Standard disclaimers apply. There are no indications of time and majority of things here are flashbacks, and I'm violating the rules of syntax; the content is unedited as of now, so feel free to point out the mistakes. This for Ayi, who would not appreciate my take on this story (and for letting me borrow his line), and for Pollux and Strider - I finally made a MitRuMit, but I'm having a hard time about this pairing. Haha. Reviews/flames welcome, as always.
Hands slither away from each others' touch and but only to travel towards the restless collarbones, reaching, trying to subdue what's left of all resistances, and only the asphalt and darkness and a lonesome lamp post were the witnesses to the erratic language of their bodies – how long were they, what places have they reached and only to realize, that at time's end it was only four minutes that Mitsui and Rukawa have tangled themselves like long lost and star-crossed lovers. The alleys of Kanagawa, Kamakura district slept with the dimmest lights and only stray cats dare wander the place, or the bystanders who had nothing to lose and only violence to gain. Here both of them can no longer beware of time, or the muggers, or even being seen for that matter, Rukawa had everything this time around, and basketball, being the only one he cares about, has disappeared like it was nothing but ancient knowledge that is already in the ruins.
Mitsui has nothing to lose. Rukawa has everything to gain, and the rest felt unreal. He takes his hand away from the blue-haired youngster's neck, roaming for a better touch underneath all the amorous nonsense of their touching thighs and the silent whispers, and everything felt unreal. He had nothing to lose, he thought, the world can watch as he makes it disappear.
And then he remembered, when Mitsui began his ministrations, when the blue-haired's hands began to travel towards his crotch, when Mitsui – the devil-may-care and the blitheness of his hands, the ex-gangster Hisashi Mitsui who had nothing to lose, he remembered it correctly now. He was supposed to buy something for his mom, what was it really? – and who would care, he thought, he loves himself more than his mother anyway, and it was here that Rukawa began to pull away.
The Dangerous End of Dalliance
Nothing has ever marked prominence, Rukawa realized, and Mitsui was honestly not the type that the freshman would lust for. Hisashi Mitsui was all too lost and childish and naïve and someone who would surrender easily. The arrogant freshman, on the other hand, was a silent murderer of all innocence, and a much accepted person despite his apathy, and now the classroom began to feel smaller when his professor walked towards him, his shadow cast upon him, and asking him the numbing question.
"Do you even listen, Rukawa Kaede?"
The professor knew the answer. In fact everyone in the room knew the answer, and although Rukawa had better thoughts to think about (like planning how to pawn the so-called rival, or how to win the practice game later, or how to stalk Mitsui without being noticed) than wasting a second of his life to the numbing enterprise of education, he nevertheless went on to reply, "Yes."
The professor postpones when the bell rang. Lunch. And he has nothing but vacant time. And he would then go on for a walk in the fields and begin to be meticulous about seconds and minutes and hours because his vacant time has been reserved for the sole purpose of going into the unoccupied basketball gym. The sun is not as bright nor was it dull, and he hated it because Mitsui likes bleak weathers when they meet. In fact even Rukawa liked the weather bleak when their bodies graze against the cold metals of the lockers because it would only make him warmer at the other's touch. Yesterday he recalled was a much better day but Mitsui forgot; he always forgets.
He enters the gym, pristine at the eyes' touch and deafening when he, the so-called apathetic and nonchalant Rukawa – the unemotional fox, heard rough moaning sounds at the lockers. He narrows his eyes, because these soon-to-be people of indecent exposure have violated the sanctity of his meeting place. His pace increases and so did the moans, and he can only contain so much anger when he opened the door. Mitsui always forgets.
And the nonchalant Rukawa, staring at him, could only say no more than a silent whisper.
"It's not Monday."
Tonight, of course, is not Monday, with Mitsui frowning when Rukawa agonizingly pulled away from the warm touch, away from the carelessness of a touch that he has savored for a long time despite one month of agreements. A cat purred, startling them, and Rukawa becomes wary about the carton of milk that he had to buy for his mom – or was it really? – and Rukawa did what he's excellent at – nothing. "My place?" says the older man, more of an understanding than a question.
"No,"
"Why not?"
That blatant grin plastered on Mitsui's face has done wonders on this raven-haired freshman although the latter can only comprehend its meaning; and the world will disappear. Mitsui has flexed his body so that underneath the dim lights he is caressing Rukawa's neck and the other has to think of something that would make him forget the world. One month can mean frequent encounters and a million of stares and he has realized how pretentious memories can be, like when Mitsui made a bet about Sakuragi dribbling one hundred times and losing, and in the end Rukawa had possession of the ex-gangster's naked body and no one really cared. Mitsui has nothing to lose.
"I know what you're thinking."
Did he now?, he thought, suspicious, and Rukawa is amazed by the audacity of Mitsui's voice – carefree as always. Four weeks ago Rukawa knew that Mitsui, while walking for home, realized that he is being followed by someone too irrelevant to be noticed. It was after practice and their bodies, exhausted from the game, was beginning to retire and Mitsui is astonished at how Rukawa endured all the walking when his home was supposed to be across the bays and one needed to walk circles to get there. And annoyed as he is, he looked at him with wary eyes.
"What're you doing here?"
"Nothing."
