Kyo
"Blahblah, blahblah. Blah, blah, blahblahblah."
I stared. For a long time. What the hell? He was just blathering on and on. About what? Fuck if I knew. He was pacing around and brandishing his book at the front row. What the hell was he talking about? It must have been the fact that he was speaking in English and I was supposed to understand him. But, seriously? What on Earth? At this point I realized, quite abruptly, that I wasn't listening to a word he was saying. It was actually surprising to notice this, because I was trying really hard, I felt like I was retaining at least some of the things that I apparently wasn't hearing. Even when he picked someone to translate, I wasn't in the game at all….
I deciding that I should blow the teacher off in favor of going hunting. There was nothing I could do really, my brain was not in the mood for English. Instead, I attempted to trace where his words were going after they entered my ears. I was lead on a wild goose chase leading, in a very round about way, directly out my nose. Interesting….
Shit.
I slumped down in my seat; there was nothing better than knowing that I couldn't learn anything, even when I tried. I thought, in that moment, that I finally understood what the stupid rat had been going on and on about for the past… crap, only the Gods knew how long. In a way, I guess I had known for a while what he was talking about. Because, for as much trash as I talk; I had yet to even come close to beating him. He knew it, I knew it, but I'm pretty sure that he didn't know that I knew. I guessed that he assumed I was too stupid to be objective about myself. He probably thought I was too stupid to figure out that, after the first time I got burned, I probably shouldn't stick my hand back in the fire. But, for his information, I learned after the first time that, yes, fire hurts. And, yes, I do indeed, notice the obvious. Though some people continue to think that I'm too dense to function, I'm not dense. I'm just always busy thinking of that magic 'if'. Consequentially, I blow off a lot of important things to do so.
What ifthis time I beat him? I guess that's the biggest 'if' on my mind, seeing as how I'm always going after him with this exact vain hope, but like I said, I know I can't beat him, at least, not as I am now. I just couldn't find the will to give up something so good for me. Yuki was a type of therapy for me; he's what kept me sane for a long time. If I didn't have him to take out all my energy on, I would probably have just stew in my troubles and unspent force until it rotted me from the inside out.
The uncomfortable feeling of my eyes beginning to cross brought me out of my reverie; I closed them and turned my head. When I opened them again I glared out the window. I wondered what would happen if I jumped out of it and was free. Free as in 'not in this class', not 'dead' free….
I was hit pretty abruptly with a surprising jolt that I didn't quite understand. The monotony of my classes had made them blend into one another. So when I had this jolt—which made me think of how it might feel in video games when you die and are re-spawn back at the last checkpoint—I knew it wasn't because it was an interesting class. If I could sit for fifteen minutes and absorb nothing but the feeling that the teacher was talking; it was boring as hell. I couldn't pinpoint any specific thing that was making me feel the odd sense of something, but not too much so, like déjà vu. I sat for a few moments more; the tingling sense of 'I've-Been-In-This-Position-Before-And-I-Need-To-Do-What-I-Did-Last-Time-Only-Better' wouldn't let up. Maybe my subconscious was trying to tell me something. The situation was too familiar and I couldn't remember what I had done the last time….
The Hate List. I breathed a sigh of relief as I finally figured out the problem. If that had gone on any longer I probably would have jumped out the window. It was like the itchy spot on the only part of my back that I couldn't get at. I reached down into my bag and fished around a little. Eureka! I latched onto the bent metal spiral of the notebook and tugged it out of my bag. It was at the very bottom, under all of my books and binders. Earlier, we had almost been late because I had been in a mad rush to get it. I had forgotten that it was still on the roof. My sleep had been horrible and I overslept because I never had bothered to invest in an alarm clock, since I was naturally an early riser. When I woke up it was already seven. With Yuki bitching and Tohru politely trying to keep him from leaving without me; I had been a little pressed once I remembered where the list was. I had jumped up onto the roof, shoved the notebook into my bag, and gone back into the house through my window, since I had promised Tohru I wouldn't jump from the roof anymore.
We weren't late. I'm quick like that.
I set the book on my desk and tried to reshape the flattened spine. It had taken a lot of abuse. That notebook was a freaking trooper. I flipped the cover back, with some difficulty, and looked at my list. The moment I glanced down, I knew something was up. Everything froze for a moment. Well, I shouldn't say everything stopped, because it was just me. I glanced down and Ifroze, the noise around me was blocked because I was in a state of momentary shock and, thusly, could not hear.
I had left it outside, so it had a crisp, crunchy feel to it. But that wasn't my problem. I was hung up on the fact that there were little notes in addition to what I had written, in a neat, small, pen-written hand. I knew this particular writing style. After the ice wore off and the room was filled with the monotonous blah blah blahing of the teacher, I could feel the stupid look blooming across my face. The first thought in my head, after my head was capable of thought again this is, was this: What was he doing on the roof?
