,” Alfred cut in.

“It’s geometry,” Kiku argued. “If you paid attention, instead of sleeping and making excuses for homework, you might be able to figure it out.”

“Who are the girls?” Heracles asked.

“That isn’t important.” Alfred leaned over Kiku’s shoulder and looked at the homework. “What’s important is how I would bang two chicks. Because—because there are only so many holes, you know? And so many dicks to fill them.”

Kiku pursed his lips. “Alfred, go back to lunch.”

Heracles watched Alfred retreat, and Kiku kept organizing Heracles’ bag. He watched Kiku’s hands, how they brushed against the edges of the paper. It made his heart hurt, so he focused on Kiku’s downturned eyes.

“Do you want people to know?” he asked.

Heracles blinked. “Yes. I like you.”

Kiku didn’t look up, but his mouth was still in a straight line. God, so handsome, but something was bothering him, and Heracles had no idea how to make it better. The bell would ring soon, and he wanted to make it better.

“It’s just,” Kiku began, sharp, but stopped, reread Heracles’ homework. “Threeways.”

“Threeways. Do you want to have one?”

Kiku glanced up, pretended to be annoyed, but Heracles could see the way he had relaxed, slightly. “No. But it… bothers me.”

“The word? Because Alfred has said—”

“No. That… you…” Kiku struggled, looking around the hallway. Heracles didn’t pretend to know what he might say. “That…” He sighed, played with Heracles’ math. “Sorry.”

“I don’t care.” Heracles wanted to reach across the space between them, lay his head in Kiku’s lap, lose himself in Kiku’s thoughts and body and mind. “It doesn’t bother me. Any of it. You.”

Kiku opened his mouth, but the bell rang. He looked at Heracles for as long as he could, but then people spilled into the hallways and he replaced Heracles’ notebooks and homework and stood and left him sitting in the hallway, people parting around him like water.

In the end, Kiku hadn’t thrown away any of the paper cluttering Heracles’ bag.