Things That Are {Open}

[Tsukimori Ryosuke]

ooc: BEDROOM! ( here ) For now, I think it's good! XD (Just think more...um....posters!) AND....

Outfit Here! PJS!!!

Ryosuke was in his bedroom.

His mind was on a lot of things. As it had been in recent days, when he wasn't thinking about one thing, he'd drifted off onto another. It seemed like the days flew by not only because of school and Tumbling meets alone, but because he was suddenly devoting so much time, though typically subconsciously so, to the mess of thoughts swirling around his head. And tonight was no different.

His school stuff thrown around his room, his bed untidy, Ryosuke had traded his school uniform for pajamas, having finished dinner and committed himself to staying in his room for the night to avoid his parents' usual disapproving looks. And the thoughts were back in mind....

Hino and Mizusawa, a predicament he'd encountered more than once, yet one he had yet to out. It felt doubly tough having to the see the guys, especially together and especially when he ended up alone with them, but he got the feeling that was more because he was holding a pretty potent secret of theirs and not that they were gay lovers. Not anymore, at least. He'd come to accept what he'd seen in Mizusawa's house that night. It had been an accident from all sides, no one had wanted it to happen. It was hard for him to deal with the awkwardness sometimes, but he didn't fault the guys for it. Unless they used it purposely to taunt him, which oftentimes he got the impression Hino Tetsuya really enjoyed doing.

That situation was still very difficult, maybe because he felt like he wasn't cut out to be any kind of secret keeper or something, especially for two guys he really cared for. But it was some relief to be able to say his homophobic tendencies seemed to have lessened considerably. He just didn't want to be that kind of a senseless jerk. It was uncomfortable sometimes, but he did appreciate Mizusawa and Hino, maybe even loved them, if he really wanted to be honest about things.

And then there was Kaoru, the pretty Washizu girl who seemingly hated his guts. The one girl who, though she'd rejected him every time he could think of, even the casual instances, he couldn't seem to let go of. He'd been rejected before. He knew that feeling well, and he also knew that in most cases, he just shrugged it off and let it be. If the girl didn't want him, he wasn't going to force it. He'd trained himself to brush the bad feelings off when things didn't work out. And yet, it seemed Kaoru had compromised that. She'd brushed him off now, many many times, and yet for some reason, she was all he could think about. It was like....with her, he didn't want to stop trying. And maybe that was the first time he'd ever felt so serious about a girl.

In the meantime, he'd even stopped dating others. Some had left of their own accord because he wasn't being "as fun" as he used to or spent too much time with the Tumbling guys. And that had been okay. He hadn't done anything to argue against it because he really hadn't cared.

"Dammit...." Ryosuke sighed and flipped over onto his stomach, burying his face in one of his pillows. His eyes felt a little moist. He hated these nights, the nights when there were no Tumbling meets and he had little to do but go home to his....thoughts. He could have been doing homework most likely, but it wasn't as though he would actually be able to concentrate on it anyway.

"Stupid...overreactive imagination..."

"Overactive imagination, ya mean."

Ryosuke looked up from his bed. His little sister Naomi had somehow made her way into his room. The expression on her face suggested she was more than a bit concerned, but she didn't say anything more about the matter. She was holding out the wireless home phone. "Someone's calling for you."

The blonde Yankee sniffled, hoping he didn't look like he'd been crying. In fact, he hadn't. His eyes had just been.....well, yeah, he could tell Naomi allergies if she bugged him about it. "Thanks." He reached out and took the phone from his sister's hands, waiting until she'd left and closed the door behind her before he spoke into the receiver. "Uhh...hello?"

[Kiyama Ryuichiro]

Kiyama was so ready.

His desk lamp was lit, his notebook open, his mechanical pencils all filled with lead. Homework time was on.

Or, it would be, if he only knew what his homework was.

It was odd for him to care about this. A few months ago, had he been caught in the same situation, he simply wouldn't care. Like most of the other yankees he knew, most of Kiyama's grades were just passable, whether he was capable of doing better or not.

But this whole "club activity" deal changed things.

He suddenly had to start thinking about the club, too. He had to make sure he maintained the grades to participate in the club. There was that week when Wataru was banned from activities because of his failing marks -- which while hilarious, hindered the team's progress that week considerably. The last thing Kiyama wanted to be was a burden to the team, and being the newest member, he was certainly the least skilled.

And perhaps it was because of the club that for the first time in, well, forever, he seriously considered what he was going to do after high school. And that would mean that he'd have to keep up with his studies...

