Sea and Stone
Takami-san is like the ocean – expansive, endless and terrifyingly beautiful. His cool eyes ripple like the blue waters of the tropics, his knowing smile concealing more life and wisdom than the seven seas themselves. (it thrills him, the very same way)
It scares Sakuraba, how alike the two are, and how he draws up these kinds of comparisons between things. (because he's never been the thinking type, unless he's thinking about)
Takami-san is deep, deeper than most people think – not deep like the stupid poems they have to analyze in class or the hole he fell into when he was a kid – but deep like the deepest ocean, like something that's always been there and always will be; rarely noticed, rarely mentioned but there. (it scares him; it really does, especially the way)
He covers Sakuraba effortlessly; blanketing him in warm, shallow water, beating softly against his long legs, his chest, his back as he floats on the waves of dreams and love and longing, because he wants – has wanted – for nothing more than Takami-san, for all the waters of every sea to fill him till he can hold no more, because Takami-san is just – Takami-san is so – Takami-san will –
(toss him around in a violent storm)
(shatter him like a broken raft)
(into tiny, indiscernible pieces)
(turn dark to hide what is beneath him)
(and turn light to show him everything)
(for better)
(or worse)
(drown him as easily as carry him)
(and care for neither either way)
Takami-san reflects the sunlight off his glasses (water, ocean, mirror of lies, everything) and smiles as Sakuraba sinks and goes under.
Shin is a mountain.
He is a pillar of support everywhere he goes; whether it is to the Kobayakawa boy, or the American Panther-kun or Sakuraba himself. He is unwavering, unchanging. (at this point, he can't help but draw parallels between Shin and –) For someone who never crumbles, Shin's role as a linebacker is strangely contradictory, as he crushes down all those in front of him, sweat glistening in the sunlight and muscles rippling under pale, smooth skin.
Sakuraba admires him for that. For that strength, that passion on the field. But most of all, he admires Shin for his reliability, and his ability to weather any storm without fearing or faltering.
Sometimes it's funny to watch Shin, because it really seems as though that the man has been around since the dawn of time, watching the world evolve and progress before his eyes, and really not giving a damn about it all. It's so different to (he has to stop himself, stop thinking about –) everyone else, this almost detached quality, that Sakuraba can only marvel it in awe – until Shin breaks a mobile phone or two, which just makes all of them laugh.
Shin however, stands unaffected, unmovable as ever, and reminds them that long after the mobile phones and televisions are gone, the mountain will still stand as tall and proud as ever.
But sometimes Sakuraba fears that it is a mountain that he will never overcome. He fears that as time passes, as he deteriorates and weakens, the mountain will remain, even as he fades away into the nothingness of forgotten memories. He fears that if he should fall from its side, the mountain will not catch him or cradle him, but let him fall to the hard ground instead. And most of all, he fears that he is too small for this great mountain to even see him, acknowledge him.
Sakuraba fears that Shin will never accept his fear, his feelings that tentatively wait for an answer that may never come. In that way, the mountain is not his to climb. (nor is the ocean his to swim in)
Once, on a warm summer day, Sakuraba decided that he was in love with Takami-san.
Once, on a warm summer day, Sakuraba decided that he was in love with Shin.
(once, on a cold summer day, a boy cried for the want of ocean and mountain)