Standard disclaimers apply.

Summary: Mitsui has misgivings about his relationship with Rukawa, who he suspects is cheating on him. Delirium can be a frightening thing. RuMitRu, etc. One shot. Reuploaded.

A/N: Originally published on October 30, 2008.


Delirium

For normal people, it would have sufficed to call up the object of their affection and hook themselves up on a date with him. But no, Hisashi Mitsui hated banality, and so thought it original, fun, and intimate to deliver personally to Rukawa a two-pound box of chocolates in which he had hidden a little note with the purpose of reminding Rukawa of a date that had been planned in advance. Whether it was opulence on his part or mad love for Rukawa was immaterial to Mitsui: he wouldn't give a shit if all the forces of nature were intent on making the contingency of their togetherness nonexistent; because he knew in his heart of hearts that true love reigned supreme in the end, and that his love for Rukawa was as true as the seven colors of the rainbow.

"Sempai?" said Rukawa, opening the front door upon being alerted by the dutiful doorbell.

"Hey, Rukawa," said Mitsui, instantly rapturous at the sight of him. "I just came to give you this. Belgian. You'll love 'em."

He handed the box to Rukawa as if it were his very heart, and the latter took it with similar emotion.

"Thanks," said Rukawa, earnestly enough not to appear indifferent, but also indifferently enough to remind Mitsui that it was Rukawa he was dealing with.

"So, I was wondering," Mitsui began tentatively, "why don't you open it right now?"

"I'm not hungry."

"But still—"

"Sempai," said Rukawa, "if you wanted a taste, you could just ask. Come on in, I'll give you all the chocolate you want."

"I didn't exactly—"

But Rukawa had already pulled him into his little apartment by the arm.

Rukawa tore open the plastic wrapping, and opened the box. Noticing a piece of white paper resting conspicuously on top of the artistically molded chocolates, Rukawa picked it up and read it. With every line his face darkened.

This didn't escape Mitsui, of course, and apprehension seized him. He supposed it was a lack of eloquence or tact on his part; but when Rukawa looked back up at Mitsui and the latter noticed how expressionless his face was, he knew it was something else.

"What is it, Rukawa?" asked Mitsui.

"Sempai," said Rukawa, his voice quivering slightly, "I'm so sorry."

Sorry for what? There were a lot of things Rukawa could be sorry for, thought Mitsui: sorry because he didn't reciprocate Mitsui's feelings; sorry because he didn't want to go on a date with him; sorry because he was afraid, even if he wanted to go out with him.

"Sorry for what?"

"Sempai," said Rukawa, his voice quivering a little more, "I totally forgot about the date."

It was two weeks ago that Mitsui had alluded to his desire to take Rukawa out on a date, and two weeks since Rukawa had vaguely replied that he would be delighted.

"It's no matter," said Mitsui, disheartened. "Maybe some other time." He tried to smile; he failed.

"Sempai, it slipped my mind; honest," Rukawa pled, seeing how upset Mitsui looked.

"Rukawa," said Mitsui, patting Rukawa on the shoulder and smiling again. "It's all right, seriously. Maybe some other time, 'kay?"

"Without fail, Sempai," Rukawa promised.

"Call me up when you feel up to it, okay?"

"But Sempai, I really, really want to go out with you. It's just that... that my parents—I have to run some errands for them this evening. I have to buy some stuff, and send it to Tokyo—urgently."

"Rukawa," Mitsui laughed, "you don't have to be so harsh on yourself. Sometimes things come up that take a greater priority than our pleasures."

"Sempai—"

"Rukawa," Mitsui said, embracing the other, "you're really being too harsh on yourself. Tell you what? Why don't I help you out with these errands of yours?"

Rukawa, with a wily glint in his eye, said, "Sempai, sometimes things come up that take a greater priority than our pleasures. That means I must do this on my own."

"Rukawa, I—" Mitsui stammered. Then he recomposed himself and tried smiling again. He managed a soft smile. "If you think you have to."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Sempai."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Then Mitsui left.

He walked down the same road he had taken to Rukawa's house. Then he had gone east, now he went west; then he had walked up the hill, now he walked down; then he had carried a box, now he carried nothing except a heavy heart; then he had been happy, now he was dour.

