Pairing: Mitsui/Rukawa
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Disclaimer: Characters are on loan from Takehiko Inoue. Thanks in advance.
A sequel to "Falling, Fallen", which is my favourite fic among those that I've written, and like most sequels, this doesn't do any justice to the original at all. Oh well.
*A/R: Author's ramblings
Chance
Swish.
I smirk. Fifth consecutive three-pointer in three minutes, and I'm not even tired. I'm truly on a roll here, and when I'm hot, no one can stop me.
I feel a ball whizzing in my direction. I catch it, and, in one swift, fluid motion, bend my knees, lower my body, hold the ball above me and -- release. The orange sphere drifts dreamily towards the cylinder on the fibreglass rectangle, and I watch, my eyes glued to the ball, and sure enough, it sinks soundlessly into the net, succumbing to an abyss of empty air molecules.
Nothing but net. As usual. As always. The ever-reliable status quo.
"Nice job, Mitsui-san!"
I wiggle an eyebrow at Miyagi and don't reply. Sauntering cockily towards the post to pick up the ball, I wipe my forehead, now slightly damp with tiny dots of perspiration, with the well-worn sleeve of my maroon Adidas t-shirt. I bend down and reach for the ball.
My fingertips graze the familiar surface of the basketball, its grooves fusing right into my skin. My fingers are suddenly startled, as they feel a cold, unwelcomed touch on them.
I glance up.
Rukawa.
We stare at each other, my hands still holding on to the ball, his hands still lightly touching mine. His gaze is detached, and I get a strange sense that I'm almost looking straight at the core of a burning cube of ice. His icy blue orbs pierce unrelentlessly into my own brown, and he is expressionless, as usual, silent and aloof... but for a moment, in the span of a few seconds when his unflinching glare blinded me, I feel my blood run cold.
I look away. I inhale deeply but quietly. I pull my hands away, almost roughly, my fingertips leaving the surface of the ball. I straighten myself up, and, without another glance at Rukawa, I walk off, leaving him behind.
**
"Aishiteru, Mitsui-sempai."
I haven't forgotten. How could I forget? Memories of that kiss -- almost three weeks ago -- replay themselves over and over in my mind's eye, almost like an obsession but not quite because I refuse to be obsessed with Rukawa Kaede. He is just a teammate. A cocky, arrogant rookie that thinks he's better than me, and somehow, in love with me.
Rukawa. Our resident Ice King-cum-Popular Jock, and all-round mysterious, if not weird, guy. In love with me.
What on earth is the world coming to?
"What is the world coming to?" I mutter to my reflection in the mirror. I clench my teeth. Stupid Rukawa. Why the fuck does he have to make things so fucking complicated? Why can't we just be friends, for crying out loud? Fuck it, I'm not even gay. I think.
"Damn it, Hisashi! You're not gay!"
The person in the mirror mouthed the exact same words back to me. I see him move his lips, forming the words that I've just uttered. I see the rage in his eyes, rage that I felt just a few seconds ago. And I see the confusion too -- like floating down an abyss, pitch-black and blinding, little by little. With nowhere to go, but down.
**
I'm assaulting my stubborn locker that refuses to open, and I give the key a violent twist. This is the last resort. If the stupid locker still doesn't open, I'm going to go crazy.
And it seems like fate is not on my side. I can't believe this. I broke my key and the damn thing is stuck in the keyhole. Great!
Letting out a frustrated growl that would've shamed the most ferocious lion, I slam my fist into the hard metal of what used to be my locker, and I slam my fist hard. Immediately, I regret my decision. A jarring bolt of pure, utter pain shoots up my arm, and my knuckles feel as though someone had just rammed them over with a tank.
In simpler terms, it hurt.
"Shit," I swear under my breath. I look around me. The locker/shower room is almost completely deserted, save for myself, some first year sub, Miyagi and...
Rukawa.
He's staring at me with those blank, seemingly dead eyes, not saying a word, poker face intact. As usual. Is there even a life behind those eyes?
What the hell does he want?
"Hey, what the heck was that for?"
"Huh?"
I'm so caught up in my resentment towards Rukawa that I don't even notice that Miyagi and Ishii (yeah, that's his name) are looking at me with concern on their faces.
Look, Rukawa, this is what human beings do. Normal human beings. Normal human beings don't just stare at a person who has just rammed his goddamn fist into his locker, and probably broken a few bones, and not saying even a single damn word. Normal people actually show concern. I bet it's something that is totally beyond you, you self-absorbed asshole.
"Mitsui-san?"
Dammit. I forgot to answer Miyagi.
