The Boy is Mine

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway. I don't own Close-up or Kodak.

A/N: thanks for the reviews, dear readers. This chapter, I think, is going to be a little long. I just need your tolerance. I'm not sure if writing an SD fic again is something I can still do the same way as I did before. At any rate, enjoy.

Chapter II

--

And thus the competition for Mitsui Hisashi's attention began. Rukawa Kaede knew this well enough without looking at all sides of the story. It was clear as day for crying out loud; Sendoh Akira, the crowned jerk of Ryonan High, was now officially his rival. Not that he wasn't used to any feeling it might have elicited, it's just that, being Sendoh's rival in love sure wasn't going to be a walk in the park. And it pained Rukawa to enumerate the reasons why; knowing that Sendoh was good-looking, and hence a capable boyfriend-snatcher, was enough. You're darn right it wasn't going to be easy! Rukawa was at the risk of losing his mind when his alarm clock, wind down 15 minutes late, rang to save him from transforming into a complete nutter at 6:30 in the morning. Otherwise it was futile as Rukawa hadn't slept at all. He never dreamed insomnia would be this shitty.

It was a grey morning. Rukawa hadn't expected to see Mitsui hovering around the corridor, deliberately committing tardiness and all that. He should know, since he himself was 30 minutes late for class. The senior was rubbing his chin while he appeared to be reading something that was posted by the dudes at the Students' Council on the bulletin board. Which by the way was located opposite the oversized windows that took up three-fourths of the width and height of the whole wall. A spark of interest seemed to be occupying Mitsui's face at the time, Rukawa observed. Guided by immense curiosity he drew nearer and nearer to Mitsui, making sure the other would notice his presence. He wondered what kind of wild announcement the Students' Council was capable of to catch Mitsui's interest like this. He wished Mitsui would devote the same interest to him but…When he was close enough to discover Mitsui's amusement, the latter looked up and smiled at him.

'Mornin', Rukawa.' Mitsui said idly.

Rukawa nodded.

'Look what they've got.' Mitsui said and pointed at a piece of light red paper thumb-tacked on the board. It simply said in bold uppercase:

"JOIN MR. AND MS. CLOSE-UP SMILE PAGEANT AND WIN LOTS OF CASH PRIZES AND COOL STUFF!"

Below the stupid statement were the major requirements for entering the contest. Confidence. Nice smile. Good looks. Decent height. 16 to 25 years old. And other uncool superficialities. Funny how Mitsui reached all conditions abovementioned. And, come to think of it, so did Rukawa. Aside from that, there was a picture of a pretty girl and a pretty buff guy flashing their ridiculously pretty teeth for the whole world to see. By this, any tendency in Rukawa to imagine himself in the shoes of any Mr. Close-up Smile competitor vanished. It was simply stupid to be interested, much more to join, he resolved. He was about to shrug to express his indifference when Mitsui spoke,

'I'd like to see who would be Mr. Close-up smile. It intrigues me.'

Mitsui simpered, which altogether cancelled Rukawa's impulse to say something derogatory about the pageant. Unless Rukawa was suffering from sight impairment recently incurred from his brief ride to school, Mitsui winked at him. Then, as if having made his point, Mitsui marched off, whistling carelessly as he disappeared to the far end of the corridor, which now strangely seemed like an un-peopled, cursed tunnel to Rukawa. Alone, he frowned to himself. Did Mitsui just…?

Rukawa looked at the advertisement once more. He reread it. Again and again, assiduously, as though a big part of his life depended on it. As far as he was concerned, the contest did not prohibit gay people from entering. Surely, Mitsui just made it obvious that he wanted Rukawa to be there? Surely, that wink meant something? He was hinting at it. Rukawa stood alone in the corridor, his mind racked and pining for rest. In the succeeding days he would be seeing to it that he got that stupid Mr. Close-up smile title.

Because he should, come hell or high water.

Thus Rukawa did what nobody could otherwise force him to do. He joined the stupid contest.