Mitsui knew that what was important to Rukawa ought to be just as important to him, if he really loved the boy; but then, the human race's characteristic vice has invariably been its selfishness. Every man thought solely about himself—about his own happiness, his own needs, his own pleasures—even if it meant impeding others in their pursuit of happiness.

He stopped suddenly, and turned around. Rukawa was only being polite when he said he didn't need Mitsui's help, but Mitsui was sure he actually wanted him to stay behind and be with him, even if it was only for the sake of his company.

He retraced his steps all the way back to Rukawa's house, and reached just in time to see two figures disappearing down the road. One was without a shadow of a doubt Rukawa; and the other was...

Mitsui couldn't say his name. Maybe it was because he didn't want to believe rather than a failure on the part of his memory.

"Rukawa," said the fellow walking beside him. "I like you. You're reserved, quiet, sexy—perfect!"

Rukawa punched him playfully, eliciting laughter.

"What's the matter? Can't get enough of me?"

"Shut up, Sempai!"

The other boy clicked his tongue.

"Rukawa, I told you to call me 'Shinichi'."

"Then you must call me Kaede."

"It's a deal."

And then they were too far away for Mitsui to be sure of anything they were saying. But he was sure of one thing, and that was that he had been treacherously deceived by Rukawa. His heart had been torn clean out of his bosom, and thrust back in with a million indelible scars.

Everything was black. He could neither hear nor see anythingcould neither move nor feel.

And then the blackness began clearing a little, and he realized he was staring into the back of his eyelids.

He could hear muffled speech in the distancehurried, anxious conversation. It seemed to be coming nearer and nearer him, and he could faintly make out the words.

He caught a little of the conversation: "How bad is he?... Will he recover... be able to walk... what?..."

It tired him to strain his ears to such an extent. It was so much easier just to lie back, and let the world run its course without expending any energy. Yet one can't really control what one hears.

"... Stable... Hisashi Mitsui... again?... three years... how?... an accident?..."

Why couldn't those loudmouths shut the fuck up, and let Mitsui sleep in peace? He willed them to shut up. It must have shown in his face in some way, because the conversation without stopped abruptly.

"He's awake, he's awake!" someone seemed to yell in ecstasy.

He subconsciously felt a crowd gathering around him, and had the urge to get up and go somewhere he could find peace—away from these noisy, insensitive people.

"Son, can you hear me?"

The voice was a lot clearer than before.

He debated whether to reply.

"Son, are you awake?"

Honestly, should I reply?

"Speak to me!" It sounded more desperate than demanding.

All right, if that's what the annoying fool wanted.

"I can hear you."

The words never came out of his mouth. That's odd, Mitsui thought. He tried again. Still no sound.

What the fuck? he thought. Where am I anyway?

He concentrated his energies on his eyes, and ordered them to open.

They did—slowly. The sudden burst of extremely bright light took Mitsui completely off guard, and he reflexively shut his eyes again. It was several minutes before his pupils had got accustomed to the light, and he opened his eyes fully.

He could see faces gathered around his bed. Unfamiliar faces—all looking down at him with worry and... pity.

Wait, bed? Mitsui couldn't recall going to bed at all.

"Where am I?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

"You're in the hospital, son." said the same voice that had addressed him earlier. This voice was familiar. Mitsui glanced around to try to locate the owner of the voice.

"Son, how are you feeling?"

The voice came from a big-jawed, bespectacled man with brown hair.

"I never thought you'd be back under my care this soon."

It was then that he realized that that was the same man who had looked after him when he had broken his knee all those years ago—his doctor.

"What... happened to me?"

"You were in an accident, Mitsui. If your young friend hadn't brought you here in time... Well, let's just say you're lucky he did."

Mitsui turned his head in the direction the doctor had jerked his head when he had said, "young friend".

The sight of Rukawa's expressionless face met him.

Immediately he remembered everything.

The doctor, sensing Mitsui wanted to spend some time alone with his 'young friend', ushered the other doctors out of the room, and gently shut the door behind him as he left.

"Rukawa." He hadn't realized Rukawa had been holding his hand in his own until he felt him press harder.

"Sempai?"

"You cheated on me. You deceived me."

