scars2
Scars - 2

The next day smiled hard and unforgiving. Mitsuru had given up on respectability and slept in his briefs. Shinobu, as always, had donned a full set of pajamas before settling himself between the sheets.

The morning light stabbed through the window into Shinobu's eyes. He inched a bit over to his left in the bed, cursing once more the disadvantages about having a window that faced east. But he was awake. He might as well do something.

The shower seemed a promising place to start the day. He rose from his bunk, disentangling himself from the clinging sheets, and made his bed properly. For some reason, it seemed even more important today than ever to be neat. He could do without the clutter in his life.

Mitsuru was snoring rather quietly for once, his curtain wide open and his arms flopped down over the side. Shinobu smiled slightly. It was odd how Mitsuru, at times like these, so unguarded, seemed so sweet to him. He wanted to reach out and ruffle his hair, but was afraid that would wake him. He shivered slightly in the distinct lack of breeze, gathered his shower necessities, and exited the room.

Although hot showers in summer seemed almost redundant, Shinobu liked them. He always felt so refreshed when he stepped out. It was tepid water that made him remember things he did not want to.

He turned the knob toward the red and stepped in, feeling each drop needle his skin until he adjusted to the flinging warmth. He ran a hand through his damp hair and grabbed the bottle of shampoo. Freesia scent glided around him as he lathered.

It was a safe place, the shower. A warm, safe, clean cocoon. No one would bother him here. No one could touch him here. The eyes and ears of his parents and siblings did not exist here. Only heat and water and comfort.

No one's expectations. No one's dreams forced on him.

And most importantly, those damn amethyst eyes, shining with kindness and gentleness, could not watch him here.

~

Mitsuru awoke, cursing the world for its remorseless heat. He had heard the door click. Shinobu had left? No. Shinobu was back.

He lazily rolled over onto his side so that he could easily spy on his roommate. The slender boy was clad in a robe, replacing his toiletries in his closet in their proper place. Mitsuru gave him a surreptitious frown. That boy was too neat. His clothes were always folded, his uniform perfectly pressed, his homework arranged in ridiculously matching folders, one for each class. He needed to live a little.

"Good morning, Mitsuru," Shinobu said, not even glancing up from where he was still straightening out his closet.

"Morning," Mitsuru greeted back, much less cheery. He could tolerate the early hours, but they were not as welcomed by him as they were by his roommate.

Shinobu opted not to continue the conversation, and instead started searching for clothing appropriate for the day. Short sleeves would not do today. Not after yesterday's debacle.

Mitsuru, however, decided otherwise. "What are you doing today?"

Green eyes flickered up toward him. "Doing? Probably straightening out the room, assessing the profits from the betting ring and seeing who I have not yet collected from, and whatever else comes up." He pulled out an outfit and started to dress.

The blond stretched a moment, discarding the last tendrils of sleep. "I wonder what Hasukawa and Shun are doing today…"

Shinobu stood, clad only in shorts with his shirt still in hand, reached over to his roommate and set a piece of paper down on his bunk. "They left us a note." He pulled on his shirt and proceeded to button it up.

Mitsuru squirmed upright, eyes flickering down to the note.

"Sempai! My mom finally came to pick me up for summer break. Suka-chan decided to come with us and enjoy the air conditioning at the hotel. We'll be back soon! Have a good break. Love, Shun." At the end of the note there was a little caricature of Shun with a victory sign, grinning. Mitsuru sighed and set the paper down.

Several things occurred to him at once. The first and foremost on his mind was that he would have Shinobu alone to pry his secret out of him. The second was that Shun was getting extremely perceptive and he almost uneasily wondered if he was a bit too perceptive. The third and most muted was that no matter what happened during this vacation, Hasukawa and Shun would not know. For some reason, this reassured him.

Shinobu had finished dressing, so Mitsuru hopped down from his bed. He stuck his hand in his closet, pulled out a shirt and shorts uncaringly and tossed them on. Shinobu watched this with a disbelieving eye. "It's amazing girls like you," he said, smiling slightly and turning to his desk.

Mitsuru, who did not match by any stretch of the imagination, shrugged. For some reason, he was not very fond of Shinobu mentioning his girl issues. He preferred mostly not to think of them at all. "Oi, Shinobu."

Dark eyes swiveled around to the blond, wary of his tone. "Yes?"

Mitsuru sat down on his roommate's neat bed, indenting it slightly and wrinkling it. Shinobu winced. "Where did you go to school before you came to Ryukuto?"

The question seemed mostly innocent and harmless, but the undercurrents in Mitsuru's voice betrayed him. Shinobu's walls immediately went up. "I went to a small regional school," he replied smoothly, seating himself at his desk. After all, Mitsuru had only said before, not how much before.

