This fic has got absolutely nothing to do with the Foo Fighters song of the same name. It just came to be out of the blue when I was trying to think of a title, and I like how it sounds, so yeah. (At least, I'm pretty sure that they have a song called Walking After You.)

Uh, disclaimer: Slam Dunk is not mine. Yeah.

Summary: New Year's Eve is the perfect time to confess one's feelings. Shounen-ai, RuMit. One-shot

Walking After You

December 31

It's New Year's Eve. There's something which Rukawa knows that he needs to do today, or else…or else it'll be too late? No, that's not quite it; it's more like…tying up loose ends. Yes, that's precisely it. He needs to tie up loose ends; ends that have been dangling too freely for almost the entire year, such that Rukawa has begun to get very, very frustrated. It's about time, really; and besides, if you can't do it on New Year's Eve, when can you do it?

So it was with that mindset that Rukawa Kaede put on a nice, expensive shirt, a pair of stylish pants and got himself out of his house at 10 p.m. (the time during which he's usually asleep), and to this New Year's Eve party thrown by some Third Year Shohoku student. It's one of those free-for-all things: someone throws a party for a few people, word gets round that there's a party somewhere, and sooner or later, these 'few people' quickly multiplied into practically the entire fucking school.

At least, that's how it feels like right now. Rukawa can barely hear himself think, let alone listen to other people when they talk. And whoever is stupid enough to think that techno and dance "music" are real music should definitely do the world a huge favour and shoot themselves in the heads; now. The so-called music that's blasting like there's no tomorrow from the home entertainment system is giving him a throbbing headache, and he suddenly realises that his fists are clenched tight.

Internally, Rukawa sighs. He better be worth it.

Leaning casually against the wall in a corner of the living room in an attempt to blend himself in with his surroundings, Rukawa scans the room. About ten million people to the left; another ten million in the centre; and perhaps three million on the right. The liquor counter (how pretentious) is jam-packed with people who're either half-drunk or completely pissed; how unglamorous and unattractive those people look, with their faces contorted into grotesque over-enthusiastic, too-wide smiles that don't really mean anything. Rukawa thinks that one should only smile when one truly means it; smiles are, after all, not for free.

At least, his aren't, and they'd never be.

Rukawa scans the room some more. He recognises a few faces: Akagi (wow, he has a social life?), Miyagi (who is busy chatting up Ayako), even Sakuragi the do'ahou and his four abrasive friends; heck, even Kogure.

Seems like everyone's here.

Except, there's somebody missing.

Rukawa is surprised. Of all people to be absent, he certainly didn't anticipate that it would be him, the only reason he, Rukawa, is here. In Rukawa's mind, he was supposed to be the life of this party, the one who's constantly surrounded by people, laughing and bantering with others while he stands in the middle of a makeshift circle, the centre of attention; he was, in fact, very simply, supposed to be here. Who would've thought that Mitsui Hisashi would actually miss a New Year's Eve party, also known as what is apparently the biggest social event of the year?

Again, Rukawa sighs. This is turning out to be quite a drag after all. He'd deliberated with himself over the issue of To Attend Or Not To Attend; for one, parties are so not his type of thing as he really can't be bothered with 99.99 of the student population; for another, his favourite New Year's Eve activity is, like his favourite activity on all other days, sleeping. Ordinarily, he would've been asleep by now, which is – Rukawa glances at the clock hanging from the wall – 10.30 p.m. Thirty minutes have passed since he left his house, and he's made absolutely no progress.

This is ridiculous. Rukawa pulls his torpid body away from the comfortable wall, and then strides purposefully towards the basketball club gang. Along the way, he's greeted by screams of "Oh my god it's Rukawa I love you Rukawa will you sleep with me tonight!" when he's finally being noticed by his oh-so-loyal fangirls, but Rukawa coolly ignores them, just like any other ordinary day. It's routine already, and it's getting boring. I so need a new hobby.

When he's close enough, he taps Kogure on the shoulder, who turns around, and, upon seeing Rukawa, smiles warmly at him.

"Hey Rukawa, didn't know you were here too! How are you?"

"Uh, fine," Rukawa answers. He pauses for a second or two as he considers whether he should ask polite questions or just go straight to the point. He decides on the latter. "Is Sempai here?"

"Mitsui?"

