"I'm home," Izuru called to the lounging Shuuhei as he crept in the door.
"What took you so long?" Shuuhei asked, his laptop perched on his knees, an array of papers surrounding his bespectacled self. He looked over the tops of his black reading glasses.
"I was staying at a friend's." Izuru automatically gravitated towards the refrigerator.
"A friend's? That's rare."
"I guess so." Izuru grabbed a yogurt.
"We missed you in Advanced Trig. today," he made an exasperated noise and crumpled up a piece of paper, lobbing it against the opposite wall. It was probably the start of an assignment for his Journalism class.
Izuru snorted. "Missed me? I'm practically invisible in that class." He pulled off the yogurt's lid, and licked off the yogurt that was stuck to it.
"Yeah, but we're studying that one topic you know all about." He typed frantically.
"Oh, I see." Izuru flopped into an easy chair. I like ya, an' that's all that matters ta me. He tried to dispel Gin's voice from his head. Gin was certainly one-of-a-kind, and he stuck with Izuru. Izuru knew he would be having nightmares -or fantasies- of Gin for a long time to come.
They had lain together for a long time in the morning, just side by side, eyes fixated on the ceiling. At one point, Gin had begun to cry, quietly, and Izuru reached out to touch his shoulder. He now knew what Gin had needed someone else with him for. 'I understand.' Izuru had said. But in his mind, Izuru thought that maybe it wasn't the right thing to say. Maybe he needed to apologize.
Izuru touched the back of the cold spoon to his lips. He wouldn't ever tell Gin that he was secretly so very pleased about the sweet kiss. Truth was, Izuru didn't even know. That he was so very pleased, that is. He was just shaken. What were they getting into?
He'd been afraid to leave Gin alone. Gin looked so unsettled behind his careless smile, like he was about to break. Izuru didn't want to think about what the seemingly unstable Gin might try again, so he'd left without a backwards glance.
It was another week. August was blazing, and summer recess had begun with fervor and merriment. The summer fireworks festival was now just a little more than a week away, and Izuru decided to visit Gin at the cemetery. He pulled into his usual parking spot, and headed straight for Gin's quaint house.
"Gin?" He called, poking his head inside the genkan.
"Come in," Gin's familiar, Kyoto-accented voice responded from somewhere inside the house.
Izuru kicked off his sneakers, and stumbled onto the tatami again, following the sound of Gin's voice to the place where they'd slept a week ago.
Izuru's futon had been put away, but Gin's was still out, the bedding strewn about carelessly. Gin himself was sitting on the porch, leaning his left shoulder on a post. He looked… defeated. Izuru sat next to him.
"Hi," he said.
"Come back for more?"
"Yeah, I- What? No!" Izuru's eyes narrowed in slight disgust. He made a displeased face. "I came to see how you're doing." He studied Gin's smile through slitted eyes.
"I'm fine." Gin replied, almost curtly.
"Okay," Izuru said, his eyes wandering around the house. The fist-sized hole through a shoji paper door had a different story to tell about Gin's well-being. Izuru ignored it. "Do you still want to go the the fireworks festival?"
"Only if ya wear a yukata," Gin twitched a wink. Mischief tainted his expression.
Izuru frowned. "I don't own a yukata."
"You can borrow one a' mine," Gin offered with a smug grin. His hands lay limp in his lap, palms up, elegant fingers curled.
"Uh, okay." Izuru's eyes flicked around suspiciously.
"Awesome."
Izuru blushed as Gin pushed his hair back from his face. "Are ya sure ya can see through that uni-bang ya got goin' there?"
"Yes," Izuru huffed, allowing his hair to fall back into his eyes.
They were standing in the genkan, bedecked in cotton yukata. Gin's was snow white with a light blue sash, and an uchiwa fan patterned with sakura petals was stuck in his obi by the handle, pressing against the small of his back. Izuru's borrowed yukata was navy blue with white abstract lines criss-crossing each other as they ran down the front and back in parallel lines, one starting on each shoulder, keeping within a three-inch width. His sash was yellow, and he teetered on a pair of lacquered geta. Gin smiled as he tugged on Izuru's obi, pulling it tighter around his hips.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
"Accentuatin' your little waist." Gin laughed.