The blond nodded slightly, thinking over this. "Were you very popular?" Strange; he'd never even considered Shinobu's past before. He had always assumed that he had always been exactly the same that he was at Greenwood. Granted, he himself had changed since he had arrived here, but his change had been gradual, throughout all the time he had known Shinobu. The other boy did not seem to have changed since Mitsuru had met him.

Shinobu watched him cautiously. "Somewhat…" Where was this going?

Lilac-glinted eyes watched him back. "You had many friends then?"

Aha. "I had enough."

A pause. Mitsuru was treading on Ming eggshells and he knew it. "But you haven't kept in contact with any of them."

And there it was. "No, I haven't." His voice was flat.

Interesting. Mitsuru mulled over this relevant information. He was aware of Shinobu's annoyance at this line of questioning, but he was also sure Shinobu would not lie to him.

The counter-accusation that was straining off Shinobu's lips he held fast. Mitsuru did not keep in touch with many friends from his younger days either. But to risk looking petty and childish and weak in front of Mitsuru was tantamount to defeat.

Mitsuru sprawled out on Shinobu's bed, noting a moment it lightly smelled like him. Blinking and wondering why that had even crossed his mind, he cast a gaze toward his slender roommate. He was sitting at his desk, watching Mitsuru back, green eyes dark and mostly walled, a few traces of fear escaping their prison. His arms were folded across his chest, the universal sign of defensive discomfort. He was clad in another long-sleeved shirt, though light-weight, and, incongruously, a pair of shorts. They, of course, looked excellent on him despite their clash of seasons. "You look hot."

"I'm not."

The blond wiped a bead of perspiration off his forehead. "Sorry." He stretched out on his back, almost comfortable despite the hellfires raging outside.

A pregnant pause ensued. Mitsuru was rather contented, quite sure the silence was putting his roommate on edge. For some reason, this pleased him. After all, why should Shinobu always have the upper hand?

For his part, Shinobu was feeling a tad tetchy. He wished Mitsuru would just hurry and ask his questions and be done, to judge him, hate him, and then never speak to him again. Well… that was a bit overdramatic. But who hadn't judged him for his past? Certainly his parents had. Judged and condemned him. Why would Mitsuru be any different?

Somewhere in the midst of his thoughts, Mitsuru had risen from the bed and was now standing directly in front of him, looking down at him with those violet eyes, dark with worry and concern. "Shinobu…"

Damn him! He flung aside his guilt and looked up, unabashed. "Yes?"

The blond boy squatted down in front of him, so that he was just below eye level. "You'll stay in contact with me, right?"

There was need in his voice. Pure, sweet, untainted. Shinobu's eyes widened slightly, almost imperceptibly, and he looked away. Mitsuru wouldn't judge him. Mitsuru was his best friend. Mitsuru was the person he cared about most in the whole world. "Yes…"

This would probably be as close as Shinobu would come to consent to ask about his past. Whether to take it now or not was not an option. "Shinobu?"

The deep emerald eyes raised back up, looking at his roommate. For some reason the concern that dwelt in his roommate did not seem to mock him. He was silent.

Knowing his friend well enough, Mitsuru plunged on. "I'm worried about you, Shinobu. You don't usually clam up when I ask you if something is wrong, especially if it's in the past. I guess I'm worried that whatever it is might still be bothering you." He reached a gentle hand out and set it lightly on his friend's knee, trying to shed the last vestiges of distance. "I want to help you."

Shinobu stared at him in something crossed between disbelief and impassiveness. He was still intent on that then? A cold war of desires clashed silently in his mind a moment before he opened his mouth. "No, you don't."

Mitsuru was taken aback. Shinobu's voice had been firm, yet strangely expressionless, flat, unemotional. "Shinobu…?"

"It doesn't matter anymore."

Puzzled by this obviously untrue denial, Mitsuru did not abate his questioning. "Why doesn't it matter?"

A crack in the façade almost appeared. "It was a long time ago, Mitsuru. It doesn't matter why. None of it matters." He was reigning in his control with the tightest leash he could muster and it was still coming a bit short. What was it about Mitsuru that left him so childishly vulnerable? No, he knew the answer to that question clearly.

"Of course it matters!" Mitsuru shot back, withdrawing his hand. He stood and pulled over the chair from his own desk to be more comfortable and yet still be eye level with his roommate.

"Why?"

Such a simple, plaintive question. Mitsuru bit his lip, watching the other, eyes still dark. Why did Shinobu matter to him? Why did anything matter? "Because… it matters to me. Even if no one else in the entire world cares, I still have to live my life. My life is important to me. So it matters." It was a one-shot deal. Mitsuru would not let Shinobu blow his.

Green eyes widened slightly, then looked away. It wasn't defeat. No; it was more of a sweet acceptance, a culmination of everything, the reason he had continued to live. Mitsuru's rejection or acceptance now was the deciding factor. He paused a moment. What kind of thinking was that? Hadn't he grown past that?

Slowly, from the warmth of the amethyst eyes in front of him, the ice began to crack, and he opened his mouth to speak.