--

Rukawa didn't simply just dream of Mitsui. He didn't just have daydreams about him. He had nightmares about him. He had untenable, horrible, silly, horrific nightmares about Mitsui. Sometimes he hated him. Sometimes he didn't. Nevertheless, whether he was in a hate-Mitsui or like-Mitsui mood, he was sure of one thing: He loved the boy. Whether he had nice dreams or unspeakably bad nightmares about him, he was still sure he was going to continue loving Mitsui. Yes, Mitsui rocked his world upside down just like that. Now, however, Rukawa had become apoplectic with insomnia. And the dreams and nightmares had gone away someplace he'd never know. But the dreams didn't take with them Rukawa's obsession for Mitsui; if anything, it had only been intensified, like it had to expand itself to fill the gap left by those dreams and nightmares. As a result, Rukawa loved Mitsui with a peculiar kind of despair and worse, he lacked the self-assurance to tell himself that he was going to be okay. For all he knew, he would go on carrying that brutal feeling. It was something he had to hold on to; else life had no meaning. Everything would have no meaning. Just like what he was going to do this day.

So on an unlikely afternoon in Kanagawa, all 187 centimetres of Rukawa Kaede went to a Kodak studio down Y mall where people had their Photoshop-manipulated pictures taken. A typical package of six one by one photos cost around 450 yen, which in the freshman's translation went: One hundred ten per cent of his daily allowance. Which was annoying beyond all reason. What he needed wasn't simply just a stupidly pricey package of six one by one pictures. According to Mr. and Ms. Close-up Smile dot com he needed:

A) One full length photo of himself; maximum size B) Two half body pictures; size six by eight C) Four face shots; size two by two D) One face shot for his résumé; size one by one

And as if that weren't demanding and hassling enough, he had to smile. Close-up's website emphasized the significance of flaunting the contestant's shiny, white, perfectly curved, even teeth; otherwise, the fact that the product was indeed a toothpaste would be overruled and therefore made pointless. Rukawa would have to plaster a smile on his face as some stranger took photos of him. He couldn't remember the last time anything or anyone for that matter made him smile. It seemed so long ago he was almost sure he had forgotten how to do it. Nonetheless he managed out of great difficulty. Each time the camera guy said "ready", Rukawa flinched as though he couldn't stand being steady. Rukawa guessed that sooner or later the guy would run out of films. But he didn't. And he stayed there, caged inside a claustrophobia-inducing room, longer than he could've possibly endured. At one point he stood up, told the cameraman that he was fed up and left to get the receipt.

When he had obtained the pictures, half an hour later, he couldn't help the dismayed expression that crossed his face. So that was what he laboured for; ugly pictures that didn't deserve anything but to be banned from humanity's sight. Instead of infusing him with more confidence, the photos almost made him a full-fledged suicidal. Never had he paid such meticulous attention to the imperfections on his face, if there was any and if they weren't what his fans called his tiny assets. He looked severely fatigued and, naturally, sleepless. He would've asked the personnel if they could do something about these miserable pictures of himself if he wasn't on the brink of collapsing into a profound sleep. He then decided that he was going to put off mailing the pictures to Close-up, and drove homeward.

Thus for the first time in many days, he slept like nothing else.

--

The following day was worse than a rude awakening. He had sufficient sleep, alright, but the revelation that subsequently followed was unbearable.

It turned out that the bimbo population of his stupid school already entered Rukawa's name two days prior his uneventful picture-taking. So all the effort was pointless to begin with. He didn't know how they got hold of his pictures (his best guess was, they were all stolen shots) or even how they managed to meet the other massive requirements such as the details about him. But maybe they all had memorized them by heart. What the fuck ever.

In the practise gym, it dawned on him in shock that his muscles weren't functioning well. He tried to pull up some stretching routine, but didn't go as far as getting the desired results. His body was still in a bad condition. Absent was his mobility-regulation; he virtually had no control over his physical side. Consequently he didn't do well in rehearsal. Mitsui and many others outscored him, to Sakuragi's exaggerated exultation. When asked if he didn't feel well, he simply nodded. At the locker room Mitsui complimented Rukawa's guts for entering Mr. Close-up smile as if that were a greater issue than his sucking this day.

'Oh, I know well enough that you didn't put your name in. With the number of fans you have I don't think you'd need to exert much effort in life. They're pretty good utilities, aren't they?' Mitsui said. Rukawa felt a most urgent need to say he did intend to join, technically, if that would earn him one meaningful praise from the senior. He knew better. He just hoped the pictures those bimbos sent were good enough to secure his victory. Because that victory would bring him one step closer to Mitsui's affection or interest or whatever they damned please. Or so he thought.

Turning away, Rukawa felt his love grow bigger and bigger. For some reason he felt certain that his life sucked worse than most. So goddamn it.

He also decided to forget about mailing his studio pictures. They were horrendous anyway.

