Disclaimer: I do not own Junjou Romantica.
Note: Agh, I lied guys! I originally planned for this to be a Misaki chapter, but then I started writing about Akihiko, and then a few sentences turned into a few paragraphs, and the few paragraphs soon turned to an entire chapter. So, here's to Akihiko and his memories! -Clinking of wine glasses-
Akihiko breathed out a ring of smoke.
The grey motes dissolved into the heavy air, immersed into the thick and heavy atmosphere. Around him, rowdy laughter and drunken catcalls sounded distant and far away. A heavy throb pulsated, drowning out his thoughts.
It was the first day of class. He placed his book bag beside his chair, before sliding into his seat. He gazed at the window, fixated on the bits of floating white that lingered modestly in the blue sky. A thought vaguely formed in his mind, to lightly disintegrate into another. Like a gentle breeze, his mind slowly drifted.
A loud thump sounded beside him. A second or two had passed, in tension. He heard someone take a breath, then stop, waiting. When the silence lingered too long, he reluctantly turned from the window.
He was met with warm, dark brown eyes that belonged to a seemingly ordinary boy with parted black hair and glasses.
"Hello! I'm Takahashi Takahiro. What's your name?"
He was taken aback, a little surprised at the boy's forwardness. Most girls, upon first meeting him, had squealed and begged to touch his soft hair; the boys had glared with undisguised animosity and jealousy in their eyes. He had shot into school stardom, for awhile, with his foreign appearance and wealthy familial lineage. They had scampered to talk to him, to get him to be in their circles, to boast to others that they were close to him. But he had treated each one of them with disinterest, preferring to be alone. It was his seemingly haughty and cold nature drove people away from him. After repeated rebuffs, the girls had stopped chasing their light-haired prince; after their taunts and threats had been ignored, the boys had lost interest in their purported foe.
He couldn't have cared less - he had long noticed that the girls who claimed their adoration for him only did so for his attractive features and cool persona, and the boys who had noticed and taunted him (and later thought him cool) only did so because they thought him to be unfairly wealthy and handsome. None of the students that had desired to be his friend looked past any of these physical external ties of appearance, wealth, and familial status to actually uncover the boy's true personality. No one had bothered to glance past his cool and perfect surface, to uncover the genuine emotions that surged beneath his exterior. He really had no regrets when his classmates had grown bored and tired of him. After all, though he had lost a hundred false faces, he had found and kept one genuine heart. Hiroki. His best friend, with his fierce scowl and auburn head, was the one person who had approached him with no backhanded motives or selfish intent. Hiroki had understood and accepted him, not as a perfect boy, but as a flawed human being.
After being used to his classmates apathy towards him, Akihiko felt a little unsettled to see this boy reach out towards him with such undisguised, unmediated kindness. It was possible that the boy was a new student, though. He had never seen or heard of him before. Turning back to the boy, he replied.
"Usami Akihiko."
The boy smiled at him, and then, to his utter shock, had begun to chuckle light-heartedly.
He stared, bewildered. "What is it?"
The boy stopped. A sheepish grin had spread across his face. "I'm sorry, Usami-san. It's just that your last name reminds me of a rabbit."
Akihiko stared, his mouth agape. He thought that that had been the most preposterous thing he had ever heard - he looked to see if the boy's expression betrayed any underlying sarcasm or good humor. But glancing at those bright eyes, Akihiko was met with a refreshingly straightforward gaze. He quickly composed himself and looked vaguely off to the side, a faint heat pounding in his cheeks.
The boy, upon feeling his discomfort, spoke quickly. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean any offense." There was a tentative pause, and then the boy added, "Do you want to call me something silly instead?"
Akihiko felt the heat in his cheeks rise. He glanced at the blue sky, seeking for relief. He didn't know that, from this day on, his chest would remain unsettled by that one, unassuming young man.
The author reached forward and poured himself a glass of pale liquid. He drily chuckled, amused at his youthful folly. Oh, he had been so naive then. Both he and Takahiro. His fingers caressed the chilled glass, as he had brought the edge to his lips. Moments later, he had drowned in the cold fire.
"Usagi-san, Usagi-san! He sounds like a freaking parrot!" Hiroki fumed.
"Hmm." He turned a page, starting on the next line. Strangely, the words had started coming to him a lot easier these days. He quickly wrote down a stream of thoughts.
"It's so annoying! He just follows you around everywhere, like some stupid dog!" The brunet paced across the natural clearing, his brow creased and furrowed.
"Hmm."
The boy stopped in the middle of clearing to glare at him. "What kind of name is Usagi-san, anyways? What are you, some type of rabbit?"
"Hmm." He was almost there. He just had to reach that one epiphany, and then he could finish off the rest...
"Akihiko!" The brunet's growl was overlaid with irritation and annoyance. The boy stopped in the middle of clearing to glare at him. Those hazel eyes were burning embers.
The pencil paused for just a moment. "Hiroki. Are you sure you aren't overreacting?" He remembered Hiroki's first meeting with Takahiro the other day, and couldn't help but inwardly giggle for a bit. Yes, he was being immature, but Hiroki's reaction at that moment had been priceless.
