I really didn't know how to thank all of the wonderful people who left me really nice comments on the first part. I know this could be a little annoying, but bear with me while I show my appreciation to them, pretty please?

white-angelxhunter: thanks, love:)

BattleAngel: for you; for being my first reviewer on AFF. hope you like this.

narcoleptic86: okay, okay - here's the next one for you! see? haha:)

aleya sendoh: hey! you're malaysian!

The Long Fall of Prose: i don't know if this lives up to your expectations, but here goes. crosses fingers

Khaesen117: here's part two!

Sunday: Three Minute Addiction

Sendoh Akira felt himself stumble, pushed backwards by a force that bled an eerie rage. Rukawa Kaede's large palms slammed painfully into his chest; then gripped the fabric of his loose shirt, tightening the worn material around him until he could hardly draw a breath. Sendoh's head cracked sharply against the white wall behind him and he winced at the sudden jarring sting. Rukawa's icy eyes were mercilessly cold as Sendoh struggled for escape.

It was April now, going on three months since their morning one-on-ones, their lunchtime tête-à-têtes. Three months since the interlude between them on the wooden floor of the basketball court, behind the heavy sliding doors of Shohoku High's gymnasium.

Three months since Sendoh had turned his back on Rukawa, determined not to see the rookie unless necessity forced him to.

Sendoh had been successful thus far since Rukawa had left for training – All Japan basketball team's junior camp had offered him a place there. Still, Sendoh had studiously avoided the areas they had previously frequented together. In fact, he had stopped coming down to Shohoku altogether, preferring to remain in the Ryonan district where he reverted to aimlessly dragging a line in the river, hardly caring if he caught something, anything.

The new school year had just begun for him as a third year but he barely gave any thought to his studies, nor the fact that he needed to excel to gain entrance to a reputable university – just in case his basketball scholarship wouldn't pull through. But hell, he was the new captain of Ryonan's basketball team and he almost couldn't care less either.

Sendoh had been panicking for days at the upcoming inaugural practice match between Ryonan and Shohoku. In the end, he had decided firmly that it was not compulsory and had come up with some semblance of a credible excuse, breathing a huge sigh of relief when the team bought it; the sheer amount of trust they placed in him was nearly overwhelming, but he wasn't about to complain. So long as it got him out of his dilemma, right?

What he hadn't counted on though, was this.

"What are you doing here?"

That Sunday, Sendoh was immensely surprised then immediately wary as he opened the door of his small apartment to find a stoic Rukawa. The former raked his eyes over Rukawa, finding that he was still the same from the last time Sendoh had seen him, if a little paler from the winter months and with darker rings beneath his eyes.

With a guilty start, he remembered those beautifully slanted eyes, bruised and swollen under the crunch of his fists. A slight shiver trailed down his spine as he remembered that long ago Sunday mid-morning, much like this one … Rukawa's cold, cruel lips softened by their faint trembling; blood caking into the lines of his mouth.

I wanted to see you.

How those expressionless eyes had looked at him with glittering bitterness as he had walked away, out of the gymnasium and out on their brief friendship.

Sendoh could barely bring himself to meet Rukawa's steady gaze, eyes dark and accusing. He debated slamming the door and then the decision was taken away from him when Rukawa wedged a foot in.

"What in the hell do you want?" Sendoh asked harshly as Rukawa pushed past him into his apartment.

Rukawa wanted to recoil from the venom that poisoned the normally mild voice, wanted to turn his back and walk out of the apartment; pretend he had not dragged his feet here. They ached with the furious pedaling he had commanded them to perform as part of his training, and somehow they had brought him here one hour later, one overcast morning. He had then spent hours scouting out Ryonan, skulking around the district, finally hunting down Aida Hikoichi, who had been more than happy to oblige, providing an answer as to Sendoh's whereabouts.

Rukawa also knew that he would never find solace if he decided to play chicken now. Instead, he steeled himself, drawing up to his full height, a mere 3cm shorter than Sendoh's 190.

"I called. There's something wrong with your telephone."

"I changed my number," came the cool reply, devoid of emotion. It was callous in its clear dismissal, the casualness of the comment. It signified that their once-friendship had meant nothing, nothing.

