Writing to a dead fanbase, publishing a story I finished a year ago, about a series I never even finished watching, and have been too lazy to upload since I fell out of love with it.
This one-shot is a farewell to last year's writing and also my return to actually fucking using this site as a practicing writer and not just a reader.
Disclaimer: I don't own 'Prince of Stride'. Yuko © me.
Take [You] Out
She sits under the shelter of a bus stop as the rain pours down around her. The glass on either side of the seat are plastered with old advertisements that sag with the weight of the water. A rippling pool spreads across the road she looks over, reflects the red glow of a string of lanterns hanging under the entrance to the bar opposite. A few poor souls are stuck there with their cups of sake also, not noticing the girl at the bus stop opposite whose skin glows with the faint red of the lanterns and the white light of her phone screen.
Freckled cheeks are spotlighted, pink lips toy with small kinds of smiles and smirks, and a pair of bright green eyes glow with the I'll be there soon she was inboxed ten minutes ago.
Her fingers wipe across her phone screen, flicking small droplets of rain from it. Within the bus shelter, the storm finds ways to kiss her skin with its cold, its rain and wind. Even her thick, black jacket cannot keep her warm. She finds herself pulling her hands up into her sleeves, crossing her legs.
Her hair seems to be drying off, and the ebony strands have rebounded into natural curls that sit on her shoulders. Her makeup is running, but she doesn't mind the dishevelled look. And neither does he.
I'll be there soon – she wants to scoff at his words. It's cold and raining and her phone is about to go flat, and if it takes longer than ten minutes, he shouldn't have said it would be soon. May as well have been forever, really.
She glances back down at her phone, thinks about his text, and sighs heavily because she knows she is bound to go easy on him. As annoying as it is, those words are sweet enough to get under her skin, into her bones – but no further than that. She is determined to never let his words reach as far as her heart.
Footsteps splash in puddles. She thinks, at first, that it is just another stranger walking by and so she doesn't look up until a familiar pair of dirty sneakers stand before her and the rain becomes a dull drip that doesn't reach her any longer as an umbrella now hovers over her head.
"Sawamura-san." Though he looks composed, his breathing is still a little heavy.
"You ran here?" Yuko Sawamura looks up, studying him with a frown. "You ran, and it still took you this long, Heath?"
He shrugs his shoulders, a small grin winding its way onto his face. "At least I'm here." Heath Hasekura says.
"At least you brought an umbrella." Yuko replies.
He tilts his head, smiles half-heartedly. "Should we go?" he asks after a moment, "Or do you wanna stay out in the rain a bit longer?"
Yuko is aware he says that only to get on her nerves. It works too, but just doesn't show on her face. She stands abruptly, shakes out her thick hair and tucks her phone away into her pocket. Green eyes catch the light, flashing brightly, lips pushing out in a pout. Heath has to look away, unable to think about anything but the last time she looked at him like that and the hard-on it gave him.
"You're walking me home, by the way," Yuko announces dispassionately, taking his arm, "I hope you weren't busy before this."
"You know I was – that's why you asked me to come all the way here for you, right?"
She smiles smugly and he sighs, grumbles, mutters a curse directed at her under his breath. "Say that louder." Yuko suggests ominously.
Her hand, curling around the crook of his elbow, tightens daringly. Despite the teasing animosity, the two of them fall easily in step with each other and Heath is taking extra care to make sure the umbrella in his hand covers her fully; even if that means his shoulder gets a little wet.
"It wouldn't hurt for you to say please when you ask, though." Heath mumbles suddenly, glancing her way.
She looks up, studies his green eyes and the brown hair pushed back by the headband. "Why?" she asks, unable to find the answer in his expression.
"Because I'm not a dog," he replies reasonably, "I'm not your bitch."
Yuko laughs suddenly and it is bright and happy and everything she is not, deep down. "That's exactly what you are. I mean, this is the least you can do for considering everything I've done for you."
He is silent for a moment, resisting the turn this conversation has taken. Yuko doesn't want to let it go just yet.
"You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" she asks playfully, pushing her shoulder up against him. "Come over and study with me –," Yuko scoffs, more amused than anything, "– So far, all you've managed to teach me is that little trick when I blow you."