It had been after class, and he had walked with Takahiro towards the field. It was lunch time, and he had noticed that the sky looked exceptionally cloudless and blue. Then he had noticed a familiar brunet in the distance, who had been sitting down on a brown bench, immersed intently within his book. As he and Takahiro neared, he couldn't help but smile a little at his friend's sour expression, an almost perpetual crease between two eyebrows.
"Hiroki."
At his name, the brunet looked up, his eyes mildly softening for a second. Then they sharpened to their usual fierceness. "Akihiko. You're late."
"I'm sorry. I have good reason." He extended out his hand and gestured to the black-haired student that stood next to him.
Takahiro stepped forth, extending out his hand. "Hello, I'm Takahashi Takahiro. Usagi-san has told me a lot about you."
"Usagi-san?" The sienna gaze had narrowed at the nickname, and then those eyes had flickered to his best friend.
Takahiro continued. "Do you know what Usagi-san told me? He said that you once read two-thirds of the school library back when you were younger. Isn't that amazing? He also told me that you once stumbled across the mature section of a bookstore and accidentally read an R-rated manga, and that then you had-"
The brunet's gaze turned murderous. Akihiko looked away, as he felt a stare of molten magma burn through his body.
"-Kamijou-san? Ah, forgive me for saying this, but I do think that you should smile more. Although you're known for your intimidating frown, I believe that your smile is altogether more handsome. And anyways, you could get premature wrinkles! Wouldn't that be horrible?"
Amber eyes widened. A mouth dropped open, then closed. Akihiko was vaguely reminded of a gaping fish. He had started laughing, uncontrollably. He was laughing so hard that his stomach hurt.
A loud yell interrupted his fond reminiscing.
"I AM NOT OVERREACTING! And wipe that stupid grin off of your face!" The brunet shouted, before stalking off.
Akihiko sighed, turning back towards his work. His friend had been fairly moody recently, although he had not yet understood why. Upon reaching another break in his story, Akihiko stood up and stretched, suddenly smiling as another pleasant recollection had hit him.
He was going to go to his house tonight. His house.
Over the past few weeks, he had gradually gotten to know the smiling, laughing boy that had called him by his nickname. He learned that he came from a typical Japanese family, as an only child with two working parents. Takahiro was friendly and kind to everyone, completely open and honest, and had looked at the world with such optimistic eyes that it wasn't difficult to see why he made friends so easily. He was also a hardworking and responsible young man who studied diligently, a filial son who respected his family's wishes, and most of all, a kind and good-hearted friend.
But more than that, he was the boy who found the things he said funny, and had uneven dimples when he laughed, a rich and resounding sound that echoed and spread, sometimes inviting several nearby students to join in on the conversation. He was a boy who had listened to his every word - not with the intention of referring to them later for an advantageous argument, or to carry them to other students' reaching ears, or to attempt to advise or judge him in any way. No, he had listened simply because he wanted to, as a friend and trusted confidante. He was a boy who had simply said nothing when he had looked emptily into the window next to him one day, instead reaching forward and resting a hand warmly on his arm, concern clearly reflected in his warm eyes.
Each day, he had found a small part of his shield slowly broken. He found that, over time, the boy had unknowingly made his way into his heart.
Akihiko closed his eyes, a little dizzy. He vaguely heard the clinking of glasses behind him; somewhere far away he heard a coarse volley of profanities being uttered between two drunk colleagues. He paid little attention, instead focusing on the powerful sensations that coursed through his veins. His mind was high above the clouds. Upon the touch of the liquid - the cold, the heat, the strength of the concoction had slowly unravelled the tension within his mind.
Subconsciously, he fell.
He had distinctly felt the boy's body next to him, just a few feet away. He had reached forward to touch the boy's back, which was softly moving up and down. His fingers stopped an inch away, curled, and tightened. His eyes followed those fingers, to stop at a pale exposed area of skin. The soft expanse of the boy's neck looked so tempting that he could have reached forward to-
No, he couldn't. Forcefully, he retracted his hand and rolled to his back, staring at the ceiling. Time ticked so slowly. The seconds passed by like hours in his mind. He wished it would go faster. He deeply hoped that dawn would come soon.
There was a faint rustle of blankets. He froze, his eyes wide open. There was movement in his peripheral vision. Suddenly, he had felt a warm, soft heavy weight on his stomach. His heart had dropped. But then he had forced himself to slowly look downwards.
He noticed a head of dark hair near his chest, and an arm was draped over his torso. Soft and steady breaths travelled to his ears.
For several moments, he lay absolutely still. He desperately prayed that the boy would not wake, for he had thought that his heart, which had lay innocently beating several moments ago, was now a loud roar of blood. The pounding and the beating of his chest deafened his hearing, and he found that he could scarcely breathe. But a soft inhale and exhale near him had reminded him that he was the only one awake, and he silently thanked the heavens for that being so.
He felt the boy's breath tickle underneath his chin. Gradually, he closed his eyes.
He felt so tired. His head throbbed. The pounding in his head was so painful, he needed it to go away. He reached for another cold glass, feeling its heavy weight reassuring against his fingers. The alcohol...that time...