"Sempai?" Rukawa sounded and looked genuinely confused, and not a little hurt.

"Don't pretend that you don't know." Mitsui growled. Oh, how heavy his head felt!

"Honest, Sempai, I don't."

"Didn't you say you had to run some errands for your parents?"

"Sempai—"

"But what did you do? You ran away with Maki behind my back!"

Mitsui didn't realize that he had been crying until he felt Rukawa wipe his tears away with the thumb of his free hand.

"Sempai," said Rukawa calmly, "I never did, and never will leave your side."

"You deceived me, Rukawa," Mitsui cried; "cheated on me."

"You were in an accident, Sempai."

Mitsui remembered hearing that word when he was still... Had he been asleep or unconscious?

In an attempt to fight off his tears, he changed the subject to his accident.

"What happened to me?"

"Sempai," said Rukawa almost inaudibly. "You were hit by a car."

This was news to Mitsui.

"I was hit?"

"You reflexively jumped aside even as the driver braked, but it was too late. The car still hit you."

"And then?"

"It hit you pretty hard, even though it had slowed down. You were thrown back some fifteen feet."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"What happened then?"

"Your head hit the curb."

"And then?"

"You passed out."

"And you brought me here?"

"I called an ambulance immediately."

"That means you were there?"

"All along."

"You hadn't run away with Maki?"

"I hadn't. And I wouldn't if my life depended on it."

"But I distinctly remember Maki and you walking down the road from your house."

"Where?"

"Your house. You know—on that hill."

"Sempai," Rukawa's voice broke, "my house isn't on a hill."

"Really? Because I clearly remember the walk up the steep road."

"I live on flat ground—near the beach."

"Really? Then where do I live?"

"Oh a hill."

"Ah, well, at least one of us lives on a hill," said Mitsui with irony.

"Sempai, you must rest."

"But I'm not sleepy. How long have I been asleep?"

"You've been unconscious for four days now, Sempai."

"Fuck, did you say four days?"

"Yes, Sempai."

"What day is it?"

"The sixteenth, Sempai—Friday."

"No kidding!" Mitsui exclaimed, raising the hand that wasn't in Rukawa's to his head to scratch it. Only, it wouldn't move.

"Why can't I move my arm?" Mitsui gasped in consternation, trying hard to make the goddamn thing budge.

"You're arm's paralyzed, Sempai."

"What? How?"

"Your shoulder got dislocated, and it upset some nerves as well."

"What do you mean?"

"Your right arm cushioned your fall, Sempai, or your head might have taken the full blow and..."

"And?"

"You might not be in a hospital bed now, but in a coffin," Rukawa spoke with effort.

"But my right hand... it's my basketball hand, Rukawa!"

Rukawa nodded, but didn't say anything.

"How can I play basketball now?"

Rukawa shook his head, but still didn't speak.

Mitsui burst into a fit of sobs.

"Say something, Rukawa, say something!" he pled through hiccoughs.

He felt Rukawa wrap his arms around him.

"No matter what, I'll be here for you, Sempai," he whispered into Mitsui's ear.

"If only I hadn't wasted those accursed two years of my life, if only I'd returned to the team earlier... I might've got more time to... play."

"You will play again, I promise."

"How can you tell?"

"I just can."

"How?"

Just then the door opened and the big-jawed doctor entered, carrying what appeared to be medical reports.

"Mitsui-kun," said the doctor, "I have some good news and some bad news."

"What is it?" Mitsui asked, desperate for something positive in his life.

"The good news is that I can guarantee a complete recovery."

Mitsui almost laughed aloud in relief.

"And the bad news?" he asked curiously. He was willing to take any amount of bad news now that he knew his recovery was certain.

"The bad news,"—the doctor sighed—"is that you'll have to stay in the hospital for a while."

A sense of déjà vu flitted across Mitsui's mind.

"For how long?" he asked apprehensively.

"Three weeks to a month," the doctor replied, prepared for the storm that was Mitsui's outrage.

Mitsui furrowed his eyebrows, and was about to yell at the doctor; but instead he exhaled deeply and lay back on the pillow, smiling wistfully.

"That's all right."

"All right?" The doctor, who knew Mitsui well, was incredulous.