Then: Why did he write on it? He is smarter than that, he would know not to!
After the initial slowness of newly regained thought, there was nothing, really, but the feeling of my face growing hot—I—I was blushing. What did I have to be ashamed of? He was the one that had gone up to invade my turf and read my—my—list. So what? Everything on the list was obvious and anyone who even claimed to know me would know those things.
…And yet, in spite of the fact that he most likely already knew those things, I was blushing. It wasn't like he had, like, walked in on me… jerking off or something…. Dear Gods, it was much, much worse. He was seeing the whiney, insecure side of me, a side that he wasn't even supposed to know about.
I shuddered, hard, all this from a stupid list?
I couldn't help the irrational feeling that he was challenging me. Like he had walked up to me and said to my face, 'I can find out all your dirty little secrets, no matter how hard you try to hide them,' then, like, slapped me in he face with one of his gay little girl gloves or something. And really he was—challenging me. He was telling me that he knew he had found something of mine that he knew he wasn't supposed to see. He was—
I stopped that train before it could go very much further and considered something more probable: Maybe I'm paranoid and am reading too much into it. I shook the rationality off before it could have a good influence on me. My dignity was telling me that he was challenging my status as a man and that I needed to respond ASAP to keep my pride as a male unchallenged. Pride always wins out over logic; that's how it was, i never questioned it.
But, before I could respond, I needed to figure out what it was that he was attempting to dispute. I glanced down at the paper and found the first words in his handwriting.
(and won't leave Tohru alone)
The hell? That made no sense! Where was the jeering and the 'you idiot don't leave your stuff out if you don't want it read'-ing? I went back a line to see what I had written, more than likely, what he was saying had something to do with what I wrote.
I hate that he has a fan club that's EVERYWHERE WE GO
He was agreeing with me. I stared in awe, he and I agreed on something, go figure.
I hate that he's student body president (I hate it too) But how could he hate something that got him so much recognition. I would've jumped at the chance to be student council president; it would've been awesome—having a voice that people actually hear and listen to. But here he was acting all bent out of shape for being privileged. Ungrateful punk.
I hate that Momiji-like black haired boy that's always hanging around him (I don't HATE Kakeru but, yes, he is annoying) (tho I won't associate him w/The Fan Club [from hell]) I couldn't help the grin that made it's way across my face at the 'from hell' he had stuck in there. He had a sense of humor, who knew?
I hate the (that, Kyo, not the) he can make friends so easily (I can made worshippers easily, but not friends)
I was surprised to see how many things we saw eye to eye on. I was even willing to overlook his little jab or my grammar and/or spelling skills.
I hate that he's stronger than me
Figures. He wouldn't add on anything there.
…
…Actually it didn't; I was admitting his superiority, and he had obviously read it. I had actually bet myself money—at some point—that if he knew I thought he was stronger than me, he would take me by the scruff of the neck and drown me while trying to rubbing my nose in it. But there I was, staring at a blank spot next to 'he's stronger than me'. Not an 'of course I am' in sight. Disconcerted, because he had just torn down one of my only certainties, I moved on to the last one.
I hate that he has a better shot at Tohru than I ev (Kyo drugs are bad for you, you shouldn't take them they've messed up your head)
I stared at this one, too. He was just on a 'tear-down-Kyo's-Truths' tangent. I would think—I did think, that he would have smashed my nose into that admission as well, but apparently not. And what was up with the 'drugs' thing? What was that even supposed to mean? Was he implying that I couldn't see that Tohru was too innocent and perfect for even him? Or that she wasn't interested in him? How could Tohru not want to be with him? He was perfect; all that any girl could ever want. Well, he was perfect when he got to stand next to me every day and rub the contrast into every pore of Tohru's face. Because, really? I mean, even I can face it and be honest, to myself at least, next to Yuki I look like crap.
"…Souma Kyo-kun?"
My head snapped up at my name. If there's anything that I know, even if it's a whisper three miles away, it's my name. "Huh?" I asked, very dignified.
The teacher stared at me, annoyed and pointed to the letters and numbers on the board, "What does the equation on the board represent?"
I glanced past the teacher with the monotonous voice to the chalkboard. For as much attention as I was paying it very well could've been foepi654tg5h4f56h4j56h4jyt56i4
"…Uh… That's not an equation? Isn't it the chemical formula for glucose?" I answered, ignoring the people staring at me as the seemingly random numbers and letters sank into their proper meaning. Which is why I stand firmly resolved that science teachers should stick to science and English II teachers to the confusing Anglo-Saxon symbols on the board. This philosophy could apply to languages too. Japan=Japanese and all that crap. I returned to staring out the window and ignoring the teacher. I wondered what would happen if I jumped out of it—to be free, not to.... I derailed that train of thought, it was not only very old and well used, but it was getting me nowhere.
I twisted in my desk and glared at the board, maybe I could learn something while I stewed over the list.