"Yeah, what?"
"Are you okay?"
I don't answer. I look back at Rukawa. Still staring at me.
This is too much.
Without thinking, I storm over to where Rukawa is standing, ignoring the watchful eyes of Miyagi and Ishii. I lock my gaze steadily on his, not allowing him to look away, cornering him, keeping him where I want him. I'm angry, I'm furious, and I don't know why. I'm not used to be unbalanced and upset like this, and I hate it. I really fucking hate it.
"What the hell do you want?" I hiss, struggling to keep my fists by my sides and not strike out at the aloof and detached face staring back at me. "What do you think you're fucking doing, staring at me like that?"
I wait for a reaction, any reaction; a shift of his eyes, a blink, a facial twitch.
But I got nothing. Absolutely nothing. Rukawa simply continued to stare in that disturbingly calm and intense way that only a freak like him can pull off, lips clamped tightly shut, his eyes still staring into mine.
I feel something in me snap. Before I know it, I'm raising my tightly-balled fist, my arm quivering furiously, and I'm about to ram my fist into Rukawa's expressionless face when I feel something pulling back my arm.
"Mitsui-san, stop! What are you doing?"
"Let go!" I yell. "Let me beat him up!"
But Miyagi and Ishii will not relent. Miyagi grabs on tightly to my wrist while Ishii clutches my waist in a vice-like grip, and I never knew that a boy of his size could be this strong.
I struggle against the two of them, struggle to wrench my arm free from Miyagi's grip, struggle to pry off Ishii's arms around my waist, but it's futile. They have me held down like a trapped wild animal.
"Run, Rukawa-kun!"
Ishii shouldn't even have bothered. Rukawa still hasn't moved. He's still staring at me, his cold eyes sending chills down my spine that only make me even angrier. He doesn't seem to be affected at all by the sight before him; if anything else, he's completely, totally unmoved.
I simply don't understand.
I lower my fist and slap away Miyagi's hand. Ishii takes that as a cue to release me, but I'm faster than him. I yank his hands off, shoot one last glare at Rukawa and storm off...
...but not without hearing the miraculous words that softly and flatly escape from Rukawa's lips: "You know what I want."
**
Someone's following me. I can hear footsteps behind me, footsteps that I've been hearing ever since I stepped out of the school building. It better not be Rukawa.
Abruptly, I stop dead in my tracks and turn around to face my stalker, getting ready to yell obscenities if it really were Rukawa, but I find myself looking at a sheepish Miyagi.
I nearly explode. "Miyagi! Why the hell are you following me, you moron?"
At my insult, Miyagi turns indignant too. "Well excuse me, Mitsui-san," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I was just concerned about you."
"Oh yeah, concerned," I snort. "Which is why you chose to follow me in silence for ten minutes. Come on, out with it. Don't tell me you're in love with me too?"
Miyagi scowls. "What are you talking about? Who would be stupid enough to fall in love with you, of all peple?"
"Apparently, Rukawa," I mutter to myself. But it's a bit too loud, for Miyagi immediately looks surprised.
"Did you just say what I think you just said?"
Oh shit. "What did I say?" I say, trying to stall for time while I think of a way to cover-up my blunder. I may hate Rukawa's guts but I don't exactly want the whole world knowing that the stupid retard is in love with me. I do have my pride to salvage, for crying out loud.
"That Rukawa is in love with you." Miyagi motions for me to sit down by the curb, and when I don't follow, he drags me over and forces me to sit. So I sit.
"I didn't say that," I attempt. "You must've heard me wrong."
Miyagi purses his lips. He inspects my face, while I avoid his gaze like the plague. Wrong move. He immediately knows that I'm lying.
"So is that why you were so agitated in the locker room earlier on?"
Classic Miyagi. He just cuts to the chase. What he excels at in basketball, he applies to real life. He's quick as lightning, in every sense of the saying.
I sigh in resignation. What the hell. Might as well just let the cat out of the bag and unburden myself for a while.
"Okay," I begin. "I haven't told anyone this, and I would really appreciate it if you don't tell anyone. Especially not Sakuragi. Okay?"
"Okay."
I take a deep breath. "So, okay, here's the thing. Yes. You heard right. Rukawa is in love with me. Or so he claims. Whatever it is, something happened between us at the rooftop a few weeks ago. He..." My voice trails off. This is harder than I'd thought.
"He what?" Miyagi prompts.
"I was serious when I said that you're not to tell anyone, especially not Sakuragi."
"I was serious too when I said that I won't tell," Miyagi assures me. "Now go on with the story."
