I wrote this on a whim and deliberated for some time before I even considered posting it. Note that it is of very poor quality and I decided I didn't care. Because I'm warning you all ahead of time I'd prefer not to hear "that was really poor quality." I mean, I told you so just doesn't cut it. Yes, the title is also shoddy. No, I don't care about that, either.
Ten Jerk Points to the Man on the Right!
"You have to save me."
Tsukasa wasn't sure what to think as he looked at the girl standing on his doorstep, soaked through to the bone, her short brown hair nearly covering her wide eyes. She shivered. At first, he felt angry—what would she return for, what right did she have any more to even speak to him? But seeing her shivering form and familiar eyes shining with tears, he could never have said no.
"Come inside," he said gruffly and opened the door. Water dribbled on the tile floor as she stepped inside, her poor quality leather shoes utterly drenched. Quickly the maid who was watching from around the corner ran in, using a makeshift towel from the kitchen to wrap around the girl. "Clean her up," he ordered and avoided meeting her eyes. The maid nodded and the two went away, leaving Tsukasa standing in the entryway to close the door.
Tsukasa, feeling tired, walked slowly up to his room and met another maid hurrying down the stairs. He stopped her and said, "When they're finished, have them send the girl to my room." The maid nodded and continued on her way.
She had left him. Left him and dated some loser, someone like her, some guy who hadn't even had the balls to stand up to Tsukasa when threatened by him. He was a gutless rodent.
And as Tsukasa sat down on his bed and brought his hands to his face, he knew he had probably deserved all of it. Then he raised one eyebrow optimistically and peered between his fingers—but she had come to him for help. The slimy creature had probably hurt her. Tsukasa sat backwards and laughed, imagining the ways he would maim and destroy him from his mind out. He wondered what on earth could have made her come to his door standing in the rain.
Tsukasa wondered: why him?
He nearly fell off the bed when he heard the doorknob turn and the door opened slightly. Her face peered in and seeing him sitting in as non-threatening a manner as possible, she opened the door and fully came inside. She stood with her toes together and her hands behind her back, and Tsukasa noted she was wearing the pajamas she used to use when she stayed over. She had her eyes on her feet.
"Why are you here?" Tsukasa asked at length. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away—again. He sighed as he said this and saw her tap her teeth nervously.
"Because..." she raised her eyes to him and he found himself drowning in them like he had so many times before. "I had to. I hate it, I do, I hate him and Doumyouji, Doumyouji, I love you."
Tsukasa supposed that was all he really needed to hear. He rose from the bed and walked to her, enveloping her in his arms. He squeezed her and drew her up as closely as he could to his chest, lightly stroking her hair as she shivered and trembled with her tears. He felt her cry against him and sighed. He was too tired to acknowledge the violent anger building up inside of him. Of course he would kill the other man tomorrow—or even tonight—but for now, he had one person on his mind.
"Makino," he said quietly, having slowly led them over to the bed so he could sit. Once he was, he looked up at her miserable, tear-streaked face and lightly brushed her hair away with his hand. "Then why did you go away? You knew he could never take care of you." She only sniffed and looked up at him. "Hopeless girl." But he knew exactly why.
He had overreacted.
For some time, Tsukasa had wondered if Tsukushi loved him at all—or even liked him. They were at university and she was so distracted in her studies that she hardly had time for anything anymore; she worked harder than she ever had before trying to put her brother through high school and she was always emotionally taxed by the end of the day. It was difficult to find her at school amongst the crowd, but finding time with her after classes was near to impossible. He began to grow frustrated with all of it, for she rejected every one of his offers to help her. Just when Tsukasa had thought they were making progress together—she was rarely shy around him and they had begun taking their relationship to higher levels of intimacy—it all came crashing down.
Tsukasa always felt nervous now when he was with her. If her eyes wandered he wondered who she was looking at; who she was thinking about; why she wasn't looking at him. Later he would realize how silly he was, but then, he had nothing else to think. With Rui gone once more he might have been more positive, but he wanted her not to merely be with him, but to love him; to let him take care of her the way he wanted.
Going to university should have been pointless for the F4: they never attended classes in high school and they seemed to have their lives' work cut out for them; but there was some semblance of respect for higher education even in families like Tsukasa's and one sunny afternoon found him hurriedly escaping his macro economics class. Outside, he hoped to find Tsukushi and take her to a quick lunch before she had to be at work. At that, he sighed. It would be his one opportunity to see her today.