By now, Heath is so used to her unashamed crudeness that he doesn't even blink. It's not like there is anyone walking out in the rain to overhear them anyway, so he could never justify his annoyance even if he brought it up with her. Yuko just wants to torture him, and short of giving her the satisfaction, Heath replies, "It's a good trick."
"You don't last very long when I use it." She agrees.
"Hey! Now you're just preening your own feathers!"
Yuko pats his shoulder with her free hand, like a sympathetic old woman; only, coming from her, it's more condescending than anything. Heath wonders why he puts up with her, why they are still friends after all the grief she deliberately causes him – the answer probably had something to do with sex.
"I like that saying; preening your own feathers," Yuko continues lightly, smiling, "Is it something Dan-sensei came up with?"
Heath shrugs. "I heard it somewhere; don't remember."
As they walk, the rain continues to fall. The gutters are full of storm water, the footpath collecting rain in small pools. The umbrella takes most of the beating for them, but the wind still chills the both of them to the bone, leaving them unreservedly close in search of warmth. Usually, Heath keeps a certain respectable distance between them in public. It isn't like they're dating, after all, and no one needs to get that impression from them if it could be avoided.
Clustered houses and empty streets pass by quickly. They are at their own leisure, walking and taking turns – left, left and then right – without even thinking about it. Heath is almost as acquainted with how to get to her apartment as she is herself.
"I didn't tell you this before," Yuko begins suddenly, softly, "But I went to see your last race."
Heath blinks, surprised by both what she says and how she says it. Like a secret. "You did?" It's rare that she would make the effort for him, for something to do with him that isn't also do with sex.
"I did. You were very cool out there, Heath-kun."
He grins, acts as if it is nothing. "I'd be even cooler if you stopped calling me Heath-kun." He says.
Now Yuko is the one smiling, laughing quietly. It is a whisper of a moment; Heath enjoys her whispers. They are soft and gentle and warm, and he finds himself staring down at her with a complex expression. Yuko Sawamura is charming, vain, expects everything to happen according to her whims. She is popular enough to make it happen – though that fact always confuses Heath, because he knows her to be a terrible person.
But then there are the moments like these, a small smile, a shy tilt to her head, and Heath forgets how terrible she is. He can only remember that they met because she threw herself in front of a car to save him; a stranger. She told him later that it was because I wanted someone attractive like you to owe me a debt you could repay with your body. That was a blatant lie, because Heath was the one who had started this friends with benefits scheme between them.
"How is the Stride club going?" Yuko asks. He's not sure how much of her interest is genuine.
"Fine. Kuga re-joined us, you know."
"I know," she replies amusedly, "Actually, for a while, I was really worried about him."
For a moment, Heath is thinking but not me? Not him with the injured leg that might never fully heal? But it is only for a moment, and then he realises he is silly to feel jealous over Yuko.
"He always seemed a little lonely. Made me want to set him up with this friend of mine."
"What? Really?" Heath arches his eyebrows, sceptical, "Why does that not sound like you have their best interests in mind?"
Yuko laughs, hides it behind her free hand. "The delinquent Kuga and Mio the cry-baby." Her foot scuffs against the ground, her toe splashing into the edges of the nearest puddle.
"Mio Fujiwara?" Heath asks for confirmation, more than a little surprised, "Isn't she the girl who fainted mid-dissection in biology?"
"And she has other talents as well – crying because she got lost in the supermarket, crying over paper cuts, crying over getting yelled out, crying over bad grades, crying – literally – over spilt milk, crying over people who sit alone at lunch, crying over-,"
"Okay, okay, I get it!"
Yuko glances up at him and smiles pleasantly. "But don't you wanna find out if she'd cry over a date with Kuga?"
"Don't you wanna try being a better friend?" Heath replies exasperatedly.
"Well I can't think of any other way to find out what doesn't make her cry…Unless you have a suggestion to make?"
Heath considers it, taps his chin as he turns the puzzle over in his mind. "…I can't think of anything." He admits at last, a little embarrassingly. Even when he is right, he is wrong. Yuko keeps finding sly ways to twist her words and flip even her worst traits on their heads – or is that she is turning her good traits into bad ones?
Heath isn't sure, and isn't sure that he wants to be sure. Does he want to like Yuko? Or is that he already does, and wants to justify his interest in her?
