A story of love in three parts and the future.

Three Days by Redex

There were three days in which Hiiragi Takuya's life was shifted.

On the first, he woke up in the morning, ate the breakfast that his mother made for him (eggs and toast) and did a phone interview in his father's study before going for a run.

He had hoped that running would clear out his head as it usually did, but it wasn't working very well lately. Even as he ran he couldn't help but think of the work waiting for him at home, the weight training in the afternoon, team practice in the evening, a meeting that night.

It was work, all of it. And so, he changed his route and headed down a newly familiar street with bad sidewalks and finally stopped, catching his breath on the steps that lead to his apartment.

He was there, as usual, except for when he went on walks, or visited school to let them know he still existed. It bothered Takuya a little bit that he was still a high school student, but that never stopped him.

He pressed him against the wall and ground against him, letting out a bone-shaking sigh into his neck. This was the only thing that would let him relax. The smirk, bright eyes, a tongue darting out to moisten lips. Strong, thin, musician's hands slid around his waist, lifted off his shirt.

"What's wrong?"

Lips murmured along his chin.

"I want you."

"Obviously."

That was when they had sex.

Afterwards, Takuya took a shower. When he got back out, he was still naked, sprawled over the bed. Silently, he headed for the door. He had things to do, places to be, people to meet with.

Before he knew it, a hand slid along the lower part of his back as Asakura Saki, him, stepped into the doorway.

"You stay. I'll make lunch."

Takuya's mouth opened and shut again as he waited for the excuses to come, but they didn't. Finally, he was forced to nod and pull off his coat and sat down at the table. Certainly, he had things to do, but they did not seem to pressing when he was sitting in Saki's little hole in the ground and watching as the black butterfly tattoo between his shoulders shift as he moved.

When the smell of frying meat filled the room, Saki turned to ask him something and froze. Takuya had moved without meaning to, stepping behind him, sliding his hands down to Asakura's hips, pressing his clothed front against his bare back. His breath whispered against his neck and his lips pressed quivering against his skin.

"What are you doing to me?"

Saki slowly lowered the pan and turned off the gas of the stove before turning in his embrace and cupping his face with his hands.

"I think the real question," he murmured, eyes half-lidded and hips pressing gently back against him. "Is what are you doing to yourself?"

Something strangled and torn in his chest whispered passed his lips as he bent and kissed him. He poured his heart in, brows furrowing and feeling the movement of their lips together intimately. He didn't know what this was.

No woman or girl had ever sucked him in like this. Saki was beautiful/ to the point of heartbreak, and he made everything just... slow... down. Takuya didn't understand why. He was a high school student for goodness sake! Only a few years older than his little brother, if that.

The pot clattered against the stove as Asakura leant back against it, dragging Takuya down with him lazily with an arm slung around his neck.

"Do you want to do it again?" he smirked, watching as Takuya's eyes shifted down his bare body and then back up to his face.

"No."

Takuya broke away and shook himself mentally. His hands burned to get back to that skin, but his head was full of complications and questions, and going back home and getting back to his routine would at least put off answering some of the questions drifting around his head.

"Yes."

He didn't want to leave him, though. Didn't want to loose the peace of mind that he only got with kholed eyes were watching him, soft skin within touching reach. With him, Takuya was calm. His brain stopped thinking of the next thing and the next thing on the schedule and everything in the world. If there wasn't anything other than Asakura Saki in the world, he could easily spend his life here.

Takuya realized that the way he felt about him was the same way he felt about basketball. And that couldn't be right, could it?

"I don't know," he sighed finally, defeated and frustrated.

There was something in his look, something tired and sad and old.

"Don't go."

And Takuya looked at him and sighed again and smiled, knowing he couldn't leave.

"Fine. Are you cooking or what?"

There was a hesitant smile hidden by the sinuous motion of hips and arms and tongue.

He wanted to pretend, for a while, that he could stay here. He could spare a few hours.

I just met a girl named Blue Jean. (Move on to the next chapter, or critique)