| Warnings: Shounen-ai (though not as you might expect it ^.~), twisting
of beloved characters, and... um... other stuff. ^_^; Yeah.
Scars - 1
The day was hot, but not any hotter than the day before. Mitsuru lay sprawled out on his bed, wearing an indecent lack of clothes, almost half-asleep, wondering how long it would be before Shinobu gave him something to do. Shinobu, as was his wont, sat at his desk, clothed for some bizarre reason in a light long-sleeved shirt. Mitsuru could have sworn he was insane. If he could have stripped to fewer than the clothes he was wearing without being arrested for going out in public like that he would have. "Aren't you hot?" Mitsuru finally asked, breaking the wall of silence heat had erected between them. The less movement, the cooler it was. Or so he reasoned. "No," Shinobu replied, not looking up. "Are you?" Mitsuru did not deign to reply. The sweat-drenched sheets beneath him should have been answer enough. He did, however, let himself roll out of the bed, remembering that hear rises, and landed lightly on his feet. "How can you be wearing a long-sleeved shirt?" he complained, eyeing his slender roommate. "Because I'm comfortable this way," he replied, still not turning. Mitsuru sighed and flopped onto Shinobu's bed, considering a trip to the baths. "I'm bored and it's only the first day of summer vacation." Shinobu grinned slightly and glanced at him. "Homework?" Mitsuru moaned and rolled over. ~ "Mitsuru-sempai, do you have any aces?" "Go fish. Shinobu, your king please." Shinobu eyed him darkly and then handed over the requested card. Mitsuru smirked and put his match down on the floor. "Hasukawa, any sevens?" The younger boy shook his head, clutching his cards protectively against his chest. His sempai were not known for their sterling law-abiding ways. Today had dawned bright and clear, the sun burning away any haze that had formed in the sky. It was hotter today than the day before and even Shinobu had opted for a T-shirt. Shinobu's turn was next. "Shun, your eight please." Shun sighed and handed it over. Shinobu smiled slightly as he set the cards down. Mitsuru took this as an opportunity and leaned closer. His eyes sketched over the cards, and then lowered, running lightly along Shinobu's forearm. His brows lowered. "Shinobu-" Shinobu knew. "Don't cheat, Mitsuru." His voice held more of a warning than just cards merited. Mitsuru's eyes jerked to those of his best friend's, whose now had a hard look about them. "Sorry. I... must have mistaken you for Hasukawa." Kazuya, who had missed the silent exchange, glared at them. Shun, however, was quicker. "Ne, Mitsuru-sempai, Shinobu-sempai, thanks for having us over." He stood, putting his cards down in a little pile. "We need to get going. Suka-chan promised me to go shopping for snacks." He gave them a quick grin and hauled Kazuya, who looked rather puzzled, up onto his feet. "Bye!" He yanked his roommate out the door before the redhead could utter a word. Sudden, but effective. Shinobu sighed as the door slammed shut. He protectively folded his arms against his chest. He had known it would have to come out sometime. But he had been so happy. Mitsuru started shuffling the cards, piling them on top of each other and cutting them randomly, nervous for some reason, but after a moment, set them down. His eyes came to rest on the still form of his best friend, who was watching him, the same hard look in his eyes. It was that look that spurred him. He reached out and seized Shinobu's forearm. "Shinobu, what are these?" The forest-eyed boy calmly removed his arm from Mitsuru's grasp. "Scars from the past, Mitsuru. It doesn't matter." "It does matter!" Mitsuru noted he was getting shrill, and noted to himself to tone it down. "Shinobu, I-" The look in Shinobu's eyes silenced him. How surprising that he could simply cut off his speech, his thoughts, without even saying a word. But Mitsuru knew what those scars were. They couldn't be anything else. Silent, he stood and turned away, his steps leading him out the door, shutting it gently behind him, just as Shinobu had closed himself to the world. ~ The library was an available refuge. The stairs were steep and designed so that no one could climb them without pain, but the fourth floor was his goal. Mitsuru seated himself heavily at one of the desks and vaguely wondered why every piece of school furniture had to be so uncomfortably hard. The flickering fluorescent fixtures above him bled faint light into the room. The fourth floor was the highest in the library, built into a set of four main rooms, each more of a study corner than someplace to house books. Mitsuru sighed, raising his eyes to the small window. The sky was preposterously blue. And he could have sworn that it was even hotter here than in the dorms. He wiped his brow with his shirt. Shinobu's eyes had been so cold. He didn't really know why he had fled from that, but he needed to distance himself. He had seen that same cold, hard look before in his roommate, and knew not