Picked

[A/N] Here we go…good to see you here, Cerberus-sensei…I hope my characterization of Hiroki is to your liking? By the way, good guess with the candy bit, that also figures here somewhere ^_^ Ricchan – Nice way to put it: anti-Nowaki :P Though this isn't really OOC of Nowaki, you know, he has his weary moments like the rest of us. So, after we acknowledge Damons being cute again…enjoy.

oOo

When Hiroki had first seen from a distance that his usual bench was occupied, his initial thoughts were to kick the offending party out; it had not been a good day for him so far. What with his senior thesis dragging itself along and Akihiko taking his bed—again—he was hard-pressed not to give in to that temptation, but reason won over in a few moments and he decided to look for another place to sit in peace.

By then, however, he was close enough to the bench that he could make out the hunched figure with a medium-sized crater smoking before it. His curiosity getting the better of him, he continued on his originally intended path until he could make out the shaggy dark head of hair that flopped in front of the man's face, waving dully in the breeze.

He was sure that no two shades of black could be that similar and not the same. The darkest hair I'd ever seen…it couldn't be…?

He'd taken the rest of the steps required to close the distance between himself and the person sitting on the bench, with his head hanging low. From a yard away, he looked on for a moment, wide-eyed.

That's surely the kid from the university that day…

Kusama Nowaki?

Not bothering to wonder why he remembered the name, he felt his momentarily soothed impatience beginning to peak again. What's with him, always moping? He still felt the piercing, careworn blue eyes on him from four days ago, heard the soft voice say 'Pleased to meet you too, though I don't suppose it'll happen again.'

For some reason or the other—seeing the boy like this was beginning to get on his nerves. He'd had a bad day so far, and this sort of situation offered to him only one course of action.

He stepped closer. 'Oi. Get the hell up.'

The dark head rose and let watery eyes meet Hiroki's russet ones. There was a moment of relief as he realized that it indeed was Kusama Nowaki—he would never have got over the embarrassment of speaking that way to a complete stranger—and then the world went white.

When some sense returned to him, Hiroki found that he had taken a step back, unable to look from such close quarters into the storm of misery that the boy's face bespoke. The blameless blue eyes were clearly wet, but that was the least of it; Hiroki struggled against the urge to look away as he took in the trembling lower lip, the embarrassingly pink nose, the mocking cling of a tear to the firm chin. What with the crater next to him, he looked the picture of desolation…

But he also looked something else that Hiroki was appalled at thinking of. There was no doubt— not one sublime sliver—that the dark-haired boy was looking unbelievably beautiful.

It was this last thought that kept him silent for as long as he did before he gathered his wits about him again. 'Not contemplating suicide now, are you?' he snorted. 'What's gotten into you?' He was certain that he'd been recognized; there was no confusion on the handsome, tear-stained face, and he'd surely seen a spark of remembrance in those eyes.

Nowaki—Hiroki found himself unable to think of the boy as 'Kusama'—seemed to blink himself out of a daze as he dropped his eyes again and hastily brought a hand to his face. He took two long, shuddery breaths before mumbling, 'Nothing.'

'So you randomly sit on park benches on a day like this and decide to cry your eyes out?' muttered Hiroki incredulously. Nowaki flushed a deeper pink at this. 'I'm sorry if I'm interrupting your view of a beautiful day', he said softly, voice not without a tremble, 'but it's still my business, I'm sure.'

Hiroki sighed in momentary defeat and, to his own astonishment, snapped, 'Fine. Just budge up a little then, you're huge.'

Nowaki shrugged in a weak, droopy manner that Hiroki decided didn't suit him, and scooted up the bench to allow some room to sit. Another what am I doing here flashed briefly through Hiroki and was gone as the brown-haired man took a seat.

He tried to ignore the eyes on him, nodding pointedly at the debris in front of them. 'This belong to you?'

An unamused chuckle proceeded from the teen. 'No, but it's my fault that it's this way.'

Hiroki uttered a non-committal 'hmm' as he surveyed the damage; he could make out the tip of something undoubtedly cylindrical, smell the acrid tang of heated plastic. As he cocked his head to the side, he saw the blue remnants of what appeared to be fins.

