The night is as bleak as the mundane days where one cannot fathom anything but the insignificance of the rising moon or the receding sun, or people's everydayness; the night, immaterial and with no stars at all, is as mundane as the chillness that the neighborhood has given off, and the dark pavements have been the light to make way for the expressionless Rukawa Kaede. He strolls with no unease, with nothing but the whelming desire to stir the night, to stir the senses off of Hisashi Mitsui whose body lay still by the mattresses, cold, and he's dreaming of a standoff between Shohoku and Ryonan and it was here that Mitsui had all endurance to play, because he knew that every second of dribbling, of shooting and passing – he knew that he does not have any endurance at all, even outside the game, and this is where all uncertainties and boredom and fatigue can be cleared away, and in this dream this is where he lay peacefully, and Rukawa, on the outside, was there to wake him up from a nightmare, from the deceiving grip of a castle in the sky that is too high to be reached.

Rukawa has been doing this for four days.

The first night, with the gleaming stars and the temperate winds, with all the warmth and docile protests from Kogure as he awoke – the first night, thought Rukawa, was as bleak as the mundane days where he can only fathom nothing except the insignificance of the vice-captain where the deadpan freshman, selfishly, has proven to the generous, mature brown-haired named Kogure Kiminobu that even outside the game he is more than capable to steal, dribble and pass by them, like he always does, and while Mitsui has nothing to gain when he heard of the tapping sounds, like something that's about to break, he nevertheless got up, ignored Kogure's protests, opened the window, and beheld by the sight of neediness before him – Mitsui thought that it was something about the team.

"You're getting annoying," he says on the first night.

Tonight, however, can only invite too many inspirations and encouragements and at the third pebble Mitsui awoke, alone, almost weary by the looks of his sleepy eyes; he thought that it wasn't for the team, nor was it for anything significant – and he, thinking that he has nothing to lose, opened the window and stared at the expressionless Rukawa before managing to say, "You're getting annoying."

Was he this needy?, thought Mitsui, or is this some gibberish he had to endure? – and now he frowns, thinking that he never claimed to be the man of fortitude, or does he even like him?, and assuming that it is then, why would he throw pebbles at his windows in the middle of the night? The second night had been relentlessly haunting him because the fourth pebble broke the windows and his right arm, like a stinging wasp or an ant bite, and the third day would have to be the day after the windows were repaired – he grinned at the desperation within the raven-haired, the animalistic desperation, the selfish neediness that Mitsui himself has relished in: for how can you not be needy when you don't have the fortitude to be generous, to be openhanded for Kogure?, or to feel bountiful at the decadence that is his life? To this Rukawa replied nothing but a haunting stare, a feeling of animosity, and Mitsui gives in to this curse that is delightful, uncertain – for he has nothing to lose.

"What're y'doing here?"

"Just looking around."

"There's internet, go figure,"

And the fourth night is its dangerous end of dalliance.

The Dangerous End of Dalliance

It was Tuesday morning when Kogure awoke from the sounds of chirping birds, the alarmed jays in fact, the needy alarmed jays he thought, like they're always searching for their flock or always in a hurry or when they're envied by him, just flapping about and he thought that, although there may be times when he cannot endure another day sharing, or managing to negotiate at the pace of invasion that the freshman is declaring over the piece of land, like a precious island that is Hisashi Mitsui's body – why, he thought, does he still have this endurance?, this fortitude to share and to negotiate, and for another day he would, yet again, endure – perched by the branches, Kogure never was the woe of all heartaches but he is as needy as those noisy jays and flapping about... what was he thinking again?