"Yeah. I'm not about to make the same mistake again, and risk not being able to play again. One month is not all that bad."

The look of surprise on the doctor's face was replaced by a proud, warm smile.

"Mitsui-kun, you've come a long way."

"I have," Mitsui smiled back.

"It's not going to take as long as it sounds, trust me. We just have to surgically fix your dislocated shoulders, and fix the nerves, and then do a few blood tests."

"I thought I was paralyzed."

"The good news is that it isn't permanent."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean you're temporarily paralyzed, and that's only because the dislocation of your shoulder cut off blood flow and therefore oxygen to your arm. Once we put your shoulder back in place, the blood flow should resume, and you'll recover in no time. That's why I said your friend brought you here just in time—otherwise the nerves would have died."

"But I've been asleep for four days."

"And we've been externally supplying your arm with oxygen all through."

Only then did Mitsui notice the needle that connected his arm to a tube that in turn was connected to an IV-drip.

"So when do you do the operation?"

"Tomorrow, if possible," said the doctor cheerfully.

"And how long will it take?"

"No more than a few hours."

"Then why do I have to be here for a month?"

"It's rather crucial that there should not be the slightest bit of movement in your arm until it's fully healed."

"I can manage just fine."

"Of course not. What if you accidentally trip over or something? Then you'll be back to square one."

"I'll be careful."

"I'll make sure." This time Rukawa spoke. "I'll take care of him."

"That's awfully nice of you," said the doctor; "but Mitsui-kun will still have to stay at least a week or two in the hospital."

"That's fine by me," said Mitsui.

"I'm glad," replied the doctor.

"Now, young man," the doctor said to Rukawa, "I think we should let him sleep awhile. His body is still convalescing from the accident."

Rukawa pressed Mitsui's hand one last time before getting up and leaving the room. The doctor winked at Mitsui before turning off the lights and leaving, shutting the door behind him.

Mitsui stared up at the ceiling, which he couldn't actually see in the darkness, as he reflected in silence.

So... had he dreamt all that stuff about Rukawa, uh, eloping with Maki? But how could it have been a dream? It seemed so real.

Mitsui tried to touch the spot on his hand that Rukawa had pressed before he left, just to make sure Rukawa had actually been there, but he realized he couldn't move his right hand.

Darn, I'm too used to being able to use my hand! thought Mitsui. He forced himself to think pleasanter thoughts, not wanting to get teary about not being able to play basketball all over again.

What kind of an accident was I in anyway? he thought. Sure, he believed every word of Rukawa's, but it all seemed so incredible... It doesn't hurt anywhere. If I could move my arm I might be convinced that they are all lying to me and that I am, in fact, fine.

He shut his eyes and tried to remember what had happened.

And before he could control himself, he felt his consciousness drift away...

"It's a great evening today, isn't it?" Mitsui asked as Rukawa and he walked side by side.

"It is."

"Who's that over there?"

"Where?"

"I just thought I saw someone peeking from behind that bench."

They were passing through the park.

"Just 'someone'?" Mitsui asked curiously.

"Someone familiar, of course."

Mitsui laughed.

"You're seeing things, Rukawa!"

"I swear, I saw someone."

"Seriously, Rukawa, there's nobody either of us knows who would spy on us."

"But..." Rukawa began, but he conceded that Mitsui was right. "Maybe I was just imagining it."

"Of course you were, Rukawa," Mitsui laughed.

"What d'you mean by that?"

"I mean if you're so quiet all the time, you might start hallucinating. You should seriously talk more often."

"I talk to you, Sempai."

Mitsui laughed again.

"Sure you do," he mocked.

"I do."

"Then why did I have to find out from Ayako that you liked me?"

Rukawa blushed.

"I... I..."

"You should talk more often, Rukawa, then you won't stammer like this."

"Shut up, Sempai."

Rukawa playfully punched Mitsui on the shoulder.

"Ouch, that hurt," Mitsui pouted.

"Liar. I didn't even hit you that hard."

They had exited the park, and were now walking along the road.

Rukawa suddenly stopped, and looked over his shoulder.

"I swear, I'm not hallucinating this time. I really did see someone, and that someone is following us." He sounded anxious.

Mitsui looked around and scanned their environs.