'Is that some sort of missile you launched there?' he asked presently, wondering if this indistinguishable mess was what had the kid so upset. Hoping that it wasn't something so immature, somehow knowing that it wasn't.

'Toy rocket', said Nowaki in a dull voice. 'It isn't mine.'

Right on cue, an old man's quaver sounded a few yards off to the side. 'Hey, Wa-chan! Did you find the rocket?'

'Your grandfather?' asked Hiroki quietly, watching the man make his way over to them. Nowaki seemed to consider rolling his eyes, but instead replied quickly, 'Just my employer.'

Oh, right…he said he didn't go to school. It made sense that he would have some sort of part-time job, then, and if this employer of his—who seemed to be the owner of the rocket—saw what he'd done, Hiroki couldn't imagine him being very happy about it. What sort of person spends their day frolicking in the park with an old man, anyway?

The man had reached them and was observing the wreckage with a peculiar combination of interest and horror. 'Gods, is that the rocket?'

'Was', mumbled Nowaki, rising to his feet in the older man's presence; Hiroki followed suit after shooting a keen glance at the man who was apparently employing the boy. He seemed to be stereotypically merry, if anything but at present, and rather stupid. Hiroki found himself disliking him immediately and to his surprise, he sensed his mind searching for ways to get Nowaki out of the trouble that he was now bound to be in.

Before he could hear any sort of reprimand cross the geezer's angry mouth, he heard himself say, 'It's my fault, actually.'

Two pairs of eyes rounded on him, one narrowed, the other widened.

'Um, yeah, I was smoking, you see', he invented wildly, 'and I…threw the stub to the ground without putting it out, and the grass caught fire…and then the rocket just—happened to land in the middle of it all.' He prayed that the man was too far to detect any smell, or lack thereof, on his breath. 'When I was trying to stamp out the fire', he finished lamely—why did he have to go red, now?—'so, ah—yeah. It's my fault. I'll—pay for the rocket if you wish.'

Hiroki held his breath as the man scowled lightly for a moment and then relaxed. 'All right…I knew Wa-chan wouldn't do anything like that, anyway. It's all right about the money.'

Knowing that if he'd really been in this position, his pride would not have allowed him to walk away, he began protesting, 'but no, I should really pay—'

'It's fine, like I said', the man cut in, face beaming, eyes not, 'besides, you'll want to save that money for when the park authorities get to know! Come on, Wa-chan, let's go!' Sadistic bastard.

Hiroki's alarming streak of altruism didn't seem to be done yet. 'I'm sorry, sir, but the boy is evidently unwell. He inhaled a lot of the vapors from the burning plastic and that sort of thing is poisonous, so he might suffer from nausea for several hours.'

The old man sniffed. 'And who are you, young man, to know so much about his health and sickness?'

'I'm a senior in college', Hiroki snapped; the man's attitude intensified his impulse to bandy the truth, so… 'and I study medicine, so I flatter myself I know a bit more about anybody's health and sickness than you do. Sir', he added spitefully, glaring into the bespectacled eyes. He did not feel Nowaki start beside him.

The old man gave him what he evidently thought was a venomous look, before snorting and turning away. 'Well, that's that, then. Wa-chan, rest for the weekend, but I expect to see you back on Monday.'

Nowaki did not nod as the hunched back retreated through the trees; he was looking at his shoes. 'Why did you have to do that?' he asked finally. 'I could have handled it fine on my own.'

'Sure you could', said Hiroki sarcastically. 'He would've fired you.'

The blue eyes seemed to grin wryly. 'It's fine, I have five other part-time jobs anyway.'

The hell? 'What do you want to do with five jobs at this age?' asked Hiroki, stunned. Added to the fact that the boy was working when he should have been studying, the thought of him juggling six different jobs suddenly seemed to put that tiredness into a much clearer perspective.

'Speaking of age', said Nowaki, frowning as he sat back down, 'are you really a senior?'

'And why wouldn't I be?' said Hiroki hotly. 'And no medicine for me, I study Japanese literature, I'll have you know! You didn't answer my question, kid. Why d'you have to work like that?'