Maybe out of habit, and maybe because being organized was his weak point, Kiyama still found himself losing his assignment notes every now and again. The difference was that now, he had to care. He spent the last few minutes scrolling through his cell phone's contact list. For some reason, his first choice seemed natural. They'd known each other for years, and was one of the few people that he felt comfortable enough to call for things like this.

AZUMA... Not picking up. That might not be a bad thing, because he seemed like the type who'd write down the wrong assignment, if anything at all.

TAKENAKA... not picking up, either. That one sucked, because he knew that he was the organized type that stayed on top of his assignments daily.

TSUKIMORI... straight to voicemail, eh? Figures, he was probably on some date with a girl or maybe his phone was just plain dead. The blonde's texting plan must be insane...

Kiyama frowned at his phone; he didn't have many numbers saved in the first place. As far as people in his grade, his choices were even more limited. For the first time, he noticed that he didn't even have the contact information of the rest of his teammates; no Kaneko, and no Mizusawa. Maybe he'd try and fix that tomorrow... at least ask Kaneko, because he seemed to be the model student type. Mizusawa still seemed to be... a bit weary of him, to say the least...

Kiyama sighed. Yeah, he'd get Kaneko's number and mail address tomorrow.

At a loss, he scrolled through his contacts again. He chuckled seeing names like Akabane, Konno, and the rest of the yankees. He passed over Tsukimori's name again, and noticed that he had his home number too. He'd forgotten that he'd had that. A press of the "SEND" button and a few rings later, he was pleasantly surprised by the voice of a cheery girl.

"Tsukimori residence," she answered. Oh, yeah, he does have a sister... a Kara High student, too, right? For some reason always slipped his mind.

"I'm Kiyama, Ryosuke's classmate. Is he in...?"

"Sure, just wait a sec!"

There was a pause, the sound of footsteps going up a staircase, and a bit more quiet. Kiyama picked up his pencil and started twirling it idly.

"Uhh...hello?"

"Tsukimori?" he asked customarily. It was obviously the voice of his flashy yankee companion, though sounding uncharacteristically quiet.

"Hey, this is Kiyama. I was wondering if you wrote down that math assignment, I think I misplaced it... and..."

Wait.

Kiyama usually considered himself pretty good at reading people. He was usually uncomfortable if he tried anything more than those trite, everyday interactions, but he was good at observing. And there was something definitely up with Tsukimori Ryosuke at the moment. He hadn't started talking his ears off yet, thirty seconds without a silly remark or sarcastic joke was rare... and his voice almost seemed kind of shaky or something.

Then it struck Kiyama; he dropped his pencil on his desk, breaking the thin lead of its point.

"... and... are you crying?"

[Tsukimori Ryosuke]

"Tsukimori?"

Ryosuke knew the voice instantly. Kiyama Ryuichiro.

Calling him? And at such a great time too.....

"Hey, this is Kiyama. I was wondering if you wrote down that math assignment, I think I misplaced it... and..."

The black-haired Yankee's voice drifted off, and what seemed to be a too-long silence ensued. Ryosuke didn't dare to say anything at that moment, especially in that he still hadn't completely regained his composure. And more than that, if Kiyama was stopping short to do his usual creepy observing, then he'd noticed something was wrong. Ryosuke wouldn't have been able to say how--he'd really only said hello--but the other guy had always been full of surprises, so he wouldn't put it past him to just know something was up.

"... and... are you crying?" Kiyama sounded as surprised Ryosuke felt. Kiyama was calling him, now. for schoolwork

He swiped an arm across his face, getting rid of the last of the moisture in his eyes, then quickly cleared his throat and tried to muster more composure. He didn't cry. Especially not in front of fellow Yankees and especially not in front of Kiyama.

"No, I've...got a cold. That's why I'm at home." He secretly prided himself on the random lying ability that he seemed to have adopted. He almost could have convinced himself of the same thing, that his bitter, confused attitude was the result of a cold, not emotional complexities. "Why are you calling here for homework help? You think I've actually taken up doing it before the day it's due? I probably know what the homework is as much as you do right now."

And that seemed to be true in the literal sense, because his mind was so boggled and lost at the moment, he'd left his homework untouched in his schoolbag, and he sure as hell couldn't remember whether he'd even written the math problems down or not. He had the tendency to assume he wouldn't forget them and then just be on his way.

"Let me guess," Ryosuke continued, leaning back onto his bed and fiddling with his sheets, "you called here because I was the only person left to try."

[Kiyama Ryuichiro]

There was a pause. It was long enough for Kiyama to consider if he'd said something wrong... but then again, it approached an awkward length that made him wonder if he'd actually been right. Thinking about it, Tsukimori was probably one of the most emotional people he knew, although he was also one of the most image-conscious. If he were crying, he'd probably lie about it.

