Rukawa tossed and turned, his mind restless even as his body projected that feeling. He desperately needed sleep; these past few weeks had passed by in a blur that held him in constant consciousness. Sleep had become a memory; his every waking thought was focused and tuned into one person.
It was funny, of course, if you sat back to look at it. Rukawa had never been able to stay awake before. He fell asleep doing everything, save basketball. And now, for the first time in his life, sleep wouldn’t come. It was no use for him to lay down, to relax. Even if he lay there, even if he hadn't been restless, sleep would never come. His mind whirled with activity all throughout the day, a constant spin of motion and thought that shimmered with the single-mindedness of an obsessed man.
The only relief he ever got was seeing the object of his obsession. And when that enjeru appeared, when he came within a ten foot radius of Rukawa, it was refreshing beyond belief. Like a cool drink of water to a man that had been dying of thirst.
/I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand/
He was so exotic; like the blazing of sunlight into a room that was closed off from the world, with no windows and doors. The roof had been ripped off the day he was born and started shedding his own inner light wherever he went. As out of place in this country as a garden in a desert, that same rarity was exactly what drew so many to him.
Rukawa tossed, his mind now twisting in on itself as it backtracked and corrected himself, then backtracked and did it again. No, he was no enjeru, more of a flame-licking akurei. No, wait, that wasn't right either. No, he was a enjeru-akurei, an angel-demon, an impossible combination that he somehow brought to life with a simplicity that was mind-boggling, yet so completely him that it was the only way to describe him.
/I wake in pain/
Oh, forget it! He threw off his covers and stood, pacing his room. He knew he would never sleep. Too much was inside him, coiling like a ribbon wound too tight around someone's finger. His head felt like no blood was getting to it, and worse was the pain just to the left of his breastbone. There his heart fluttered weakly, as if knowing that he wasn't around and not at all satisfied with it. It's beat was erratic, like a drunken drummer in a garage band, first hard and furious and quick, now light and pattering and threatening to disappear.
Damn the boy that could do this to him! The sloe-eyed boy that had captured him in a net, a web, of pure golden-red light that was his existence, his being. The boy that demanded he love him and then turned his back and walked away, leaving Rukawa ensnared and unable to do anything about it.
/I dream of love as time runs through my hand/
Time was something that was playing against him. For each hour that ticked by, a new weight pressed down on his shoulders, brought on by the absence of the boy with had caught him. The one he wanted so desperately to be with, and knowing that it wasn't possible. He was hung up on a girl that was hung up on him. Of all the rotten luck! Impulsively Rukawa slammed his fist into his bedroom wall, savoring the pain. It was real pain, physical pain, something he could understand. The torment inside, the pain that clenched his gut into a hard knot, was something that he couldn't understand fully, and couldn't soothe. He idly sucked on a bleeding knuckle as he continued to pace.
/I dream of fire
Those dreams are tied to a horse that will never tire/
Oh, that boy was a demon! But such a sweet one. He didn't realize it, of course; he fancied himself a tough guy, and in many instances had proven himself correct in that diagnostic. However, so many other times, Rukawa had seen more of him. It paid to be silent and observant. You saw so much more than other people; things that they thought were private and went unnoticed. His desert rose, his rare jewel, cared so deeply for those around him, loved his friends with a passion that would sweep you from your feet and leave you dizzy. Left you mystified at the complete and utter passion, love, and trust he had for most everyone he met. Filled with ideals that most were good people, yet with knowledge that his ideals were not true hidden behind his eyes. Optimism, with touches of cynicism around the corners of his being. Like the harsh world were battering his shields, trying to prove him wrong, and he simply refused to let it all touch him. All this only made kitsune love him more.
He spoke of such a passion, like a fire that could easily consume everything around it. And that's what he was. Rukawa drew up short, hand clutching his chin, his expression lost in thought. He was the embodiment of fire, a flame that danced through your mind and scorched your thoughts, consuming them all. And Rukawa had fallen into it like a moth with no sense. And there was nothing he could do about it.
Of course, if you asked, he wouldn't have said he wanted to do anything about it.
With this new idea, this new conviction, pushing his mind further on, he grabbed his jacket, pulling on a pair of jeans over his boxers. He fumbled with his shoes at his door, his mind still wound around the flame that would soon take it over.
/And in the flames
Her shadows play in the shape of a man's desire/
Yes, this boy could easily take a person over, casting his flames onto you without even realizing it. And it was that innocence, the fact that he never realized the power he had over people, that only feed the flame in your mind. And you were forced to forever walk with it, his silhouette forever dancing inside the wild flames of your mind.
/This desert rose
Each of her veils, a secret promise/
And yet, inside those eyes, behind the innocence, past the cynicism, was something you could never reach; something you could never touch. It wasn't harshness; this was in a place that was beyond corners and dark thoughts. No, something inside him was always veiled, kept from the world as he looked on, holding it inside, daring someone to try and see it. A secret that would either change the world or only himself, the entire universe or only one person.
Rukawa, of course, was intrigued. He wanted to know what was behind that veil.
/This desert flower
No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this/
Rukawa was out of the house and walking now, mind still consumed completely, barely taking heed of where his feet where taking him. He brought one hand up to touch his cheek, let it trail down his chin, over his smooth, white throat, to his shoulder, then down further to where his heart was beating erratically. Apparently it knew something his tortured mind didn’t. All he knew now was that his body was no longer his mind’s to control; something had taken over, something without logic, without rules, was moving his legs down the sidewalk, past darkened streets and equally dark shops, to the neighborhood where his obsession lived.