What is he thinking?, he thought, or is it not maturity at all to share? – he woke up thus to these thoughts and went to school thinking that it's not Monday and but he would be under Mitsui's body, because it's not Thursday and Mitsui will go buy food for the party this week today because unlike Rukawa, their relationship was not born from the carnal impulses that his brain, if Kogure admits himself to think, can only think of. For who has the good sense of even bothering talking about the tangled love affair except himself, the sacrificial victim?, or unlike Rukawa, Kogure is always ahead of himself – for surely Rukawa cannot, if Kogure admits himself to think, even invest anything else except these carnal impulses. He went onto his third class by now, and Rukawa is on his first, while Mitsui, determined to stay for another year to help the basketball team, decided not to come to class and spent the morning, and will be spending the afternoon, at the gym – the sacrificial victim of all infidelities, if it can admit itself to say.

"Well? Something y'want?"

Rukawa does not move at all, and he launches another stare that Mitsui, who thought had nothing to lose, succumbs to the stare that meant he had everything to lose, his resistance particularly, this cold stare that made him understand what it was like to feel inferior to the warmest gaze, to the enduring warmth that made him numb enough to the point that he went on to just play along and but regretfully – this curse of boredom, he thought, was Rukawa bored?, or was he just playing naïve to the ridiculous gestures of dalliance that he himself did when he pursued Kogure? A long fall of minutes, and he started to clear his throat – and no word came out, like he's become mute, like he wanted to tell Rukawa that the room was getting smaller and he needed something to get out, like his blanket for rope or the stones that he kept inside his drawer, the pebbles he kept to remind him of something that will make his appearance pristine enough to be coveted by other people except Kogure.

Rukawa fades away, and Mitsui twitches his eyebrow next – and thus did he feel too handsome under the bleakest sky there is. This first night is its dangerous birth of dalliance.

Mitsui awoke and he saw darkness on the rise and he remembered now, the roaring sounds coming from the outside were thunders, boisterous thunders inspiring a heavy downpour, he thought he'd stop by at Rukawa's tonight because it's Tuesday – not it really mattered anymore, since Kogure lost any more daytime, or nighttime, nor would Kogure want to anyway, he thought – he's too mature that Mitsui cannot endure it sometimes, or is it really?, he thought, he has been with him for long months yes?, and thus is Rukawa's day today.

"No school today son," he hears his mother and the mutterings of the television.

A storm, she shouted across the kitchen, and she advised him not to go to school anymore because there's some storm today, or is he just thinking too redundant for his own good now?, he thought of the storm twice in a flash second, but it felt like something more damaging than a storm – for it was the first day that he and Kogure Kiminobu had cooled off, and it felt alienating, and he felt incomplete. Mitsui thought he had nothing to lose because he had everything to gain once he stops to endure and because Rukawa can make him repossess everything he's lost – the uncertainty, the ambivalent life and the blitheness that is him, but it felt strange.

He took a sip of his orange juice and let it thaw on his mouth – nay, it wasn't his body, he thought while eating white eggs and staring at his mom making more toast for his father, and it wasn't the storm nor was it the seemingly perfect interconnection of the kitchen and the living room – something else, he muses, and so he went on to watch the television to be reminded of the storm, yet again, how many times did he think of storms anyway?, and told his mother he will be taking his basketball practice today and he needed lunch, or money preferably.

The rains have wetted the floors when Mitsui arrived at the gymnasium just in time to relish the torture being bestowed upon the freshmen of basketball club, mopping the floors – Sakuragi was as loud as he can get, like he always is, Mitsui thought – and where is that darn fox anyway?, he cursed at his mind's eye, because he's itching to divulge the most useful and meaningful information that he can ever convey to the raven-haired, because his body is itching... and Kogure is not around... why think of him now, he thought, why think of the loss when he has something to gain?, he recalled he was the one who cooled it off, he reckoned he was the pristine handsomeness who decided to be coveted by other people (particularly Rukawa) except Kogure's tedious maturity...

"Get out,"

"What?"

"You're wet. Sheesh man, we're mopping!"

"Where's Rukawa?"

"Why should I know his whereabouts when I'm supposed to be his all-time hater huh? Now get out or I can't slam dunk Mitchy,"

"Don't call me that,"

A thunderous roar, and he went to the freshman's house.

