Disclaimer: Diamond no Ace does not belong to me- nor do any of the characters, settings, etc. I am in no way associated with the franchise.
Extinguish
A/N- This was written for geekinthepink23's "The Writing Game, Challenge 1". Best of luck to the other contestants! It'll be great to see what everyone comes up with!
Miyuki steps outside into the stagnant night, wanting nothing more but the crisp solitude of a quiet practice. By virtue, however, of the faint outline of footprints beckoning to the training grounds, he knows he will get anything but. Miyuki takes his time, leisurely rounding the corner of the dorms as he stifles a yawn, and catches sight of a figure exercising diligently into the night.
Lo and behold, Sawamura is running. With headphones? That was a rare sight. He didn't even think Sawamura was into music. Miyuki doesn't mean to spy, but can't help but think it's a good look on him: exhausted but spirited, ungritting his teeth to pour his soul into the night air. His tone is raspy, and there are choppy pauses in his tune when he wipes the sweat off his face. The tenure of his voice lacks vibrato, and the each syllable comes out with a torrent of volume. It's sincere yet haphazardly rough around the edges- raw emotion if Miyuki's ever seen it. It's a rock song, he thinks- and can't help but chuckle at the thought. How oddly fitting for Sawamura.
For once, Miyuki is inclined to merely spectate. He doesn't jog over and tag along with Sawamura just to spite him, nor does he chirp insults or make an effort to bother him. He just observes. "Blackmail," is the word of the day for him, and he's already whipped out his phone to record the offense. He only gets in about a minute until he's disturbed, however. Out of coincidence, Sawamura has seen him in the corners of his peripheral vision. He turns, blatant embarassment and irritation clear on his face, as he begins to charge over. Miyuki grins in mischievous glee.
"Hey, Sawamura. Trying to be a rock star, are we?"
Sawamura is scandalized to say the least. He lunges for the device, but it's frustrating to play keep away at a two inch height disadvantage. Miyuki chuckles with mirth at Sawamura' s vain efforts. The latter's incessant shouts of ire are crescendoing by the second, the thought of waking the others and drawing attention not even crossing his mind. Miyuki allows this to go on for a few minutes, more for his own amusement than anything, before finally holding up his hands in surrender.
"Pipe down, will you. I won't say anything..."
Sawamura's eyes widen, then narrow in suspicion.
"-if you buy me a drink."
Surprised at the light penalty, Sawamura recoils a bit. Shaking his head in disbelief, he vice grips MIyuki's wrist and drags him to the vending machine areas before he has time to change his mind.
He waits at the bench a few feet away. Sawamura is standing in front of the vending machine. He fidgets as the machine hums contently, taking its time. Sawamura would rather it not. When a can is finally dispensed, he scoops it up and presses it into Miyuki's waiting hand. He shuffles to his side and sits awkwardly. Miyuki is watching him, sipping silently- wondering how Sawamura remembered his favorite drink. For a while, neither speaks. Sawamura is pouting. He gets up, shoves Miyuki lightly, and begins making his way back to the dorm. "You really are too cynical, senpai." Miyuki thanks him for the compliment.
He starts walking back too, when the humid air shows its true colors. A light drizzle begins, until it thickens into plump raindrops. The runoff from the roof feeds into a central gutter stream, that happens to splash onto Sawamura's head.
He's caught completely off guard, and is promptly drenched. Sawamura lets out a shakes and sputters indignantly, wiping cold water out of his eyes. Experimentally peeling the hem of his shirt from his waist, he sighs as it adheres back with a suction sound. Miyuki can't help but laugh.
"You do realize Kuramochi will kill you if you track water in the room," Miyuki hums conversationally. Sawamura sighs headily, and Miyuki grins. "Worry not! Your reliable senpai will let you crash in his room!" Sawamura looks wary. "You'll still owe me afterward though," Miyuki adds helpfully. Sawamura realizes that he doesn't have a choice as he follows.
Miyuki tosses a towel on his head and leaves him mostly to his own devices. He also rolls out a futon, saying something about wet sheets and grumpy roommates. Despite all these measures, Sawamura still looks wary. For the few minutes until they settle down to sleep, he's stretching and twiddling his thumbs with obvious discomfort. Miyuki guessed that he was in deep thought. That in itself was revolutionary, but why now?
Sawamura's restlessness continues even after the lights have been shut off. He's rearranging his covers- tossing, turning, throwing the heady blanket off entirely- before sighing. Miyuki decides to try something. Allowing his eyelids to flutter shut, he breathes evenly, making a point to stay as stoic as possible.
He hears Sawamura sit up, can almost feel the scrutinizing gaze on him. After a few moments, herelaxes, plopping down and stretching his limbs. As more minutes pass, Miyuki detects the hesitant clearing of a throat, and soft singing.