"I'm not a girl!" Izuru complained.
"Maybe not, but ya got the hips a' one."
"Touché." Izuru reddened color of roses.
Gin put on his similar lacquered geta, and expertly clomped out the door with a giggle. Izuru followed, stumbling.
A sleek silver convertible was waiting for them at the base of the steep driveway. Gin waved to the man behind the wheel, and the brown-haired guy returned the wave, gesturing to the backseat. Gin opened the door for Izuru, who crawled in. Sliding in next to Izuru, fan in hand, Gin introduced his friends. "Izuru, this is Aizen Sousuke and Tousen Kaname. Sousuke, Kaname, this is Kira Izuru."
"Nice to meet you," Izuru said with a small wave.
"So this is the Izuru we've been hearing so much about, Gin?" The man called Aizen turned his spectacled, gleaming brown eyes on Izuru's face with a kind smile. "He's cute."
Izuru blushed.
"He sounds blond," the one with ebony skin called Tousen mused, keeping his eyes vaguely trained on something the distance.
"He is!" Gin exclaimed, playfully socking Izuru on the shoulder. "He's got straight blond hair that hangs over th' left side of his face, and in the back it splits inta two little taily things."
Taily things?, Izuru thought self-consciously. He instinctively raked his fingers through his hair.
"I see," Tousen murmured.
Aizen stepped on the gas pedal, and the car lurched forward very suddenly as he roared out of the parking lot. Izuru braced himself against the cool leather seat, buckling his seat belt, his cornsilk blond hair whipping in the car's added wind. Gin smiled happily, white teeth glinting, one arm stuck out the pointlessly rolled down window, the sleeve of his white yukata flapping in the rush of air. This Aizen guy is a maniac!, Izuru thought as Aizen veered into traffic. Tousen remained very stoic, his hands folded in his lap, the many tiny braids of his hair moving in the wind. Futuristic looking translucent milky white glasses sat on his nose, and an orange scarf was stylishly draped around his neck. Izuru's hair slapped him across his face, and his eyes began to water. He hoped they wouldn't crash.
Aizen swerved into a parking spot, and cut the engine, grinning. Izuru heaved a relieved sigh. Aizen's driving was horrifying.
Gin hopped nimbly out of the convertible, his geta clacking on the cement. The sun was blazing in the sky, and a bead of sweat rolled down the back of Izuru's neck as he got out. The festivities had already begun, stalls open with games and food and things to sell. Gin snatched Izuru's arm, pulling him along.
"C'mere, Izuru, I wanna go play some games!"
"But we just got here," Izuru protested, Gin's fingers wrapped snugly around his skinny wrist. "Why don't we go see the kendo competition? Or the sumo competition? And what about dinner? You said we'd get okonomiyaki." Gin stopped suddenly, and Izuru ran face-first into his back. "Ow." He rubbed his nose.
"Oh yeah," Gin said, putting a finger to his chin. "Ya still wanna do that?"
"Of course." Gin still had Izuru's wrist snared in his fingers. "We have ample time. And I'm hungry."
"Oh, okay." He pulled Izuru in a different direction. Izuru heaved a sigh, clacking along. Delicious scents of festival food wafted around them in the air, and Izuru's mouth watered. They slowed to a stop in front of an okonomiyaki booth, twenty or so okonomiyaki frying on the large griddle. "Two, please!" Gin told the man behind the grill, holding up two fingers. The gruff-looking man nodded, and skillfully flipped over the okonomiyaki with the spatulas in his hands. He flipped two onto paper plates, and Gin dropped his hold on Izuru's wrist to retrieve his coin pouch from inside the fold of his yukata. Izuru happily took the plates from the man, and Gin paid.
