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“M-my boyfriend,” Azumane had stuttered out when asked whether he'd be bringing anyone along to the housewarming party, “My boyfriend, if that's alright.”
And Michiyu had smiled and told him that was perfectly alright, everyone was perfectly alright with it, Fuyu-chan would be there, too, after all, and she is bisexual.
Now, as Azumane stands on the doorstep of her and Shinichi's new apartment, tall and awkward and still somewhat intimidating, giving a tentative smile and small wave that is more of a shrug, she begins to understand where the real problem lies.
Because there is someone standing next to Azumane, or rather slightly behind him, almost hidden by him so that they have to tilt to the side, head popping out about at level of where Azumane's bellybutton must be.
“Yo!” a young voice pipes up, and for a moment Michiyu can't even tell whether they are a boy or a girl.
“Yamamoto-san,” Azumane introduces, still looking rather nervous, “This is Nishinoya Yuu. M-my. B-boyfriend.”
He stammers the words out because he must know, must know how utterly wrong they sound, and for a moment Michiyu can do nothing but stare.
“Nice to meet ya. Just call me Noya!” the boy grins brightly, teeth and all, “So, I hear there's food here?”
“Yuu!” Azumane admonishes, and he is blushing bright red.
“What, not like I can drink the alcohol yet,” Nishinoya says and sticks out his tongue.
Oh my God, Michiyu thinks frantically, I have to call Child Protective Services.
What she says instead is “Come on in” and opens the door a little wider.
Nishinoya marches right in and slips out of his shoes while Azumane slinks after him, his shoulders hunching forward as if trying to appear smaller.
“Why don't you go ahead into the living room,” Michiyu offers, aware that she must sound a little bit strangled, “I'll just have to check in with Shinichi about something.”
Then she quickly disappears in the kitchen.
Shinichi is re-organizing the beer in the refrigerator, trying to make more room for the dessert, but he looks up when she enters and immediately sees the look on her face.
“What happened?” he asks startled, probably thinking that one of their friends must've tragically died in a freak accident on their way here. But it's worse than that. So much worse.
“It's Azumane-kun,” she says, her whisper nearly choked by a sob, “He's a pedophile.”
Shinichi almost drops the bottle he is holding, but manages to catch it with hands and knees.
“He's a what?” he echoes, eyes bulging out, “Where the hell did you get that from?”
“I just saw it with my own eyes,” Michiyu has to brace herself against the kitchen counter. She is feeling faint as though her knees might buckle any moment.
“It's his boyfriend,” she explains when Shinichi can only stare at her in shocked confusion,”He's tiny.”
At that, a look of relief passes over Shinichi's face.
“Oh man, Miyu,” he sighs, “Everyone looks tiny next to Azumane.”
“No, you don't understand,” she insists, waving a hand and feeling helpless, “The kid's voice hasn't even broken yet. On the fair, he'd probably still be allowed on the kiddie rides, child's fare and all. He must still be in middle school.”
“Maybe he just looks very young,” he tries to calm her, but she shakes her head, hair flying.
“Go have a look,” she urges, “Go into the living room right now and then come back and tell me that that boy is even one day over fifteen.”
“Okay, okay,” Shinichi says soothingly, slouching toward the door, “I bet you're making a big deal out of nothing.”
While he's in the other room she can faintly hear him ask whether anyone wants a beer yet, followed by some muttered responses. Then he comes back.
“Oh my God!” he wails, feebly keeping his voice down, “Azumane is a pedophile!”
“I know,” Michiyu sobs, hiding her face in her hands, “I know, but what do we do?”
“He's tiny,” Shinichi says in stunned disbelief, “So tiny, like a baby bird, he's fallen out of his nest, and Azumane is gonna crush him in his big rough hands, poor Chibi-kun-”
“His name Nishinoya,” Michiyu corrects automatically, “He asked me to call him Noya, though.”
