Paint me your heart
Chapter: 1/10
Disclaimer: I do not own any aspect of Slam Dunk whatsoever.
Genre: Romance (kind of)
Ratings: G
Summary: He is all content in his world of basketball, and it would seem cruel to even think of breaching that serenity. OC/Rukawa
CHAPTER 1: To be visually inclined
I am visually inclined, and I respond sharp to lines, shapes and colours.
The teacher was just about to begin the welcoming speech when the door swung open. Heads turned instinctively towards the source of the sound and he walked in. There were sharp intakes of breath as most caught a look at the newcomer. She lifted her head and was awestruck by the tall boy who just came in as well.
The most important thing about me is that I have no immunity against things of beauty whatsoever. This person is obviously good looking. The sharp, clean angles to his face, that aristocratic nose, the sheer beauty of a slender muscular body. And those eyes!
The boy paid absolutely no attention to the looks he was getting. He placed his sling-bag casually beside a seat in the remotest corner of the classroom and looked expectantly at the teacher. The teacher was briefly surprised by his nonchalance at being late, and cleared his throat, "What is your name?"
"Rukawa."
Damn, the lucky sod. He had to have a wonderful voice as well. I am pretty sure the girls in the place would be falling all over him. My hands are itching to sketch something. Doodle. Scribble. Anything. I need to capture this vision of male beauty.
"THE Rukawa?" Whispers spread like wild fire across the classroom.
THE Rukawa, whoever he is, seems to be… all right, is obviously a celebrity of some sort. Because I can already sense the beginnings of female swoons. You know, when their hands start flapping wildly in recognition of something and they are trying to muffle their screams/shrieks, you kind of get a hint.
She put her pen down. Tittering girls all around her doesn't provide a good environment for drawing. She might get laughed at. Then again, the teacher was valiantly trying to get the attention of the class. She should entertain him.
Afternoon found her sitting under a tree with a sketchpad. Her classmates have already struck off into cliques, gangs, pairs, etc. She just could not be bothered with the social etiquettes. She after all, had only…
The soft-lead pencil scratched lightly across the yellowish, coarse paper, tip shuffling above light grey marks stretched across the surface. She loved capturing motion on paper, to freeze the moment into eternity. Photography would do fine, but she liked sketching better. Not too faraway, somebody made a goal on the soccer field and roars of approval shook the tranquility of the place.
She sighed and stuffed her sketchpad and pencil into her bag. Sometimes, when one tries to accomplish something, the world conspires to make sure one fails. She wished she had the strength to resist the worldly opposition, but she barely tried to. She didn't think she'd succeed anyway. The gym looked like a good place to go. She hadn't been there before.
The moment she stepped in there, she knew she had made a mistake, because screams tore through the air, and the atmosphere was positively vibrating with the heat radiating off the enthusiastic crowd. There weren't only girls at the sidelines, there were boys stamping and whacking their textbooks against railings, shouting their approval. Apparently somebody in the gym was doing fine. She wanted to leave, before Rukawa caught her eye.
He seemed at ease with the racket all around. How did he do that? Obviously, being a star player of some sort must have done something good for his immunity against fans. Then again he has this frightening concentration in his playing. It was almost as if the whole world could disappear into splinters and he would continue his playing. He is all content in his world of basketball, and it would seem cruel to even think of breaching that serenity.
Sweat rolled down the side of the fair, cleanly cut chin, and he wiped it off with his armband. Liquid dripped off the ends of Rukawa's hair, and she thought it was fascinating. It was almost as if nothing else mattered at all. Enthralled, she was. The crowd roared again. Rukawa had brought the ball into the net, again. She found beauty in the lean muscles straining against the pale glistening skin on his arms. She knew she would remember the sight.
There was nothing else that she wanted to know. She turned and left the gym. The crowd screamed.
Rukawa dried his hair, picked up his bag and ignored the crowd of girls waiting outside the changing room. There were calls of 'Rukawa-san', but he took no heed. They would all soon learn, like the girls from his junior high school, that he would never look in their direction. He could never comprehend why girls are so foolish. Sometimes, the boys do that too, especially the juniors. At least he would not have that particular problem for this year, seeing that he is a freshman all over again.
Cold air of the library smacked him right in the face, and he breathed the familiar, musty smell of books. Right now he just want a corner to sleep. The library was considerably filled with seniors studying for their exams, and he found a corner – but there was someone there. A girl. He tensed slightly, waiting for the widening of eyes and gasp of 'Rukawa-san'.
But it never came. The girl looked up, smiled cordially and looked at him for a while longer before returning to the book that she was reading. She was familiar in a way – maybe she's from his class. He muttered, 'Anybody sitting here?' She shook her head. He flopped ungraciously into the seat on the opposite of the table – and slept.
She looked up again and stared at the black mop of hair resting upon the tightly corded pale arms. His head turned slightly to get into a more comfortable position and part of his face showed. Her heart lost two beats to the sight – he looked calm, relaxed and almost childlike. There was nothing cold or nonchalant about the sleeping boy. Sighing with motherly adoration she found her sketchpad and pencil in her bag…
He awoke to the sound of the school bell. Frowning in slight irritation, he remembered that he had a lesson to go to. The girl was packing her bag and stuffing what looked like a sketchpad into her folder. She looked at him and smiled politely, 'We have Physics now, remember?' He turned his eyes away from her, picked up his bag, and went.
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