"No, I've...got a cold. That's why I'm at home."

Like that.

Okay, whatever. He seemed fine enough earlier that afternoon. But the other yankee could make up all the excuses he wanted, so long as he told Kiyama what he was supposed to do for this class.

The other boy started speaking again, his voice noticeably clearer and more firm than before. "Why are you calling here for homework help? You think I've actually taken up doing it before the day it's due? I probably know what the homework is as much as you do right now."

Well, darn. That wasn't particularly a big surprise, though he'd been hoping... Kiyama tapped on his textbook, not feeling motivated enough to try and guess which problems he had to do for that evening.

Tsukimori continued. "Let me guess, you called here because I was the only person left to try."

That smarted. He didn't know whether it was as much of a blow to Tsukimori in realizing that as it felt for Kiyama in hearing it, but he had to pause a minute. The blonde yankee almost seemed defensive in his manner of speech. Was it really that upsetting? The two had never been all that close, and it wasn't like Tsukimori at the top of the class rankings...

Kiyama took a deep breath before he answered. "Tsukimori, you hit the nail on the head. There was no one left." He looked to his textbook again before adding, "and I really didn't care if you'd done the homework, I wanted to know if you wrote it down."

At that point, Kiyama had a mind to excuse himself, hang up, and try Takenaka again. But it was glaringly obvious that there was something very wrong on the other line. Perhaps Tsukimori really was sick and irritable, and it would be best to leave him to his own devices. On the other hand, it was hard to tell with all this recent personal development and the changing dynamics of the members of the tumbling team, but something about Tsukimori Ryosuke seemed very different. Kiyama wasn't sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing, or even the thing that was bothering the other yankee at the moment, but it seemed important.

After a moment of thought, Kiyama muttered a "hold on" before taking the phone from his ear. We wasn't nearly as adept as texting as the boy he was speaking to, but he was able to send a text to Takenaka about this stupid assignment... perhaps his classmate would answer one of those. Yeah, a text message... why hadn't he thought of that before? Maybe if he talked to people more, he'd be on top of such things.

Kiyama exhaled. He was done for the evening, showered and all that jazz. As dorky as it would probably sound, he planned his evening around this assignment, and If he couldn't do his damn homework, he had nothing else to do. There was no one left.

And then, he didn't really feel comfortable hanging up, in that chance that things weren't okay.

He returned his cell to his ear, resting his elbow on his desk. "So," he started... then promptly stopped.

He didn't know what to say. He never called people, save for instances like just now, in times of utility. In fact, it boggled his mind that there were actually people in this world that call other people for the sole reason of asking how the other is doing. He didn't quite know how to ask his teammate what was up with him that evening, either. He was good at relating to people in theory, not in practice, and every second that ticked away on his receiver was pushing the limits of his comfort zone.

Suddenly feeling very clumsy, he slowly began to speak again. "...what could've happened between this afternoon and now to get you all... like this? You really not feeling well?"

[Tsukimori Ryosuke]

Ryosuke waited determinedly for a response from the other Yankee. More than anything, he felt like getting off the phone and wallowing in his own well of depression and self-pity, but he was suddenly considerably annoyed. Why had Kiyama called him last for homework help? He didn't much appreciate that.....he liked the guy a lot, in fact, when Kiyama wasn't looking too uninviting, Ryosuke liked to go up to him and joke around. But it was a bit harsh that the other had considered him as a last resort. Was he so unreliable? Not to mention, Wataru was far worse in their academic classes than Ryosuke was.....combined with everything else he was feeling right now, he didn't want to feel like someone else's useless-until-needed doormat.

There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line. "Tsukimori, you hit the nail on the head. There was no one left." A small pause, then "and I really didn't care if you'd done the homework, I wanted to know if you wrote it down."

Ryosuke had to bite his lip from saying something harsh back. Kiyama was being something of an ass too for having even admitted it. At least like that.

"At least try to show you give a damn," he murmured under his breath.

"Hold on."

Ryosuke seemed to come awake at the sound of that. He looked at the speaker of the phone, as if could tell him just what he was holding on for. "Hey...hey wait a minute!" He didn't see why he had to sit waiting for Kiyama to do whatever it was he was off to do. Not when he was his "last resort." Pfft, he'd thought he'd been a little more important to the guy than that....

Feeling very bitter, Ryosuke considered hanging up on Kiyama just to prove to him how annoyed he was. But as if hearing the other's thoughts--Kiyama had always been something of a mind-reader, hadn't he?--the black-haired Yankee's voice came through the phone speaker.