I stare at my hands. I haven't told anyone this, and for a good reason, too. It's way too confusing. Rukawa kissing me... what the fuck. He's a guy. It would be different if he were a girl, but no. He's a guy. He's male. Like me. And I'm not gay.
I think.
"So?"
"HekissedmeandtoldmethathelovesmeandthenIwalkedawayandIhaven'tspokentohimsincewellexceptforthatepisode
inthelockerroombutyeah."
"What?!"
"Yeah, I know," I sigh. "I don't know, it's just so... weird. I mean, Rukawa has always been this moron to me, you know? And -- "
"Wait, hold on," Miyagi interrupts. "What did you say just now?"
"Um... Rukawa is a moron?"
Miyagi shakes his head vehemently in exasperation. "No, you idiot, before that! What was that long and incoherent sentence? I didn't catch any of it."
"The hell?!" I really feel like giving Miyagi a good thrashing for wasting my saliva. "You baka. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried to," he protests, "but you just went on like a train or something. Anyway can you repeat what you said?"
I glare at Miyagi, who responds by grinning widely at me in an attempt to feign innocence. I roll my eyes.
"Okay. Listen carefully."
Abruptly, I stop. Damn, why is it so hard to say it? It doesn't even mean anything! Just get it out already, Hisashi! Don't be such a wimp!
"RukawakissedmeattherooftopandIjustwalkedaway."
"What?!"
From Miyagi's perplexed expression, it's plain that he didn't hear me again.
"I could just kill you," I mutter. I take in a deep breath. "Okay. RUKAWA. KISSED. ME. Get it now?"
I slump forward and stare at my hands. Rukawa kissed me. I knew that he did, but now, I know that he kissed me. It's a different reality when you share it with someone else, someone other than your other raging and indignant self, or your other sympathetic and pragmatic self. And saying it so clearly to Miyagi has made the truth even more pronounced, for some reason or other.
God. This really is a big, fat, dirty mess.
Miyagi is silent for a while. I glance at him from the corner of my eye, wondering if he's gone into cardiac arrest due to shock or something.
He hasn't. But he's staring wide-eyed at me, his mouth hanging open, as if I'd just told him that Michael Jordan was coming to town.
Damn. I really want to slap him.
"Hey." I snap my fingers in his face. "You gonna offer me advice or you just gonna stare at me and look stupid?"
Miyagi blinks. "Huh? Yeah, sorry. It's just... wow. I've always known that he's kinda weird, but gay?" He shakes his head. "His fans are going to be crushed."
I can't believe my ears. "MIYAGI! Who the hell cares about his stupid fans? I'm the bloody victim here! I need help! And I told you all that shit because I thought that you could help me! So, can you help me? 'Cause if you can't then I'm gonna be very very pissed off!"
When I realise that I'm yelling, I'm already done yelling. I look away from Miyagi and stare at the darkness of the night, the street lamps that lit up an otherwise pitch-black world. I wish I could have a street lamp.
"Okay, I'm sorry, Mitsui-san. I'm just... quite shocked."
I snort. "Well, try being the one in the receiving end. In my position."
"How does it feel?"
I look back at Miyagi, look him directly in the eyes, as I enunciate every single word: "'Shock' doesn't even cover it."
**
At the staircase, Shohoku High, descending slowly to the level below. Got out of the rooftop. That was one weird experience.
"Mitchan! Where were you? We were looking all over for you! So wanna go play pool?"
Someone was talking to me. That much was obvious. I could feel the speaker's playful and carefree arm around my shoulder.
But what was he saying?
I didn't stop to ask. I saw a door in front of me. I pushed it open -- shit. A classroom. I closed it.
I was trying to find the exit but all these people were blocking me. All these voices, shouting at me simultaneously, deafening me to the one voice that was struggling to surface and be heard.
I tried, I listened hard, I tried to hear it. To listen. I could feel it, feel its desperation and its utter futility and I was really trying hard to let it surface but these damn voices were drowning it out.
"Hey Mitchan! Where are you going?"
"Are you okay?"
"What happened to him?"
"No idea."
"Mitsui? Where are you going? Don't tell me you're skipping basketball practice today?
"No Akagi, Mitchan never skips basketball practice."
"But look, he's walking out of the school! Where the hell does he think he's going?"
Out of here. Out of this place.
Because it didn't make sense anymore.
**
I don't know where I'm going. Miyagi has long since left me, after trying to give some solutions that would help me with this sticky issue at hand. He tried, but he wasn't very helpful. Not that I blame him; I wouldn't know what to say either if I were in his position.
But hell, screw his position. I'm in the worse position here.