touch whatever the cause was, but never had it been so… frightening. They were faded scars, pale, almost blending into his pale, near-translucent skin. He wiped his forehead again. It was certainly sweltering. So the scars had been from a while ago. He wondered why he had never seen them before, frowning. Shinobu frequently wore long-sleeved shirts, but that could not account for everything. Probably their faintness and the sheer absurdity that Shinobu could do anything like that made a difference. It was almost funny. He thought of Shinobu as invincible. Was that still true? Cursing the relative humidity of the room and wondering if it was possible to be boiled alive in air, Mitsuru stood, moving toward the window. Greenwood could be clearly seen from here. He would wait here a bit longer, allow Shinobu to collect himself, and then go back and ask him if he wanted to talk. Yes. That seemed like a good plan. ~ Shinobu was annoyed. His lives should stay separate. This was now. Then was far in the past and did not matter anymore. His flipped his left forearm over and gazed down, despising. The scars were long and perfectly straight, of course. They were reminders of the thing that had happened that he never wanted to remember. He shut his eyes and leaned on his elbow against the desk, feeling weary. Mitsuru was probably angry, but he couldn't help that. He wouldn't want to know the past. His mother begging him, pleading with him over and over… His father, angry and shouting, but never naming his son's crime, as if to speak it would be blasphemy… Himself in the dark with Hikaru, the door opening, his father's outraged face… Himself, alone in the bathroom, the hot water pouring out of the faucet, the tears equal from his eyes, the self-hatred reaching the highest point, then darkness… And hospitals… And then Greenwood. They hadn't wanted him to attend Ryukuto, despite it's excellent academic reputation. They had wanted him to go to the same school Akira and his father and his grandfather before him had gone to. But he had insisted, and they, afraid, had eventually agreed. It was upon his small shoulders that their family rested now. They really had no choice. A bitter laugh trickled from between his lips and he clamped them shut, surprised at that. He had thought he was over that. Odd… it seemed Mitsuru knowing had almost made it worse. Here, he was pure, untainted. Or had been. His refusal to tell him had hurt the boy; that had shown clearly on his face. But what else could he have done? Sighing, he reached down and picked up the cards they had been playing with and set them on Mitsuru's desk. No use getting the room all messy when his emotions already were. He heard a hand on the doorknob and immediately smoothed over his face, turning his eyes hesitantly back toward the pile of finished homework on the desk. He could always check his math problems again… Mitsuru entered and shut the door gently behind him. He stood, back against the door a moment, and Shinobu could feel those amethyst eyes piercing him, though he was sure the look was gentle. Shame had a way of amplifying things. "Shinobu…" Mitsuru started, and the kindness in that voice made him almost flinch. Bastard! He didn't want his pity. Mitsuru, of all people, should understand that! "Yes?" His voice betrayed nothing. Amazing how a lifetime of practice of hiding one's feelings could pay off. Mitsuru, however, was stubborn. He moved to Shinobu's bed and sat, wiping his face with his shirt. The poor boy was sweltering. Shinobu did not have sympathy. He had trained himself not to feel the heat so that he could wear long-sleeved shirts closer to year round. Today was an exception, and he already regretted it. "Do you want to talk about it?" "Want to? No." His words were flat. Of course he did not want to talk about this. He thought he had made that perfectly clear beforehand. Mitsuru was bright. He should have picked that up by now. But Mitsuru, for all his brightness, held his stubbornness closer. "Do you need to talk about it?" Now he turned, his eyes cold and harsh. He almost felt a little guilty when he saw Mitsuru blink and look away. "Mitsuru, what's done is done. The past is over." The blond boy was quiet a moment, not looking up. Assuredly he was mulling over Shinobu's last few words. He took a deep breath before he raised his eyes and spoke. "Shinobu, I'm your friend. If there's something bothering you, I want to know. I want to help." He was radiating ice. "Mitsuru, that's exactly the point. The only thing now that's bothering me is your insistence that something is bothering me." He wasn't trying to sound scathing, but that's how he was coming across. It didn't matter. If Mitsuru never spoke about this again, he would be happier. "Everything is fine now." His roommate watched him a moment more, concern simply oozing from his eyes, and Shinobu turned away in disgust. He did not need pity. "Shinobu…" Mitsuru started again, but then stopped. His hands were playing the seam of his shorts and he seemed to notice