Rukawa kept his face blank, which was proving surprisingly difficult as he stood before Sendoh. The emotions coursing throughout his chest had not been familiar to him for a very long time, but he had come to accept them now. Still, the feelings burned within him, seared as a brand upon his previously unmarked heart.

It had been three months since Sendoh had been three minutes late. Three months since Rukawa had first pressed his lips against Sendoh's, exploring the moist cavern; touching, tasting, drinking in the older boy's warmth. Three minutes that had seemed more like three lifetimes when Sendoh's tongue had erupted the core of primal yearnings and feelings that Rukawa had thought frozen within him, encased in subterranean ice.

Three months since Sendoh had pushed him away, looking at him with quiet disgust before shutting the doors between them.

I thought you weren't gay.

Rukawa had spent the last three months in basketball camp, and there was not one minute he was playing that he didn't think of Sendoh and their one-on-ones.

"You cancelled the practice game." Rukawa wanted to spit the words out with as much malice that Sendoh had injected into his cold words, but they came out faltering like clumsy children, stumbling over themselves.

Rukawa's chest pounded hard as Sendoh gazed at him with obvious distress, like an animal ensnared in a cage, cornered and vulnerable. He noted that Sendoh's eyes kept flitting between him and the door, looking for a route to flee. He noticed the slight tremble of fingers that were clamped together, unsure of what to do, what to feel. Rukawa was nothing but meticulous when he sized up his challenge.

Right now, Rukawa only wanted to shake the answer out of him, wanted so badly to hear Sendoh's explanation why.

Why?

"I'm the captain now. I have the right to call it off if I deem it necessary," Sendoh finally replied, a defensive edge to his tone, glancing frantically again at the door before sliding his eyes to the boy standing between him and the wooden block.

In the next instant, Rukawa had rounded upon him, snarling.

"Coward. You're only afraid."

Sendoh could have gladly torn Rukawa's head off at that very moment; the fury and shame he felt were clawing savagely, digging pointed nails within him. He contented himself with jabbing a hard, rigid finger into the middle of the younger boy's chest. The words that followed were taunting, contemptuous as Sendoh drew closer to Rukawa, a muscle twitching dangerously in his clenched jaw.

"Of what? Of you? Of a fucking queer?"

Sendoh wanted to take it back as soon as he said it, wanted to clap his hand over his mouth in horror at the despicable things he had uttered, wanted so much to bear the brief flash of genuine hurt he saw in those bottomless blue eyes. He groaned, wondering why his tactless, spiteful tongue would choose to kick in now and then he wondered if what Rukawa had said was true.

Deep down, he knew Rukawa was right. Sendoh was afraid, deathly afraid; scared of what had happened between them, what they had been so close to that day. But it did not excuse him; vindicate him from his cruel remark. He heaved a sigh, raking long fingers through his spiked hair.

"Look, I'm sorry I sa–"

Sendoh felt himself stumble, pushed backwards by a force that bled an eerie rage. Rukawa's large palms slammed painfully into his chest; then gripped the fabric of his loose shirt, tightening the worn material around him until he could hardly draw a breath. Sendoh's head cracked sharply against the white wall behind him and he winced at the sudden jarring sting. Rukawa's icy eyes were mercilessly cold as Sendoh struggled for escape.

There was a tingling moment of awareness when Sendoh realized that this was the closest they had been to each other for months, as close as the last time they had been welded together on the polished wood of the basketball court. He sucked in a raspy breath, his mouth suddenly dry, his head still throbbing.

Sendoh forgot all about the soreness at the back of his skull when Rukawa leaned in, slanting soft, soft lips against his startled mouth.

There was a quick flutter in the depths of his stomach, a rapid acceleration of his heartbeat; and then Sendoh found himself responding, his eyes shutting, his breath quickening as Rukawa deepened the kiss; long, maddeningly slow strokes of his tongue coaxing Sendoh into play. Without hesitation, Rukawa's hand lifted to gently stroke the back of his neck, a light trailing of nimble fingertips along his smooth skin. Rukawa had definitely improved, kissing Sendoh with a finesse that was intense, passionate; his rough tongue sending Sendoh's nerve endings into overdrive. Sendoh groaned as Rukawa's built body pressed against his, the urgency of the forbidden moment driving him almost half-mad with need.