He is pulled from his thoughts just as surely as she pulls him across the street. They run, rain bouncing off the umbrella over their heads, and jump the overflowing gutter to reach the path on the other side. A tall apartment building with black, tinted glass windows stands before them, and Yuko punches a code into the keypad by the gate. It swings open and the two of them race towards the door.
As Yuko continues on inside, Heath pauses to shake the umbrella dry and fold it up. A little glance forward tells him that she is waiting, keeping the door open until he has made it inside. The lobby is small and sparsely furnished; much like the apartments themselves. It suits the budget that Yuko and her overseas father can afford to pay.
They walk over to the elevator, whose buttons have been rubbed away at by constant use. A small ding, and the pair step inside. Yuko to the right, Heath to the left – an odd pair. Yuko wears dark clothes; an oversized jacket that was once her mothers, and a pair of heels to match the work uniform underneath. Heath is dressed in his white practice uniform, having left the club rooms in an early rush to try and meet the demands of Yuko Sawamura.
Soft, elevator music plays in the background of their silence as they ride up the floors. For once, Heath breaks the quiet; "You know, I think Kuga and Fujiwara have worked on some group projects before. Maybe a dou-," He catches himself at the last minute, "-a date would work."
That he almost said double date scares him more than he thought it would. It would be like – in essence – asking Yuko out. God, he came so close to almost asking her out. Without a second thought as well, as if they were actually dating.
If Yuko had caught the slip of tongue, she doesn't let it show in her face. She only smiles amiably, replying, "So you see it my way. Maybe I will set this up after all."
The elevator stops on the sixth floor. The doors open and Yuko, though she doesn't need to, hooks her arm around Heath's and leads him out into the corridor.
"They might be more agreeable," Yuko continues, "If it were a double date."
Heath freezes. She tugs on his arm, glances back, and her expression is as deadpan as it usually is around him; an apathy that is more true to her than that fake friendliness she shows around others. "What?" she asks.
"Nothing." He breathes out, relieved she hadn't heard him earlier and she isn't going to bring it up. He wouldn't know what to say if she did.
"Alright then." Yuko pulls him along until they reach her door, where she fishes a key out from her pocket and unlocks it.
Cool air from an unheated apartment hits them as they walk inside. Heath shivers a little before walking ahead of Yuko, who has to lock her door and turn on the heater.
He ends up ambling into the large kitchen and lounge area. There is no dining table inside; Yuko either eats at the bench in the kitchen, or on the floor at her coffee table. If he looks around, he can spot the open door the bedroom he has carried her into quite a few times. It's not a bad room to have sex in, but Heath is rather partial to the lounge room with its large, glass window. Yuko makes the quite the sight when the lights are off and she stands naked in front of it, silhouetted against the city's night-time skyline.
"Heath," Yuko walks out from the hall and into the large room where Heath stands, thinking about sleeping with her, "What can you cook for tea with rice, an apple, and some out-of-date cream?"
"Nothing." He replies firmly. Heath flops onto her couch, on top of the soft blanket of hers that he likes so much. "Why should I be responsible for cooking you tea anyway?"
"Because you're my bitch?"
He thinks about replying, but can't because what she has said makes sense. One homemade – Heath-made – meal in a while would do her some good and isn't a lot to ask when she is always there to fuck him when he wants her. It makes Heath consider inviting her around to his place just so he knows she's eating regularly; except she isn't his girlfriend and they aren't dating.
The sudden bitterness come from nowhere – certainly not from the fact they aren't dating – but moves him to say, "You know…you're one of the worst people I've ever met…"
He says it lazily, from the couch he is lying on, one leg dangling off the edge. Yuko is in the kitchen, elbows on the island bench that looks out over the small lounge area. She doesn't take offence. "Why are you with me then?" she asks, because she likes to get under his skin.
"Technically, I'm not."
"Not?"
"We're not…not together, I mean."
Yuko is silent. Heath has his eyes closed, and cannot see how her lips press together, how her brow furrows and she cannot look at him for the moment because when she does, she thinks of all the things they have done together and how fucking someone had never hurt her like this before. It is an emotional hurt. She knows this, but still won't admit that her heart can and has been compromised.
