Chapter One - Let Me Walk with You in My Dreams
Yuuya had frozen hair (cold, cold, icy cold), and eyes sunk into his lily-white face: cheek bones raised up high, eyebrows permanently cocked, rosy cheeks and pink lips, (lips that bloomed out from mouth-bones, Cupid's Bow acute in angle). And Ryouta watched him, from a far off corner, fingers tightening around a tile's edge, the rough corners scratching his delicate fingertips. He watched him, and the more his lips moved and the more his hips swayed, the faster his own heart would beat and the more he would cling to his shirt around the beating area (his heart was about to burst out and he knew it, and he wondered how he'd look strewn across the ground, a bloody mess and his heart running off, basking in the newly found glow of Freedom)
Yuuya suddenly turned around and in that moment maybe his heart did run off, or stop, but he quickly found it within himself to turn back around and hide once again. After a few seconds, which seemed like millennium of only him and the echoing sound of his pounding head and pounding heart (he could hear it, Ryouta was sure he could hear his heart beating at 200 bpm), he peeked over the corner, and his red eyes bloomed with vigor in the split second that Yuuya's eyes met with his. And he'll remember that millisecond for days to come; his icy eyes (so cold, someone please turn on a heater) were a stage of pale blues and blue pleas, and their curtains were decorated with long blonde fringes that batted eagerly in the presence of someone beautiful. And he watched, as he (so absolutely beautiful; Nature must be jealous), and the girl that danced in his stage of vision, left a beautiful garden of daisies in their wake. They shined so brilliantly, like stars or diamonds, and it made him wonder why he was so incredibly dim in comparison. He wandered from his range of vision, and then Ryouta Kawara retired from his hiding spot to walk, with shaky knees, back to his waiting friend on the floor below him.
His name was an acronym, and Ryouta took his time picking out each word and letter to delicately define him:
Y oung teeth, white and brilliant
U p up up, for he was taller than him (towering, towering, towering over him. He was certain that if he leaned in close enough to smell his cologne, he could hear his pulse through his neck and feel his heartbeat)
U nctuous (What a nice word. He thought it suited him well, the way it slid off his tongue and hung in the air)
Y oung lips, pink and merry
A lluring; for when he walked by him the cologne he wore wafted to his being and clung to his nose. (but he knew he was always walking with another girl, and it left his skull and the halogens in his bones green, covered in seeds and rain, to grow poisonous mushrooms and grass)
S kinny, so so skinny he could break at any moment. He was afraid to touch him because he knew he was perfect and delicate; that his face was porcelain and his hands were melted and calloused sea glass.
A dult. He's aged two decades in 18 years and it shows in the worry lines that creep on his forehead and the knowledge that grows from his scalp.
K inetic; always moving, always going, in and out of the infirmary, tending to Ryouta's own stomach illness or to the private affairs of the doctor.
A loof. Work was separate from love; and love was almost separate from everything else.
Z ealous. Energetic, bountiful, enough to make him tired just thinking about it.
A ffable. (Laughable, affable, laughable, affable. He rolled the two words around in his mouth.)
K nightly. He had himself built up to be this knight in shining armor, and Ryouta wished to be the fair maiden in distress he would save and fall in love with.
I dealistic. "Life is like falling in love; and love is like a blooming rose." (He would always spout absolute nonsense like that about idealistic living.)
Yuuya Sakazaki. Sa-ka-za-ki. Perfect two-lettered-four-syllabled name. Ryouta twiddled his thumbs and nervously clacked his hard teeth against each other as he made his way towards the side hallway stairs. His thighs were trembling. Why in the world was he so nervous? He saw the direction in which Yuuya walked off, he wasn't going to come this way, but regardless, why were the tendons in his bony knee caps quivering like newborn leaves in a spring storm? He shook his head, and the more his blue hair moved from his scalp the more he felt the thought leave him. He stiffened his legs and made the journey down the stairs.
No sooner than he had looked up from his feet that he was greeted by the almost blinding cheer of his childhood friend. She had short hair like wheat stalks and small eyes like pearly beads but the most prominent part of her face was her grandiose smile that shined bright enough to blind you of the rest of her.
"Hey Ryouta! Back from Kazuaki's room?" She patted him on the shoulder and winded her arm back to release a sharp punch on Ryouta's right shoulder.
It took a second or two, but the pain was certainly there and the pain was enough to make an elephant cry mercy. He dropped his belongings and collapsed on his knees clutching the area of impact.
"Y-yeah…" He replied weakly. "I'm back… Hiyoko…" He wondered if she sometimes forgot that she had the strength of an entire Chinese army. He felt hot tears sting his waterline.
"Oh, get up you little fragile daisy petal, it wasn't that bad." She extended a pale hand to his aide. He took it with slight distrust and when Hiyoko saw the line of shiny tears at the bottom of his eyes, her own went wide.
"Oh gosh! Ryouta I'm so sorry! Don't cry! Don't cry!" She pulled him into a tight grasp which was forceful in of itself; and not helping much at all, but, regardless, he appreciated the thought.
She had grown increasingly sensitive to when he would cry ever since his mother died, because she'll never forget how desperate and lonely and absolutely hopeless he looked, strung out on the bench as if he had nothing to live for. She'd never forget how red, red, red, his face was like lava melting off his face. He told her, he told her in his own words that loneliness was a part of him, that it was coded in his blood and embedded in his skin, that it was written in his eyes and that it grew from his fingernails. And she felt so terrible that all she could do was hold him to her heart as if he were the medicine to cure her of that terrible ache. She never wanted to see him like that again and she swore it from that day on that she would protect him in place of his mother.
She shook the thought from her mind because the last thing she wanted Ryouta thinking was that she was reminded of his mother's death every time his eyes would water themselves. She separated her arms from the lock they had around his neck and she patted his shoulders. She looked at him for a second as he shamelessly wiped the tears from his eyes (he was so sure that Hiyoko was so used to his tears that she could water her garden with them) and she took it within herself just to smile and brush the hairs off his collar and sleeves.
They walked home from there, arms linked together.
Hello! It's been a while since I've posted anything. I do plan on eventually getting somewhere with this story, but for now, please leave a review and thank you for reading!