--

It was lucky that the pageant itself was not as demanding as it initially appeared to be. All the contestants had to do was to be there at the ceremony until the announcement of winners took place. The votes were cast via SMS. Each contestant was given a code name. Voters would key in the code name of their preferred contestant, then press space, then "Mr. C" and send them to 2366. Each phone number was entitled to one vote; anyone who wanted to vote twice should buy another phone card, in other words waste money. It was by then the popular agenda of Rukawa army. And Rukawa couldn't help trying to fathom what pathetically small portion of their brains they were using until he realised that he should be thanking them, his dear mass-produced fans. He could make robots out of them if he wanted to. It just so happened that he only wanted Mitsui. Ever.

So the fateful day arrived. The event girls and boys alike fervently waited for. The programme was to be held at Kanagawa Centre. From the outset, it was easy to tell that the convention was a major one. People mobbed not only the outside but the inside of the stadium. Fever caught just about everybody. Rukawa, possibly the only unenthusiastic person amidst the hoi polloi, wedged himself in and introduced himself to the formidable-looking bouncers as one of the contestants. He was admitted with one quick surveying look. He went further in. He could see, from the crowd, quite clearly, the ever so familiar costumes of the Rukawa Army. Layer after layer, they filled the stands, audibly shrieking his name and nicknames and booing others. He scrunched lower, careful not to be seen. Then he saw, on the stage, the blow-up pictures of the other contestants. There was Fujima Kenji, looking like all the beauty salons in Kanagawa conspired to make him look prettier than he already was. There was also Kiyota Nobunaga, immaturity-incarnate; Sakuragi Hanamichi, which made Rukawa wish it were the end of the world; his own picture in which he wasn't in the least wearing a smile. He looked pallid, lazy and cruelly disinterested. At any rate, it was the best he could expect from his fans. Then, to his utmost disappointment there was Sendoh Akira's poster, gleaming, looking prime in that one captured moment, begging other male species to be insecure about him. Which in any case was successful. Fuck it. Soon as Rukawa winced away from the painful sight of it, his head started boiling. A new aspect of jealousy came to him, forestalling further movements. He was so angry. Paranoia seized him. Did Sendoh know that Rukawa was going to join too? Did he really think Rukawa would even bother? Did he join just to spite Rukawa? And why would Sendoh fuck up with him to such extent…? Unless Mitsui threw hints his way too…Nah. That was unlikely, and yet…

'Hi, Rukawa.'

Rukawa wheeled around to receive the surprise of his life. In his perfect gentleman attire, Sendoh stood before him. It would've been the state Rukawa most dreaded to see Sendoh in, in this extremely flawless form. At this point, Rukawa was sure either jealousy or defeat would drive him mad. I can't lose!

You're using up my oxygen, Rukawa was tempted to say but thought better of it. Instead, he looked straight at Sendoh, not quite in a sizing-up way as he had done prior. On a given day he would have been hardly able to withstand his proximity; today Rukawa had too much anger inside him to ever bother backing out. To fortify this, he had supported Sendoh's gaze extra seconds long. He couldn't do that before, he was cocksure of it.

'So it's true; you would be here. Anyway, nice photo.' Sendoh uttered with a smile. Rukawa couldn't tell if Sendoh was being courteous or simply mocking or simply being idiotic. He just nodded. For all he cared he wished this person to make himself scarce for the rest of his life. At the present, the two celebrities started garnering attention. Girls, batches and batches of them, began drawing into them as though both Rukawa and Sendoh were negative poled magnets and them positive. In no time cameras flashed and flashed. Both players were now besieged by an impermeable phalanx of bimbos. Rukawa grew irritated. He wanted the day to be over.

'Excuse me.'

As if to answer his prayers, a deep voice, neither his nor Sendoh's, sprang up. He knew that voice. Mitsui immediately popped out of nowhere. He was looking exceptionally sunny as he squeezed himself between the girls.

'I'm so sorry but you people would have to give these two a break.' Mitsui casually told the girls as if following his instruction was a necessity. When the girls put on a reluctant look he went on, 'Well let's be civil here. If you want Sendoh and Rukawa to be disqualified, lingering around them would be advisable.' Mitsui smiled. It settled the matter as the girls began stalking off wearing the most grievous look one can imagine.

Now there was only the three of them in this wonderful scene. Rukawa had the craziest mixed feelings about this. On one hand it was fabulous to be left alone with Mitsui. He was a breath of fresh air, an oasis in the middle of the desert, a warm hearth in Antarctica…on the other; it was appalling to have Sendoh share this moment too. Goddamn it.