"Yes," Yuko agrees softly, bitterly, "But you certainly can sleep with me like we are."
Heath doesn't answer, if he heard at all. She is also quick to distract herself, to pull herself together and begin the act of tea-making by boiling the kettle. She might not have a well-stocked fridge, but Yuko loves her tea and her apartment is never without the necessities for making it.
She pulls two cups out, and in one she puts a spoonful of sugar because that is the way Heath likes it. Yuko is sweet enough without any sugar – though Heath would surely disagree. The kettle finishes boiling, leaving her to steep the tea bags in their cups.
When she glances over towards the couch, she realises that Heath didn't answer because he is asleep. Yuko sighs, before taking a cup in each hand and making her way around the bench. It is a slow, careful journey in efforts not to spill the drinks, and she makes it to the coffee table safely.
When she kneels, it is to study Heath a little more closely; his brown hair, the shadow of his cheekbone, curve of his lips. Yuko wants to kiss him, but more than that, wants him to wake up first. What an idiot.
"Heath." She says, but he doesn't stir.
She repeats herself; "Heath-kun." He doesn't even twitch.
At last, now both annoyed and offended, Yuko takes her impatience and channels it through a swift pinch to his cheek. "Hasekura!" And at last he flinches.
"…Wha…?" he begins groggily.
"You fell asleep," Yuko huffs, turning her shoulder towards him coldly, "Honestly, it's been months, and to think you still need more training…Next time, pay attention when I do something nice for you!"
Heath blinks once, twice. He notices the two cups of tea over her shoulder, on her coffee table. Then he looks back at her – Yuko with her ebony hair, her furrowed brows, her freckled cheeks and that beautiful mouth twisted into a scowl – and can't help but smile.
"Sorry." Heath says, but he is still grinning as he props himself up and reaches for Yuko.
His fingers slip through her hair, across her cheek. She looks at him with bright eyes and he is leaning forward, prepared to spend the next few minutes kissing her until she has forgiven him, until she has forgotten just what it is she is forgiving him for. That is how it works between them – how it used to, at least.
This time, however, is a very rare exception because Yuko is turning her head, leaning back, pushing his hand away. She is not going to kiss him – she is not going to forgive him. Not easily, at least.
Heath doesn't understand why she would be so upset over his falling asleep.
"You can't kiss me," Yuko says calmly, coolly, "We're not together. Technically."
"What? Hey!" Heath sits up, frowning. If he were to reach for that tea she so graciously made him, he is sure to be slapped away. "You're mad about that? It's just the truth."
"Exactly."
"Exactly?"
"Yes."
He isn't sure he wants to know what she means when she says that.
"Sorry." Heath says again, instead of asking why.
Why would she say that? Why would she be annoyed that they sleep together? That they aren't dating? Why would she want them to date? Why would she care? Why should he care? – but this is Yuko Sawamura. Domineering, proud. Charming. Teasing. With her enthusiasm, her empty apartment, her small smiles.
Heath repeats the question to himself. Why should he care? The answer is the same – because this is Yuko Sawamura.
Yuko ignores his confusion and shuffles backwards. She sits on the floor, glances at her cup of tea, and then back towards Heath. He isn't looking at her, but at his hands. Perhaps he doesn't want to face her after that poorly-timed comment of hers. They should really be making out right now, instead of enjoying a silence that is more awkward than it is anything else.
The quiet stretches on and on and on and fills the vastness of her apartment. Heath glances around him.
"Why…" He guesses, considering that he just decided he did in fact care about her, he should ask the question he isn't sure he wants an answer to, "Sawamura-san…Yuko…are you unhappy with our-" Relationship? "-arrangement?"
"That's a loaded question you don't want the answer to." She replies smartly, with fake cheer.
Heath sighs. "Stop the act, Yuko."
Her smile falls away on cue. Yuko looks as dispassionate as she usually does around him; that is the form her honesty takes. She does not care, and that is why she has always been able to say what is on her mind. It is that which Heath likes about her, why he decided she could be trusted to handle the complexities of their…of them.
"I suppose you think you can see right through me, right?" Yuko asks suddenly.