Unconsciously, Sendoh's hand moved higher to cup the back of Rukawa's dark head, the coal-black locks sliding smoothly between his fingers as they weaved into the soft hair.

Rukawa drew back immediately, his blue eyes glittering with triumph, shaded with the slightest condescension.

"You want me too." The syllables rolled off Rukawa's tongue, already missing the taste, the feel of Sendoh's warm mouth. Tea. Lemons. All the things he never thought would blend into the smoothest, bittersoursweet aftertaste he couldn't get enough of. But he remained distant, emotionless as Sendoh's chest quaked with ragged breaths, his cerulean irises boring razor icicles into Sendoh's cobalt pair.

Rukawa's eyes spoke what Sendoh was ashamed to recognise was accurate.

Coward. At least I can admit what you can't.

He wanted Rukawa. Wanted him with every breath he took, every running vein in his body, every drop of blood pounding in his brain. Wanted him so much he was scared of what he might do, what people would say if he did what he wanted so badly to do.

Oh, god.

That realisation caught in his mind and he suddenly felt the room spin around him, the walls blurring into each other. Sendoh clutched at the indistinct outlines of the walls, feeling completely, utterly sick with alarm – he could have thrown up his entire stomach's contents for the day, which was not very much anyway. His vision greyed, and he barely made out the tall figure stalking away; away from him.

"Chotto … Where are you going?" Sendoh demanded weakly, trying to keep his shallow breathing even.

Rukawa's figure paused in mid-stride. "I came to prove a point," he grunted, not bothering to swivel his head around. His shoulders straightened from their slump when there were no further words and he walked with purposeful determination to the apartment door.

"That you did." The voice trailing his intended departure was stiff with practiced calm, but it trickled with uncertainty, astonishment even.

Then there was a sharp, sudden tug on his shirt and he let out a soft sound of surprise as he flew backwards into Sendoh's arms. Hands hungrily roved over every inch of him, kneading the tight muscles, the tenseness of his shoulders. The scent of him was drunk in by an inquisitive nose nuzzling his neck, his jet-black hair. Rukawa spun around, his messy mop flying, into the warm clinch of strong arms that pulled him close, closer.

Rukawa inhaled a sharp lungful of air, but it caught in his throat when Sendoh made the first move this time; kissed him with a fierce intensity that made him gasp, caused his body to shake with the sensation. Rukawa moaned quietly, then with louder cries; it was all he could do not to collapse to the floor in a heap, his legs had become uselessly unsteady.

But fall he did, and on top of him was an irate, aroused Sendoh, tracking a line of flames down his pale skin. Rukawa whimpered as the collar of his shirt was tugged lower and a sharp nip created a crimson welt on his slender neck.

Sendoh paused at the breathless sound, his cobalt holding Rukawa's cerulean in a hard stance as he closed in, breathing against the softness of Rukawa's mouth, pressing a firm forefinger to the younger boy's lips. "Nobody – nobody – hears of this, do you understand?"

Rukawa's heart jolted at the quiet hiss, filled with unfiltered resentment; but anxiety coloured the bitterness in Sendoh's tone. Akira. He hastily bit back the name that had been about to leave his lips in a butterfly's flight – delicate, dainty, wandering, wondering. Sendoh hovered nervously over Rukawa, desperately awaiting acquiescence; his cobalt irises uneasy, his soft touch still skittish. Rukawa swallowed once, twice; then he nodded at the conditions that were set in their agreement.

It was and yet, was not what Rukawa had secretly hoped for, but it would do.

Rukawa's cool lips parted in a silent sigh as they were approached by the warmth of Sendoh's lemon-tea breath dousing the chill within him, heating his insides; he was stirred into a frenzied, bubbling cauldron of thoughts that didn't matter, feelings that should not exist, and an inexplicable craving he could not explain.

Sendoh's mouth began to suckle on a tender spot just below the whorls of his ear and he arched up, hips lifting, with a throaty cry. Yes.

It would do. It had to do.

He could live with that.