Part Deux
“My nose is dripping,” Hasukawa sniveled.
“I can’t feel my nose,” Shun wailed.
“Nose? What nose?” Mitsuru lamented.
“Will all of you be quiet for three seconds?” Shinobu ordered peremptorily.
One…two...three…
“My bones ache,” Shun wailed.
“You can feel your bones?” Mitsuru asked enviously.
“My nose is dripping,” Hasukawa sniveled.
“That’s it!”
Exasperated and fed up, Shinobu heaved the parkas off, to the dismay of the others under them. He stalked to the window, arms clutched at his elbows, and peered into the darkness. He had enough of the constant complaints but couldn’t really justify being angry at his companions; not when he knew that it was his brilliant plan that had landed them in this rickety mountain shelter in the first place.
The howl of the wind was an insistent clamor that allowed spare comfort. Within the cabin, the noise was only slightly deadened by the weathered logs that held up the ramshackle roof. It was a wonder the whole blasted structure hadn’t already fallen into itself and buried its occupants in a pile of brittle wood.
Shinobu wondered if that would be such a bad thing. To die with the three people he cared for most in the world. To envelop them all in his embrace, close his eyes, fall softly asleep and never wake up. And one day, some other hardy mountaineers would stumble upon this decrepit cabin, in search of safe haven from a storm much like this one, and find the skeletal remains of four young men, cut down before their prime by the forces of nature.
Well, that’s a morbid, melodramatic thought, Shinobu chided himself. We’re nowhere near dying. It’s only been a few hours since we got caught by this blizzard. The inn keeper knew we were heading out this way. He’ll send someone out for us once the storm eases up.
Having successfully comforted himself on that score, Shinobu found that his mind was now free to wander into other, more precarious realms. He glanced furtively at the huddled mass of misery behind him and noted with amused aggravation that his friends had subsided into uneasy slumber. Mitsuru had even begun to snore.
Ah, Mitsuru!
Shinobu shivered uncontrollably and longed to join the warmth that those bodies and parkas promised, but he steeled himself and turned away. He needed time to think, and now was a good time as any. The cold would help keep his mind alert, he figured. Shinobu stared blindly out the window, long glazed over with hoar and rime. In its icy opaqueness, the boy spied his reflection mocking him and glared at himself.
Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why did you have to open your big mouth? How could things have spun so out of control so quickly? Because you were thinking with your heart and not your head. Yes, I always seem to do that whenever Mitsuru’s concerned. Ah, Mitsuru!
Shinobu’s gaze softened wistfully. His reflection stared back at him in sympathy.
If you only knew…
~flashback~
Shinobu Tezuka was having too much to drink. And he didn’t care. It actually interested him to find out how many alcoholic beverages he could combine in his system before his icy control shattered. Call it an experiment in excess. So far, he’d had four beers, three shots of sake and one glass of really cheap red wine. He was currently nursing a paper cup of some sort of orange slushie thing that someone had thrust in his hand. Shinobu didn’t know what it was, but it sure was tasty.
“Oi, Shinobu-senpai! Are you feeling all right?” Shun asked as he waved his hand in front of the silver-haired boy’s face.
Shinobu blinked. Shun was wearing a bunny suit. The bunny suit was almost the exact same shade as his hair. Shun was a big, fat, pink bunny. Shinobu blinked again.
“Shinobu-senpai?” Shun was beginning to worry at the glazed look in his friend’s eyes.
“Do you think he’s drunk?” Hasukawa materialized, seemingly out of nowhere to Shinobu’s dulled senses.
“Nani?! Shinobu-senpai? But he’s never drunk!” Shun looked at the upperclassman in horrified fascination.
“I…am…not…drunk,” Shinobu articulated carefully. He took a sip of the orange slushie thing. Why was the big, fat, pink bunny looking so anxious? Did he want Shinobu’s orange slushie thing? Should Shinobu share?
“See, Suka-chan? He says he’s not drunk,” Shun was desperately trying to ignore the obvious sluggishness to Shinobu’s speech.
“Look at him, Shun! I don’t think he even knows who we are. He’s shnockered!” Hasukawa pronounced, but did not attempt to test his theory any further. On the off chance that Shinobu was playing another one of his practical jokes, Hasukawa wanted to stay well away from the boy. “Come on! I’m gonna get another drink myself before Aoki slurps up the rest of the punch bowl.”
“Ummm…okay. If you think he’s all right. You are all right, aren’t you, Shinobu-senpai?” Shun was tempted to join his roommate, but his concern for his senpai made him pause.
“The big, fat, pink bunny is talking to the green cow.” Shinobu answered gravely.
Hasukawa rolled his eyes. The redhead didn’t trust Shinobu and still thought the older boy was setting him up, so he dragged a still-fussing Shun to the punch bowl and made ready to enjoy the rest of the party. Shinobu pondered their departure bemusedly, wondering why the green cow had looked so affronted. Then he promptly forgot all about it as he took another sip of his orange slushie thing. It really was tasty.
Looking around the common room, Shinobu wondered where Mitsuru had gone off to. His roommate had mumbled something about…about…what? Shinobu shook his head muzzily. He promised himself to remember later; a niggling in the back of his mind told him this was important to do. But for right now, he decided that the pretty twinkling lights of the Christmas tree were more fascinating.
It had always been tradition for the boys of Greenwood to hold a pre-Christmas party at the dorm before they all left to their respective homes or other sundry vacation spots for the winter break; it was their way of celebrating the holidays together. Usually instigated by the dynamic duo, this year the planning had fallen on Hasukawa’s shoulders, his being dorm president and all. Besides, Mitsuru had his hands full with troll troubles and Shinobu had developed an apparent preoccupation with some secret that left him more unapproachable than usual. The dorm residents had prudently chosen to hand the party’s responsibilities over to their new provost.
Still, Mitsuru and Shinobu were not to be discounted so easily. Once the mundane matters were taken off their hands, they were free to plot outrageous schemes designed to start off the break with a bang. And plot they did. It had been so long since their last caper and it had been so fun that Shinobu had allowed himself to relax for the first time in a while. Letting his guard down proved to be a mistake.
He had spent too much time with Mitsuru, too many late-night meetings and shared whispers in the dark. Too many stolen glances in the middle of class, too many stifled guffaws at a suddenly remembered deviousness. If the student body thought they were close before, that week confirmed them as inseparable. A feeling, unbidden yet not unwelcome, began to work its way into Shinobu’s carefully guarded heart.
But he doesn’t like boys. Shinobu sipped at his slushie sadly, remembering his friend’s outrage at the thought of a boy’s advances.
Sigh. I like boys.
No, Shinobu corrected himself. I don’t like boys.
I like Mitsuru.
There, he’d said it. That hadn’t been so bad, had it? I like Mitsuru. Shinobu rolled the words around in his mind and discovered that he enjoyed the way it tickled his insides and gave him warm fuzzies.
I must tell him. Then he can have warm fuzzies too. I’ll tell him. Now.
Shinobu lurched up, still clutching the slushie-filled paper cup. He staggered slightly, steadied himself on the back of his chair with grave dignity, then proceeded to scour the room for his roommate.
~end flashback~