Tsukasa came around the corner and, seeing Tsukushi, opened his mouth to call to her—but stopped short when he saw her standing flirtatiously close to a sophomore with both of them speaking animatedly. Tsukushi laughed a laugh he hadn't heard in weeks, and he filled with rage. No wonder she didn't have time, he thought as he walked slowly closer. She was seeing someone else. He growled under his breath and hardly considered any possible repercussions to his actions as he approached the unaware pair and slammed his fist into the blissfully unaware boy's face.
His unwitting opponent's head slammed back against the wall and Tsukushi let out a surprised cry. "Douymouji!" she cried first in shock, then anger. "Doumyouji!" she shouted again as Tsukasa, too engaged to be stopped, delivered another fistful and the boy toppled over. Just as he reached to kick the poor bastard in the stomach as he lay in pain on the ground, he felt someone grab his arm and cry, "Doumyouji, stop!" The voice made him pause and he looked down to see Tsukushi clutching him, shaking him and looking about ready to burst into tears. He hated it when she cried. Regaining his wits Tsukasa took a step back, watching the fellow sit up and rub his bloody jaw, staring at him as he rose to his feet. Tsukushi immediately left Tsukasa's arm and touched the other man's shoulder, asking him if he was all right.
"No, not really," he said lightly to her. She looked at Tsukasa with nothing short of rage; he stumbled back as she lunged at him and delivered a completely unexpected punch to his own face.
"You creep!" she shouted as he sat on the ground, shocked, holding his face with both hands tenderly. "You're awful! I can't stand you!" Tsukasa opened his mouth to respond, his eyebrows knitted angrily, when he saw tears begin to trickle down her cheeks and she blinked rapidly to get rid of them.
"But I—" he began to defend himself. What would he say—I thought you were cheating on me? I was jealous? He looked at the other man who was wiping blood from his lip. He realized that he had really, truly messed up. As Tsukushi looked ready to lay into him again, he managed to his feet and made a haste escape.
After the incident, she stalked up to him and said, "It's over. Anything that might have been between us is over. I need someone who won't suffocate me, who will understand me. You never will." It was worse than being kicked in the face, and if anyone knew what that felt like, Tsukasa did. He could hardly bear his infuriation when he discovered she was, in fact, dating the very same boy he had punched out.
"Not because she liked him to begin with," Akira assured him one day. "She's only trying to help herself by finding whatever opposite of you she can." Soujiro sighed in agreement. Tsukasa kicked his toe in the ground.
"That's ridiculous. I don't see why she was so uptight about it. I beat people up all the time before." He said it more to assure himself that the problem was with her, not himself. Akira gaped at him.
"There's something wrong with your head," he said to Tsukasa.
"Just the fact that you doubted her is one of the worst things you can do at that point in a relationship," Soujiro said knowledgeably. "Then violence, of all the things she abhors, you choose the worst. You're hopeless."
Of course Tsukasa knew all this—sometimes he thought he knew Tsukushi better than he knew himself. He knew he had very little hope in ever making it up to her. He had already, for the most part, accepted the fact he was doomed.
"Come here," he said as lightly as he could, indicating to the chest in front of the bed, when she didn't reply. Tsukushi sat down on it with his legs to either side of her back and her head above his lap to about his midsection. Tsukasa leaned forward and put his arms about her shoulders and rested his chin on her hair. She was still trembling. "Tell me what happened." He had learned a few things in the last year or more: as much as he wanted to peal out of the house at that very moment and kill the bastard, or fume at her about how she should have known better, or confess his love to her, or any of those irrational things, the best was to merely listen and comfort until she was well. He felt learned.
"I walked in on him and another girl in his apartment, so I ran out. He followed me down in nothing but his shorts and tried to talk to me, but I didn't want to hear it. So he forced me to hear it, and told me that he was what I wanted and I better not walk away. He made sure I saw him every day before and after classes and after work, and followed me. He tried to do things with me, but then I punched him and ran out." She seemed unemotional, considering Tsukasa couldn't see her face. He was already red in the face from containing his anger but was still lightly brushing his fingers through her hair like they were old friends. "And here I am."
"Why did you come to me?"