"So...." There was a moment's pause. "...what could've happened between this afternoon and now to get you all... like this? You really not feeling well?

Ryosuke went silent. This had to be the most uncomfortable phone conversation he'd ever had. It was even more awkward than talks with girls who he'd broken up with, on the night of their breakup. But at least with those girls, he always felt he could be honest and explain everything to them. What the hell could he say to Kiyama?

Why yes, I'm not feeling well because I'm having thoughts about gay people and finally decided I don't love every girl I see!

There was no way he could say anything. He was on his own in this. He couldn't say a word about Mizusawa and Hino, of course, and likewise, he didn't want to tell Kiyama about girl trouble. He'd never had girl trouble like this before, and yet, he'd never encountered a girl like Kaoru before either. Kiyama would just call him a stalker or a weirdo if he explained that much of it. Or even if he didn't say it, he would be thinking it, he would be thinking there was more to it than just the fact that Ryosuke liked her, even if there wasn't, and even if he didn't say it outwardly, Kiyama had a way of guilt-tripping people about things just by aura alone.

"I told you," Ryosuke finally replied, sighing, his gaze lost somewhere on a patch of wall in his room. He wasn't really even thinking as he spoke. The words seemed to be coming out on their own, like some kind of automatic mind-defense system. "I have a cold, and....it's been a bad night."

The cold was a lie, but the bad night, at least, wasn't.

Ryosuke decided he was tired. Maybe he would break his rules of going to bed before midnight and do it just once, give his overactive mind a rest, if he could.

"Gimme a moment, I'll just double check and see if I wrote the damn homework down..." He began lowering the phone to his bed so that he could grab his school bag.

[Kiyama Ryuichiro]

"I told you, I have a cold, and....it's been a bad night."

A "bad night," huh? So something had happened... oh Tsukimori, you liar.

Kiyama idly grabbed his pencil again, clicking the end and watching a point start growing from its tip.

"Gimme a moment, I'll just double check and see if I wrote the damn homework down..."

The boy on the other end had seemed aggravated for the entire conversation, but now he seemed a little worse than before. Kiyama bit his lip, wondering if he should've been biting his tongue a bit earlier. Had he come across as harsh? Not being one for fluff or frills, he figured his speaking had a tendency to come across that way. Of course, the Tsukimori wasn't typically one of the people he usually would worry about offending, but if he'd actually had that "bad night"...

Kiyama wondered just how different this conversation would have progressed had it been with Wataru... or even Nippori, instead of him. He guessed that it definitely would have progressed, as opposed to this standstill he suddenly found himself at with the boy. Maybe... for once in his life, Tsukimori couldn't find the right words to say? Was he feeling as inept as the other boy at the moment?

Kiyama lay his pencil back on his desk, and leaned back in his chair. He'd spent most of his life not talking. Big things, little things. He never really talked about anything. So he knew first-hand that even it was something relatively trivial or trite, secrets had a way of swelling up inside of you and eating you up from the inside. It really wasn't something he would wish on anyone, even his moody, sometimes not-so-thoughtful yankee peer.

It was a terrible thing, so Kiyama decided it would be his mission that evening to get Tsukimori to talk. Even if he had to endure a godawful, exponentially awkward phone conversation to drag it out of him.

A sense of urgency suddenly rose in Kiyama... when Tsukimori got his homework, he'd relay the assignment and promptly hang up. Kiyama didn't know how long he had to come up with something to say, but he knew he had to figure something out quick.

Straightening himself in his chair once again, Kiyama took a deep breath and spoke into the phone. "Tsukimori, I'm sorry."

He paused. Kiyama had no problem with apologizing in itself, but it was so dang awkward. All the time. He got the overwhelming feeling that Tsukimori would either brush him off or make fun of him for taking this so seriously, but Kiyama pushed those thoughts aside, and pushed forward with the conversation.

"Something happened. What was it?"

His voice was firm, making the question sound more imperative than anything else. He sighed again, hoping that he'd get an answer that wasn't a dial tone.

[Tsukimori Ryosuke]

Ryosuke ended up tucking the wireless phone between his shoulder and ear as he slid down onto the floor from his bed, reaching out to snag his backpack and find the notebook he kept what homework he did write down in. He'd only taken the thing out of the bag and begun flipping through to his math section before a relatively concerned-sounding voice came back to him through the receiver.

"Tsukimori, I'm sorry."

Ryosuke stopped rustling through his stuff. The other end of the line had gone silent as well, though he knew by the crackly sort of sound of air moving from the receiver that Kiyama was still there.

An apology, though. An apology...Ryosuke hadn't been expecting that. He lowered his notebook onto his lap and took the receiver from the spot on his shoulder, holding it up with one hand. He was about to tell his friend that it was fine, he was just feeling kind of bitter, when....