"Thank you, come again." The man said, returning to his blazing cooking range.
"Gin, I was going to pay for mine!" Izuru pouted.
"But I wanted ta treat ya t'somethin', after ya stayed with me the night my dad died." He snatched two pairs of paper-sheathed wooden chopsticks. "Let's go find somewhere ta sit."
Izuru plodded after Gin, who was nearly dancing through the crowd with their chopsticks. Gin settled for a curb, plopping down and motioning for Izuru to follow suit. The sound of a taiko drumming performance could be heard, and the crowd surged around them. Izuru handed Gin his okonomiyaki, and broke apart his chopsticks in time with the drumming.
It was good okonomiyaki. Gin ate his almost greedily, but Izuru savored his very slowly. Izuru wondered how Gin could wear a pristine white yukata and not spill okonomiyaki sauce down the front. He shrugged.
Izuru soon became very absorbed in the festival. Both he and Gin wore lip-splitting smiles, laughing, and tottered about on lacquered geta with plastic cups of cheap beer and fish-shaped taiyaki. The sun had set, but it was still warm out, and now that it was getting dark enough, people began to gather at the water front, where the fireworks were going to be set off. Gin pulled Izuru in yet another direction by his wrist. Izuru followed willingly, inebriated. Taiko drums pounded steadily in the distance, and lanterns lit up the aisles of booths. Tiny pinpricks of light called stars dotted the inky blue-black canvas of sky, and Izuru swayed. Gin caught him before he capsized over the curb, laughing.
"Ya don't take alcohol well, do ya?" Gin asked, breathing hot on his neck.
Izuru shook his head sadly, peeling Gin's hand off his waist. His face was flushed cherry blossom pink, and his dreamy blue eyes were half closed. "Nope," he mouthed, hiccuping.
Gin patted him on the back, and they found a low stone wall to sit on. The crowd hushed, and the taiko drums ceased. Everyone turned their faces to the sky in anticipation.
The first firework shot into the sky with a muted hiss, and the breath left Izuru's lips, if only for a moment. It burst against the dark sky, a halo of crimson sparks. A thousand gasps were uttered, and three more followed the first's lead, and splayed their firey colors on the stars like hands. Cracks and booms resonated through the park, and the initial silence had erupted into cheers and applause. Izuru smiled drowsily at the heavens.
Gin gazed at Izuru out of the corner of his squinted eye, marvelling. He was handsome, no doubt, blond and blued eyed and looking almost Scandinavian... Gin liked him. But he knew Izuru did not feel the same in return, and he hoped to clout that.
Gin placed his fisted hand on Izuru's shoulder, his uchiwa fan brushing blond hair. Fireworks continued to smatter the sky with colorful light displays, blooms and coronas of fire. Izuru fluctuated with tipsiness, leaning on Gin's arm for support.
"Izuru?" Gin whispered.
"Hm?" Izuru blinked dilated blue eyes.
"Would ya turn your head over here and lift your chin a wee bit?" Izuru did as told.
A kiss.
This time, it was lustful and tasted beery, Gin's strategically placed fan preventing passing audience.
Izuru pulled away, but not too far away, his heart pounding in the back of his throat. His half-lidded eyes were wary as he gave Gin a careful once-over. "What are you trying to get at, Gin?" Izuru asked slowly, cautiously.
"I dunno, what're you interpretin' it as?" Gin's smile was wanton and leering.
"I'm not sure. But you keep kissing me-"
"Only once before!"
Izuru ignored him. "I always thought we were just friends... is that..." He left his unspoken question hanging.
They were in such close proximity, they were breathing on each other's cheeks.
"Depends," Gin said with a shrug after several firework-filled moments. "Did ya like it?"
Izuru sighed, glancing sadly out at showering explosion of bright white in the sky. "I don't know." He closed his eyes momentarily.
A heartbeat of dead silence.
"I'm willing ta try again," Gin offered.
