scars6
Scars - 6

There was a subtle respite from the burning heat that had relentlessly blistered Tokyo for the past few days when Mitsuru awoke the next morning. Shinobu had not returned at all that day, and he hadn't heard him come in that night, but sure enough, there he was in the bed below him, curled up in his sheets like a child. He looked so young when he was relaxed. But the blood was running to Mitsuru's head. He pulled himself back upright.

He climbed the ladder down from his bunk, instead of his typical leap and thud onto the floor, stepping lightly on each rung to avoid waking his roommate. It was rare to see him like this.

Silvery hair graced the white pillow cover beneath his head, and hands that nearly matched the white of the sheet clutched the blankets protectively close. His eyes were shut, but not tensely, and his face was tranquil. Mitsuru crouched next to the other boy's bed, studying silently. He wanted to reach out and brush Shinobu's bangs off his forehead, but kept his hands to himself. He was so relaxed and calm, and Mitsuru was sure if he woke him that the same fear would grip his eyes as yesterday. Listening to his roommate's steady breath, he stood and moved a few scant steps to his desk, and sat down. At least this way, if Shinobu awoke suddenly, he would have a pretense of doing something else.

The blond shifted a few papers with meaningless blue scrawl on them into his hands, his gaze cascading over the paper and back to the sleeping boy. He would speak with him as soon as he woke up. He was resolved. Shinobu would know his fears and they would talk and then things would be all right. He was sure they could work things out. Even if they decided that they did not want to risk ruining their friendship, even if they agreed to see how far their relationship progressed… he felt sure Shinobu would remain by his side.

Lowering his eyes away from his friend, he realized that he was hungry. It wasn't much of a surprise.

He pulled open his closet and pulled out some clothes, a T-shirt and shorts, and pulled them on. He would go to breakfast and come back and bother Shinobu if he wasn't up then. Maybe he'd get two breakfasts out of the day.

Thus cheered, he exited the room, shutting it with a delicate click behind him.

~

Shinobu's first thought was that he did not want to get out of bed. The second was that the room was painfully quiet and that he was definitely alone.

He rolled over onto his other side and peered blearily into the room. He had slept poorly last night. He had barely eaten the day before, and what he had managed to eat had been snatched furtively and eaten alone. His left arm stung slightly. Perhaps it would be better to dress while Mitsuru was out. Fewer questions that way.

He slid out of the bunk, pulling out of the clinging grasp of the bedsheets, and made his bed slowly. It was warm, but not hot. Today might be bearable.

Clothes were almost an afterthought. Certainly, they were clean, but he did not scrupulously fret over them as he usually did. It didn't matter what he wore. He was sure it would be today that Mitsuru would reject him for sure, that solid, resounding, resonant "no." He supposed he ought to dress nicely for today then, to remember when he had lost his chance at ever being happy, at being a good friend, but it didn't seem to matter.

He was in the midst of pulling his shirt over his head when the door was flung open.

"Shinobu!" a rather cheery Mitsuru greeted him, looking sated and pleased with that fact. "Great! You're up."

The other boy had twisted and taken a step back at the sound of the door, caught like an animal with headlights bearing down on it, but he managed to pull himself together quickly. The shirt he finished pulling on, smoothing it out over his chest, and gave his roommate a wary glance. "Good morning." At least he hoped it would be.

Mitsuru wasted no time and the merriment in his amethyst eyes faded down to a light seriousness. "We need to talk."

"Of course."

The blond boy flopped casually down onto his hard wooden chair in front of his desk, eyeing his roommate with a familiarity that Shinobu irrationally resented. "I'm going to be honest."

Honest was a broad term, but he would not argue. "All right."

Mitsuru paused a moment, still watching him, then let out a breath he had not known he had been holding. "I'm hesitant about all this."

"That's fine."

Was he trying to be difficult? Mitsuru took another deep breath and folded his arms over his chest, grateful for the decrease of temperature the day had magnanimously granted them. "Shinobu… what do you want?"

Green eyes, startled, flickered to his. "What do I want?"

"Yes."

He had not expected this. Slowly, Shinobu moved from his position standing in the middle of the floor and seated himself on the edge of his bed, gazing down at his feet. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does!" Control. He must hang onto control. He would not strangle his roommate. That would be bad.

"No. It really doesn't matter." His voice was not dead; it was just flat, like seltzer left out uncapped.

"The next time you say that you owe me 500 yen."

Shinobu blinked, finally raising his eyes to his friend, and was met by a triumphant grin.

"So tell me what you want."

The green-eyed boy opened his mouth, but then promptly shut it, unable to formulate something that would not cost him.

Mitsuru sighed. Shinobu was far too stubborn in this for his tastes. "Look… I want you to be happy. But I don't want to jeopardize anything." That would work. It even sounded rather smart.