"Something happened. What was it?" The tone was firm, kind of demanding. Ryosuke knew Kiyama wanted to hear everything, Kiyama had figured out that he was holding onto something that was really eating him from the inside out. And knowing Kiyama, he wouldn't back down--though calmly--until he got the answer.

Ryosuke realized he'd been holding his breath the instant Kiyama had apologized, and slowly let it all out, trying to keep his obvious feelings of unease out of earshot of the other boy.
The thing was....he still couldn't think of what he could possibly tell the other guy. A secret promised was a secret kept. Gossip could be fun, but he respected Hino and Mizusawa and he respected their secret. Enough so that telling someone else would not only be a truly gross act on his part, but one that would probably eat at him even more than if he just kept it to himself. He did trust Kiyama, and he certainly didn't think the other Yankee would just go around blurting it to others, but.....well, some things just remained better unsaid.

And about Kaoru.....Ryosuke knew Kiyama had a lot of fangirls of his own, though many of them didn't seem to bother him, perhaps because of his sort of lone wolf-type status, but the blonde Yankee just couldn't bring himself to tell the guy about her. There was his pride, for one thing. He'd been rejected, yes, he'd accepted that, yes. But Kaoru had altered things. She'd been the one girl who'd rejected him--and fiercely so--that he couldn't seem to let go of. He just didn't want Kiyama thinking bad of him in any way for it. Like he was some kind of creep or stalker or lame-o or something. For some reason, Kiyama had the effect on Ryosuke of making him always want to leave a good impression on him, not a bad one, not a shameful one.

Was liking Kaoru shameful?

No.....no, it wasn't, but.....

Ryosuke shook his head and pressed a hand to his forehead. He could feel a strong headache coming on.

"I'm sorry.....did you need the math homework? I don't think I have it."

[Kiyama Ryuichiro]

OOC: Not even gonna lie, I've enjoyed most all of my posts here. Some of them have given me a little trouble, but I've got to say that, so far, this is the most challenging thread I've had to write in! Thanks for making me work so hard~ XD

"I'm sorry.....did you need the math homework? I don't think I have it."

He knew he shouldn't have been disappointed, but Kiyama had to bite his lip to stop himself from making the kind of intake of air he was inclined to make at the moment. Tsukimori was upset, more upset than he would find himself being over some stupid assignment that probably wouldn't help improve his marks that much anyway. He wouldn't sigh, he wouldn't let the boy on the end of the line know how exasperated he was.

After checking his phone to see Takenaka hadn't replied to him yet, Kiyama put it back to his ear. Then he pushed away from his desk and slid from behind it, pacing around his room.

"Tsukimori," he said slowly. What next? Should he start guessing possible problems? Offer some blanket words of support that may or may not fit the situation?

Kiyama tried his best to brighten his voice for a moment. "Y'know, it's cool. The homework's not that important..."

He stopped by his window, pushing a peek hole in the blinds with his free hand. It was just getting dark enough that the neighborhood streetlights came on. He saw the front of his tiny little yard and the family car in the driveway; his mother always took a taxi on her out-of town trips. Some old lady was walking a dog in the street. Some type of retriever mix. It looked friendly.

"...but you didn't answer my question."

The blinds snapped back closed with a rustling sound. Kiyama caught a glimpse of the limes and hunter greens of his bracelet before shoving his hand into the pocket of the sweatpants he was using as pajamas. His insides got that sinking feeling he always got when he was reminded of that, something that still burdened him, though he knew some people -- like Tsukimori Ryosuke -- knew what had happened and how it'd affected him through the years. Kiyama doubted that the other yankee was dealing with something of the same gravity, but then again, you never knew...

He let himself sigh, a long drawn out, almost exaggerated sigh. Then he continued in a quiet, firm voice.

"...And... if you don't answer it, I'll march right over to your house right this second and kick your ass. I'll beat it out of you."

It felt weird, threatening someone. Despite being who he figured was one of the most intimidating in the school, he didn't like threatening people -- especially someone he was on good terms with. Kiyama had never fought with Tsukimori, of course, but he was pretty sure he could come out on top. Especially if the kid was as sick as he was claiming to be.

Kiyama swept some of his unstyled hair out of his face, letting his first two fingers rest on his temple. He often wondered about others' perceptions of him. Whether someone "knew" him or they were complete strangers, there was often things that surprised him. For instance, he got the feeling that a lot of the members of the team thought he was this pillar of infinite patience, though he never was, and never would be. He wanted to help Tsukimori for both their sakes, but...

...this conversation was grating on him.