Oh, right. I conveniently left out his name; old habit, I guess. Aloud he says, "Yeah."

Kogure frowns. "I saw him a while ago; he came with us actually. But – " Kogure looks around – "I don't see him anywhere."

"He's probably sneaked off with some girl already," Akagi suddenly interrupts. "He's like that."

"Oh Akagi, Mitsui's not that bad!" Kogure says. "He can't help it if girls are attracted to him, you know."

Akagi snorts. "He can at least attempt to keep them at bay, right? But he doesn't. He just blatantly basks in the glory as if he has a right to. It's quite annoying, especially when he ditches us like that."

Okay… "So," Rukawa says. "He's around?"

Kogure nods. "Why are you looking for him anyway?"

For a second or so, Rukawa freezes. Kogure's seemingly innocuous question has finally alerted him to the magnitude of seriousness of what he's about to do…and for that reason alone, nobody can ever know. It's his secret.

Rukawa shrugs. "No reason." He nods at Kogure and Akagi, and then slinks away.

So, no sempai. Fantastic. And if what Akagi said about the girls were true…Rukawa shudders at that thought. But he's come too far to back out now; he refuses to believe that his sleep was sacrificed for naught. He'd find Mitsui-sempai, and he'd find him now.

Or so Rukawa tells himself as he makes his way around the house, his anxiety building up as his search for Mitsui seems more and more futile, and he's beginning to think that Akagi is right after all…until his urgent eyes miraculously fall onto a familiar sight, the dyed blue hair glimmering under the light.

Beauty personified. Rukawa feels something in him lurch. He stands rooted to the spot for a bit, a catch in his breathing, something stirring in his stomach, right there in the middle of the dining room that's big enough to pass as a ballroom in some posh fancy hotel; and in those few seconds in which Rukawa seems to have ceased to function as a human being, everyone else – faceless extras, just like sheep – fades into the background, and the spotlight's on Mitsui, and Mitsui alone, and Rukawa can't take his eyes off him; he's so beautiful and perfect, like a god, and Rukawa knows that it's not right to place Mitsui on such an unfair pedestal to worship and adore, but Rukawa just can't help himself. It's been too long, really. It's time to let him know once and for all.

It's only when Rukawa's being pushed by some out of line party-goer from the back that he's jolted from his brief reverie. Rukawa instantly whips around sharply and glares icy daggers at the offender; some girl whose eyes immediately widen when she sees him, and before he knows it, that stupid brain-dead bimbo is shrieking away like there's no fucking tomorrow.

Oh, just shut up.

Rukawa ignores her, and, pushing and jostling past all the redundant bodies that stood in his way to Mitsui, finally gets within a metre of Mitsui. But the older boy is practically engulfed by a group of people, males and females equal in number, who're all laughing heartily to something that Mitsui's said. Rukawa may be tall, but that is not helping him catch Mitsui's attention at all, even though Rukawa almost directly in Mitsui's line of vision.

Rukawa clenches his fist. He needs to do this now.

"Sempai," he calls out, but his voice is swallowed by the rubbish non-music that continues to blast in his ears, and Mitsui, of course, doesn't hear it.

Rukawa heaves a heavy sigh. This is irritating. He moves a bit closer to Mitsui, in the process pushing away a few people using a little bit too much force, sending them tumbling to the floor. Now, Mitsui is listening to someone crack an unfunny joke, and that person is in the midst of telling his unfunny joke about bimboes and changing light bulbs when Rukawa tries again, this time a few decibels louder, "Sempai."

This time, he manages to catch Mitsui's attention. Mitsui wiggles his eyebrows to acknowledge Rukawa, but that's all he does; very soon, he's back to listening to the unfunny joke that the unfunny person is trying to crack.

And then, Rukawa decides that he's had enough. As if in a haze, he finds himself forcing his way through the crowd to Mitsui, putting his hand on the latter's arm, circling his fingers around Mitsui's arm, and pulling Mitsui away, much to Mitsui's surprise.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?" Mitsui yells above the non-music as Rukawa meanders through the crowd, thick as viscose liquid, towards the kitchen, into the kitchen, and through the back door and outside the house, where it's finally quiet enough to talk without shouting at the top of one's lungs. Rukawa releases his grip on Mitsui's arms, and as his fingers leave contact with Mitsui's skin, he wishes that he could go on touching him, just for a little while longer.