The bell bellowed upon the faceless fields of the Shohoku High School and the students rejoiced at the thought of recess and company; Kogure on the other hand, had no other reason to take delight at this second, at these flash seconds of respite, but to see his devil-may-care Hisashi Mitsui, whereof such lightheartedness has been many of the things he endures, like a passing whistle across the hallway when Ryota motioned for his friends, or like a passerby – it all plays along, it all deceives into thinking that stability was something worth holding onto, because clemency and patience have their own rewards, because Hisashi Mitsui was uncertainty and he was the future, always ahead – the opposites, Akagi would always mention, the clichéd notion of attraction, the noble and unoriginal notion of them being together despite Mitsui being winter and him being the spring. He recalled that it was exactly this is how he took the relationship; it was exactly this oppositeness that reminded him of Mitsui's magnificence, as a frail creature and at the same time dangerous, as a creature which foreboded Kogure of all uncertainties and he relished at every uncertain moments with him... because, he thought, at the end of the day they were both as frail and dangerous, and only this matters in this world.

"You ready?" the brown-haired asks the silhouette, and the sounds of trickling waters reminded him of the beauty that is his Mitsui's body.

"Just a sec," was the reply, and Mitsui got out, he reached for the towels to dry himself, observes the other senior, but there was something else that he thinks is on Mitsui's mind, what was it now?, Kogure muses – that blatant grin plastered on his face, that grin which made Kogure lose any more fortitude when Mitsui grabbed his arms, like a force of nature, an amorous storm, the everyday end of dalliances for them both, and Mitsui kissed him, and he kissed back, they were now tangled and Kogure let out a meager protest.

"We're supposed to go to the store, r'member?"

"After this," the other whispers in his earlobes, and here Kogure wishes that he was those alarmed jays who always seemed too needy for their own good, because right now all he can think of are those touches and they sting like knives, bloodied, because he knew it was Tuesday and it was supposed to be Rukawa under the blue-haired youngster, because he was mature, because he is always ahead of himself, because it's the pristine gymnasium, he thought, what if Mitsui dirties it?

Mitsui roams his hands across his body.

"Not here," says the other.

"Why not?"

Kogure stared at him – this was the dangerous end of their dalliance.

"Tomorrow. Rukawa'll be here. I should know, so,"

"Fuck that. You're the one I'm with anyway, I'm sure he knows where he stands."

Kogure sighs and to Mitsui, it felt more like an understanding that everything here, right now, is an expression of everything they both had and will be having, everything they have invested in their relationship – he thought it was a sigh of commitment, particularly when Kogure raised his hands, ruffling his hair, his palm caressing his face with smiling lips, and now he touched his scar, darn it, he thought – he's the only one who can do that. Kiminobu Kogure sighed, smiled, and felt that he has lost everything they both had and everything they have invested – and with this in mind he gave in to the deceiving pleasure of their tangled bodies, and he relished at the unrepresentative expression of their relationship.

A long fall of minutes, and the door opened with a cautious sound; none of them, however, were as surprised or alarmed like the needy, loud jays.

Rukawa stares straight at him, and Mitsui, with that blatant grin plastered on his face, and the blue-haired is looking up at the windows that was now opened because of the persistent sounds of pebbles against its panes – the storm carries on, the thunders roar loud enough to speak volumes of meaning for them both, like a revelation. The winds blow in its bleakest force, and Mitsui, wet from the downpour, his stare began to become somber.

"Something y'want?" asks Rukawa.

Mitsui suddenly remembers more than enough memories, and gathered more than enough fortitude, an ample time and an abundant feeling of resistance – and so he fades away from Rukawa's sight, and the raven-haired twitches his eyebrow next – and Mitsui felt himself becoming the ugliest person under the bleakest sky there is. This first day of ending all boredom towards Kogure felt strange; and thus did he realize what force the storm has.

tbc.