"…I'm gonna take what I find. So open the box, don't need no key; I'm unlocked. And I won't tell you to stop."
A voice. It was nagging you into full consciousness. It swam through your thoughts, leaving filters of light behind in its wake.
"Is there something wrong, (y/n)-chan?"
You blinked. Someone was talking to you. You weren't in the comfort of a dark room—where were you, then?
"You seem out of it, (y/n)-chan." There was a cool hand laid on top of yours. Slender fingers gripped yours, squeezed gently. Reassuringly. "Did you not get enough sleep or what?"
One, two.
Three.
You plastered a huge smile onto your face, raising your eyes to meet the gaze of the boy sitting across from you. "Yeah, it's something like that. Sorry, Masao-san."
He smiled back. Unsuspecting. "No need to apologize."
Apologize? Had you been apologizing?
Your thoughts were scattered all over the place. You ducked your head back down, fastening your lips around the straw end for another swig of ice-cold mango smoothie, and you focused on the chilling sensation icing down your spine, using it as fuel for your thoughts to flee.
It was a hot, sticky Thursday afternoon. School had let out for the day an hour and a half prior. You'd met up with Masao, and the two of you had decided to catch a break at the smoothie shop.
You often came to this exact shop with the Terrible Trio: Tsuna, Gokudera, and Yamamoto. It was an insane feeling of surrealism, you coming here with Masao instead of the other three.
"Huh, you're looking better already," Masao commented, chipping his way into your thoughts once again. "Maybe you were just thirsty?"
You only smiled thinly in response.
What was it about Masao that had drawn you in? Was it his rich, inviting voice? His gentle touch? The plain knowledge glinting deep within his hazelnut irises? That slightly crinkling of his eyes when he smiled?
Or was it the fact that he was ordinary—so average—
He wasn't involved in any of the drama.
"So, tell me." Masao removed his hand, reached forward to brush your cheek. His fingers were startling against your skin, cold from having been wrapped around his smoothie. "Are we still up for seeing Takeshi-san's baseball game tomorrow?"
"Ah? Yama-kun's game…?"
Masao's eyes narrowed the slightest bit. "You say his name rather familiarly, (y/n)-chan."
"Well, we've been friends for the longest time," you said, unsure whether or not the ground you had ventured onto was stable. When you did a quick double take, you found that there was no suspicion in Masao's face at all. You had just imagined it. He was still smiling at you, awaiting your response.
What was wrong with you lately? Everyone seemed to suspect something. The lady walking her dog this morning had given you a pitying look. Your teachers had sent their sorrow with their eyes as they sat at their desks. Now Masao was ugly in his doubt.
You were seeing things that weren't really there, and it was beginning to scare you.
"Yama-kun's game?" you said again. "Yeah. Of course. Let's do it."
"Cool! I can't wait!" he admitted, with a shy shrug of his shoulder.
"Me, neither."
Speaking of Yamamoto…
He wasn't acting like himself. There was something wrong with him. He would no longer return your smiles, and when you chatted about nonsense in his presence, Yamamoto only stayed with you because it seemed like he had to. His heart wasn't in anything other than baseball.
On top of that, you'd caught the little flirtatious looks he was sharing with Suzuki. The note-passing during class. The winks. The subtle curve in Yamamoto's lips.
Suzuki, that slut. How could she get him to smile, when you couldn't? How could she, of all people?
"—and I'm hearing that it's supposed to be really good, for this team's one of the top…hey, (y/n)-chan, are you listening?"
Not again. You'd blanked out. You refocused your eyes and gave yourself a mental slap. "I'm sorry, Masao-san, what were you saying?"
The faintest look of despair, mixed with a little irritation, crossed Masao's features. "You're so hopeless," he sighed good-naturedly. "Where does your mind keep wandering off to?"
It was a question you couldn't answer, one that you wouldn't answer, and so you giggled.
"C'mere." Masao leaned across the both. He brushed his lips over your cheekbone.
You had to stop the shudder rippling up your spine. It wasn't a shudder of delight, of lust—no, it was a shudder of repulsion.
His kiss had held the key to everything only a couple of days ago. You had found yourself craving it at night, as you lay tucked underneath Yamamoto's arm…
That wasn't all, you realized. Yamamoto's touch was light. Fleeting.
It was like he didn't want any contact with you whatsoever.
Masao was watching your expression, his brows knitted together in thought. Your face must've been showing him more than it needed to, and you shot to your feet, turning away from him. No! If he keeps looking, he'll see…
See what?
What exactly were you keeping from him?
What's Yamamoto keeping from me?
Something burned at the pit of your belly. A monster. A monster of bewilderment, of fury, of pain. It threatened to overwhelm you. It clawed at your throat with razor-sharp talons, tearing the skin, scraping you apart.
"I-I'm feeling ill," you stammered, backing away from the booth. You needed to escape. The ladies' room was as good a place as any.
You had precious seconds before the monster would come pouring out, unbidden. "S-sorry. Stomachache. Ex-excuse me!"
You turned tail and ran to the bathroom, leaving poor Masao behind.