WARNINGS: One-sided Akihiko/Hiroki
DISCLAIMER: "Junjou Romantica" and its characters do not belong to me. They are the property of Nakamura Shungiku.
"I hate Latin music. It's always just people telling me to dance. I don't dance."
I would have commented on the political incorrectness of his remark, but Akihiko was decidedly beyond help. I rolled my eyes and put my headphones back on as I continued studying the singer's inflections for my Music and Language class. The paper's deadline was coming up and I wanted to get a head start on it before I was buried under the never-ending piles of papers again. It was only his prying curiosity that got me to pause and let him hear what I was listening to.
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye, as I was so wont to do. Akihiko was one of those rare souls that could pull off the "college is unhealthy and I am dead inside, but I am still beautiful" look. The already mild setting of the university library had become even paler in comparison when Akihiko stepped in. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, like a king sitting upon a throne of textbooks and drinking from his goblet of coffee. It was hard to believe he couldn't dance, when every inch of his body exuded elegance and grace. Every bit of him correctly suggested that he came from old money, the kind of aristocracy that was so old you just had to assume that all pf their precious heirs had received ballroom lessons or something equally ostentatious. The warm sunlight illuminated his silver hair and eyelashes, making him glow like an extraterrestrial, celestial being bathed in a beauty that one wouldn't dare impose upon.
Except that I was. Imposing, that is. Despite going to different universities, still I managed to maintain my spot beside him much to my surprise and pride, even to the point of coming to his university to study with him. I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised. This was the only possible outcome of Akihiko's unrelenting distant-yet-civil behavior. "Why do I need any more friends? I have you," he always replies bluntly. And every time, I scoff, and quash down the flush of my cheeks and the flutter in my heart. It is words like these that keep me pathetically hanging on to him like a parasite even after all these years. I hate that he can still do that after all these years. Does he really not know what he does to me?
Besides, I would disagree with his statement about dancing. Akihiko is a dancer, even if he denies it. He doesn't dance with moving limbs or athletic appendages, but with his words. He manipulates the ebb and flow of words with the rhythm in his mind, a song that only he can hear. He makes words tango with passion and waltz with grace. He takes your hand and dances you into a world that leaves you breathless. He leads you with the motions of characters who aren't real, dips you in the tide of their emotions, and you have no choice but to follow along and get caught up in his pace. Reading one of his works is like getting swept up by the girl from the ballet story of the red shoes.
He is the red shoes. It's cruel and captivating. You are enamoured even if it will kill you. Once he makes you fall in love with him and his words, he will never let you go.