A/N: Sorry, obviously this isn't another SDS chapter *dodges rotten vegetables*. I'm still working on that, but to tell the truth I've gotten a bit stuck. Then, Ruka suddenly popped into my head and would not be denied. I'm doing the best I can to get unstuck, but for now please enjoy the introspectiveness that is Ruka.
Warnings: Ruka angst. Thoughts on RxMxN.
Sometimes
"Oww, that hur— Ruka-pyon? Are you alright, your face is all re… Natsume? What are you looking a—Eeeeek! Perverts!"
"I—No! I wasn't—I mean—you fell, and your skirt just—!"
"I did not fall! Stupid Natsume tripped me!"
"…Ah. Polka dots again."
"NAAA-TSUUU-MEEEEE!"
Sometimes it's when, once again, Mikan's undergarments have been revealed. She'll cry, huge, gulping sobs—she doesn't do things by halves, and she's always had a flair for the dramatic. She'll wail into Ruka's shirt, bemoaning her tainted girlhood at the top of her lungs, dribbling all over his shoulders. With a sigh, Ruka will hold her and pat her back soothingly because, of the two boys, he's the "nice one," even when it's his shirt that's getting drenched.
And he'll scold Natsume, resigned, reproachful, and exasperated, because they all know that he's going to do it again. Natsume will meet his reproving gaze head-on, his face completely devoid of guilt as he hitches an unconvincing Who, Me? eyebrow, not sorry at all. Then he'll turn away with a shrug as if he couldn't care less, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth, which they both know is his way of laughing. Mikan beams back before she remembers she is supposed to be angry, and Ruka hides a grin. For a moment, life is good. They enjoy it while they can, because it could be a long time before Natsume will smile again.
Natsume has another mission tonight.
They wait, in the quiet dark of Natsume's vacant room, Ruka sitting on a suitably uncomfortable chair, Mikan perching on the window seat, arms clasped around her knees as she gazes blankly into the murky twilight. The only sound is the hiss of the rain, spattering on the glass of the window, drumming on the roof, gurgling in the spouts.
Even though it's wildly inappropriate (and really rotten timing), Ruka is suddenly very aware that he has never been this alone with Mikan his entire life. Mikan, the girl he has had a crush on since they were ten. Mikan, the girl who has been his friend for over six years. Mikan, the girl who, at this very moment, is sitting barely four feet away from him.
Mikan, the girl whose underwear he saw earlier today.
"Ruka-pyon?"
"Y-Yes!?"
"What do you think Natsume's doing right now?"
Mikan, the girl who has feelings for his best friend.
Sometimes—even on the best days, when Natsume and Mikan keep the bickering to a minimum—Ruka worries, because that's what he does. Somebody has to. Mikan—
whose neck curves just so as she faces the window
—is heedless and impulsive and Natsume considers rules beneath him, so it's up to Ruka to look ahead. He worries about Natsume, the new cuts and bruises, the old wounds of his childhood, still festering, and the ugly, unnatural black lines branded in the skin on his neck and wrists. They could almost be burns, but Natsume doesn't get burned (he'll never forgive Persona, never, never, never). He'll stay up, waiting for Natsume to get back from the latest mission, and even Mikan's comforting presence—
Isn't she cold wearing that flimsy shirt? She's even forgotten to do up the top two—um. The top two—two…uh, what had he been saying?
—even Mikan's comforting presence does not prevent his stomach from clenching with anxiety and fear and a sick sort of anticipation (how bad is it going to be this time?). Sometimes he catches himself wondering if Natsume's next mission will be his last. Ruka hates himself for it, hates that he can't help, that he's too weak (again) to save his friend. Sometimes, he hates Natsume a bit too, for making him and Mikan worry, for always protecting them, but never allowing them to protect him. Why does he always get to be the strong one?
Ruka rubs his arms, attempting to ward off the chill. It's not like he wasn't expecting it; Natsume's room is always cold. It's a little strange for someone who spends so much time around fire, but then, if he were being exploited for his pyrotechnic capabilities, he might not want any reminder of it either.
"…Well, Ruka-pyon?"
Mikan's head tilts to the side, making her pigtails sway, a childish, spontaneous gesture that tugs something in his heart. He muses, briefly, that some might argue sixteen is too old to wear pigtails. Then again, conforming to the social norm has never been one of Mikan's top priorities. Besides, they suit her.
What do you think Natsume is doing right now?
The unanswered question hangs in the air between them, refusing to be ignored. He turns to meet Mikan's anxious gaze, sees her child's eyes full of poorly-concealed concern. An ugly emotion twists in his stomach.
"Probably toasting marshmallows or something," he mutters, looking away. He means it as a joke, but it comes out bitter and petulant. Normally, Ruka is the last person to make a cheap jab like that. At that moment, he doesn't care.