“Even his name sounds tiny!” Shinichi wails and hugs his arms around her, pulling her close.
“Everything alright here?” Toyo drawls when he steps in, cocking an eyebrow at their mental freakout, before easily slipping past them and helping himself to a beer.
“Azumane-kun is a pedophile,” Michiyu tells him, a hand pressed to her chest.
“Right,” Toyo nods to himself and scratches the side of his nose before deftly opening the bottle, “Explains why he and his boytoy are necking on your couch like there's no tomorrow.”
Shinichi lets out a high-pitched shriek of despair, but Michiyu has finally gathered her courage enough to barrel into the living room to assess the situation.
True to Toyo's word, Azumane is sitting on their slightly battered (aka inherited from Shinichi's rather batty great-aunt who keeps seven cats and rarely cleans) couch. On his lap and facing him is little Nishinoya. Like this, their height difference is even more noticeable, like Azumane could easily squeeze the boy to death if he only hugged him a little too hard.
They are not hugging, though. Instead, Nishinoya has his face buried against Azumane's neck and is apparently busy sucking a hickey into his skin. Azumane himself is deep red and frozen stiff.
No wonder, Michiyu thinks. He must've realized that now his perversion had been irrevocably outed among his peers. The boy had obviously already been corrupted, but maybe they could still save some of his innocence.
The other guests are throwing the pair some awkward looks, but no one says anything. So the responsibility really falls to her.
“Azumane-kun,” she says, hands on her hips and trying to sound confident, “May I talk to you for a moment.”
“S-sure,” Azumane agrees and then feebly tries to free himself from the boy's clinging arms, “Y-Yuu, could you, uh.”
Nishinoya gives a put-upon sigh, but rolls off him in one swift movement, before reaching over to grasp a handful of salted peanuts that he then drops into his mouth, chewing openly.
Michiyu does not want to cause a scene. She wants to talk to Azumane in private. Maybe he doesn't understand that what he's doing is wrong. Maybe his own childhood has been messed up, and now he continues the cycle of abuse and violence without every even realizing it. Maybe-
That's when Shinichi has appeared behind her and spots the hickey.
“Why, Azumane,” he whispers brokenly, “I thought you were a swell dude. So why?”
Azumane blinks in confusion.
“I, uh,” he says slowly, “I don't think I understand the question. Did I do anything wrong? Should I have brought a housewarming gift after all? But Yamamoto-san said-”
“It's not about the gift, Azumane,” Shinichi sounds like he is close to crying now, “Why do you have to be a perverted lecher?”
“Oi!” someone else suddenly interferes, “No one gets to call him a perverted lecher but me.”
It's Nishinoya, of course, not understanding what is happening. He has no idea what has been done to him, no idea at all, doesn't realize that Michiyu and Shinichi are only trying to help him.
He must've lost all trust in adults, probably doesn't know any different. He must come from a bad home, Michiyu imagines, single-child or too many siblings, always neglected, always overlooked. The mother dead, possibly, the father a drunkard. When he had been approached by Azumane that must've been the first time he had even been shown any kind of affection, and thus any kind of affection was cherished, even if it was dirty bad wrong. So Azumane had weaseled his way into that little fragile heart, clawed his fingers into the young tender flesh and tainted it, tarnished it.
But Nishinoya, innocent and lonely as he was, had mistaken it for love. So now, of course, of course he came to his boyfriend's protection.
“Noya-kun,” Michiyu says gently, stooping down a bit so she can look him in the eye, “I know this must be terribly confusing for you. But we are only trying to help.”
Noya's wide eyes narrow in suspicion, “And how exactly is upsetting Asahi 'helping'?
“I know you think you love him,” Michiyu tries to explain, “And he probably convinced you that he loves you, too. But he is only using you, you must believe me, grown men shouldn't be doing this to little boys, and-”
“What the hell are you going on about?” Nishinoya frowns, “We're not that far apart, age-wise.”