For some reason, Miyuki is taken aback to hear such a gentle tune coming from Sawamura- one of the loudest and brashest people on the team. Whispery, lilting, and vulnerable, the words resound quietly. The melody is simple, peaceful, exuding warmth. Miyuki is torn between allowing himself to fall asleep to the soothing sound, and interrupting the fragile moment with a confrontation. He's leaning more towards the former, but would be loathe to let such perfect timing go to waste... He realizes that he doesn't have to make a decision as Sawamura's song dies down, as ephemeral and sudden as it had begun.
"It was what my mom used to sing to me when I couldn't sleep, you know? Do you like it?"
The abrupt question takes a moment to cut through Miyuki's initial shock. Even he hadn't see this one coming. For such a simpleton, even Sawamura could surprise sometimes. Miyuki's eyes snap open, and he sees Sawamura staring directly at him, meeting his gaze with earnesty. The intense gaze causes a sudden tug at some dormant emotion inside him, and all Miyuki can do is swallow.
"So..." Miyuki chuckles- for once, out of nervousness. "You knew I was awake?"
Sawamura shrugged. "Just a guess."
For a while, they're both silent, wallowing in the turmoil of a stormy summer night. Drowning would be more like it.
Miyuki ignores the question, and asks one of his own. "Was that supposed to say something, that song you just sung...Eijun?"
Sawamura stiffens. The use of his first name shows just how seriously the latter was taking this, and he knew it was now or never. He always has been one to face challenges head on, and this is no exception. Sawamura saunters to Miyuki's bed and plops down, wet hair sprinkling scattered drops on the sheets.
Sawamura casts his gaze down, and the line of his mouth hardens, before he sets his expression firmly. "Yes," he says confidently.
Sawamura had sounded unwavering, but Miyuki see the aftershock that runs through him after the display of courage. Sawamura tightens his grip on the edges of the pillow he had grabbed, as a bead of sweat runs down the vein adjacent his Adam's apple.
In all honestly, Miyuki is the one feeling more cornered right now. It's suffocating, this thing they have, of giving and receiving- of suppressed words and misunderstood actions. Inevitably, the scales will tip, and something will break this balance.
But right now all that Miyuki can see is this person before him: twisting their fingers into knots as they stare Miyuki straight in the eyes. Molten amber burns into him. He knows that Sawamura has done his part, that he's waiting for Miyuki to say something back. Miyuki swallows- for once, silent- and meets his gaze.
Right now all they are is awkwardness and prolonged stares and death grips on unsuspecting furniture. Miyuki isn't sure he's ready to move past that. He doesn't even know what's waiting past that, and if he's ever meant to discover it. Because for someone that can pick their opponent apart like a jigsaw puzzle and read them like a graphic novel: Miyuki Kazuya is at a loss.
This firecracker just had to show up and burn. Burn so boldly and brightly that suddenly Miyuki can't see anything else. He takes up so much oxygen that sometimes Miyuki forgets to breathe.
Despite all this, Miyuki is still not ready for the commitment- still not ready to own up to the constricting feeling inside his gut. He's spent so many years building a mask and flitting around emotions, that he's forgotten how to handle them properly. He's not even sure if he understands himself anymore. Did he ever understand himself to begin with?
So he clears his throat, painfully, and wets his lips.
"We didn't come here to sing songs though, did we?"
The voice doesn't sound like his own.
Sawamura lets out a breathy laugh; his voice cracks. He quickly recovers and goes on with his robust scolding, eyes narrowed and voice raised in irritation.
Miyuki can recognize his facade. He's watching Sawamura's eyes, which somehow seem less alive than ten minutes ago. It stirs something inside him to think that this is the first time he's seen Sawamura put on a fake expression.
They break each other, it seems. Suddenly Miyuki hates himself for dimming the life in those eyes, and then contemplates the odds of falling in love when your emotions are the farthest thing from conventional. They're slim.
Miyuki finds himself laughing at the irony, a bitter sound that rings clear in the empty air. The emptiness inside himself that he refuses to let Sawamura fill...he loathes it. But it is comfort, because this void is what he has lived with his entire life.
Sawamura, who had trusted him enough to show a vulnerable part of himself; Sawamura, who is looking at him like the axis on his world has been realigned and he's not quite sure how to function anymore- has been betrayed.
It's unhealthy, this cycle of give and take they've ensnared themselves in. One day the scales will tip, and feelings will rush out like water from a dam. Miyuki will figure it out, finally figure it out, and hope that Sawamura will gracious enough to wait for him. That day is not today.
For now they will watch each other pretend to sleep under the requiem of rain pelting the roof, and attribute that moment of insanity as a side effect of a stifling summer night.