Fics like An Exercise in Losing Control

Keiji never got drunk. He hated feeling out of control, and, frankly, didn’t have the time for it. But, last night at that frat party, he’d gotten drunk. So drunk that the night had dissolved into a series of disconnected images—like when someone fast forwards through a movie too quickly, and each scene is reduced to a single frame before it skips to the next. He remembered the first two drinks, the dance floor, beer pong in the backyard, a dog in a pool, and, at some point, being back on the dance floor with a pair of strong hands on his hips, guiding the slow grind of his ass in time with the music. Who those hands belonged to, he had no idea. And it was driving him crazy. As Keiji was trudging miserably through his shift at the university library the next morning, trying desperately to remember the mystery man, a sudden shout shattered the blessed quiet and stabbed into his hungover brain like a javelin: “AKASHI!” Keiji halted in his tracks. Because, first of all, someone was yelling in a library, and it was his job to shut them up. But, also because that was almost his name.

Fics like An Exercise in Losing Control

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