Now Mitsui is staring at Rukawa as if he were the biggest freak to walk the surface of the earth. "Okay, what the hell is this?"

Rukawa shrugs, indolently. "Wanna talk to you."

"What about?"

Rukawa shrugs again. "Just stuff."

Mitsui sighs in impatience. "Dude, if you wanna talk, you have to give me a better conversational topic than 'just stuff'. Am I supposed to read your mind? And in case you didn't notice, I was in the middle of a real conversation before you rudely pulled me away. So you better give me a good reason for dragging me out here or I'm going back there."

"No," Rukawa suddenly says, and immediately, he mentally kicks himself. Too desperate. Have to play this cool; cannot scare sempai away.

"So?" Mitsui says, looking at Rukawa expectantly. "Am I supposed to wait some more? I don't have all day, you know."

Oh, fuck it. I'll just say it. "Sempai, I – "

As Rukawa's luck would have it, the very moment those words escaped from his lips, some stupid fat ass comes out from seemingly nowhere and lumps his fat arm chummily around Mitsui's gorgeous shoulders.

"Hey Mitchan! What are you doing out here? The party's inside!"

"I know, Hotta," Mitsui answers. "Give me a minute; I'm talking to Rukawa. We should be done quite soon. I'll go back in after."

The guy Mitsui calls 'Hotta' nods. "I'll wait with you then."

"So," Mitsui says, his attention on Rukawa again. "You were saying?"

The moment has been lost. In fact, Rukawa would rather cut off his own genitals, deep-fry them and eat them with ketchup before he'd tell Mitsui what he really wants to tell him in front of someone else. So, Rukawa shrugs, for the third time, and mutters, "Forget it."

"Are you sure? I mean, you dragged me all the way out here and all."

Enough is enough! "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Okay. See you around then." With that, Mitsui turns away from Rukawa, slaps this stupid 'Hotta' jackass on the back, and goes back into the claustrophobic house.

Left alone in the backyard, with nothing for company but the chill of the night, Rukawa stares mutely at Mitsui's retreating back, and seconds later, he's swallowed up, once again, by the crowd that's cramped inside. A lost moment, but perhaps there shouldn't even be a moment to begin with.

Maybe, Rukawa thinks as he calmly walks towards the front gate that will take him out of this place, I'm not meant to do this after all. Why does it matter so much that he knows? What's the point?

Yes, there is no point; that's the truth. After all, Rukawa can't be absolutely sure that his confession would not be met with crushing futility, and neither can he ascertain that things would not change, and still remain the same, between Mitsui and him, if it ended up that Mitsui does not feel the same, and is weirded out by Rukawa's confession instead. And if Mitsui never speaks to Rukawa again, Rukawa would just die, like one of his many fangirls who've been assassinated by his trademark "leave me alone or I'll bite your head off" killer glares.

These seem to be good enough reasons for Rukawa to let his legs carry him out of this stupid sprawling mansion that can certainly rival his own, and, more significantly, away from Mitsui…but as he reaches the front gate and puts his hand on the metal lock, he stops, the latch lifted halfway. His heartbeat has picked up speed; he thinks he can almost hear it amidst the quietness of the night, marred slightly only by snatches of the action that's going on inside the house, sporadically coming, going, drifting in and out of his mind. He could leave, and never turn back, and forget what he set out to do, and his crush, almost a year long, on Mitsui…but he realises, with his hand lightly touching the cool of the metal latch of the gate, that he simply…can't.

For some strange reason that's still unknown to him, Rukawa is convinced that he has to do this. He has to tie up those loose ends before the year's over. It's the only way he can move on, so that he'd leave this year and face the new one with no regrets, no what ifs, no more pining aimlessly for someone whom he possibly can't even have. Like he said before, it's time to tie up the loose ends, once and for all.

And so, it's with this found-again realisation that was temporarily lost along with that moment in the backyard when he came so close to telling the truth that Rukawa Kaede turns around and begins to walk back to the house, where Mitsui-sempai is, perhaps waiting – Rukawa hopes – for him to re-appear.