Position. Interesting word. I'm the shooting guard. Rukawa is the small forward. That's our positions in each other's lives. Nothing more.
Was I ever friends with him? Maybe. I think I treated him as one though. I laughed with him, joked with him, talked to him -- things I did with everyone else. I didn't treat him any differently, nor would I ever treat him any differently.
Despite my inner turmoil, I feel calmer now compared to how I felt in the locker room. Maybe I shouldn't have been so harsh on him. After all, he's just a kid. A teenager. It's normal to question one's sexuality, though I'm not sure if it's entirely normal to act on one's doubts.
Then again, since when was Rukawa Kaede ever normal?
All of a sudden I find myself standing outside a basketball court. I check my surroundings. A long way from home, and just as well. I haven't any mood to go home to that empty house tonight.
I sit down at one end of the court, under the basket, my back leaning against the goalpost. I'm trying to think, to figure out a way to solve this mess. For some reason that I simply can't fathom, it matters to me that there isn't any animosity between Rukawa and I. Why is that so? I don't really know.
I'm not exactly totally closed to the idea of having a relationship with someone of the same sex. I'm pretty liberal when it comes to things like that; why not get the best out of both worlds, you know? That is, I am, only in theory. When Rukawa sprang that kiss on me though, I was very taken aback, and that's just an understatement. Ergo, I didn't know how to react.
Above me the moon is looking down at me. I look up, stare at it, taking in its soft, elegant glow, its opulent mystery, and it's like I'm bathed in the moonlight, aching for it to give me directions.
Still gazing at the moon, something suddenly strikes me. Its glow... its porcelain light...
It reminds me of Rukawa.
And I know what I have to do.
**
Everytime I visit the Rukawa mansion I'm simply floored. There's no other way to describe it. It's the most extravagant architecture I have ever seen in my entire life. In daylight, it looks formidable, like the White House of the United States; at night though, it simply looks haunted.
Having been to his house before with the team to discuss game strategies, as his place is the nearest to our school, I know where his bedroom is located. It's past twelve midnight and I know better than to ring the doorbell and risk facing his parents' wrath, so I picked up some pebbles from his garden, stand under his bedroom window and toss them as quietly as I can at his window.
The first one yields no result. His bedroom is dark, and barely a shadow moved. I throw a few more pebbles at his window, each time with more force than the last, and finally, I see a faint glimmer of light in his otherwise-darkened room. Seconds later, his window is pulled open, and Rukawa Kaede sticks his head out of the window with an expression that severely undermines the word 'murderous'... until he sees me.
His face stiffens. And perhaps it was the lighting, I don't know, but I could've sworn that I detected the quickest flash of hope and joy across his poker face.
In the darkness of the night his porcelain skin resembles the moon. I gesture for him to come down, and less than a minute later, his face disappeared from the window and appears in front of me.
"Uh... hi, Rukawa," I say, and force a smile.
Predictably, he doesn't smile back, and simply nods. "Sempai."
Silence. He's looking at me, expectantly I know, waiting for me to explain my strange and sudden presence at his house at three in the morning, but my mind is a total blank. I've thought of what to say on my way here, but when it's time for me to deliver my lines, I acquire stage fright.
But then again, maybe this isn't supposed to be a play.
And then it happens. I stand off to one side and watch as the guy named Mitsui Hisashi walks towards Rukawa Kaede, slowly, tentatively, and I think I'm dreaming or hallucinating when I see him lean into Rukawa's personal space, but I know that I'm awake when I feel my lips touch his.
His lips are as soft as I'd remembered. I pull away from him and see a look of confusion on his face.
"Sempai... I don't understand..."
"I'm giving you a chance," I say softly. "And so you better not fuck up."
Rukawa seems to be taking a long time to digest those simple words. When it finally sinks in, the corners of his mouth start to twitch, as if suppressing a smile.
I laugh. "Do'ahou. You can smile now."
He makes a sound that sounds like half-snort, half-laughter. "Do'ahou. Who says I need your permission?"
"Still stubborn as ever, I see," I tease. Then, my voice grows somber. "Hey, sorry about the scene in the locker room, and... all of it. I was, well, I was very confused. But now I'm sure."
Rukawa shrugs. "It's okay, Sempai."
"Good, good." I think for a while, and add, "And Rukawa? It's Hisashi."
In the darkness, bathed in the light from the street lamp we're standing under and the moon that watches over us, Rukawa looks at me with an expression I can't decipher.
And then, Kaede finally smiles.
-end-
---
This is the dumbest story ever. I hate it.
Reviews would be nice. Tell me how
much it sucks; come on, I know you want to.