Chapter Twenty-Five: Loved
Kurogane had followed Mioru until the team of evil-little-ball-kicking-twits and their leader had reached the locker rooms. Kurogane resisted an instinctive roll of his eyes. What was it with these people and bathrooms? Why couldn't they pick something more…original? Like a dungeon? Didn't rape always take place in dungeons?
But nevertheless, Kurogane was able to slip in through the left-open door by a hair, and stayed firmly quiet behind the turn of lockers while Mioru and his team silently spread apart and threw the person they'd gagged and bound onto the hard tile floor.
Kurogane scowled. It was the goalie boy—the one that'd stopped Mioru's almost-victory-shot during the game. God. Kurogane couldn't even begin to talk about how badly he needed to give that messed-up kid the biggest thrashing of his life.
At least they hadn't drugged him, and Kurogane was able to appreciate the stone-cold look on the goalie's face. From what Kurogane had observed from parties, this boy had seemed like a huge spaz—and probably was—but he knew how to hold his own in situations like these, clearly.
Mioru forcibly removed the duct tape across the goalie's mouth and spat at him, "Talk, Watanuki."
Watanuki merely stared at Mioru. "What do you want me to talk about?"
Mioru crossed his arms and glared back. Kurogane sighed to himself as he watched a ridiculously long staring contest between the two. It didn't seem like either one was going to lose anytime soon.
"Shizuka Doumeki," Mioru finally said calmly, breaking the silence. The rest of his team were guarding the door and escapes to the other parts of the locker room. "How did he know that we took his play?"
"He didn't," Watanuki replied emotionlessly. "But he's not stupid and there's a reason other than that one play that he was chosen immediately upon admission to be Sabakurein's captain."
"And why's that, I wonder?" Mioru growled.
"He's better than you, apparently. There's one reason."
Kurogane smirked into his hand. He loved this goalie.
A resounding slap echoed through the air, and the grin on Kurogane's face slid off quickly as he peered around the metal to see what'd happened. It wasn't difficult to see that Mioru had just slapped Watanuki. The goalie's dark hair was mussed over his now-askew glasses, but other than that, his emotion was indifferent, even if wincing slightly.
Kurogane sighed again. Trust Mioru to bitch-slap someone when they pissed him off. Was this kid seriously nineteen? He acted like he was a decade younger. Actually, no, Kurogane had met toddlers more mature.
A raven-haired boy—with hair dark enough that it took on a bluish sheen in the lights—stepped forward with a slight scowl. "Oy, Mioru, don't you think that we should—"
"Shut UP, Touya," Mioru snapped. "And get back, unless you want to be kicked off the effing team."
The reason for Kurogane's scowl evolved from irritation into concentration. It was coming—the real reason Mioru had taken this boy for. He was never more glad that he'd sent Fai away so he could deal with the psycho captain alone.
Mioru leaned down so that his face was inches away from Watanuki's and gently removed his glasses. "Now, you love Doumeki, don't you, Kimihiro Watanuki?"
For the first time, clear emotion showed and Watanuki flamed bright red. "What the—NO! No—I don't—why would you—he's—irritating—the most—HE'S A GUY!"
Kurogane raised an eyebrow. This kid had it bad. Almost as bad as he himself had it for Fai. If "he's a guy" was the best argument Watanuki could come up with, then he must really be head over heels into that crap for Doumeki.
"So am I," Mioru grinned. "Does that mean I can't do this"—he kissed Watanuki softly on the lips and grinned wider. "Hmm?"
Watanuki's eyes were large and round like a deer's. He blinked once. Mioru sighed mockingly. "Don't tell me that Doumeki hasn't done anything with you yet? Or maybe he has and you're just making sure that no one else can fuck you except for him?"
Kurogane cleared his throat and stepped to the side. "'Sup, twits."
The rest of the team immediately formed a fence between Mioru and Watanuki and Kurogane. Touya looked reluctant, but it was clear who his loyalty was to. Kurogane could already hear Watanuki's voice snarling something at Mioru, only to change immediately into a panicked shout.
"Look," Kurogane began wearily, "We can do this two different ways. You can all pack up your shit and run out of here like hell's on your heels, or I can beat the shit out of you so then you don't have to pack up."