"…I guess…"
She stares at him, doesn't let her troubling, twisting, turning emotions show on her face. "But that's only because I let you-," Heath hesitates to agree to what she's saying, "-after all…"
After all, he knows her better than anyone. He has seen her as herself. He has seen Yuko naked. He has seen her smiles and tears, both fake and real. He has seen her apartment, which is huge and vast and empty. No one gives her homemade bento. Sits under a kotatsu with her in winter. Visits the shrine with her when she welcomes in the new year. He has seen this because she gave him a chance.
Heath glances across at Yuko, and realises that she is very lonely. And he realises it is also just as she says; he can only realise this because she lets him in and trusts him in ways she doesn't trust anyone else.
"After all, Heath-kun, you've been sleeping with me for months and," Yuko tells him, "You never once realised just how much I like you."
He stares at her until the words start to sink in. He is still surprised to realise that the popular Yuko Sawamura is lonelier than he could have imagined, and her confession passes over a numb mind.
Heath unfreezes after a moment. "You like me?"
Yuko hesitates, and looks away. She is blushing and Heath feels something strange happening to him inside, though a different kind of strange to the usual getting turned on.
"Yes." Yuko whispers stiffly.
"I thought…"
"You thought what I wanted you to think. It's fine; my reputation as a bitch kind of turns people off, I know."
"Actually," Heath laughs, runs a hand through his hair and takes his headband out, nervous and wanting to hide his red cheeks behind his bangs, "Actually, Sawamura-san, I thought you were looking for something purely physical-,"
"My acting's very good, isn't it?"
Heath is still smiling, even though he sighs, "Can you hold off the jokes until I'm finished telling you I like you too?"
"What?" Yuko's world stops for a moment because she wants to take in the expression on Heath's face and the happiness in her heart, "What?"
What she means to say is why, but it seems she shares the same aversion to the question that Heath does. For that reason, he understands. He says, "Well, seeing as how my only reservations against liking you – and telling you that I did – were because I believed you would completely shut me out, it seems appropriate to respond to your confession now – right?"
"I…suppose." Yuko agrees after a moment's consideration.
Heath's words reach deep, deep inside her. There is a meaning behind them that has something to do with her loneliness, how he somehow interpreted that cold wall as a lack of need for anyone in her life, how he ignored the pangs in his heart when she climbed right out of bed after they were finished. Of course he likes Yuko Sawamura – she had just convinced him that he didn't, that he shouldn't.
"You're…you're not gonna shut me out right?" Heath asks hesitantly, "When I say that I like you…"
"When I say that I like you, I mean that you and I should go on a date." Yuko agrees, and her eyes glitter as they catch the light. "Maybe a double date," she adds, "So we can set Kuga and Mio up and see how many times he can make her cry-"
"You need to rephrase how you say that." Heath replies wisely, managing a small smile.
"-Bursts into tears, then."
He laughs loudly, shortly. "Okay, okay, stop distracting me," he orders, and she glares because she likes to do the ordering, "I was trying to ask you out."
Yuko shrugs her shoulders. "I was thinking this weekend at one. Lunch. I wanna go to that new maid café that opened up and…"
"…What?" Heath is already suspicious about the look in her eyes.
"Do you like maid uniforms, Heath-kun?"
Since he's feeling surprisingly generous, he answers honestly, "Thinking about you in a maid uniform definitely turns me on." It's too bad that, despite how coolly he delivered his line, he is blushing like an idiot.
Yuko smiles, just a crack, before it turns into a grin and a giggle and her laughter fills the room. She should really hate Heath right now, but the failing is with her for being determined not to let his words touch her heart when it is impossible for them not to.
Heath reaches out for the mug abandoned on the table. It warms his hands as he cups the tea she made for him. "Sawamura-san. Can you confess to me again?"
"You don't believe me?" Yuko asks, eyebrow arching, lips toying with a smile, "Those words are gonna cost you, Heath."
"Will takeout for tea tonight cover it?"
She is smiling her mysterious smile with her bright green eyes and freckled cheeks. He takes one look and thinks that yes, he is definitely in deep with her.
"…I'll stay the night as well." Heath adds, with the kind of meaning that is so soft it doesn't fully make it into his voice.
Yuko understands anyway, and she smiles this time when she says it; "I like you – and you better not forget it."
Thanks for reading!