"Nope. No one there."

"Look closer, Sempai. Behind that tree—there's someone hiding behind it."

Mitsui squinted to see more clearly, since the trees in question were more than a few yards away.

"There is someone there." Mitsui blinked.

"See? What did I tell you?"

"You were right, Rukawa." Mitsui began walking slowly toward where the figure was.

The figure saw him, and ran.

Impulsively, Mitsui ran after it.

He crossed the road some distance away, and Mitsui made to do the same. Only, he hadn't noticed the car that was speeding from behind him in his direction.

The driver, too, hadn't anticipated that the boy who was running on the sidewalk would suddenly come onto the road, so that, when he did, he slammed his foot on the break while reflexively honking.

Mitsui heard a burst from a car's horn behind him and turned around just in time to see a car mere yards away from him, with what looked like too great a speed to stop in time. He dove in the direction of the sidewalk. It all looked like a movie in slow motion to him—his being hit by the car, being hurled onto the road some ten to twelve feet away, his head hitting the curb...

"Argh!" he screamed, but even as he screamed, everything dissolved into blackness.

And that blackness to blankness.

He felt his body being shaken.

"Wake up, Sempai!" he heard someone call.

He opened his eyes.

"Sempai!" Rukawa exclaimed, relieved.

"What happened?" Mitsui asked, attempting to lift his head. He groaned, felt his head swim, then submitted to its atypical heaviness and slumped back onto the pillow like a lifeless marionette.

"I don't know," said Rukawa. "You screamed, so I rushed here."

"I... screamed?"

"Yes, Sempai, and you looked as though you'd seen a ghost."

Mitsui blinked a couple of times just to make sure he really was awake.

Rukawa held his hand up to Mitsui's forehead before withdrawing it with a jerk.

"You're running a fever, Sempai. I'll go call the doctor." Rukawa left before Mitsui could say or do anything else.

Was that just a dream, or was that what really happened? thought Mitsui. If that's what really happened, then how do I know that that dream I had earlier—about Rukawa ditching me for Maki—never really happened?

He felt immensely disturbed and awfully confused.

When the doctor entered the room, he felt relieved—relieved, because the feeling of insecurity that he developed every time he was left alone disappeared.

The doctor felt Mitsui's forehead, h'm-ed seriously to himself, and thrust a thermometer into his mouth.

There were so many questions Mitsui wanted to ask. He made to speak but was silenced with a stern "Don't talk, boy!" from the doctor.

After a couple of minutes, when the doctor removed the thermometer from Mitsui's mouth and examined the reading, he exclaimed, "Oh my goodness!"

"What is it?" asked Rukawa, who was all the while standing behind the doctor.

"A hundred and four degrees!"

Mitsui's body had stiffened with fear when the doctor exclaimed, but that fear soon faded away. He had lived through a hundred and six degrees once.

"Here," the doctor said, prying Mitsui's mouth open, and forcing him to swallow a tablet. Mitsui nearly choked at first, but swallowed the medicine nevertheless.

"Sleep now, Mitsui." The doctor nodded at him, and left the room.

Rukawa made to leave after him, but Mitsui cried out, "No!"

Rukawa was at Mitsui's side in a flash.

"Rukawa, please," said Mitsui; "please don't go."

"It's okay, Sempai." He noticed how pale Mitsui's face had become, and how wide his eyes were.

"No, it isn't," Mitsui sobbed.

"Why, what's wrong?" Rukawa stroked Mitsui's hair.

"Bad things happen to me when you're gone."

"What kind of things?"

"I don't know." Mitsui's voice barely a whisper. "I don't want to go to sleep, Rukawa."

"Why not, Sempai? You must rest."

"But when I sleep... I have such horrible dreams!"

"It's the delirium, Sempai. It's because of the fever. But you've had your medicine now, so you'll be fine."

Mitsui's breathing slowed down a little.

"Just one more thing, Rukawa."

"Yes, Sempai?"

"Did you really spot someone following us back when I got hit?"

Rukawa said nothing.

"Did you?" Mitsui urged.

"Yes," Rukawa conceded at length. "Someone was following us."

"Did you know them?"

"Yes." Rukawa's tone was dangerously low. "It was,"—he paused—"Maki."