It would be an understatement bordering on an untruth if one didn't say that the Kuriakiri team's excrement wasn't completely imploded out of them by Kurogane so that by the time he was done, they were limping rather than running as though hell was on their heels.
It couldn't really have been helped since Kurogane was Kurogane. But Mioru knew that, and he knew his team would be completely annihilated. It didn't really matter though, since there'd been enough time stalled to play with Doumeki's boy toy while Kurogane had been occupied.
When Kurogane had shoved Mioru to the side and rushed forward to Watanuki, the goalie was already naked, hands freed—but at the condition he was in, he no longer had any strength to move—legs bound up and a vibrator encased in his entrance. Mioru was only slightly pissed that his team hadn't lasted long enough so that he could get rid of the boner that'd come with the excitement of playing with Watanuki.
Watanuki's bright black eyes were heavily lidded and he had the empty look that Kurogane and Mioru knew so well from having seen Fai. It was a look that signified they wanted nothing more to do with the world at that moment. They wanted to just curl up and die.
"Oy," Kurogane said roughly—but not unkindly. Why did it always seem like he was dealing with these kinds of situations? Did he have some sort of magnetism that bound rapists and their rape-ees to him? He carefully found the remote and turned off the vibrator—gingerly pulling it out and revealing the gush of blood that poured out. Watanuki's body jerked. The bodily fluids were messily over his pale skin. "Can you hear me?"
"Yeah," Watanuki replied hoarsely—emotionlessly.
"Can you get up?"
"No."
Kurogane tried a different approach. "Do you want to?"
No answer.
"Wow, he's pathetic," Mioru said cheerily. "I bet even you're thinking that, huh, Kuro-tan?" The acidic mock had crept into the nickname. "I mean, dearest Fai has gone through just that much and he's still put together, but this kid…damn. Already?"
Kurogane brought himself up to full height and looked down at Mioru, completely forgetting about Watanuki. "Call me what you just called me one more time, Mioru. Repeat it one more time—I dare you."
Mioru went up on his toes and leaned so closely to Kurogane's face that they were almost kissing. "Kuro-tan."
Kurogane retracted his arm and made to swing his fist forward.
An arm shot out and stopped it. "That's not fair," an annoyingly indifferent voice said coolly. "I want to do that."
Kurogane shook himself out of the tight grasp and found himself face-to-face with the Sabakurein captain—the one that lost to a rock in terms of facial expressions. Doumeki's eyes were latched onto Watanuki. Kurogane could tell that the captain was torn between taking care of his lover and beating the shit out of Mioru. "Just happy to help," Kurogane said, glaring at Mioru.
Doumeki stared with the slightest of scowls at Mioru—who was smiling benignly—before promptly kneeling down beside Watanuki and stroking the damp bangs away from his forehead. "Do whatever you want with the bastard," the Sabakurein captain said expressionlessly.
Mioru's smile evaporated. "WHAT THE FUCK'S WRONG WITH YOU?!" Kurogane had to get in front of him and wrench the Divine's hands behind his back to keep him from attacking Doumeki. "Why won't you FIGHT BACK?! I almost FUCKED your effing playmate! Don't you people get ANYTHING AT ALL?!"
Doumeki reached for Watanuki's glasses and gently handed them to their owner. He slowly slid his hand down the goalie's back and sat him up against the leg of one of the benches. Doumeki turned around to stare at Mioru. "It's you who doesn't get anything."
Mioru opened his mouth furiously, but Kurogane cut him off swiftly, "All right, prick. I think you've had enough excitement for one day. You need to get drunk real fast, so I'm dragging you to that kegger." He nodded comradely at Doumeki. "Take care of him."
But he was pretty sure Doumeki couldn't hear him—he looked too busy…ah "consoling" Watanuki.
"Come on, you," Kurogane said, grabbing Mioru and pulling him out of the locker rooms. The cold air rushed at them fiercely after the humidity of the lockers. After the fluorescent lights, the spring gray sky was slightly comforting on one's eyes.
As Kurogane let go of Mioru's arm and started walking down the slope, hands in pockets, Mioru called out behind him, "If you're hoping to head back for darling Fai, he isn't going to be there."
