My back arches slightly as he nudges my shirt aside and kisses at bare skin. My fingers grip at his hair, kneading, tugging.

He's my everything. He's my whole world. It's not healthy, but I don't care. Why would I choose to be healthy and unhappy when I can choose to be fucked up but happy?

"Eiji," I say his name like a prayer, nuzzling into his hair and breathing in his scent.