I wanted to thank everyone for your support – I'm lazy, I'm already up to the fourth chapter, I just get distracted easily by shiny objects and sounds (I just heard Steal Your Bike by the Marlin Jacksons... it was so great ^^) so I just kind of forget about this. So I'm updating and I hope I make at least one person happy! O.o I hope no one minds if this gets a little weird (Oh! And I can never remember your name, but your review is stuck in my head – I'm going to make Omi a Dark Raver! ^^)
Without any more babbling with which I can hurt myself, here it is.
Such Great Heights
By Ayanagami
~
I have to speculate
That God himself did make
Us into corresponding shapes
Like puzzle pieces from far away
Such Great Heights, second verse, by The Postal Service
~
It was a week until Omi freaked out; late for English, the blond was racing down the hallways, skidding around corners as his heart pounded, not quite sure just what his teacher would do to a tardy student – no one had yet to be late in her class, due to some rumors about what she did to people who were late.... which was why Omi was panicking. The bell had yet to ring, so he wasn't actually, technically, late, but there was no way he was going to get across campus at this rate. Students were in the hallways, making it seem like a freaking obstacle course; really, the hallways should be wider and there should be carpool lanes.
But that wasn't exactly what made him freak out. No, it was that when he turned a corner, only a few feet away, pulling books from his locker, was one Ken Hidaka, the boy Omi had gone on a blind date with... and hated. Well, it wasn't his fault (Ken or Omi's, he wasn't sure) that he hated jocks... and Ken just happened to be a jock.... But, well, Omi froze at once upon seeing the boy, stuck between getting to English fast, and maybe being seen, or being late, and not being seen – actually, the 'not being seen' sounded a lot more appealing.
Spinning, Omi hightailed it as fast as possible the other way, setting his course in his head; well, if he went the other way, around the Science block, then he could go down E Hall and...
As it happened, he walked in right as the bell rang – but he wasn't sure if this teacher counted right on time as being tardy or not. However, the teacher wasn't there. Sighing, he heaved himself into his seat, and proceeded to hit his head on the desk, letting such emotions as 'despair' 'misery' and 'anxiety' come upon him.
When the hell had Ken Hidaka gone to Omi's school?!
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit....
Ah, yes, the second most versatile word in the English language...
"Shit..." He whispered to no one.
*
After spotting Ken at his locker, Omi couldn't seem to get away from the boy – at every other corner, he'd see him, and have to turn right back around; it was giving Omi a headache, and getting on his nerves.
Finally, though, Lunch. Was it reprieve? Oh, hell, no. Omi then had to worry about seeing Ken in the courtyard, now. He chose a table in the back, where he could see practically anything that was going on, and slunk deep into his chair, eyes just over the tabletop.
He started and repressed a yelp as someone tapped his shoulder, managing to look up and see Nagi's amused face above him. He sighed in relief, admonishing himself about his jumpiness. And about a bad date, no less....
"Am I interrupting anything?" Nagi asked slyly as he sat next to the blond, who scowled.
"No." Omi growled, "I just happened to find out that my date goes to this school!"
"And...?" Nagi prodded further.
"I've had to duck into three different classrooms to avoid him!" Omi spazzed, gripping the edge of the table lethally.
"Why would you want to avoid him?"
"Uh, because I went on, officially, the worst date ever, with him!"
"Or maybe you're just too cowardly to talk to him." Nagi offered off-handedly. Omi bristled, sitting up straight in his chair.
"I am not a coward!"
"Good – because there he is."
Omi didn't even pause before he eeped and ducked under the table, whispering loudly, "Where?!"
"I'm just kidding – I don't even know what he looks like."
Omi punched Nagi's leg, growling, "You jerk."
Nagi chuckled and opened a bag of chips.
*
Omi's life was hell as he avoided Ken; nothing in his brain could say exactly why avoiding the jock was so important, so while it tried to figure this out, his feet were doing quite a bit of jogging. Omi was convinced that everyday he was vastly improving his cardiovascular fitness.
The only highlight was that Monday, the computers were back up and therefore Omi didn't have to sit around doing stupid bookwork – no, while he pretended to do the assignment (which he could have done five times before any one else finished) he hacked into the school records, and found Ken's file. Now, that part of his brain that was modestly coherent was wondering just why the hell Omi was doing this.
Yes, Omi felt a little uncomfortable about digging into Ken's private life, but, well, for some insane reason, he was curious. He found the file easily, but kept the window small, and his mouse on the minimize button the entire time.
Name: Ken Hidaka, Omi read silently to himself, Age: 18, Family: Adopted mother and father... Omi paused, flushing. Adopted? He hastily closed the window, frowning at the screen. He never expected that. Feeling guilty, he did his assignment and refrained from digging into Ken's life anymore. That was more than I expected...
*
Omi huffed and picked at the hem of his overly large black t-shirt. He was in one of the computer rooms, staring at the screen – as he had for the past fifteen minutes or so. He tapped his foot, frowning, glaring at the offending computer. Finally, though, he just gave up. He'd tried everything he could think of on this computer, but it still wouldn't display the file system. Shit. It was the last computer for him to configure, and it was too messed up for even him to figure out.