Nowaki said something that Hiroki didn't catch. 'You're going to have to speak up', he said roughly, and his heart gave a harsh, aching clench when he heard the sweet voice say, 'I want to go to college.'

Ah, shit.

He'd apparently touched something painful in the boy, who was still looking resolutely at the ground, cheeks aflame. Hiroki sucked on air, wondering at the strange pain in his chest every bit as much as the fate the boy had somehow found himself up against. An image of the tall, tired figure loitering aimlessly outside T University, watching the students go their happy ways home, came to him and he closed his eyes fiercely; it was a completely new emotion, this unnamed thing rising in him.

Nowaki's stomach rumbled.

Honeyed eyes opened and an eyebrow rose at the prettily blushing teen. 'Excuse me', he was muttering, one arm around his stomach now. 'I haven't eaten since morning, so…'

While Hiroki knew it was ridiculous to suppose that a boy with six jobs couldn't at least buy himself a meal, the born-rich-and-talented child in him gaped at the revelations of Nowaki's obviously impoverished circumstances and his hands plunged into his pockets automatically. He was relieved to find that it was still there; the small bar of candy that he'd been given at a convenience store a day ago, when the cashier had no change.

He held it out to Nowaki, feeling his own blush start to simmer. 'Here.'

Nowaki simply looked at him with eyes big and blue and surprised…and grateful. After a moment of stubborn staring, he took the candy from Hiroki's outstretched hand with shaking fingers, and as a palm brushed against another, Hiroki was surprised at how warm his hands were.

'Eat it and buck up', he said sharply, sitting down again. 'While I don't get what exactly has happened to you…these are just obstacles that a man will have to go through. Tighten your fists and face them bravely for your own sake.'

Nowaki's hands toyed with the wrapper as he gazed meditatively at Hiroki.

Then he smiled; it was not the exhausted pretense that he had put on at the university, nor was it the respectfully worn-out one that the literature student had noticed when confronted by his employer. For once, Kusama Nowaki seemed to have more energy shining through him than Hiroki had ever suspected…for once, Hiroki could imagine a similarly smiling little boy, untainted in his sweetness before the weight of the world began to crush him.

He looked away. 'Hey, listen', he was now saying, without planning it, without thinking. 'When did you leave off studying?' He couldn't look at the face of the boy who said, 'Eighth grade.'

Four years. 'You'll have to take an equivalency exam before anything else, you know.'

'I suppose', muttered Nowaki, suddenly sullen. 'If I can study for it.'

Hiroki watched the large, warm hands tear off a strip of the candy wrapper and ordered himself to give his idea a second thought. As Nowaki gave the candy another smile—feebly weary again—he had to disobey. I don't even know this kid. And I don't even care about that.

From the eye of the storm that his thoughts were kicking up, he said, 'I'll tutor you, if you want.'

Just say yes. He despised himself for thinking it, but…just say yes now, because I won't ask again. The fact that Nowaki probably needed every bit of the money he was saving for college occurred to him; while he didn't care for money himself, he knew that his own pride, at least, would not have let him accept favors like this. He decided to make it easier.

'If you're worrying about paying me, you could just do it in kind.' Something perverted came to his mind and he blushed. 'I mean, you could—cook meals or something.'

It was, nonetheless, quite a while before Nowaki broke the ensuing silence to say yes. But Hiroki did not have to ask again. When acceptance finally came, he offered a rare smile of his own and stood. 'Come on, then.'

When Nowaki did not rise, the brown eyes rolled. 'Too tired?' asked the man, aware that this was very likely the case. A fresh wave of resolution surged over Hiroki: no one should be made to feel like this.

The scene was disturbingly similar to the way he stumbled across himself sometimes, washing up on the shores of consciousness among his mountains of books…with no fire or pride in his heart, only Akihiko. Feel like you have nothing to live for…

It was that feeling that had pulled him away from his apartment today in the first place.

No one deserves to feel like me.

Nowaki sighed and got to his feet with a soft, 'maybe.'

oOo

[A/N] Okay, I lied. This is a three-parter scene with another enormous canon mincing in the next chapter. And it ain't getting here without reviews. XD So review.