They were sitting in the back of the building. It was a little over the evening, the school grounds had been deserted.
He had watched, silently, as the boy had grasped a green bottle within his shaky fingers, pulling it forward and taking a long gulp. The bottle had been placed back to it's position on a concrete platform, upright and half-empty among three or four of its fallen brethren. Those eyes, those eyes that had always been so happy and full of life, now were blood-shot and empty. Those fingers had clutched desperately at the glass, almost breaking it.
"You know," the boy took another unsteady gulp, "mom always made the best rice balls. It tasted so good...but I never told her...I should have told her, I should have let her known...maybe then she wouldn't have left. I should have...tried to be a b-better son...I s-should have made my father proud. Still...it isn't fair right? It isn't fair that they should leave...I wasn't finished talking...they d-didn't listen to everything I had to say...I...I wasn't done. It's not fair, right?"
Amethyst eyes stared. Those lavender pools were overwhelmed, threatening to unleash a surge of pent-up emotions.
"They s-shouldn't have g-gone. They shouldn't have l-left. They're...they're so selfish...I wasn't even done with high school...couldn't they have w-waited? But no, t-they had to g-go. They were so damn i-impatient..d-did they want to get rid of me s-so bad? I-is it that bad that I'm their son?" After shaky breaths, an arm had reached for the half-consumed bottle. Suddenly, an hand had gripped the wrist.
"Takahiro." His voice was quivering. "Stop it."
The boy turned to glare at him. Through all the years he had known him, he had never seen those warm brown orbs turn black with anger. "You stop it! Who are you to tell me what to do! You still have parents, you asshole! You don't know what it's like! WHY? WHY DID THEY GO? WHY DID THEY LEAVE ME? WHY AM I STILL HERE...WHY? WHY..."
The boy choked, suddenly unable to breathe.
He had crushed their bodies together, wrapping his arms around the boy's torso, burrowing his nose into his neck. He had felt the boy panting underneath him, hoarse and broken cries wracking that body beneath him. He wanted to protect him, he tried to protect him. But tears sprung in his eyes, and his voice, despite his best efforts, sounded weak and broken. "Takahiro. I'm sorry."
The boy was crying, he was blubbering, his chest heaved up and down. The boy's shaking fingers had gripped onto his back, etching a touch of pain and sorrow.
Liquid stung his throat. Liquid stung the back of his eyes. He found a sea of blurry colors all around him. Oh, they had moved on from then. Those years had passed, had erased most of the memories. But while one had moved forward, one was still left behind.
"Usagi-san! How long has it been? I feel like I haven't seen you in ages!"
He smiled. "Takahiro." He watched the same boy he had known since he was fifteen, with the same cheerful smile and warm brown eyes. Time had treated the man well - those twinkling eyes were lined with only a few laughter lines, and that thin and frail body had grown to be a strong and firm one.
He stepped forward to envelop his friend in a hug. It had been a habit of his over the recent years, as their meetings had grown scarcer and less frequent. After high school, they had both briefly separated in their education pathways. He had gone on to T University and gotten his law degree; Takahiro had begun working part-time in a pharmeceutical company. They had still kept in contact, though, and once Akihiko had moved to his current apartment, the relative distance between both men's apartments allowed him to see his friend quite frequently. But then Takahiro had gotten a work promotion and moved to the other side of Tokyo, and Akihiko grew busy when his novels had started becoming major critical successes. They were both exhausted, and could not find time or the energy to span the distance between one another. And so, over the years, they had grown more and more apart.
The man only laughed, patting him on the back. "My, my, Usagi-san! You haven't changed."
"I missed you," he replied simply, his tired body relaxing in the other man's embrace. Yes, he had missed him so much.
Takahiro pulled back, smiling. "Guess what? I have great news to tell you!" The man was practically glowing, his eyes were shining. "You know how it's Manami's birthday next week right?"
His eyes squeezed shut, and his hands traced the outline of a glass rim.
"I wanted to to surprise her-" It sloshed. A splash. A stinging, wetness on his thigh. He was too drunk, too drunk to care.
"-surprise her with a nicely chosen gift." He was thirsty. But the fire couldn't quench his thirst. It burned, raw and bitter, against his throat. His head throbbed, his head ached, he felt as though it would explode.
"I also thought about it for awhile. And then I thought it would actually be the perfect time to-" Why couldn't he drown out that voice? He didn't want to listen. He didn't want to listen. He held his head in his hands, closing his eyes.
"-ask her-" No. No. He didn't want this, he didn't want this-
"-if she would like to-" Hurt. His chest hurt-
"-marry me." His head fell forward onto the table.
His vision was seared into blackness.
So I made Takahiro an only child because I didn't want there to be two Takahashi Misaki's (although the fact that there was already two Takahashi's never crossed my mind until I started writing this chapter...).
Also, many of you may be confused as to why Akihiko still isn't over Takahiro (what about all those chapters with Misaki?). So for now, just think of Akihiko as still thinking of Misaki as a robot, and not truly a human boy yet. By the way, isn't it hard to believe that all these events happened within the span of two days? It's amazing how it feels so much longer.
-TokyoSuite