Izuru opened his eyes to stare Gin square in the smiling face. He reached quaking fingers out to touch Gin's kitten-soft silver hair.
"Don't believe anything I say or do tonight," Izuru slurred. "It isn't valid."
Gin nodded, leaning into Izuru's hand. A shiver ran through Izuru's core and before he could think too hard on it, Izuru lurched forward and lips met deftly. As if on some mocking cue, a fit of fireworks shot into the sky for the grand finale and blazed their explosive colors into the air.
While below, Gin and Izuru shared their third- no, fourth, now, as they went at it again- kiss. Gin pulled away first and arched a slim pewter eyebrow with a grin. Izuru's fingers had tangled themselves in Gin's hair on their own accord, much to Izuru's shock. They were unwilling to break free. Izuru hoped it wasn't hurting Gin.
"I feel suddenly very sober," Izuru murmured, casting his eyes down.
"Does that make the things ya do and say valid now?" Gin asked with a sheepish smirk.
"No. Not even close." Izuru's lower lip jutted out.
Gin sighed. "Ya wanna go home, then? Invalidity is somethin' I can't tolerate."
Izuru nodded sleepily.
"Can ya let go a my hair?"
Izuru blinked. "I already tried. My hand won't let go."
"Hmm."
Gin put his fan in his obi, against his back, and stood up, sweeping Izuru into his arms, bridal style. Izuru blushed deeply, willing his stubborn fingers to let go, wishing to be out of this situation. He closed his eyes as Gin trotted out the park gates happily. At some point his fingers had come untangled, and his hand fell to rest in his lap, but Gin wasn't too willing to put him down. Izuru guessed they were at Aizen's car when Gin's gliding steps ceased. He didn't dare peek his eye open, lest someone be watching.
He heard Aizen's deep belly laugh. "Did you get him good, Gin?" Aizen asked.
"Guess ya could say that," Gin's voice buzzed in his chest against Izuru's ear. Izuru shut his eyes tighter, and Gin snickered.
"Is he..." Aizen began.
"Naw, he's just embarrassed." Gin held Izuru closer, to watch him turn even redder.
"I can hear you," Izuru grumbled, hiding his face in Gin's chest.
There was a moment of silence, and then a chorus of laughter.
"It would be much appreciated if you would put me down now. I do have legs." Izuru grudgingly cracked an eye open to stare at Gin's porcelain chin.
"I don't wanna."
Izuru let out a long breath. "Please?" He gazed at Gin with blurry, saucer-wide cerulean eyes.
Gin stared back. After a long moment: "Well, there's no denyin' that look," and he put Izuru's feet on the ground. Izuru pitched on his geta, and Gin hesitated to let go of him entirely.
"I'm fine," Izuru said, wavering from alcohol and other... various... influences.
Gin gave a concerned look.
Izuru fell asleep on Gin's lap during the longish ride home in Aizen's slick convertible, the cool night air brushing his cheeks. His mind was a flurry of thoughts. Three, no- four times he'd kissed Gin. Was this... was this really the direction he was swinging? Izuru thought hard about Gin for the first time. Handsome, funny, unschooled Gin. What was it that Izuru saw in Gin? He fell asleep thinking Gin...
Gin gazed down at the sleeping Izuru, his slack lips and feathery eyelashes. He pushed Izuru's silky blond hair out of his face, fingers trailing along his skinny cheekbones. Gin sighed.
"What are you thinking, Gin?" Aizen asked softly, warm brown eyes reflecting in the rear-view mirror.
"Isn't he pretty?" Gin glanced up at Aizen's reflection with happy squinted eyes.
"Yes," Aizen agreed. He returned his eyes to the dark road. "Gin, have you become bored with me?" Aizen was very direct.
Gin opened his watery blue eyes. "Sousuke..." His voice died.
"Think he's the one?"
Izuru stirred. "I hope so," Gin breathed as he let his hand come to rest on Izuru's splaying collarbone.