Miraculously, the first person Rukawa sees when he steps back inside is Mitsui, sitting by himself on the sofa and downing a can of coke. Rukawa feels that strong sensation again which always hits him first in the gut, like a heavy punch straight in the centre of the stomach, that sudden rush of blood to the head, instantly followed by an accelerated heartbeat and a few seconds lost in breathing time, that always greets him whenever he's looking at Mitsui Hisashi. It's the same feeling he felt, so many months – 11 months, in fact – ago, when he first laid eyes on him. And Rukawa's not talking about Mitsui the Gangster, but Mitsui the Repented Basketball Player, whose tears had touched something in Rukawa's heart, a thing which Rukawa never thought was possible.

But, then again, Rukawa never thought that he'd fall so blindly in love with someone like Mitsui either – older, more experienced, so excruciatingly beautiful, such that Rukawa feels plain when he stands next to his sempai. Rukawa sighs to himself, again, his eyes still transfixed upon Mitsui and the sight of him sitting slouched on the sofa with the Coke can held to his lips, his gaze fixed on a random spot whose intrigue only Mitsui's own pair of eyes could see. And looking at Mitsui, Rukawa knows that the undying adoration of a million fangirls for him ultimately means nothing to him, and it makes absolutely no difference to him, as long as he doesn't have Mitsui's.

Fuck it, no time to waste, Rukawa tells himself. Better go up to him before he's surrounded by people again.

Purposefully, Rukawa strides up to Mitsui, all the while ignoring those who approach him for a chat. Rukawa taps Mitsui on the shoulder.

Mitsui turns his head, sees Rukawa, and looks surprised. "Hey," Mitsui says easily. "You're still here?

Rukawa nods. "Come outside."

"What for?"

"I want to talk to you."

Mitsui frowns. "Still want to talk? What about?"

Impatiently, without thinking, Rukawa grabs Mitsui's wrist and pulls him up, and then, like before, drags Mitsui with him as Rukawa himself stalks out of the house, away from the crowd and its prying eyes and eavesdropping ears. Upon reaching the gate, Rukawa pulls up the latch and opens the gate, pushing a bewildered Mitsui out, and then stepping out himself. Still holding on to Mitsui's wrist, Rukawa leads the older boy to a more deserted area, a good distance away from the party, somewhere under a tree.

It's then that Rukawa finally lets go of Mitsui's wrist, his fingertips reluctantly breaking contact with the latter's skin. Rukawa looks at Mitsui, who's looking confused and even a little bit irritated, and silently draws in a deep breath. This is it, he thinks. The moment of truth.

"Okay, Rukawa," Mitsui says, his voice tinged with an edge of irritation, "this is the second time that you've dragged me away from the party for no apparent reason. What's this about, really?"

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Rukawa blurts out. Okay, not quite what he wanted to say, but he'd get there. Somehow.

Mitsui narrows his eyes at the younger boy suspiciously, but answers anyway, "Shooting some hoops in the morning, and then I'm meeting Tetsuo and the boys for a few drinks. Coke, of course. I don't really like beer." Then, realising that he still has some dirt to unearth, he asks, "Why?"

"Got an hour or so to spare?"

"What for?"

"Go out with me."

Mitsui's mouth falls open slightly and he stares at Rukawa, dumb folded. "Wait…" Mitsui's voice trails off. He blinks a couple of times. "Are you…asking me out?"

Rukawa's first instinct is to flat-out deny it; say, "No, do'ahou, I just…" Just what, exactly? I just really wanna be with you because you rock my world. I just want to spend two hours with you on New Year's Day, and my birthday, because you mean the world to me. I just want to let you know that, throughout almost the entire year, I've been nursing a secret crush on you. Did you know? Had you any idea? To me, you're absolutely amazing; I just want to let you know.

And so, Rukawa finally says the truth.

"Fuck it. I like you."

Mitsui's eyes widen. "You do?"

Rukawa nods.

"How long?"

"Ever since February."

"That's…"

"Almost a year. Yeah."

"Wow."

Rukawa waits for Mitsui to continue, but the older boy doesn't. Instead, Mitsui's standing there, looking at Rukawa with an expression he can't decipher. Involuntarily, Rukawa squirms. Where is this going, exactly? He wishes he knew.

Rukawa clears his throat awkwardly. "Um, so…"

"You know," Mitsui interrupts. "I never expected you to make the first move."