It felt like some tight, thick elastic band tightened around Kurogane's head. He stopped moving, but he didn't turn around to look at the annoying, little prick. "Where'd he be then?"
"How should I know?" Mioru sounded so irritatingly relaxed, that Kurogane wanted to throttle him twenty different ways. "I just know that Kyle wanted to take him somewhere—probably back to his house. You know where it is so you can go and try to find him if you—"
And Kurogane chose way #3—his left hand gripping Mioru's head and the other hand's fingers digging into the soccer player's shoulder. "What the fuck is wrong with you, seriously? How messed up can your head get? What do you want?" His voice was perfectly steady, perfectly composed—the same as his face—even though Mioru's contorted.
"You told me you loved me."
Kurogane fought the irresistible urge to roll his eyes. He'd heard this before about thirty times.
"You don't forget something like that," Mioru said quietly, his expression matching Kurogane's—eerily indifferent.
"I bet you've had a dozen people tell you that they loved you—I have. You get over it. We were effing—like what, fifteen, sixteen? It wasn't real. It's like when you tell you're stupid first grade crush you love them." Kurogane shoved Mioru away and looked at him intensely.
Mioru smiled at the ground, his eyes lowered. Kurogane swallowed—it looked almost like the sophomore was going to cry. What was wrong with him? Did the martial artist have some sort of….universal control over those he was involved with that compelled them to cry? Really….it was unfair….first his mother…then his female friends…then Fai….and now even Mioru.
"Yeah," Mioru laughed, sounding like he seriously was about to cry. "Me, too. But it was different when you told me that."
With a sense of foreboding, Kurogane asked, "Why?"
Mioru looked him head-on with that same small smile. "Because I loved you back. I still do. I don't know how to stop it." He wrapped one arm surreptitiously around his front and hooked the fingers on the other arm as if he were cold; his eyes flickered away again, closing briefly. "But you love Fai Fluorite. And….it really, really hurts that you do."
Damn it. Damn it all to hell. Now Kurogane's fucking eyes fucking burned. A lot. It wasn't like he could deny that he loved Fai—because he very clearly, very easily and obviously did. But no matter what he told Fai—no matter how messed up Mioru was and always had been really; no matter how blind Kurogane had been to love him—the truth was…Kurogane had loved him.
Had loved. As in…past tense.
"I've met him before, you know," Mioru added quietly. "Fai and his brother, I mean. If he told you about…Yuui's attack…the boy who wanted to play ball with them…that was me. I remember it clearly. My dad saw and he was the one who asked Kyle—my dad was Kyle's sponsor for research and crap—to take care of them. You know my dad….he's…well…you know. He didn't want anyone to know that that was me. I think he might've even asked Kyle to do that to Fai." Mioru looked up—slightly fearful—at Kurogane. "I didn't want to believe it. I do love Kyle. Just…not in the same way I love you."
Kurogane did know Mioru's dad—he was one of those dads that made it very clear where his extremely screwed-up son had gotten those screwed-up ways in the first place. Very, very, very clear.
And now, Kurogane sighed. He was about to do something that he might or might not ever tell Fai about. Maybe. He probably would, but even if he didn't, he had to do it. Because no matter what Kurogane looked like, or what others thought of him—he really was a good guy. Sort of.
Kurogane stepped forward and gently placed his hand on the side of Mioru's jaw, leaning in carefully and impressing his lips with biting accuracy against the Divine's—swiftly and sweetly. "I love you," Mioru whispered when they drew apart.
The freshman ruffled Mioru's hair sadly. "Yeah. I know."
A/N: See? Mioru isn't that evil. I think. Lol. So tomorrow's my band christmas concert and after that I'll be done. I might not be able to type on thursday, 'cause i have to wrap my friends' gifts since friday is the last day before christmas vacation. If any of you decide to see--or have seen--Four Christmases (the one with Reese Witherspoon--if i spelled it right) tell me if it's good, all right? And I'll probbably--very, very likely--finish Secrets before or right after Christmas, and be on Enslaved and Rule--I'll most likely start with Rule first--by the New Year.
Review Button, folks.