Sighing viscously, he stood and stretched, ejecting the floppy and scooping his backpack to sling it over his shoulders. Nagi was supposed to be in the other computer room, helping one of those dumb jocks with a simple assignment that Omi (and Nagi) could do in his sleep. Pffft... God, he hated Jocks.
Striding into the room and waving the floppy around, he began, "Nagi, that fucking computer in B-Hall won't accept the damn files. It resists all the commands, even the new ones, go-"
And then Omi stopped, frozen in mid step. Nagi wasn't helping just any jock. He was helping Ken.
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, ohshitohshitohshitohshitohshit.... Was all Omi's mind was capable of producing at that moment.
Both Nagi and Ken were looking at him, Ken with wide eyes, and Nagi as he got up and approached Omi. The blue-haired boy slid the disk from between the Goth's fingers, saying, "I'll take care of it, if you take care of this."
"Uh..." Omi stared at Ken, his mouth open a little and his mind making 'eeping' noises as Nagi walked out the room, preparing to do battle with 'that fucking computer'... Of course, Nagi had no idea that Ken was Omi's 'date from hell'.
And if he had, he might have still left the room.
This.... Isn't good.... Omi swallowed mentally as his body took Nagi's place.
"Um...." Omi floundered around for a place to start. "How far... did Nagi get?"
Ken was silent for a moment, then said, "I didn't know you went to this school."
Shit! Omi cried in his head, that's not the answer to my question!
"I... didn't know you went here, either."
"I transferred."
"Ah... Oh." Omi fidgeted, gluing his eyes on the screen.
"I never saw you around – well, I thought I saw you, once or twice, but it looked like you were in a hurry, and you were gone before I could say anything." Ken propped his elbow on the table next to the computer, studying Omi's face.
"Uh... well... Let's just get this over with." Omi said, trying to steer the conversation back to computers – after all, the faster he got started, the faster he got done!
"Oh... Well, I don't know. He was telling me something about dragging text..." Ken frowned, shrugging. "Computers are not my specialty."
Yeah, being a Jock is your specialty. Omi thought to himself as he moved the mouse across the screen, taking Ken, nervously, step by step through the process. Instead, though, he said, "Well, they're mine."
It took a while to get it through Ken's head, but eventually the intelligence challenged boy could go through the moves, and was even able to quirk it a bit to his own liking. Omi was just about to whoop for joy at the lesson's ending when he realized Ken was staring at him.
"Uh... what?" He asked, squirming around on the chair.
"You smell like girl, too."
Omi just blinked for a bit, then surged out of his chair, hands balled into fists unconsciously. "What the hell is that supposed to mean!?" He exclaimed.
"Ah... Well, you... look and smell like a girl..." Ken stuttered, unknowingly making matters worse.
"Well I'm not!" Omi huffed, lifting up his shirt so that Ken could see that, no, he was not a girl.
Ken blinked, flushing a little as he stared, stammering, "I-I can see that, I wasn't saying it like it was bad, just that you smelled like a girl.... You know, like flowers and perfume and pretty stuff – sometimes they smell like fruit...."
"What? As opposed to a guy?" Omi shouted, jerking his shirt back down even as he internally winced; he was getting louder... shit...
"Well, yeah, guys smell like sweat... and cologne, sometimes, and..."
But Omi but him off, saying, "So you're saying that I'm girly!?"
"Ah, No! I... Uh..." Ken waved his hands, shaking his head.
"What is your problem!?" Omi cried angrily, kicking the leg of his vacant chair.
Ken surged to his feet, finally, grabbing Omi by his black shirt, his own cheeks flushed a little. "Nothing is my problem, what's your problem!?" He retorted, shaking Omi once; unfortunately, once was enough for Omi to lose footing he didn't know was off already and tumble head first onto Ken, sending them both sprawling over the floor.
Omi blushed as he realized they were flush against each other, Ken's thigh between his legs, pressing strangely comfortably against him. He realized Ken smelled really spicy, like how Chai Tea would if it smelled the way it tasted; it mingled with sweat from what Omi couldn't only guess as practice. For a moment, stunned, they staid as they were – Omi with his face in Ken's neck and his forearms braced on either side of Ken's head, and Ken with his thigh between Omi's legs, and one of his hands brushing against his side under his shirt.
Abruptly, Omi jerked away, wide eyed and red in the face, rolling off the Jock as his mind screamed gibberish.
Breathing hard, Omi snatched his backpack up by his chair and darted out of the class, his body haunted by the feel of Ken against it, and the way the Jock smelled.
*
"Yohji!" He shrieked as he stormed through the front door, tossing his backpack carelessly on the table – and ignoring it as it skidded over the top and landed on the floor.
No one answered, so he called again, tearing through the hallways. "Yohji!"
He rounded the entire house, calling the name of his friend, coming again to the entrance. Frowning, he walked to the refrigerator where he saw a note stuck with a magnet, and read, Hey, Omi, Went out for a while, won't be home until six.
"Well...." Omi began, sitting on the tabletop and swinging his legs dejectedly. "Well... crap."
Sighing, he revisited the fridge, this time opening it up to peer inside. Nothing. There was nothing to eat. Well, it was only four... ah, what the hell. He needed to go snack shopping.
Aaaand, we're done!