"Maki?"

"Yes."

"Why was he following us?"

Rukawa bit his lip, but said nothing.

"So you know." Fearing the worst, Mitsui shut his eyes. So Maki really wanted to steal Rukawa from him.

"I do know." Rukawa said. "He was there..."

Mitsui didn't want to hear it. Dreaming about it was bad enough, but being told in person...

"... for you."

Mitsui's eyes flew open.

"Me?"

"Yes."

"What do you mean, Rukawa?"

"It's not me Maki's after, it's you."

"Me? But why?"

Rukawa shook his head.

"I don't know. Ever since that day, I'm afraid... afraid he might take you away from me."

Mitsui looked into Rukawa's eyes and for the first time saw how lonely he was.

"Rukawa, you know that could never happen."

"Yes, Sempai, I do." He pressed Mitsui's hand again. "You really need to sleep, Sempai."

Mitsui chuckled softly.

"It doesn't look like I have a choice." He felt his eyes shut as if on their own accord.

He felt Rukawa let go of his hand, and heard him get up. Finally, he heard the door close, and after that he didn't remember anything. He was just happy, because for once, his sleep was not going to be haunted by that nightmare—'delirium', as the doctors called it.

And Rukawa was always going to be his.


Mitsui woke up after a long and refreshing sleep. It appeared to be morning, judging by the rays of golden light that shone on the white hospital wall through the window.

He felt a lot better now—a sign that the fever had substantially come down.

He had hardly been awake for a minute when he began to suffer the first thing that came with being hospitalized—boredom.

Damn! Mitsui thought. I could've been playing basketball now! Darn that Maki and that motherfucking car driver to Hell!

He glanced at the digital alarm clock that was perched atop the television set in a corner of the room.

Ten o'clock! Man, was I sleeping!

Wait, there was a television set in the room? That could be the solution to his seemingly endless boredom.

Now just where is the fucking remote?

Conveniently enough, it was on his nightstand. Inconveniently enough, it was on his right nightstand.

Oh, geez! It's like they're torturing me on purpose! Oh, well, I can still try and get it with my left hand.

He stretched his left hand out toward the nightstand to get hold of the remote, and could go only so far as to be able to brush against with the tips of his fingers.

He strained and moved his hip rightward, and with some difficulty, he moved his upper body in the same direction. His right arm felt awfully weird—numb to the point that it felt grossly like rubber, with occasional pins and needles to remind him that it was still a part of his body.

He persevered notwithstanding, and managed to get hold of the hitherto inaccessible remote control.

He exhaled in relief before switching on the TV just in time for an NBA game. How fortunate!

He'd barely been watching for ten minutes when the nurse entered with a tray.

"Breakfast," she said merrily, placing the tray on the nightstand. She helped Mitsui achieve an upright sitting position while she stacked some pillows behind him to support his back. Then she placed a small table on the bed over his lower body, and set the tray on it.

"Enjoy," she beamed, and then left just as suddenly as she had come.

Enjoy? Fuck, I would rather eat something made by Sakuragi! Mitsui said mentally, wrinkling his nose at the sight of eggs that could have been days old, for all one knew, milk that had rancid bits of cream floating around in it, and a slice of plain, unbuttered bread that had become dry and crusty along the edges.

The mere sight of the food before him was enough to make him lose his appetite, which had developed from four full days' worth of starving.

The doctor's words echoed in his head (which he had told him three years ago when he was recovering from his knee-injury): "You may not like milk, but it's essential if you want your bones to become healthy and strong again."

He had cringed at his words back then, cursing at the doctor mentally for thinking him some loopy five-year-old; but now, when he was a lot more sensible than before, he admitted that milk was essential for him.

He shut his eyes and raised the glass to his mouth, draining it in one gulp, before slamming it back on the tray and picking up the bottle of water, draining that even faster.

He had vowed not to touch the eggs or the bread, and resumed watching the basketball game on TV.

Before two minutes had passed, his eyes were glued to the screen.

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," said Mitsui, not taking his eyes off the screen. "Hey, Rukawa."

"It's not Rukawa."

"Oh, sorry." Mitsui turned to look at the person who had entered. "I just thought you were..." He stopped abruptly upon recognizing who had entered. "Maki! What the fuck are you doing here?"