'Whew. Those girls treat you like extinct zoo animals. Anyway, so you've found him, Akira.' Mitsui addressed Sendoh. Rukawa's insides lurched. Did Mitsui just refer to Sendoh with his first name?

'Uh-huh. He was looking like a lone pup until I caught up with him.' Sendoh replied. There was some sort of understanding between him and Mitsui which was hard to miss. Like he and Mitsui had been communicating lately. Rukawa was too furious to react.

'Oh, I'm so sorry.' Mitsui spoke to Rukawa, sparing no time to explain. 'Akira and I have been here since morning. We've been wondering where you were so we separated and looked for you. You're late, we can see. It's alright, we should stick together.' Mitsui finished.

Rukawa kept quiet. He didn't misinterpret Mitsui, as he was hoping he had. Mitsui and Sendoh had made friends. In such a short notice. Rukawa's theory was, Sendoh tracked Mitsui down and used this time to his advantage. Yes, the time was very, very auspicious; more auspicious than he could've realised in fact. Then just like that, he charmed the pants off Mitsui. The sick flirt. And now Mitsui had become Sendoh's escort for the night. And now they were close and inseparable. A good-looking item. This is the end of the line for me. Clearly Sendoh's got him in his snares. Now my life really sucks. Rukawa thought hard.

'Let's go up front. The awarding is near.' Sendoh suddenly said just in time to break Rukawa's train of thought. The three of them headed to the foot of the stage, Rukawa trailing listlessly. It felt so ironic to him that now he was walking in their shadows. He felt ugly. Surely, this episode isn't worth enduring? Surely, it would do Rukawa a good deal of good to walk away from the two of them, who apparently were under some mischievous mutual understanding designed to torment Rukawa? Oh, this thought doesn't interest me.

Then as though there were no end to all his surprises, he bore witness to something very weird. Mitsui's face was printed on a laughably large glossy paper. It was in the middle of the stage, ostentatious and demanding profuse adoration. It had been blocked by a gigantic balloon a while ago, apparently. Now with the obstruction gone, the Mitsui on it looked so beautiful, needless to say, but there was something subtly different about that face and that one of the Mitsui standing beside Rukawa. It was the same person and yet, all at once, not quite.

Rukawa locked his gaze on the picture. A newfangled sensation came over him, like a sweeping, gentle tsunami, so great and yet so soothing. It took him another spell to realise that he was still nourishing some hope with the senior. After all, he was his team mate. Ergo, he stood a better chance than that fucking fucker called Sendoh. Granted Sendoh didn't transfer to Shohoku anytime soon, in which case Rukawa and his fantasy-based prospects were better off buried. He continued looking at the picture as though something compelled him to.

'Oh.' Mitsui was grinning at Rukawa, half shy, half proud. 'You're gravely mistaken if you think I joined. My picture's there because I was last year's Mr. Close-up Smile. My friends' whim. But I won anyway. I was lucky you guys hadn't yet knocked out my teeth at the time.' Mitsui said to Rukawa and he and Sendoh laughed in harmonious unison. Rukawa was in a momentary state of shock. Nothing in Mitsui's previous behaviour indicated that he had something big to do with this whole close-up crap. So that answered his strange interest in the advertisement. At first Rukawa thought it was plain idle, misplaced interest; apparently Mitsui was justified to act that way. At least he was in the clear with regard to that matter.

Rukawa sighed, failing to make the aimed impression of being amused. He was glad that Mitsui had put his punch behind him, that he was willing to make a joke out of the ugsome incident. But he was bothered. So much. Even with his dentures, Mitsui looked just as perfect. He remained perfect, impeccable in every physical way. It occurred to Rukawa that he was part of the reason why Mitsui lost his front teeth. So in a way, Rukawa was responsible for that perfection too. He almost smiled at the thought. At the same instant, the microphone sounded.

'Ehem, ehem. Good evening, minna-san! I am Lin, your emcee for the night…'

The emcee babbled on. A little later she announced the winner of Ms. Close-up Smile. A brown-haired girl with large enticing eyes ascended. Many guys whistled, but neither Sendoh nor Mitsui followed suit. They seemed keen on waiting for the Mr. Close-up coronation.