Shinobu noticed with a slight pang how Mitsuru had left any feelings unsaid. Bland words, like oatmeal or rice, sort of lumpy, but having little taste. He felt empty. "Of course."

Patience was not his strong suit, but he clutched at it fervently. "Shinobu, please…" He paused a moment, trying to find something to say that would explain himself and not hurt Shinobu, and yet not make him think the wrong thing. He took a deep breath and let it out, raising his eyes to his roommate. "I do care about you. You're my best friend."

Shinobu waited for the gentle rebuttal, the sweet refusal, like poisoned honey between rose petals, the denial of any potential they might have had.

"But I don't want to take anything too fast," Mitsuru was saying, but Shinobu hardly heard him. The faint scratches along the floor, idle windings of misplaced knots in the wood… it was fascinating. "I'm afraid that both of us might get hurt, and I don't want that."

Mitsuru kept talking, but Shinobu was busy drowning in the air. The air was eating him alive, like minuscule piranhas made out of oxygen, and surely he was bleeding all over the floor. Maybe it was blood he was drowning in and not air. After all, air couldn't suffocate you so badly, so that you felt someone had their fingers in a sick embrace around your throat. He was sure he could feel each individual digit tightening slowly, cutting off the blood he had left in his body that wasn't being eaten by the fish. Wasn't it sharks that were drawn to blood though? Maybe both. It didn't matter. Mitsuru had denied him as expected. He had failed him, and become only a source of shame now. There was a tightening on the inside of his throat now as well as the outside, icy and thick. Was this what despair felt like?

"So it'll be all right, won't it?" Light-fletched eyes gazed at him hopefully, but he didn't meet them.

"Yes, it will be all right," he replied, his voice strangely smooth and somber to his ears, but it apparently reassured Mitsuru, who swept him up in a quick hug. Shinobu blinked momentarily, but dismissed it. Friends. The warm body vanished from his as quickly as it had appeared, but the hole it left was somehow much bigger.

"Good, I was worried you'd take it poorly," the blond boy said, his voice eased with relief.

There was a moment of stilled silence, the air stagnant. Shinobu felt cold. Was all his blood gone from his body already? Was his work done before it started?

"Shit!" Mitsuru's exclamation came from nowhere and he started gathering a few belongings. He took Shinobu's silence as an inquiry. "I have band practice. I nearly forgot!"

"During vacation?" Shinobu asked, and again he was amazed at the lack of… anything in his voice.

"Yeah." The blond scooped up his music folder and flung open the door. "I'll be back in two hours. I'm expecting you to take me to lunch." With a cheery grin and a wave, the sun dimmed as Mitsuru shut the door.

Shinobu's gaze raised for a moment to rest on the handle of the door. Well. He smiled faintly. It was time.

~

Band practice ran long. Mitsuru was annoyed. Just because the clarinets couldn't keep their F sharps sharp and not flat shouldn't mean that he had to stay later as well. Hissing a sigh of frustration between his teeth, he shoved his trombone indelicately into the case, replacing his slide oil and mute with even less care. He knew Shinobu had been upset. The other boy hadn't even said a word. He had assumed that meant agreement, but he would ask now to make sure. Maybe he was paranoid, but it was better to look insecure with Shinobu than to be wrong and have the other boy angry at him. Angry roommates made for bad company.

But when it finally arrived at their room and opened it, it was remarkably stark. A creeping apprehension spidered through his heart. His belongings were exactly where they had left them, but Shinobu's things were all exactly in place. His bed was made perfectly and evenly, and his books were stacked in height order on his desk.

No reason to worry, Mitsuru assured himself. Shinobu was always neat.

But why did it feel so different now?

There was an eerie stillness about the room, like the dust had stopped settling while he was out. Where was Shinobu?

Hunches were not to be disbelieved. The blond boy discarded his belongings in a sloppy heap on his desk, and, armed with only a shoddy sense of intuition, he ambled down the hall. He paused as he drew near the bathroom. Maybe Shinobu had just stepped out of the room for a moment. He pushed open the door slightly, glancing in. Blue tiles, white stalls…

~

He had nightmares for weeks afterwards, alone in his room, the night clinging to his window. He would awaken breathless and panting, visions of darkness and blood staining his eyes, even open. There was always death in the dream, and pointed fingers, and accusations, and tears, so many tears… and he always woke up crying.

The room was cold every day and every night, wrapping him in a blanket of loneliness. Vacation had long since ended and there was a nearly visible wall between him and the other students. No one knew exactly what had happened. No one asked. All they knew is that his roommate was gone and that he had dark circles under his eyes every morning.

It was actually Hasukawa who spent the most time with him, trying to coax him from his self-wrought shell. Shun, when he got the chance, bounced by to try to cheer his sempai up as well.

But the rest rebounded off his barrier and fell short.

It was almost two weeks before they allowed him to see him.