Maki's smug grin was replaced by a scowl.

"Aren't you happy to see me?"

Mitsui defiantly shook his head.

"Well, that changes quite things quite a bit, then, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Maki inched closer and closer to Mitsui. "You belong to me and me alone."

Mitsui shook his head, his demeanor as collected as he could keep it.

"I belong to Rukawa, and him only." His tone was icy.

"Fuck Rukawa." Maki reached for the side of Mitsui's bed. "You were always meant to be mine. From the moment I saw you I knew you and I were made for each other."

"I love Rukawa, and that's not about to change."

"It is. Tell me, Mitsui." Maki smirked. "Have you ever kissed Rukawa?"

Mitsui experienced a moment's hesitation.

"No," he whispered.

"No?" said Maki sardonically, stroking Mitsui's hair much in the way that Rukawa had stroked it the previous night, but with a much firmer touch—as if accentuating the extent of his authority over Mitsui—so that even when he professed his love for Mitsui, he sounded mocking and wicked. "Mitsui, I love you."

"Be that as it may, I don't feel anything for you. Please go away."

"Maybe you don't. And I'll leave, all right, but not without this."

Before Mitsui could utter a protest, Maki placed a rough hand under his chin, and engulfed his mouth in a rough kiss. He forced his tongue through Mitsui's unwilling lips, and explored his mouth. Meanwhile his hands caressed the rest of Mitsui's body.

As much as Mitsui wanted to kick Maki in the nuts, he couldn't help enjoying being thus humiliated and overpowered. It was a feeling quite unlike making out with Rukawa, who tended to be gentle and submissive.

"Sempai!"

Maki broke the kiss hastily, and turned to see a shocked Rukawa standing in the doorway.

"R-Rukawa," Mitsui stammered, "it's not what it looks like, I swear—"

"You lied, Sempai," Rukawa said in choked tones. "You lied."

Without turning back, he ran away.

"Rukawa, wait!" Mitsui called, but Rukawa didn't come back.

Maki chuckled.

"See that, Mitsui? He doesn't really love you. He doesn't trust you enough. And besides, you're an awful kisser. You would never be able to satisfy him anyway."

"Shut up!" Mitsui bellowed. He wanted to get out of bed, and thrash Maki's till all that remained of him was a pile of dirt, but his debilities prevented him doing so.

"You can't do anything to me, Mitsui. Try as much as you want, you'll only hurt yourself more and more."

"Go away!" Tears of exasperation filled Mitsui's eyes.

"Fine, I will," said Maki. "But remember, Rukawa isn't yours anymore. You are mine."

With his healthy hand Mitsui picked up the empty glass of milk, and flung it with all his might at Maki, who didn't even flinch. The glass hit the wall several feet away and shattered.

"Missed me," Maki laughed, stepping out of the room, and shutting the door behind him.

Mitsui's head felt heavy again.

The fever's coming back. he thought. A few stray tears rolled down the side of his face. The fever comes back, but Rukawa doesn't.

His fever must have been pretty bad, because he felt his eyelids shut of their own accord.

"Rukawa..." he whispered before everything turned blank.

Rukawa, it wasn't what you thought, I swear! Oh, if only you could hear me right now. I'm longing for you, Rukawa—I need you. I'm sick and I can't do without you, Rukawa. How could you leave me like this?... How could you leave me like this?...

"It's a great evening today, isn't it?" Mitsui asked as Maki and he walked side by side.

"It is."

"Who's that over there?"

"Where?"

"I just thought I saw someone peeking from behind that bench."

They were passing through the park.

"Just 'someone'?" Mitsui asked curiously.

"Someone familiar, of course."

Mitsui laughed.

"You're seeing things, Maki!"

"I swear, I saw someone."

"Seriously, Maki, there's nobody either of us knows who would spy on us."

"But..." Maki began, but conceded that Mitsui was right. "Maybe I was just imagining it."

"Of course you were, Maki," Mitsui laughed.

"What d'you mean by that?"

"I mean, if you're so tensed all the time, you start hallucinating. You should seriously loosen up sometime."

"I'm relaxed when I'm with you, Mitsui."