Seconds later, two stocky men in black pimp shirts approached Mitsui. They whispered something to his ear. Mitsui nodded, turned to Rukawa and Sendoh and smiled,

'It's my call. I'll be back soon. Hope one of you gets it.' He winked and sank into the weight of the anonymous crowd. In no time flat he was on the platform, elevated among the rest, bearing a glass trophy which would edify the winner's identity as Mr. Close-up Smile, super authentic. He closed in beside the emcee as the latter introduced him to the audience. He was received with an enormous applause. At the same moment, a distinct, boisterous cheer flew out of the thick crowd. Sakuragi Hanamichi and his animal-blooded guntai were making a commotion in his name. Mitsui smiled awkwardly. It was pretty hard not to miss Sakuragi's loud, pitiable plea: 'Pick me, Mitchy!' Yeah, Sakuragi, you need all the support you can get.

'And, for the winner of Mr. Close-up Smile, the highest number of votes through SMS goes to…'

Within that minuscule segment of time, every thought, pleasant or otherwise, came crashing down on Rukawa. This competition had become so entirely personal to him, which was stupid. It had extracted great amount of stress and anger from him lately. It was not due it, he learned. It wasn't just about Sendoh and him and Mitsui. It was about, in fact, nothing. So why should there be emotions involved? Until then it didn't transpire to him that it was not in Mitsui's hands to select a winner. Rukawa had been assuming all along that there was only himself and Sendoh to cull from. Wrong. There were many able others. For the first time, Rukawa was seeing the pageant for the ugly thing it was. Even if either of them won, it wouldn't define Mitsui's choice, wouldn't amount to anything significant unless you count the girls' additional attention as such.

'Fujima Kenji!'

As was expected of loyal, manic Shoyo fans, they all commenced a deafening hymn. Fujima Kenji hoisted himself up the stage. He shook hands with Mitsui, who was beaming. In a while, the programme started ending. Credits were recited through the speaker. Confetti was being showered from nowhere above. Rukawa forgot that he was still beside Sendoh. He espied him smiling. It wasn't a bitter smile; it was an I'm-not-a-lousy-sport-about-losing kind of smile. Apparently unsuccessful again on this occasion, Sendoh could only manage that one expression he was good at.

'Well, too bad you didn't make it.' Sendoh said.

'You too.' Rukawa replied.

'Let's find Hisashi. I know you want to.'

They found Mitsui backstage, chattering with acquaintances. Mitsui caught their eyes and turned to them.

'Well, better luck next time.' He told Sendoh and Rukawa.

'Not interested.' Rukawa and Sendoh huffed. Now that Mitsui's duty to the pseudo-pageant was certainly over, so became his interest. No reason for Rukawa and Sendoh to join again next year.

'Right. Same here. I'm glad I'm rid of it.' Mitsui smiled.

They ambled away from the venue, retiring to the sidewalks. At the end of the day Rukawa concluded that it was indeed an unforgettable encounter with the two people who would play a meaningful role in his sucky, sulky, stupid life. His obsession for Mitsui would never wane. His anger towards Sendoh would never fade. It was complicated, yeah, but he didn't have any other choice but to swallow it, this tangled predicament, whole. Then, maybe, someday, they could make something out. Compromise? He hoped. If only Sendoh wouldn't prove to be impertinent and frighteningly clingy. Why can't he just give Mitsui up for fuck's sake?

Each of them went home, rather over-wrought. None offered to extend the bonding by having a few drinks. For Rukawa it was a futile day. All he had accomplished was to be diagnosed with deeper obsession, and to squander tons of money and be dog-tired and everything. It was silly of him to think that he'd gain more points if he won it. So what? He would just put his dignity on the line, giving an opening for someone like Sakuragi to call him devilishly lame names like Captain Smiley or Champion Toothy or whatever. He really didn't want the title. What he wanted was Mitsui's attention. Sadly for Mitsui, choosing between Rukawa and Sendoh wouldn't be a picnic. For one thing, they weren't apples and oranges; they were individuals. Unique, very unique individuals. And they demanded thorough thinking-over.

Rukawa hoped to hell Mitsui would make the right choice one of these days.

TBC

A/N: Okay. This one was about Rukawa, obviously. The following chapter, to be fair, would be about Sendoh. I mean, written in his perspective. I want to keep the rivalry in perfect equilibrium as much as possible. That way, no one's left out. Besides that, I don't think I should/would be writing about Mitsui's views. I want to maintain objectivity; meaning, I don't want to reveal yet whom he favours more.

Thanks for reading.