"Ruka-pyon!" He winces to hear the surprise and hurt in her voice, and his cheeks flush with shame. He hangs his head, shoulders high, hands clenched into fists on his knees. He was so petty. It wasn't as if Natsume wanted to be on a mission. It wasn't Natsume's fault that Ruka felt weak and useless.
It wasn't Natsume's fault that Mikan loved him better.
"I'm sorry, Mikan," he says softly, unable to look at her. "I'm just worried."
Mikan's eyes soften.
"Me too," she says quietly.
Outside, the sky grows darker. Inside, the room grows colder.
Sometimes he worries about Mikan too. She is alone in the world, (an orphan, with a power that everyone hates and fears) just like Natsume, and sometimes, when he is with them, it feels as if all they are doing is being alone together. Some days, he isn't sure whether he's fighting Natsume for Mikan, or fighting Mikan for Natsume.
Brighteyes/warmsmile/hardangles/roughedges/love/want/need
Both he and Natsume love her; that is certain. How could they not? But she… She has never chosen between them, and they have not forced her to. Ruka suspects Mikan doesn't really believe in choosing anyway.
You skim your fingers across her collar bone (down his chest), your breath hitching as her mouth presses against your jaw, (his teeth scrape the hollow of your throat)—No.
Still, he wonders why she hasn't. It's not like it's that difficult of a choice. Natsume is the one who makes her blush, the one who challenges her, fascinates her. Ruka does not blame her. There is something about Natsume that is inherently fascinating.
But she hasn't chosen. What's stopping her? Is she afraid Natsume doesn't feel the same way? She shouldn't worry. He's seen the way Natsume looks at her: wistful, possessive, angry, refusing to acknowledge his desire, but unable to hide it. He flips up her skirt, for crying out loud! Does she honestly think he does that to every girl he knows, or anyone, in fact, besides her?
So, if it's not Natsume…is it…him?
Maybe…maybe Mikan knows there is more to life than impulse, that she and Natsume are two of a kind, that she needs something different, someone who watches out for her instead of someone who throws himself away. Maybe Mikan knows that blushes don't last, and wants someone who, instead of dying for her, will live with her. Maybe she likes (loves?) him just as much as Natsume, or…maybe…even better?
No, that's ridiculous. After all, why would Mikan want him when she could have (already has) Natsume? Why would anybody want him if they could have Natsume? They can't help it, Mikan, Shoda-san, none of them. He's dangerous, but, even if you feel you shouldn't, there's something about Natsume that makes you want to come closer.
He draws people in.
You've touched his skin before, hot, hot skin—on his knee, on his hand, on his shoulder. Here and here and here…
Sometimes, he suspects that Mikan is not the only one he is in love/want/need with. He loves Natsume like family—deeply, unconditionally. But it isn't really normal to have dreams about kissing your brother, or to wonder about what the muscles in his back would feel like, shuddering beneath your fingers.
He is watching you. Assessing you, challenging you with those blazing eyes. Eyes that make you want to fight, to prove your worth. Eyes that cut, eyes that burn. Eyes you wish would look at you again.
See me, Natsume!
Sometimes, Ruka wonders how long they are all going to dance around the issue. Sometimes, when he brushes Mikan's hand, or bumps Natsume's shoulder, he finds himself holding his breath, because something is about to happen. Mikan is too impatient to see what is right in front of her, and Natsume doesn't have/ has never had/ (is running out of) time, but Ruka is the one who looks ahead, and he knows.
The sky is black. Mikan starts as the wind picks up suddenly. It wails like an angry child, dashing the rain against the windowpane, the drops hitting the glass like a handful of gravel. Ruka shivers. He gets up, crossing the few short feet to the window and sits at the other end of the window seat a foot and a half from Mikan, close enough to reach out and touch her shoulder, if he dared. Lightning flashes, throwing the room into stark relief. Ruka turns, his eyes catching the sudden sharpness of the shadows on her face. Her eyes meet his, and for a moment, everything is laid bare.
Now, now, now! Say something! Reach out. Do it!
A hand moves. Hesitates.
…Or wait. Just until it's safer. Something could go wrong. You can't afford to mess this up…
Thunder rolls…
Thunder rolls, and she breaks eye contact, turning her face to the window once more. A second later, Ruka follows suit, hand falling limply to his side, and together they stare out into the storm.
Eventually he is going to get tired of waiting.
--
A/N: This story turned out a lot darker than I expected. I wanted it to be happy and fluffy, but...I got sidetracked. Bad author!
To whom it may concern: I mention their age in the story, but it was slight, and just in case you missed it, I'd like to restate that the gang is all sixteen years old or thereabouts, so no worries. I am not, in fact, a creepy pedophile. :)
As always, reviews are appreciated. :D