Michiyu pulls a grimace at his steadfast denials, “Nishinoya-kun. He's at least ten years older than you.”
“Get out,” Nishinoya scoffs, “I'm eighteen.”
“What?!” Shinichi bursts out, hands flailing, “But you're tiny!”
“Who the fuck are you calling tiny, you fucking corkscrews!” Nishinoya explodes. In his fury, he appears at least half a meter taller.
Finally, Azumane seems to have gotten his voice back as well.
“And I'm nineteen,” he explains timidly, “I just started uni, I thought you knew that, Yamamoto-san?”
She had known that, but she'd thought he had started uni late. He was like two meters tall and had a beard. Kids who came fresh out of high school did not look like that. And also, kids who were already eighteen did not look like Nishinoya. Had he ever even been skirted past puberty?
“We went to school together,” the kid says now, arms crossed and glaring daggers, “He was my senpai and we played on the same team. We've known each other for three years. My parents know about him, they love him. If anyone qualifies as boyfriend material, it's Asahi. But we only started dating a little while ago, so thank you for freaking him out on the first day he finally decides to introduce me to his new friends!”
Nishinoya's voice has gotten higher and more choked now, and his knuckles are clenched white around his elbows as though barely refraining from destroying everything within the vicinity.
“Yuu,” Azumane says gently, playing one of his big hands on Nishinoya's narrow shoulders, “It's alright, Yuu, I'm not upset, they were just worried, they-”
“They have no right,” Nishinoya insists, turning to cut a glare at Azumane now, “They don't know me and they barely know you. They have no right to question us, no one has the right to question us, we are-”
“Hey hey,” Azumane soothes, “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah,” Nishinoya bites out spitefully, “We should totally ditch this place and go back to yours. I don't much feel like socializing anymore.”
“Me neither,” Azumane admits quietly, mouth pulling down in a lopsided smile.
“Good,” Nishinoya gives a decisive nod and then snatches up the bowl of peanuts from the coffee table, “Then we're leaving.”
Together they step out of the living room, tall and short, neither even looking back or offering a goodbye. The remaining guests sit stunned and silent.
Cautiously, Michiyu peers down the hallway, but finds a pair of fiery brown eyes still glaring back.
“I hope you enjoy your shitty little party,” Nishinoya calls scathingly as he steps back into his shoes, “In the meanwhile, my boyfriend will be fucking me into the mattress and-”
“Oh my God, Yuu, I still have to see these people in class,” Azumane moans pitifully and hastily pulls him out of the door which anticlimactically clicks shut behind them with nary a sound.
“That,” Toyo says in quiet wisdom, taking a sip of his cheap beer, “Was easily the best fight I've ever witnessed on a party.”
Michiyu kind of wants the ground to swallow her up, but Fuyu-chan is chuckling quietly, and the others begin to smile, so maybe it's not all that bad.
She exchanges a look with Shinichi and he only gives a helpless shrug. They can always talk to Azumane on Monday.
“Did you see his piercings?” Michiyu says afterwards
The party is over and they are lying in bed together, but she is just staring up at the ceiling, kept awake by her worries.
Emphatially, Shinichi nods his head into the pillow, voice muffled.
“And his hair,” he points out, “He had hair like a delinquent.”
“I think he had tattoos,” Michiyu recalls, “I'm pretty sure I saw some tattoos.”
“Oh my God,” Shinichi whimpers, “He must be Yakuza.”
“Azumane is in over his head,” she murmurs, “He probably doesn't even know yet what he has gotten himself into.”
“Drugs,” Shinichi moans, “Prostitution. Violence. He'll end up in jail, or worse. His poor mother-”
“We'll have to get him out,” Michiyu agrees, “We need to protect him.”
“He's only nineteen,” Shinichi reminds her as though she could have forgotten, “Practically a baby-”
Yes, Azumane Asahi needed all the help and support he could get. Good thing he had found such caring friends in them...