Note: I do not own Kuroko no Basuke or Katekyo Hitman Reborn or Shinzen no teki-P's songs or anyother character here.
Note: Idea about Kyouya being a pole-dancer originates from another D18 fanfiction.
Fictional stories are more interesting than real stories.
I believe that statement whole-heartedly.
I guess that is the main reason in why I lie to myself, why I hurt myself. And when that gorgeous pickle-green haired fellow comes walking up the street, I can't help but put on a mask.
So, I walk up to him. But not too quietly because then it would seem like I've been watching him. It would seem like I've observed everything about him from his unusual height to the rim of his glasses. I put my hands in my pocket to appear as If I'm a slouch—and that's not to say that people who put their hands in their pockets are slouches but with my face that's how it appears—and plaster on a large smile. My eyelids closing to appear as If I'm not watching my back; as if I am saying 'Come here world and kick me because I know you want to'. And he shoots me a frown and mutters 'annoying' or 'nuisance' under his breath, because that's all I really am. I have no meaning, and I'm a pathetic fool who can't even live alone in this world.
"Shin-chan, Shin-chan, why are you ignoring me?" I say. He adjusts he glasses and ignores what I have said. I pout, my hair blows in the wind. But it's not even that, his hair just sits there like a piece of sunlight while mine flops around like a fish. I pull forward, and he pulls back. I can always rely on this steady movement, like the currents of the ocean. But a tidal wave always comes.
"Hey, Shin-chan, did you know that your eyelashes are longer than some girl's eyelashes?!" I say, practically announcing my sexuality to the world. But lucky for me, the rush of the city does not care. No one cares for that matter. It's just me, my true self and the monster. He shifts, a blush spread on his face, his beautifully thin lips curled downright. He is looking down, avoiding my all-seeing eyes.
"You're an Idiot."
That boy's more similar to me that I expected—Lying to hide his emotions. A sweet boy like him, I wouldn't dare put him in the claws of the monster that says,
"Keep lying."
I'd like to confirm that I favor the nightlight more than the daytime rush. The daytime is filled with proper people and all they want to tell you is, 'Stop wearing a hood' or 'Stop looking like such a creep' The bright neon flashes, the men and women pressed up against silver-colored bars, rolling their hips in time with the music. Nothing is doubted, only worry and dept. All forms of pleasure are embraced in a needy hug. Sweat glistens on the skins of the young people—fresh from their ideas, diving into the world without worry. The drugs and the liquor get passed around easily, infected with ill-intent that seasons this community.
I make my way through the most resent club I've been to: The Shiki. My blond hair bobs through the crowd, I smile the smile I flash at all genders. They shouldn't stay though; even a pretty face can lie. My parka's lined with fur and my camouflage pants somehow attract people. People constantly ask me about the fur on my jacket. I don't know. All you fakers, I bought it at a store—I didn't make it myself. I try to hold back from saying that though; 'my' easy-going personality can get along with just about anybody. Though there are always different people. People that put up a fight when all is lost, that one black king surrounded by white pawns. An outlier appears, a man devoid of emotion. Well, so they say, but I have seen otherwise.
"Yo, Kyouya." I say, making sure my Italian tongue accents the vowels, a casual tone present in my speech. The man looks at me through eyes covered by coal black hair. A low growl emits from his throat. He reaches for the steel batons—tonfas as he calls them—and stands in fighting position. I guess I can't bring myself to hate this boy. This naïve child born into a world that is scared, save for the heterochromatic devil spawn, the people closest to him are afraid of him. I can relate to that.
"I see you're as friendly as ever." I chide with shadowed seductiveness, an innuendo that only fools cannot notice. I look into those murderous eyes with delight, a person with the ability to show emotions, is a wonderful person indeed! I give Kyouya a hearty pat on the back, a pat that he brushes off, while making his wonderful entrance to the stage. For he is an exotic dancer, or stripper as he calls himself, an Asian beauty on the outside and a fierce fighter on the inside. He's said that it runs in his family, the 'exotic dancing' job. It's interesting because I did not have to pry; he simply started telling me about it.
All eyes are on the pale, luminescent body of his. The crowd cheers when they hear his boots clack when they hit the metal staircase that leads to the stage. The man emits and aura that demands attention, a sharp look in his eyes. When he has reached the top of the steps, he pulls off his black pea-coat, revealing pale abs that contrast wonderfully with the boys black hair. He does not begin the dance when the music starts, but when all eyes are on him.
When Kyouya has completed his dance, his fluid-like movements backed by Danish EDM, the crowd has all eyes on him. They throw roses and money and everything at him. When a condom landed on stage, I even chuckled. The boys in the area were dry humping themselves, while the girls were practically wet and making out with each other. This is what I loved to see, sporadic movements performed by human beings. An animalistic impulse, which is not required for one's survival. This is why I love the night more than the day.
As night passes into day, I began roaming the streets for my boy—the one who I've trapped in my love spell. I walk among the crowd, only my tan hood differentiating me from the commoners. The buildings all hold posters of naked girls in lacey underwear—supposedly 'immoral'. From the corner of my eye, I see Shin-chan walk into an alley, pushing his glasses up with his tightly-wrapped fingers. I sing a tune of confusion because I have already said too much.
Sometimes I like lying more than the truth because the truth is harsh, even for my deceived ears.
The alley is dark when I enter it, my hawk-like eyes zero in, trying to find my target but he's not there. Instead of a lanky, overly tall male, I see a flash a coal hair. My heart beats faster and I swear I can feel my teeth grinding together. My eyes are desperately searching for this black-haired man; my calculated plans did not involve Shin-chan disappearing into an alley way in broad daylight.
"Herbivore, I have to inform you that you are making a fool of yourself—I can see right through your disguise."
I turn, Kyouya's stoic head facing me, his eyes glaring. I can block this infiltration, I'm the master of lying—people always say I'm good at it! I can't lose now, after I have finally achieved something.
"I don't know what you're talking about." I say, cocking my head to the side. My feet shifting out of habit, I stare down Kyouya like always, looking at his eyes in delight. I don't think Kyouya would beat up an innocent by-standard. Though, today has had a lot of surprises.
"I see you're as friendly as ever." I call, my voice laced with an Italian accent, my hair turns gold, my height increases. Kyouya shoots me an annoyed look before actually saying what he has to say. How do I know this? I simply know. That's all there is to it.
"Look, I wanted to tell you something—"Kyouya's voice is cut off by a loud siren, almost as if it is a signal to something. A worried expression is pained on his face.
Well, I'll end it here. I spoke too much, didn't I? That's because this is a made-up story.
He mouths three words before I disappear yet again into the crowd. Hoard of people covering my presence from head to toe. That's all I am, one big deceiver, one big liar. And all I can do is put on masks. But when I think back to what Kyouya mouthed, I don't want to be a deceiver anymore, I want to wash out my bad side and stop this lying for good.
I love you.
This is one of the longest stories I've ever written (for ). I originally had another story planned out weeks ago when I first got a review from a kind person /Shiro Zaffiro di Lussuria/ but when I went to edit it on my phone, everything got deleted. So, here it is. It's not a great story but I put all my heart into writing it. If anyone sees any mistakes (there's probably a million) I'd be glad if they either PMed me or sent me a review with the part that has mistakes in. If you couldn't tell already, this story is based on Yonabanashi Decieve by Shinzen no Teki-P (or Jin). It's honestly not my favorite song of his-but I think it makes for a great plot! If you red this far, thank you for putting up with me and my bad writing.