On his end, well... he knew that the blonde never took kindly to that kind of talk, but he thought, or at least, he hoped that Tsukimori had this same objective respect for him that Kiyama had for the other. He also hoped that Tsukimori had the insight to know that he was only threatening him because he was honestly at a loss.

He turned away from the window and looked back over his room. The walls were as blank and as white as the day he'd moved in... Besides the basic furniture you'd expect in a boy's room his age, there were some stacks of books, dirty clothing he hadn't gotten to attend to yet, a television and game console that had been gathering dust since he'd joined the tumbling team... There wasn't much for him in that room, or in that house, for that matter...

"I swear Tsukimori, I'll beat the hell out of you next time I see you."

Kiyama looked towards the ceiling, finding himself a bit anxious to hear the blonde's answer. As bad as it was, he was ready and willing to set off toward the other yankee's house right that second, and that was a fact that amused him to no end.

[Tsukimori Ryosuke]

OOC: You'd signed off before you saw my cbox comment about this post, but....I love how you said it was your probably worst yet, and it read like it could have been one of your best. And the best part about that? All of your work I've read so far might as well be a best! XD You're such a talented writer, thank you so much for joining in on this one with me! ^^ (うれしい～)

Ryosuke considered hanging up after speaking; he didn't have the homework, that was that, right? But he knew it would be unfair to treat the other Yankee that way, especially after he'd somehow managed to get out an apology, something Ryosuke had once thought impossible to expect from the other guy. At least for himself. Ryosuke did look up to Kiyama and he liked spending time with him and fooling around with him....He just didn't always get the impression the more quieter of the two of them felt the same way about him.

So an apology....was nice. He couldn't hang up on that.

Still, the pause that ensued was bitter. Ryosuke sensed something was up from the other end of the line even before Kiyama began to speak. He tensed.

"Tsukimori..." Another pause. His voice wasn't readable. "Y'know, it's cool. The homework's not that important..."

Ryosuke sighed inwardly, though something still felt odd about all this. Kiyama was acting far too calm about things, wasn't he? At least when moments before, he'd been quick--and surprisingly annoyed-sounding--to point out that yes he had chosen to call Ryosuke last out of the bunch for help. The blonde Yankee knew his friend was a quiet guy, and probably with far more patience than any of the rest of them could manage, but something about his attitude didn't fit at the moment.

Uneasy, Ryosuke shifted back from the floor onto his bed, still holding the phone close. By this point, he decided it was best that he just say goodnight now. If Kiyama was at least going to say the homework wasn't a problem, then he was content. And he didn't want to stay on the line any longer. This was the first time he'd ever had such an uncomfortable phone conversation. He loved the phone. But this chat made him want to hang it up fast and just curl up under his sheets and not look at a phone for a long time.

"Well, I guess it's...."

"...but you didn't answer my question."

"I..."

"...And... if you don't answer it, I'll march right over to your house right this second and kick your ass. I'll beat it out of you."

Ryosuke went silent. He was stunned.

It wasn't that he'd never heard such words before. Of course he had, and many times too. A few times even from Wataru, during stupid, meaningless fights they'd had or back before they were friends. He'd lost to Wataru, of course, and he'd lost to others who had threatened him that way. He'd also won too.

But that wasn't the point. This was Kiyama. Kiyama was someone he considered a friend, and he was threatening him to tell him something? Even if a lot of it had to do with the matter of his pride, Ryosuke was upset. What right did Kiyama have threatening him? Threatening him to tell him something that was none of his business?

"I swear Tsukimori, I'll beat the hell out of you next time I see you."

Ryosuke felt a real feeling of sickness well up in his stomach. His heart was thumping loudly and the amount of distress he'd been feeling suddenly seemed to have doubled, but he tried to maintain a cool facade when he responded. Kiyama couldn't see him anyway, even if, somehow, it felt like that guy had all kinds of ridiculous abilities that only he knew about.

Ryosuke leaned against the wall his bed was up against and wrapped one edge of the bed blanket tightly into his fist.

"You have some nerve." He squeezed the blanket harder. "Calling me up as a last resort, treating me like I'm your personal doormat. I don't know what you think gives you the right to act like you're better than me or something...." Maybe he was....in many ways.....

"....but if you feel that way, then just don't bother calling here. I'm too dumb for you, right? I'm not a 'great guy' like everyone else on the team, just a damned thorn in your side. If I'm that much of a problem, then don't bother me. Don't call me. But don't give me this crap about beating me up, got it?"

He repressed a sigh. This hurt a lot more than he'd thought it would.