"Really now, if I'm as deadpan as you I'll just doze it off 'til I drool."
Rukawa stares, vulnerable to anything that would graze Mitsui's vision. "Something y'want? Did y'lose your key to your house or something? I may have been a juvenile but I'm not that cheap," he grins. That blatant grin plastered on his face.
And so he just stares, the meaning of which would be revealed to Mitsui moments after when he reckoned that this was exactly how he stalked Kiminobu Kogure, the vice-captain of martyrdom, the average sacrificial victim who would go on depths to forgive every acts of infidelity that he would and will be committing, when Rukawa and Mitsui's encounters persisted for one month and he wanted no other choice but to play naïve and share.
"So what?"
Rukawa recalled that this is Hisashi Mitsui he's talking to when he declared that it's Tuesday and he was supposed to be the one underneath the blue-haired youngster, that it's not Wednesday and the vice-captain would have to abstain because it is the raven-haired freshman's day today, that it's supposed to be him all sweaty and glorified by the hungry hands of Mitsui. And while he is staring at them both Rukawa has not said a word and stood there while he is dismembered and the feeling was not as familiar as those touches, although in fact he wasn't sure if it felt bad at all. He was supposed to feel joyous and scandalous at the thought of the two men and their unearthly human ways and he was supposed to anticipate, plan ahead; he was supposed to feel nothing but it only proved that he wasn't only blind but dead.
"What the fuck're you doing here anyway?"
It was the exact question Mitsui threw after practice cleaning himself dry with the towels and Rukawa, disguised by the fresh towels, is being polluted with wanton thoughts that he almost reached his hands out to the far-away stranger that is the blue-haired when the rest of the team interrupted them and prevented any more awkwardness between them. Rukawa surmises that everything has to start somewhere, and he had to start somewhere, and he began memorizing Mitsui's home and every night, neighbors will be awakened by the persisting sounds of pebbles against the window panes and anonymous letters with shoddy handwriting and Mitsui has begun to play along. He can be as childish as the redhead but he's not as stupid as Rukawa, and Mitsui definitely had nothing to lose in this seemingly nonsensical gestures of romanticism that he kept it from Kogure for a few more weeks before truthfully speaking of the uncouth infidelity, although one month can mean frequent encounters and a million stares.
And it is here in Mitsui's room that every possible ways towards infidelity can be explored. A few days would pass and it would only mean nothing but the famished Mitsui looking for meaningless proximity. He would undress and Rukawa will be vulnerable, and Mitsui will grin and he will begin to touch, and Rukawa will savor every touch, as faded as they are in his memories, and both of them will fear of nothing because they knew that all ends are dead and there was nothing to do but touch each other.
And Mitsui will talk afterwards and Rukawa will always be silent.
"I just get tired sometimes y'know, like, I just am fucking tired, and I dunno why, it all gets tedious sometimes and I just can't take it. There's nothing to do, nothing to say. You know too well to anticipate, so you just play along,"
"It's not like I don't like him anymore," he continues, "He's all I have when the world falls apart. But sometimes you go to a dead end and... and then I get tired,"
"Then cool it off."
And so the unresponsive freshman rejoiced when he learned that Mitsui and Kogure cooled it off and realized an abundance of time for them both, he relished at the days in which Mitsui will only think of him and no one else, and all the dark corners of their neighborhood are explored by their tangled arms, where the rest of the world will be dead and they felt good at the uncertainty of all these so-called meaningless proximity. Mitsui had nothing to lose and Rukawa had everything to gain, that it was a mutual understanding between them both and Mitsui was resolved and satisfied and Rukawa will always want more, and on weekends they will find themselves into a long fall of this oxymoron. At the end of the day it was never meant to be an amorous play of human bodies, nor was it like the teasing silences that their naked limbs could mutter, with no sense of time or conviction, which precisely what they needed – or was it really?, thought Rukawa, because it was one thing he can hold on to, and without this capricious Hisashi Mitsui all ends into a sense of certainty, of being ahead as always, something that the freshman was taught of since a child, something that the freshman despised that, without the capricious Hisashi Mitsui, he was afraid that he, the deadpan Rukawa, was going to be mundane.
Kogure was never to be seen for the next few weeks because unlike the two of them he had a much better investment for future in case that old age reaches up to him, and the team has been too fit that Ryota Miyagi, the junior captain, decided to let the team for a two-day respite. Two days for Mitsui and Rukawa meant all too many encounters and a million stares and more than enough dark alleys to conquer, but it was at the second day that Rukawa, under the dim white lights of the lamp post and under the bleakest sky there is, under the dangerous end of dalliance, that he finally remembered what it was like to be certain, to be ahead as always.
"You certainly do," he says with coolness, and it was one thing that Mitsui despised in him, because coolness was never meant to relay any tangible message and he hated the fact that he cannot fathom what the raven-haired fox was saying.
"If y'think I feel guilty about this, y'can go away now and don't bother throwing stones at my windows because that'll only make me call the cops, or if you're the guilty one I can proceed kissing you 'til you don't feel it anymore,"
And over the next few days the sense of boredom would persist in Rukawa, and he would have to struggle going against it – is it now, he thought, that Mitsui infected him of his disease as well?
tbc.