this the same time Shinobu did. He smoothed out the shorts with one hand and then laid them both in his lap. "I'm sorry." This startled him. He looked up, confused. Mitsuru was apologizing? This was almost a blow. Mitsuru was apologizing for trying to get to know him better? For trying to understand? I should be grateful, he chided himself darkly, but the small ounce of hurt was still welling inside him. "If you don't want to talk about something, I should know better than to pry." He offered him a small smile and stood. "I think I'm heading out for ice cream. Want to come?" Reconciliation. Shinobu seized it between his teeth. "I would. Admittedly, it is a little warm." Mitsuru gave him another small smile, his eyes tinged with something else, something not even Shinobu had seen on his friend. But he made no mention of it. He didn't want to ruin the trip out. ~ Mitsuru had somehow managed to get chocolate all over his face, but Shinobu did not say anything. It was [kind of] cute, watching him try to slurp up all the ice cream before it puddled at his feet. Shinobu had opted for a soda with ice – certainly much safer. Mitsuru looked down and glared. Chocolate all over his shirt. He looked like some inept six year old. Snatching a few napkins from the ice cream stand, he started to mop up his chest. This was a really nice white shirt too. Damn. His roommate had been reasonably quiet since they started out, and Mitsuru hadn't wanted to pry. Of course he was desperately curious, but he figured that Shinobu would tell him in time, if he needed to know. If he didn't… well, Mitsuru had a few secrets from Shinobu. Not many, and none exactly life-threatening, but a few. He stuck his tongue out and tried to curb the tendencies of the ice cream to follow the path of gravity. It was reasonably ineffective. "It's a good look on you," Shinobu noted, a smile forming around the straw in his mouth. "Hmph," Mitsuru shot back cleverly. "I notice I paid for all this ice cream, but most of it is ending up on the ground." "Actually, most of it is ending up on you," he replied, indicating his friend's shirt. "But it makes you unique." He shot him a dark gaze. "Is it in this season?" "No," and Shinobu was definitely grinning around the straw now. "But maybe you'll start a trend." "Hmph," Mitsuru reiterated. "I think you're just jealous that I look better in chocolate than you do." Shinobu was silent a moment, and when he spoke, his tone was much more subdued. "We ought to get you back to change soon then." Mitsuru was completely thrown off. What had brought about such an abrupt mood shift? "Uh… sure." Did it have anything to do with his earlier discovery? He tried to lighten the atmosphere again. "Because I definitely don't think the chocolate fashion is catching on quickly." Shinobu flashed him a terse smile, and turned his eyes back toward the path to Greenwood. The blond was absolutely sure that his recent acquisition of a brief glimpse of Shinobu's past had hurt the other boy. He pondered on this as they walked in silence, still trying to rescue what he could of his failing ice cream. He laid out what he knew. Shinobu, at some point in his past, had tried to kill himself by slitting his wrists. Well. That sum of knowledge was certainly very helpful. The question that was bothering him, and probably what Shinobu did not want him to find out, was why. Why would such a perfect boy want to end his life? Why would someone who had so much going for him slash his wrists? Why would an heir to a fortune, a huge company, and a solid future try to end that before it could begin? "Your hand is chocolate," Shinobu noted, the amused tone coming back into his voice as he eyed his roommate. Mitsuru blinked. "I- what? Ack!" With one last attempt at saving his ice cream, he started to lick his hand, trying to savor the last cool bits before he was just plain sticky. He popped the cone in his mouth. "You're a slob," the other boy said affably. His eyes were no longer hard. "I know," Mitsuru replied, sounding more cheerful than that comment had deserved. "But you put up with me anyway." A faint smile etched across Shinobu's face at those words. "Of course I do." It was rather strange that he left those words hanging instead of ending the sentence with a jab at his friend, but he shrugged. Shinobu must be more upset than he thought. "Yuck, I almost don't want to go back into the dorms." Shinobu glanced at him, wordless. "Too hot," the blond growled. "It's too damn hot everywhere." The green-eyed boy smiled slightly. "It's summer, Mitsuru." He received a dark glare, but no reply. Summer, and hot enough for Shinobu to wear a T-shirt. To allow Mitsuru to glimpse the past made physical. Mitsuru's eyes had wandered down to his own arm, to the inside. What could that have possibly felt like? What could have possibly driven him to such a thing? Well, he had all vacation to find out. And Tezuka Shinobu was not the
only one around who could get what he wanted.
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