Disclaimer: I do not own Yowamushi Pedal or any of its characters. Also, this is an AU. Please do not be upset if the characters are not exactly like those in the show/manga as I took my own liberties

Chapter 2

"I finished the book," Makishima says softly as we leave the school building. It's much hotter outside today than it was when we went to the bookstore three days ago, and that's when I realize we went to the bookstore three days ago.

"You've already finished it?" I exclaim far louder than necessary. "It's only been three days!"

"It was and still is fantastic," he muses. "I would've finished it more quickly if I'd had more free time, though."

I shake my head in awe. Only three days. I have never read anything that quickly in my life, not even when I used to read the books assigned for school. And that was no thin book either. Three days. "You're a maniac," I tell him. "I can't believe you finished reading it that fast."

"Don't sound too disappointed," he says, a tiny grin playing at his lips. "Now it's your turn to read it.

I groan inwardly, and he slides his gaze over to me as if he heard it. " Normally I don't lend out my books, you know. But I'm willing to make an exception just for you because you wanted so badly to read it."

My weak smile gives me away, and he pats me on the shoulder. "You have to read it, Toudou," he says in a voice so sinister a chill runs up my spine. "There's no getting out of it now."

"Good. Because I totally want to read it."

"Excellent. I expect you to be able to answer basic questions when you give it back."

"A test? Are you kidding me?" I say. There is no hiding the panic in my voice. Please don't make me read it. "What are you, a teacher?"

"Of sorts." Shit. "Anyway, you can come by today and pick it up. I figure with your avid love of literature, you'll want to get started as soon as possible."

My heart jumps a little bit when he says I can come by. I've only been to Makishima's house one other time, and it was briefly, only to drop off his work when he had the flu. I hadn't even gone three feet past the front door before his mother collected the work and sent me on my way. This time I'll really get to see what it's like inside his house.

I've always wanted to know what his house is like. I know it's strange, but I've always felt like one of the best ways to get to know someone is by seeing how they live. You learn more about someone when you go into their room than you would by just speaking to them; for example, they may collect something, or they may have a precise way of organizing their things. It's fascinating to see that side of someone, and I want to be able to see this side of Makishima. It's only natural to want to know as best you can the person you love so much.

"Sure, I'll come get it," I say, hoping I didn't pause for too long or sound too excited."I am dying to read it, after all." He smirks.

"Race you to my house." The elicits a grin from me. He knows how I love competition.

"I'm definitely going to win!" I call as I'm already breaking out into a sprint.

I'm not sure if I really remember the way, but I feel a little more reassured with every turn I take. It's hot today, but I'm generating wind by running as fast as I can, and the way it glides across my skin feels too great to complain. I can feel my heart thrumming an excited tattoo in my chest, and I wonder if it's ever beat so fast before. It's beating so fast it's starting to hurt, but I can't let it slow me down. The endorphins carry me through the final few turns, and as my shoes skid for the last time and I start the straight dash for that big and beautiful house, a smile even crosses my face. My breathing is ragged by the time I reach the front door, and I have to lean against the house's exterior for support, but it was worth it. I watch Makishima round the last turn himself shortly after, and a smile is slowly stretching across his face as he approaches. When he reaches the door I see that he's breathing hard, too, and I wonder if his heart is beating as crazy fast as mine. He unlocks the door and quickly steps inside, whirling around only to say, "I forgot to mention this, but you have to be the first one inside. Looks like I win." Damn you.

I frown, so he compromises. "Okay, you win if you beat me to my room. It's upstairs."

"Done," I say, and I'm already dashing up the stairs adjacent to the entryway. My heartrate still hasn't slow down; rather, it feels like it's speeding up even further. But it's only a short flight of stairs. Is it just because I'm with him? I don't have time to worry about it because I'm already at the top, and I turn and slide across the wood floor on my socks to face the room with "Yuusuke" plastered on the door. I'm definitely going to get there first, but as I sprint-slide down the hallway that feels way too long, I see the walls start to wobble and my feet start to feel like they aren't under me anymore. When I reach the doorway, my visions spinning, and my foot catches on the divide between the hardwood of the hallway and soft carpet of the bedroom. I can't stop myself from falling and instantly feel spikes of pain in my left knee and cheek as they smack the floor. My eyes won't open all the way, but I can hear Makishima calling my name. I might even feel his hand on my shoulder, but by this point everything's already going dark and numb.