Mitsui laughed again.

"Sure you do." He rolled his eyes.

"I do."

"Then why did I have to find out from Rukawa, of all people that you liked me?"

Maki blushed uncharacteristically.

"I... I..."

"I've never known you to stammer, Maki. My eyes are up here."

"Shut up, Mitsui."

Maki playfully punched Mitsui on the shoulder.

"Ouch, that hurt," Mitsui pouted.

"Liar. I didn't even hit you that hard."

They had exited the park, and were now walking along the road.

Maki stopped suddenly, and looked over his shoulder.

"I swear, I'm not hallucinating this time. I really did see someone, and that someone is following us." He sounded anxious.

Mitsui looked around.

"Nope. No one there."

"Look closer, Mitsui. Behind that tree—there's someone hiding behind it."

Mitsui squinted to see more clearly, since the trees in question were more than a few yards away.

"There is someone there." Mitsui blinked.

"See? What did I tell you?"

"You were right, Maki."

They walked cautiously toward where the figure was.

He crossed the road some distance away, and Mitsui made to do the same. Only, he hadn't noticed the car that was speeding from behind him in his direction.

The driver, too, hadn't anticipated that the boy who was running on the sidewalk would suddenly come onto the road, so that, when he did, he slammed his foot on the break while reflexively honking.

Mitsui heard a burst from a car's horn behind him and turned around just in time to see a car mere yards away from him, with what looked like too great a speed to stop in time. He dove in the direction of the sidewalk. It all looked like a movie in slow motion to him—his being hit by the car, being hurled onto the road some ten to twelve feet away, his head hitting the curb...

"Argh!" he screamed, but even as he screamed, everything dissolved into blackness.

And that blackness to blankness.

He felt his body being shaken.

"Wake up, Sempai!" he heard someone call.

He opened his eyes.

"Sempai!" Rukawa exclaimed, relieved.

"What happened?" Mitsui asked, attempting to lift his head. He groaned, felt his head swim, then submitted to its atypical heaviness and slumped back onto the pillow like a lifeless marionette.

"I don't know," said Rukawa. "You screamed, so I rushed here."

"You're back, Rukawa!" Mitsui was thrilled. He hugged Rukawa tightly, as if he had been gone for a million years.

"What do you mean?" Rukawa seemed genuinely confused and concerned. "I'd only gone out to get myself a glass of water?"

"Eh?"

And then Mitsui realized that the room he was in... it was his own bedroom.

"How did I get here?"

"I brought you here."

Mitsui loosened his arms around Rukawa.

"Hey!" He suddenly realized something significant. "I can use my right arm!"

"What do you mean?" Rukawa frowned, worried that Mitsui might have suffered a head trauma. "Did something happen to it?"

"Don't pull my leg, Rukawa."

"Honestly, Sempai. We were at the bar, and you drank too much and passed out. And that's why I brought you back home."

"Really?" Mitsui's face registered surprise. "But I thought I was hit by a car, and almost died, and was at the hospital!"

Rukawa gasped.

"Don't say such things, Sempai!" He held Mitsui tightly.

"How long was I asleep?"

"You were unconscious for about four hours now."

"Four hours? Not four days?"

"No, Sempai."

"But Rukawa, I distinctly remember being at the hospital where Maki came and forcibly kissed me, and you ran away from me."

"You must have had a bad dream, Sempai," Rukawa said.

"But I can swear—"

"I was here throughout, Sempai. And Maki? Did you already forget that the party where you got drunk was to celebrate Maki's getting together with Jin?"

"Maki's with Jin?"

"Yes, Sempai."

"But..."

Rukawa felt Mitsui's forehead, and withdrew his hand with a jerk.

"You're running a fever, Sempai. I'll go get some medicine for you. You'll feel much better, and the delirium will go away."

end.


A/N: Originally published on October 30, 2008. (I don't know that it wasn't the 31st, but I suppose if I would have remembered the exact date, if I had posted it on Halloween.) This fic was inspired by the fact that I was convalescing from a minor bout of illness, and recalled becoming rather delirious whenever I fell sick as a kid. Nothing as severe or coherent as Mitsui's dreams, but there was that surreal feeling of being conscious and unconscious at the same time.