Rukawa raises an eyebrow. His heart is absolutely racing now; there's no other word for it. Maybe, just maybe, things would turn out exactly like how he's always dreamt, those 11 months, pining for his sempai. "What do you mean?"

Mitsui shrugs. "Just, you know, I thought you'd given up already, since you never said a word about it."

"So…you knew?"

"I suspected. It was quite obvious, actually. I mean, what was a super rookie doing seeking advice from a rusty basketball player who's just returned to the game after a two-year blank?" Mitsui smiles. "I just suspected that there was more to it than 'hey Sempai show me that three-pointer again'."

"I never said that," Rukawa protests.

"Yeah, true," Mitsui concurs thoughtfully. "Too many words. You were usually more like, 'Sempai, do that again.'"

Rukawa rolls his eyes, but inside, he is smiling. "Fine," he mutters. "Whatever."

"So, that anonymous Valentine's Day note left in my locker was from you?"

He still remembers? Wow. "Yeah."

"Wow," Mitsui says again.

And then, the two boys lapse into silence. Mitsui is pursing his lips, as if trying to figure something out. And Rukawa himself? He is…what's the word for it?...oh fuck it; Rukawa is dying. The anticipation is killing him. He wishes that he could read Mitsui's mind; or better yet, turn back the hands of time and erase this moment from the history of the world. Clearly, it was a bad decision, for Mitsui isn't exactly falling head-first into Rukawa's arms and telling him that Mitsui loves him, oh so very much, too.

Rukawa grits his teeth. Dreams lie. Or maybe his have just been way too deluded.

"So," Mitsui finally says, after what feels like ten million years. "You want some sort of a response, right?"

Duh! Rukawa almost screams. Wouldn't you?! Instead, he merely nods.

"Okay." Mitsui looks at Rukawa, his eyes searching, as if trying to come to a decision. Then, "I don't know, Rukawa. We'll have to see. You're not exactly who I had in mind – "

"You had someone in mind?"

"Well, no," Mitsui snaps, testy at being interrupted. "I'm just saying. But…well, I'll go out with you tomorrow, and we'll take it from there. Okay?"

Rukawa's heart lurches. Did Mitsui say what Rukawa thinks Mitsui just said? Did Mitsui just agreed to go out with him?

"Hello? Did you hear what I just said?"

"Yeah," Rukawa finally chokes out. "I did."

"Okay, good."

Suddenly, the beeping of an electronic watch pokes through the silence of the night, startling them both. Rukawa looks at his watch.

12 AM. January 1. The arrival of the new year, and his birthday.

"Happy birthday, Rukawa," Mitsui says. Seeing Rukawa's slightly surprised face, he smiles. "I have a good memory, you see."

Rukawa wants to smile, but he merely nods. "Thanks."

"Okay," Mitsui says, checking his watch. "I need to go back in. My friends must be looking all over for me by now. You gonna be okay here by yourself? Are you going back?"

"No," Rukawa replies. "I'm off."

"Need me to walk you back?"

"No, I just want it."

Mitsui smiles, a half-smile. "Don't push it, okay? Be patient. It can be quite rewarding."

Is that a hint? Rukawa thinks as Mitsui Hisashi walks away. Mid-way, Mitsui lifts his hand to wiggle his fingers in a casual and oh-so-cool goodbye to the younger boy, who is staring after Mitsui with undeniable warmth in his heart.

Alone by himself, Rukawa finally smiles, a real smile, because he truly means it.

-end-

Yelen's ramblings: If anyone's interested, this fic was inspired by my own almost-a-year-long crush on this amazing English teacher at my school, which I recently graduated from. The idea for this dumb-as-shit fic came to me after I lost my chance to talk to him during my school's shitty-as-hell pseudo-prom, which was held on the 30th of December. The tone for the fic was supposed to be a lot more frustrated, but for once in my life, things turned out pretty okay in the end, and I forgot how it felt when I finally left the pseudo-prom without really talking to him, so it turned out like that. Some of the dialogue were not made-up; as in, they really happened. But that's about all that I'm going to say about this, so…yeah, hope you enjoyed the fic. I don't think it's all that good, actually. I've seriously forgotten how to write; trying to get it back, I guess. It's taking quite a while.

Happy birthday Rukawa!

Oh, and happy 2005.

January 1, 2005