"I know you think I'm just an emotionless playboy and I know we're total opposites, but I consider you a friend. I have fun hanging out with you. Why don't you try making an effort to at least look like you're having some fun when we hang out too instead of throwing meaningless threats at me?"

He paused. He....didn't think he had any more to say.

Without looking, he brought his thumb down on the "End Call" button and dropped the phone onto the mattress, falling back against his pillow and finally allowing the huge, crestfallen sigh to escape his lips. He hated fighting with friends and he hated feeling like a bad person and he hated hated hated these secrets. He didn't know if Kiyama was really going to stand by his threats, but lying back on his bed, feeling even worse than before, Ryosuke wondered if maybe he didn't mind after all. It would be embarrassing if he lost the fight, it would probably only make their relationship even more strained than it evidently was......but Ryosuke just didn't want to deal with it anymore.

"And don't call back...." he said softly.

[Kiyama Ryuichiro]

There were a few moments when neither of them spoke. Kiyama strolled over to his bed and plopped down on top of it, not really sure if he wanted to hear Tsukimori's response or not.

"You have some nerve. Calling me up as a last resort, treating me like I'm your personal doormat. I don't know what you think gives you the right to act like you're better than me or something...."

Kiyama frowned at the serverity of Tsukimori's voice; he certainly wasn't thinking of him like that! At least, he didn't think he was. It was just a homework assignment, right? Page and problem numbers. That's it. No big deal. "Tsukimori, I don't think--" he started, but was quickly cut off again.

"I know you think I'm just an emotionless playboy and I know we're total opposites, but I consider you a friend. I have fun hanging out with you. Why don't you try making an effort to at least look like you're having some fun when we hang out too instead of throwing meaningless threats at me?"

And before Kiyama could react came that dial tone he'd been afraid of hearing.

He lowered his phone from his ear and stared at it for a minute; he needed to process all of what Tsukimori had said, and the fact that he'd just been hung up on. He set the phone on the bed beside him to listen to the sound, feeling detached and... blindsided.

What the hell, Tsukimori? That's not fair. That's not fair at all. He should know better. He should know why it's not fair to pick on him for his personality. He should know how he got to be this way.

And he should know how hard it was for Kiyama to even consider reaching out to someone like that.

So the personal attacks weren't fair, not when he just wanted to... He'd just been trying to help. Albeit in a very aggressive and uncharacteristic way, but it wasn't like he was going to coax the troubles out of the reluctant blonde.

Kiyama bit his lip.

The dial tone stopped and the muffled, high-pitched voice of the operator took its place. "If you would like to make a call..."

He figured that it was useless calling back. At the very least, Tsukimori wouldn't pick up. By that time, Kiyama figured he'd already blocked his number -- you can do that, right? Of course, Tsukimori would knew do that to his phone, and probably set it up to record TV shows and launch missiles from Russia.

...because he believed that Tsukimori wasn't stupid. A little naive at times, and prone to his bouts of flakiness, but he genuinely he believed that the blonde wasn't dumb at all. And he wasn't a bad person. He was terribly honest, in a way that most people -- including the other members of the team... including Kiyama himself -- didn't have the courage to be. Tsukimori was loyal, sensitive, and funny, and somehow, Kiyama thought there probably was even some redeeming quality in his relationships with dozens of girls he claimed to go out with.

At about this time, the recording of the operator on his phone had finished her spiel about redialing or something like that, going silent. And there was no other sound in his room, save for the negligible hum of his florescent lamp.

Friend.

That's what Tsukimori had said. But Kiyama knew that he didn't deserve friends. He wasn't supposed to like people, he couldn't get too comfortable with them, he shouldn't trust them. It was burden, but it was one he'd been carrying for almost two decades, so it he should have built up the strength to bear it by now. Maybe being with the gymnastics team had spoiled him? Even if he pretended, it wasn't the first time he'd had trouble trying to maintain the one-sided relationships he did attempt.

Kiyama heaved himself off the bed and switched off his lamp, and started putting his homework things away. The phone call had completely killed his mood. Not even ten minutes ago, he'd been pumped, enthusiastic...

And then it struck Kiyama that if he'd been feeling bad, that Tsukimori was probably feeling worse. Whatever had happened, well, had happened; something that was so bad or embarrassing he wouldn't share. Then Kiyama would call and pester him with nothing but misunderstood insults and straightforward threats.

Yeah, he was the smart one, wasn't he?

But... if Tsukimori considered him friend, maybe he should act like one? What do friends do in these kinds of situations? Personal experience told Kiyama that Tsukimori probably wanted his space, but... all that empty space could get suffocating. He thought to Wataru, and to his brash, invasive way of solving the problems of those he considered friends. Kiyama chuckled... had he just failed in trying to imitate the loudmouthed redhead? He then turned around to his bed to look at the phone he'd left there, still open, the dull light of the display still glowing. His eyes then fell to his hands which had found themselves toying with that bracelet again. Bad habits.