"Because I love you, and I hoped you still loved me, too." Her voice was impassive, but his grip reflexively tightened around her shoulders. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Slowly he turned her around so he could look into her wide, tear-filled eyes. In one movement he had her in his arms, her head pressed into his chest and her knees buckled so they rested on the trunk. "Don't ever be sorry." He let her go so he could look at her once more. "I should be the one sorry for acting the way I did. I had no right. I was just so afraid of letting you go, of you running away from me like you always did that I couldn't stand the sight of anyone else on your mind. But I'm sorry I did what I did. I'm sorry for doubting you."
It was like a poem, Tsukushi thought as she cried again, not sure what to think or do. He could only tighten his arms around her and draw her onto the bed so she sat partially on his lap. Her hands were curled at her face and she looked like a doll against his stature. He had to swallow the rage slowly building. Oh, the boy would be praying for death.
Tsukasa felt as her tears slowed and she went limp against him. He carefully lifted her, stepping down onto the chest as he stood up and carried her around to the side of his bed. He sighed at how light she was and pulled down the blanket, setting her on the sheets beneath. She looked frail with her face stained red from tears, but still spirited as her clipped hair spread about her strong cheeks. With ease he drew the blanket up over her, and then with every care drew her hair from her eyes with one finger. As soon as he moved away he changed.
A maid tripped on a side table when the young master left his room with eyes of blazing flame. She had cleaned, cooked, and worked in the house for years; she had seen more of his moods than he thought any person should have, though the severity of them had exponentially decayed in he last few years. When miss Makino had come, she thought it would quell his rage from the last months; he had been horribly agitated and every one about him became the victim of his anger. She saw him pass without sparing her a glance; but his fire looked healthy, if such a thing could be said.
Curious, the maid walked to the master's bedroom that she had sent the mistress to, once he was out of sight. She peered in the door to see the girl sleeping fitfully on his bed. With a resigned sigh she returned to her work of polishing the wood.
Tsukasa let his fury absorb him completely as walked outdoors and found his car inside the private garage. He had taken his papers with him; he had never been unaware of this man—Namura-something—or his whereabouts, or who he was, or where his father worked or what grocery his family bought from. Tsukasa found the house quickly, for he had driven by it enough times to know. He parked halfway onto the sidewalk and laughed at the modicum of the décor of the university student's small house. Tsukushi wanted someone more like her? Tsukasa puzzled momentarily; any student who could afford a house without working wasn't just anyone—especially if he attended Eitoku.
He thought it irony to knock lightly on the door. He hummed with his predetermined satisfaction as he heard footsteps—it was rather late, he thought with a sneer. Tsukasa applauded on the inside when the door opened and the target of his wrath stood in front of him, appearing rather annoyed and to have just slithered out of bed. However, the man's demeanor changed drastically when he registered who stood before him.
"D-d-Doumyouji-san!" he managed. He didn't even have the chance to blink before Tsukasa slammed his fist into the Namura-someone's face.
"Shame," he said to the man lying on the floor, clutching his most likely shattered nose, "I actually remembered a part of your name." Tsukasa reached down, hauling his victim to his feet by the collar, and decked him once more in the chin. He dropped the man to the floor where he writhed, but once for good measure Tsukasa delivered a sound kick to his side—just below the ribs to avoid any real damage. "I would kill you, but then she would probably be mad at me, and I don't really want that." He saw Namura's face cringe as he slammed the door, catching his victim's foot and probably crushing some portion of his ankle. With a disaffected shrug, Tsukasa left the porch.
When he finally returned to his bedroom nearly an hour later, he felt himself washed over with relief. He took off his shirt and changed his nice slacks for waist-ties, and went to where Tsukushi lay sleeping. She had curled into a ball and was fitfully puffing so a bit of hair was blown away from her face, trickled down, and then blown up again. Unable to resist Tsukasa lightly kissed her forehead and, suddenly feeling very weary, lay down on the couch.
Just as he began to fade off he heard a light voice. "Doumyouji," it said.
"Humm," he replied and groaned sleepily.
"Doumyouji, come sleep with me, please." Placing the sound he nearly rolled off his makeshift bed. He jolted upright and looked over to where Tsukushi sat in the dark. She held one pillow in her arms and was squeezing it.
Surprisingly, only the thought of acquiescing came to mind. Slowly he stood up and walked to the bed, requiring very little effort to slide beneath the cool blankets beside her. Tsukasa wrapped his arms around her, and facing him, she curled up against him. "Thank you," she murmured. He merely ran one hand through her hair and he faded off without thinking much more about it.