Shoudou
oOo
Usami Akihiko's world unblurred itself slowly, teasingly.
There were wide brown eyes staring into his own.
I'm hungry was the first coherent thought that formed itself in Akihiko's heavy head. He placed a palm against the warm, dry grass and pushed himself up, rubbing his eyes with his free hand and rumbling sleepily. I must have nodded off while writing. The notebook was still lying next to him.
The owner of the eyes was still there too, and Akihiko could feel his gaze—blazing hot and somehow soothing, like sunlight.
'Hey, this is my secret base! You can't come in here without my permission!'
The voice, deep and growly for a young boy, ground into the empty air; Akihiko raised his eyes to look at the boy properly for the first time.
He had hair the color of wet earth and smooth, unrippled skin. He was roughly the same height as Akihiko but somehow gave the impression of being a lot taller. Maybe it's because of his voice? He was standing with his arms folded in a slightly ridiculous kendo outfit that did nothing to make him look any less imposing, especially from Akihiko's disadvantaged angle. He was also scowling expertly.
He was lovely.
'How do I ask permission?'
He seemed to be thrown off-balance by the question—I wonder why? Isn't that what anyone would ask?—and spluttered briefly before rallying again. 'Um', he began slowly. 'Since it's permission, you've got to say "please".'
'Please', said Akihiko automatically. He sat straight and looked at the boy evenly, violet and brown meeting and tumbling in embarrassed confusion. Akihiko had a vague, slightly unsettling feeling that he wasn't just asking for permission to visit the 'base'.
The boy looked taken aback again. 'Huh?'
What's up with him? He talks like he's used to all this, but when I say the simplest things, he gets all tangled up. 'Please', Akihiko repeated.
There was a drop of sunlight hanging off the boy's head, clinging to the tip of one silky brown lock. It glimmered and winked at Akihiko as the owner of the wide eyes stammered out his hesitant 'permission'.
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'So how'd you find this place anyway?' the boy asked presently; Akihiko had gone back to his writing, feeling inordinately shy. He couldn't look straight at the boy, who'd introduced himself as Kamijou Hiroki, adding that he already knew who Akihiko was.
'I thought no one else knew about it', said Hiroki after a pause. His expression turned sulky and somewhat resentful. Akihiko wondered briefly if he really was intruding on Hiroki's personal space, decided to pretend that he didn't care, and began explaining.
'I tried to pet a cat on the street, but it ran away and I ended up following it here.' Trying to shield the slightly nauseous anxiety building in him for no good reason, he studied Hiroki's reaction as carefully as he could. Hiroki's perpetual scowl had eased out while asking his question, and it hadn't returned, but he was still silent. Akihiko felt monumentally stupid.
'The sky drifts lazily in this leafy space', he said at length, for lack of better things to say. 'The combination of white and blue and green is dazzling.' That was the truth, but Akihiko still felt sharply tense: it was like complimenting someone on their home decor. It may be my house, but this is still his base.
Hiroki's head had risen at Akihiko's last remark; those unsettling eyes were now observing him intently. Akihiko dropped his gaze back to his notebook and squiggled meaninglessly on the paper. I can't remember what I was going to write at all.
This feeling is something different, and I'm not sure I like it.
The beads of sunlight in Hiroki's hair seemed to rattle about as he rested his head on his arms and thought of things Akihiko could not possibly know.
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At school, the girls loved Akihiko. He could tell as he stood in front of the class, his name chalked on the board; he could also see, with the same intensity, the distinctly hostile air emanating from the boys. And, in the midst of it all, more clearly than anything else, he could see, feel, and even taste Hiroki's eyes on him.
Those eyes never seemed to lose the flustered, but assessing look that made Akihiko so jittery. I have nothing to prove to him. What's wrong with me?
It was natural that they ended up sitting together. Hiroki was still looking on unabashedly, and Akihiko tried to keep his face as impassive as possible throughout the day.
I won't sit with the girls and I can't sit with the other boys. It's not like I don't want to sit with Hiroki. The only problem was, sitting there for the rest of the year, trying to still his restless fingers and (why the hell is my heart thumping?) his unreasoning anxiety…sounded extremely tiring.
They'd go off together after classes to the 'base'. Akihiko found the name rather childish, though he never said so out loud, and had to remind himself that they were children. The thought rooted him to his otherwise calm self and gave him a new fortitude. We're just kids. This feeling doesn't make any sense, so I should probably just forget about it.
And for a few weeks, he really did forget. Hiroki was needle-sharp under his blustery exterior and made a good friend. Akihiko found it easier now than ever to lose track of time as the amount of actual writing he did at the base decreased, edged out by new things. Reading books Hiroki lent him. Working on the silliest of 'secret operations'. Lying against the deliciously soft grass, staring at the fathomless sky, and just talking.
I don't really think I've ever 'just talked' to anyone before in my life. It's so easy with him.
A good friend…he supposed Hiroki was his best friend, for that matter, if by default more than anything else. In the long, comfortable lulls that often punctuated their conversations in the green tunnel, Akihiko silently began listing the people who were part of his life, or had been.
Hiroki
Dad
Mum
Haruhiko…I guess.
The nurse at the hospital I used to go to in England.
…Edward?
Swiftly, stubbornly, he pushed all thoughts of Edward from his mind before getting back to business.
His parents were hardly even real parents, and a far cry from 'friends' even with each other. Haruhiko essentially didn't exist in his life. The nurse was gone, and she'd had a life of her own anyway. Hiroki really was the only person whom he could claim as a friend, and who he knew saw him as one too.
I can't really admit this even to myself, but the thought that I can claim him in some way…feels good. More than good. It felt easy. It wasn't the feeling of exhilaration that follows an obstacle overcome, but the weak relief of submitting to a mad, impossible urge.
He's like an impulse that I want to control and can't.
Akihiko felt some semblance of content as he allowed his eyelids the luxury of drifting down. The black shuttered his vision against the onslaught of evening sunlight, and the deep rustles among the grass that were Hiroki's relaxed breaths only soothed him further.
We're only children. I'm worrying about silly things only because I'm so young. It's all fine.
It was all fine. But only until Hiroki cried.
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A/N: Shoudou = impulse.