Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway. (Hindi ako ang nagmamayari ng mga tauhan ng SD, si Inoue ang gumawa sa kanila. Ang mga sumusunod na pangyayari ay hindi kasama sa tunay na istorya pero magsaya ka na lang sa pagbabasa '--')

Disclaimer 2: Title's not mine, too. It's from the Bible so don't fine me.

Disclaimer 3: Gap apparell does not belong to me so don't put me behind bars for using the brand's name.

A/N: This is inedited so bear with the errors. Sexual content (very slight, though) can be appalling to certain concerned readers.

Warning: F words still all over.

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Thursday. 7:45 in the afternoon. Y theatre movie house.

'I told you we shouldn't have taken that short cut,' Kiyota Nobunaga gibes openly as he brushes off dirty specks from his elegant Gap turtleneck sweat shirt.

Mitsui frowns a little. He is strapped in an even more ravishing outfit; crimson rock star shirt and drop-dead gorgeous boot-leg jeans. You could easily top him with something sweet and, well, eat him whole.

'Hey, if I wasn't sharp enough to cull down that route for us we would've made ourselves a laughing stock of Kanagawa in no time. Imagine what type of hell we would've gone through explaining why we're out together on a Thursday night for a damned movie,' he tips in as if to boil up a tirade.

'Which explains why you have to duck all the time people pass us by.' Kiyota barks scornfully. 'Tell me, are you that shamefaced to be seen around on a date with Kanagawa's best rook?'

'Oh come on, Nobunaga, don't go bristling off like you don't know what we're in for; I'm from Shohoku, you're from Kainan. What would people say if we act like sick lovebirds before their eyes? You see, there's no easy chair for us to sit on with them gawking at us.' Mitsui jolts back in a headlong pitch without whittling off his voice's volume.

'Fine.' Kiyota cuts in. 'In the meantime though, since we're in a movie house, why don't we just stop poking around, drop the codswallop out of our hubbub, and go watch a movie?' he finishes sarcastically with random hand gestures brandished with absurd exaggerations.

'Good idea.' Mitsui says half heartedly. How he hates it when this boy plays with words and all that.

Kiyota Nobunaga plods through the crowd of lined up ticket buyers to get two for both of them. 2 minutes later he's back.

'The film's R-18. I don't think your mom would be dead stoked if she learns about this,' Mitsui tells Kiyota who just shrugs casually and says,

'Yeah. Like I'm telling her,' Kiyota nags, baring the obstreperous sarcasm of his tone.

Mitsui studies him in disbelief.

'Okay. I told mom I was in for a midnight training with coach Takato. A cinch. Happy now?' Kiyota confesses. He is looking entirely bugged by Mitsui's meticulous glance which somehow makes him look uniquely cuter than ever.

'You lied to your mom?' Mitsui asks.

'Yeah, big deal?' Kiyota looks at him as if to smile derisively. 'Don't be a captious weasel, Hisashi, as if I got another choice--Mom, my boyfriend's asking me out on a movie, will you let me?--you think she'd let me?'

'I'm not talking about the boyfriend thing. I mean the film, Nobunaga, you can't see it; you're only 16.' Mitsui protests but Kiyota just drags him inside the theatre.

Mitsui is downright reluctant to take this seriously. For one thing, Kiyota takes him more like as a nanny than a boyfriend. But for what it's worth, he feels oddly satisfied to perform servile duties for the younger lad. They help themselves to their seats and pairs of colas and popcorns.

'Hisashi?'

'Yes?'

'I love you very much.'

'I love you, too.'

Earlier that day. 7:25 in the morning. Shohoku practice gym.

Kaede Rukawa rips past Mitsui's stable defense and heaves an unflappable, heart-stopping last second shot. Rukawa's team wins over Mitsui's.

'Team A wins. 64-62' Ayako hails. A narrow miss; just a cursed basket behind the win. Damn.

'Fuck it. That whore's calf's got enough demonic speed to topple over this MVP shooter. How can I make him eat shit with this stamina?' Mitsui thinks of Rukawa. He has just been turned down by the younger lad for the umpteenth time in 2 different levels; date and basketball.

His eyes comb over Rukawa's harrowed body as the latter slouches off on a folding chair along the courtside. Swaddled in a sleeveless training shirt and a pair of really short shorts, Rukawa is a picture perfect of your slightly clad dream guy, ready to be pounced on anytime. Mitsui's restraints refuse to flank him from Rukawa's tantalizing form and motion; his charms drive the onset of the unquenchable impulse inside Mitsui to slide his arm around the freshman's slender shoulders, to gracefully run his fingers down his flexing muscles, to gently wipe off his drooping sweat, to touch those pale lips with his, to slyly strip him naked to the skin and...oh yeah. Suddenly, Rukawa rises from his layoff and peels away to the locker room. Mitsui doesn't take time to entertain second thoughts and trails behind him. Inside, Rukawa faces his locker and rashly turns loose on his shirt to change to a less worn one. His bare torso produces a spectacular sensation fidgeting inside the senior's already feverish stomach; his rigorous male hormones are doing it again, alright. This makes him smile unconsciously as he canters along Rukawa's direction.

'You're not telling me to yank off this time. I'm at you,' Mitsui hisses as he closes the door behind him and moves forward Rukawa close enough to hear his breathing.

'Oh yeah?' Rukawa shoots back in his usual palling, still bare to the top. He's been caught off guard; they're all alone in the same room now.

'Uh-huh. This is the day when YOU finally say yes to Mr. Go-getter,' Mitsui darts in, spanking his palm against the nearby locker door to corner the other's view. Rukawa has to swing it with Mitsui now or he'd have to put up with the shit this hell-raiser would later give him.

'Jerk off, loser.' Rukawa says in a habitual glower.

Wrong move. Mitsui strides a step closer and clutches Rukawa's arms; their thighs almost brushing up against each other.

'You don't have much grit to give me this time, boy. You cocksure you can refuse me?' Mitsui sneers. Over confidence gets the better of him. 'Oh, what the hell, nobody says no to me anyway,'

'I just did. Move out.' Rukawa says as he breaks free from Mitsui's grip and slips in to a new shirt. He starts to head for the door but Mitsui's just too quick for him.

In a split second, Mitsui does the unthinkable; he overtakes Rukawa, raises his chin up, and gives him a one second lips locked kiss. Never has he kissed anyone without his assent or even forced anyone to do so. When he wants to give it a go, it's always his partner who takes initiative; not him. This could've turned out to be a blow on his already bruised pride but it would've been too lame for him to let the opportunity go by, so instead of sticking to the old ways, he does otherwise.

'I don't kiss people for nothing, Rukawa. You'd have to pay me for that,' he says after regaining momentum.

'Pay YOU for fucking me?' Rukawa glares in blank disbelief. 'Get lost, arsehead,'

'I'm not fucking you until you say yes to me. I'm not a drag-tailed cheap shot at least,' Mitsui argues.

Rukawa gives him a meaningful look and turns away; 'This is what fuck-thinking gives to disillusioned people when they're out of fuck buddies to sleep with.' his eyes tell him.

Mitsui feels an increment of add up shame heaped upon him despite being full of himself. Still, he's heating up inside, itching to hurl invectives at Rukawa.

'I'm not short of nightly sex to be shoved off just like that, foxy. I can damn well give you what you're asking for even before you've gone on a blink with that fucked up sneakers of yours.'

'Fuckever. Keep telling yourself that.' At that, Rukawa walks out.

A/N: I did warn you about the obscenities, but you're still entitled to flame me with all your gripes. Thanks for reading. I'm still no perv, right?

TBC