It was a story about love. Or whatever.
An unknown and far-eyed lad walked within the terrains of Kanagawa and blustery weathers of anonymous airstreams burned at his thoughts. Kiminobu Kogure never was the slave of the world's stupidity towards its ethic on sexual open-mindedness but he himself was stupid to keep his relationship with Hisashi Mitsui. His choice was open wide for all its worth but he went on becoming the underdog in such matrimony; Mitsui was a man of promiscuity but it only was a pinch in the cheek for Kogure.
Just a week ago he saw the blue-black haired with a woman. It almost became the cause of his insanity but seeing an immediate prophecy of dejection Kogure never confronted his dearest nor the woman; there, on the blockade that obstructed the cobalt waters he sat and contemplated much more frustratingly than in his academics. Metallic drones broke away from the atomic physicality of the trains yet there Kogure was, static in his realizations. He never reached the depths of this aggravation; and now that he has he kept remembering what went wrong, what went bankrupt in their two-year investment of being together.
It all first began the day after Mitsui's former multitude of violence struck the basketball gym. He repented and begged for his empathy beyond friendship; both of them knew of a rough and hidden kind of sentiment attributable to two-years mismatch. The only impediment they had was their peers' volitional assent and it was achieved by straightforwardly far. A day after and affection was discerned and it went superlative in its own ardor archetypes. Romance was an imperative but the two didn't see it that way; their relationship was larger-than-life.
Brushing away a curtain of thick tresses that vaguely barred his sight he stared at the sky just in time to see the daybreak. It was then when he saw Mitsui standing in the corner of the Shohoku fields; alas he was there not for the brown-eyed but for someone else. It was barely of a day though with four eyes Kogure had he was sure he saw Mitsui kissed that someone, zeal in its exploit and the lot.
Though he still don't know what went wrong he kept harking back the days of waywardness of his dearest. This wasn't because he loved the ex-gangster; he was fearful of solitude among its other constituents. In these nostalgias Kogure could only laugh at himself as far as his logic goes; it only was past two-hours upon his vista of Mitsui and Rukawa together. In the end, he wondered; all the russet-eyed wanted to know was the other's appreciation of what they had. Finding answers in questions that in the first place are mere accounts of past does not reckon and surmise the meaning of it all; thus Kogure broke down by the bays and he was alone. C'mon Mitsui, break Kogure's heart before day breaks.
Down at an unknown park somewhere where the bays and Shohoku High meet, it was exactly an hour and forty-five minutes ago where Rukawa on the other hand was expressionless the moment Mitsui drew alongside. Not because it was his usual demeanor but it was an attitude tattered between apathy and commiseration. It was a year ago after he lusted for Mitsui and got reciprocated. It was a passion conflagration (1). The moment his pervert endeavors was retorted was when he saw Mitsui helping himself down at the showers of the basketball gym; Kogure wasn't there so he needed some facilitation. As stretches of time grew larger they were no longer coincidences but premeditated correlations and happenstances; Kogure can be thoughtful but he's too smart for the both and so schemed for Mitsui and Kogure's break-up – the woman whom the blue-eyed ex gangster went with was Rukawa's cousin and helped them machinate an emotional landslide for the vice captain and shooting guard.
After everything else he chose to feel apathy than remorse in Kogure for the former was easier to feel and the latter a punch away from psychosis. Mitsui, conversely, is a touch away from lunatic guilt. C'mon Mitsui, break Kogure's heart again for old time's sake.
A taller lad in his vividly pale crust of cellular pathology walked only to be de-familiarized by his concept of agony. Sure it was painful to agonize on certain aspects but it never felt heartrending than the sounds he's hearing; running away was at best list but it radically went at the last as soon as the lad saw acquaintance at the other's physicality.
In the end, Mitsui thought he felt like he really loved Kogure. C'mon Mitsui, break Kogure's heart for all that it takes.
Note: (1) Night Strider's concept and fanfic of Mitsui's relationship with Rukawa (and Kogure); this chapter was inspired by my addiction in Sheryl Crow's album "C'mon C'mon". Reviews/Flames are welcome.