When I open my eyes again, Makishima is sitting in front of me watching my face. His brow is furrowed and I hate seeing him look so worried, so I suit up to let him know I'm fine. It stings in my face and my leg, but it's not unbearable, and he seems to relax a little. "How long was I out?"

"Only a few minutes. I was about to call an ambulance or something. I'm glad you woke up."

"No need. I'm fine."

"You don't look so hot," he says, concern evident in his tone.

"How unkind," I say, offended. "I daresay the ladies would disagree with you." His mouth tries to half-smile, but he doesn't laugh.

"No, seriously." He holds up a mirror, and I see what he means. All the color has drained out of my face, even my lips. I look downright ghostly excepting just one thing: an enormous bruise on the left side of my face. It's all sorts of ugly yellows and purples and it is absolutely dominating. I don't expect to be looked in the eyes for at least a week. I touch it with a hand that I notice is also exceptionally pale, and it hurts so bad that I visibly wince, earning once again Makishima's worried expression. I look down at my left leg to see a nearly identical bruise, different only in that it is far larger, taking up the skin where my knee should be. I don't dare touch that one because I can already feel how much it's going to smart just by seeing it and instead turn my face back to Makishima and offer as much of a smile as I can manage given my facial situation.

"I'm good," I say. "Really. I'm just a little tired. And thirsty. Can I have something to drink?"

"Yeah, of course," he says, nodding so fast I think he'll get whiplash. "I'll get you some iced tea. Try not to move too fast or you might get dizzy. I'll be right back."

I watch him walk out the door, and after he's gone, I turn my head slowly to get a look at his room. It's different from what I expected. It's organized, like I figured it would be, but it's not as pristine and well-kept as I thought. Two or three stray shirts are on the floor and the bed is unmade, and I can see from my seat on the floor how scattered the papers on his desk are. However, on the far wall and in a state of nearly impossible neatness is a huge bookshelf, the obvious pride and joy of Makishima. There's not a speck of dust on it or the books, and just looking at it, I can see how much he loves it. There's several stacks of books on top, and next to it sits a chair with yet another, taller stack of books in the seat. I knew he liked reading, but I had no idea he loved it this much. I'm smiling like an idiot now because I'm just thinking of how he must've lovingly held all those books, and I look around and notice a few more things: spelling bee medals hung on the wall, a short stack of CDs peeking out from under the bed, a big poster on the wall above the headboard depicting a nature scene that gradually transforms into a space setting complete with stars and nebulae. I turn my attention back to the doorway just in time to see Makishima return with a pitcher of iced tea and two glasses.

"Go sit on my bed," he says, "it's more comfortable than the floor." I follow his instruction and take a seat on top of the tousled blankets, and he seats himself in the chair by the desk, where he sets the drinks. While he pours the beverage, he glances over at me tentatively. "Sorry it's not very, uh, clean. It usually looks like this, though, so..."

"It's fine," I say as he hands me my glass. "My room is easily 50 times worse. You know that." I take several long gulps of the drink and it cools me down. I can feel the color returning to my face, and I can see it returning to my hands. My heart is still pounding, but I don't feel like I'm going to pass out again, so it must just be because I'm with Makishima.

"That's not untrue," he says with a light smile, and it doesn't seem forced, so I must look fine by now. He smiles a lot more these days, I notice. It suits him. "So, the book." He gets up and crosses the room, picking the up the top book from the stack on the chair. When he brings it back and places it so gently in my hand, I remember the way he held it three days ago in the store, when I wanted to tell him how much I love him but didn't. I can see the way he looks at it now, with so much adoration, and I feel the urge again, but I'm still too scared. I look down at the book and stroke it with my thumb the same way he did, and I can just feel how well it's been loved in these three short days. It has a pretty white sleeve and a title in fancy cursive that's hard for my eyes to look at, and when I open it I can feel where his thumbs held the pages. If he can love this book so much, I can at least try.

I look up only to see him gazing fondly at the book in my hands, and I feel my heart clench up a little bit. Look at me like that, I scream inside my head. Love me like that.

Instead of saying something, I just watch him until he looks back up at me. I know any normal person would be creeper out, but if he is he doesn't say anything. He only smiles. Ah, my heart.

"I hope you like it," he says so sweetly I might get a cavity. "I hope you love it."

If it's half as wonderful as you are, I think I might.

~author's note~

Hey hey hey, thanks for reading! And thanks for feedback, any and all is greatly appreciated! I hope you continue to read and enjoy!