Disclaimer: I do not own Slam Dunk, Takehiko Inoue does.
Caution: Buckle up for a short angstsy ride. This sucks by the way.
It was perhaps the longest weekend of Hisashi Mitsui's life, not noting the most wonderful one to date. Knowing it was perhaps the best moment of his existence, he couldn't help holding it for a much higher esteem than what it actually required. On top of things, he was perfectly healthy, rendered even livelier by the fact that he was in love, love that wasn't unrequited. And he, with more than just plain luck, managed to bottle lightning twice when Kiminobu Kogure did not only greet the disclosure of his feelings without hints of disgust. The sub-captain actually welcomed them, though not with the open arms which could've elevated all of it to utter perfection.
Soon, Mitsui's frequent visits to Kogure residence would leave little room for the non-reciprocation of his affections. Taming the heart of the Glassman was a task not too vexing to boot, at least not for someone who had the glimmer and splendor of Hisashi Mitsui. His approach might have been terribly executed for all the courtship experts out there to judge, but no one could deny that the greater part of the senior's overall talents dwelt in his ability to charm the pants off a five-star commander.
Yes, the sub-captain did not bother to play hard to get when a jewel was practically tugging the hem of his pants, offering the world to him. For all he knew, the moment he embraced the reality of the disappearing space between them, Mitsui was all he could ever ask for. In no time flat, his formerly dormant desire for the ex-MVP had started to gnaw fire in his heart, spreading like wildfire, ready to incinerate everything that said 'no' to their union.
Whispers went abroad and negative opinions would haunt their steps whenever the two would display exchanges falling more on the a-little-too-friendly side. But none of them considered something so trivial as an actual ordeal. The world was just happening around them and they knew there was no harm in taking pleasure from what they shared.
"To hell with them." Mitsui would say upon imparting his experiences of being the victim of vicious gossips and stares.
"Hm… it seems like those demeaning criticisms don't hold up so well to you now." Kogure would answer.
"Darn right. I'll be happy the way I want to be."
And both cracked a smile that would take a million words to define.
Mitsui's graduation party was nothing short of one of his most heralded experiences. Kogure arranged everything for him, in cooperation with his parents and the rest of the Shohoku Basketball Club. The energy boosted by the loud speakers and intoxicated guests was nerve-racking in the sense that even his parents danced with the youthful vigor of a teenager.
When Mitsui's parents were within seconds of retiring, Kogure's cellphone vibrated, announcing an SMS message.
It was from Rukawa. Before opening his inbox, he let his eyes wander among the visitors, only to realize he didn't remember seeing the freshman earlier.
"Come see me at the corner of Hisagi and Zaraki street" the message read. There wasn't a hint of urgency in it, though.
That bastard. It's not like he doesn't know his teammate's house. The sub-captain thought. He clicked his tongue and slipped past the crowded living room.
He found Rukawa leaning against a lone lamp post with a guitar case slumped on his shoulder.
"Sempai."
"Hey, you're late. I informed Ayako that we were supposed to execute the 'surprise act' at 8…there's still food though, so let's head back. Hisashi will be glad to see you."
"I'm not going."
"Huh? Come one, man. Don't be a joy-killer. Aren't you happy for your teammates?"
"I'm not a joy-killer."
Kogure shot a forced unfriendly glance at the raven-haired boy.
"I have something for you." Rukawa said.
"Huh?"
"Listen to this." It was more like an order. He had unzipped the guitar case and was now cradling the instrument in his arms.
He began strumming the strings, producing a pleasant sound that weaved in with the cold wind brushing against their faces. And he began to sing, pronouncing the lyrics with impeccable coherence with his sentiments.
...
I wish I could be
every little thing you wanted
all the time
I wish I could be
every little thing you wanted
all the time
some times...
Far from Glassman's knowledge, the song bore the meticulous specificity of the freshman's feelings for him.
"It's for you." Rukawa said with the usual monotony he exercised, knowing how little words could comply with all he really wished to say.
"You, uh, you play really well." Kogure commented for lack of something meaningful to say.
"I hope you're happy with him."
There was silence. And they engaged themselves in trading looks, their pale figures bathing in the ghastly moonlight. Kogure began to wander who this person was and why he was so ready to go through the trouble of confessing, to eventually experience rejection in the end.
It was Rukawa's turn to sigh before speaking, "Hopefully, I'll get to be okay soon. To me, you're just perfect, as perfect as anyone can get. And you are dear to me as you are to him. But don't forget that this heart, though broken and crushed, will always beat for you." It was the first time in his life that he had spoken words which related to any form of affection. "Okay, Sempai?" he finished in a vaguely assuring tone.
The shock resulting from the discovery required an ample amount of time to sink in.
"Ok, I'll go now." Rukawa said as he secured the instrument in its case before throwing its buckle over his shoulder. He started to plod his dim way away from his sempai.
The freshman had only gone a few yards when he heard hurried footsteps echoing in the dark.
He turned to see the senior emerging from nowhere.
"Sempai"
Kogure didn't answer. He drew closer to the raven-haired boy and looked at him with regretful eyes. He held his shoulders, and to anyone's surprise besides Rukawa's and his, kissed the younger boy's forehead which was not less inspired as he would kiss his beloved. Rukawa could only return it with an indiscernible stare.
With that, the senior held the collars of his Shohoku Jacket and straightened them up before letting out a deep sigh. He then hastily turned to take his leave, shooting a soul-penetrating look at the rookie before disappearing into the streets.
Rukawa could only watch him from afar, as he had always done, with a heavy heart and the tragic understanding of his loss.
END
NOTE: The title's a ripoff from All American Rejects' single, the song featured in this is called "Every Little Thing" from Dishwalla, and the plot is so unoriginal. Thanks for reading though. Dedicated to ivybluesummers and all ya Kogure fans nyahahahahahaha.