/And as she turns
This way she moves in the logic of all my dreams/
He had no idea what he’d do when he got there. His heart was merely taking him there; it was up to him to get the prize.
He envisioned the worst scenario first, that Sakuragi would answer the door, see it was him, and slam it in his face before a word could be spoken.
No, Sakuragi was too kind-hearted for that. Not observant, so he probably wouldn’t notice the rings under his eyes, or the pained look in his cerulean depths. Rukawa would fumble for words, since he’d never been much of a talker to begin with, and Sakuragi, having been woke up in the middle of the night, would be even more impatient than usual. He wouldn’t be able to wait for him to say what he needed to. He’d probably tell him to go home, that he’d talk to him about it tomorrow.
/This fire burns
I realize that nothing's as it seems/
Oh, kuso! Rukawa stopped and stared down a street that would lead him to the boy. What was he doing? Kami-sama! He was seriously expecting to go to Sakuragi’s house, ring the bell, and have Sakuragi answer it, then take him in his arms and love him and hold him forever.
Was he out of his mind?
He must be. He knew Sakuragi too well, knew he cared about Haruko and no other. Not in the way he cared for her, not in the way Rukawa so desperately cared for him. No, Sakuragi didn’t love him. It was foolish of his heart to believe differently.
Some of his mind must’ve been able to resist the flame, for he found himself turning around and heading back the way he came. He wouldn’t go home; he couldn’t sleep, so what was the point? No, he’d go to a different place, hopefully a place where he could relax and soothe his scorched mind.
/I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in pain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand/
Without even realizing it he was crying. Silent tears, the tears of his clenching heart. He allowed them to fall down his pale cheeks and join at his chin to drop to his shirt. He couldn’t recall ever crying, and if he’d been able to, he’d have tried to stop them. But these tears were a comfort; they cooled his face, and somehow lifted something from his chest. He was still in pain, still restless, still obsessed, but his heart was assuming a regular beat pattern, something it hadn’t done in weeks. He felt it slow and then pound rhythmically, with something of determination pounding through his frame.
/I dream of rain
I lift my gaze to empty skies above/
He sat down on the bench beside the caged in basketball courts, sighing explosively. Resting his arms on the back of it, he tilted his head back and closed his eyes, the tears slowing to cease, thin red tracks marking their path on his cheeks. His head hurt, in a way it hadn’t earlier. No, now he had a headache from crying. No wonder people said crying accomplished nothing. He’d gotten rid of the pain in his heart to have it replaced by the one in his head. He sighed again, feeling the breeze as it ruffled his tousled hair, and the trees above him.
/I close my eyes, this rare perfume
Is the sweet intoxication of her love/
It was funny, Rukawa could almost smell Sakuragi on that breeze. A smell like...spices, sharp and sweet, made you want to draw closer and get another whiff of it. He looked up to see if possibly Sakuragi was around here. Where else could that smell come from?
Of course, the idea of Sakuragi being there was insane. And he knew that he wasn’t, because he wasn’t feeling relieved in any way. The weight on his shoulders still pressed down, his mind still spun in on itself, wrapping around the flame.
A little ways away was something he’d never noticed before. What looked like a bush with odd leaves, with smaller planets around it, as if to worship it. Some had flowers blooming full in the night. Others still only had blooms that wrapped around one another.
The scent he’d caught was of those flowers. He got up and kneeled down next to the bush, inhaling the scent. Yes, almost exactly like Sakuragi’s, only not as sharp. Softer, with a feminine stroke buried in there. He resisted the urge to pick one. The petals were gorgeous, dark purple with flecks of an even darker purple, maybe black. Each was splayed out like the legs of a starfish, it’s face turned to the moonless sky, little drops of dew resting on it’s ends. Rukawa inhaled once more, his gut clenching as he moved away and sat back down.
/I dream of rain
I dream of gardens in the desert sand
I wake in pain
I dream of love as time runs through my hand/
He needed Sakuragi. Like the flowers needed water, like a garden needed tending. He needed to be able to hold the boy in his arms and touch him freely and kiss him everywhere without the constant pressure of running time pressing against him. He’d never sleep, never rest at all, unless it was with Hanamichi by his side.
/Sweet desert rose
Each of her veils, a secret promise
This desert flower
No sweet perfume ever tortured me more than this/
Oh, to be able to smell Sakuragi as he lay beside him, beneath him, over him, his sweat mingling with his.
He shook his head. Hentai thoughts will get you nowhere. He thought to himself, knowing the truth behind the words. It was probably the hentai thoughts that made Sakuragi refuse Sendoh’s advances. Though, Rukawa noticed, Sendoh hadn’t been around lately. In fact, the other day he thought he’d seen him pestering Koshino.
Rukawa chuckled. More power to Shorty. He’s going to need it to deal with Sendoh.
Well, so what was he going to do? What could he do? After all, they were both guys in a society that wasn’t exactly open to change. And besides all that, because Rukawa didn’t really care what anyone else thought, what would Sakuragi do when he told him he loved him?
Rukawa didn’t know. He’d just have to wait and find out. Because he was going to tell him, eventually. He couldn’t live without his sleep much longer. Or his Hanamichi.
/Sweet desert rose
This memory of Eden haunts us all
This desert flower, this rare perfume
Is the sweet intoxication of the fall/
Rukawa smiled as he got up to head back home.
~End~