He muttered a swear and rushed to his closet to get a fresh pair of pants, and quickly changed. After going over his room and grabbing his keys and a few other essentials and shoved them into the pocket of a coat he had lying astray, and ran out of the door.

Kiyama might've been a lot of things, but he wasn't a liar. He wasn't going to be a liar that night.




It was nearly dark when Kiyama finally wandered in front of the Tsukimori rescidence... or at least, that's what was posted on the fence. He bent over to catch his breath, as he'd hen run the entire time.

Maybe he should've remembered that he barely remembered where the other yankee lived before threatening to come to his house...

Straightening himself, he trudged toward Tsukimori's front door, unsure how he was going to go about everything. He supposed he couldn't just waltz in someone's own home and hand out the beatdowns, huh?

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He would... just do the only thing he could at that point... Yeah. That's what he'd do. And then he rapped at the door.

Kiyama would roll with the punches.

[Tsukimori Ryosuke]

Ryosuke flipped over onto his stomach and buried his face into his pillow. A strange combination of guilt and self-pity and shame and hurt had settled inside him. The sensation was so overwhelming, he wondered if ever before in his life he'd ever thought this much about what it would be like to just off himself and end things.

His situation wasn't so serious for such a drastic means, and he knew....well, he knew there was some hope out there for it all, even if it seemed like there would never be an end to having to hold Hino and Mizusawa's secret dear, or finding some kind of route to Kaoru's heart, to avoid having to hide from people his interest in her, before they thought he was some kind of stalker or something. It all felt so serious now, he knew, because other insecurities were coming to light as well.

Like talking to Kiyama. Ryosuke put on a cool facade at school, but he was hot-headed without a doubt. And deep down, he constantly worried what other people thought of him. It wasn't that he wanted to be most popular or anything. He just wanted to be liked, appreciated....at least by his friends. Kiyama was someone he considered a friend, and yet he really did get the distinct impression more often than not that the other guy just found him to be a shallow annoyance. And Wataru was his closest buddy, of course, but even with him, there were so many times when he'd felt as though he'd only been a burden to the redhead, not a friend. Wataru had saved him many times...could he say he'd done the same in return? Even Nippori...what a good guy. But Ryosuke remembered the times Nippori had been inconvenienced because of him, and of course Nippori was closest to Wataru as well. Wataru was his "Aniki."

"Mendoukusee..." Ryosuke pounded one fist down on the mattress by his head.

He'd had emotions before, of course. He was always feeling or thinking something. But the whirlwind his mind and heart and soul seemed to be caught in right now just hurt so much. He didn't think even sleeping could repair it, though at least it would mean even a temporary respite from his troubles. The problem was if he could even sleep at all, now. He kept playing back Kiyama's voice, the sound of actual surprise he'd made in the middle of Ryosuke's final rant....The blonde was just tired of it. Tired of everything. Tired of pretending all was okay.

The tears sprung to his eyes again. He felt ashamed. If he'd still been on the phone with Kiyama, he could imagine what the other would be saying to him, if he knew he was crying. Was he so much of a baby? He just didn't know what to do. It was hard to be on your own in something like this. And he'd started to consider whether he would have sought consolation in his parents about these matters.....if he'd actually allowed himself to grow close to his parents, maintained the kind of personal relationship most families should have. And of course Naomi would listen, he knew she would, but she had so much to worry about herself. Besides, he was supposed to be there to console her, not vice versa.

F*ck if it didn't feel good to cry a little. Ryosuke rested his head sideways on the pillow, now wet with tears. If he could manage it, he would go to sleep. Maybe he would be lucky and sleep through school the next day. Or maybe the week. Maybe longer. That would be nice.

Ryosuke closed his eyes and pulled his sheets over him.

Yeah, it would be good to sleep.

* * *

Mrs. Tsukimori was lounging in front of the family's flat screen TV, flipping through an array of surprisingly boring dramas and game shows while waiting for her husband to come home. On these nights during the week, he tended to have longer hours at the office, and the anticipation for his arrival home was always a killer. He'd long ago made it a point to let her know that he didn't want her waiting for him to come home for dinner--she could just make the food, serve the kids, and keep his warm elsewhere.

She did that now, on these nights, but it made her feel as though the family were growing apart. In a way, she'd already lost one of her children, her wreck of a delinquent son, and seeing her daughter, Naomi, going up to her room or in the living room to eat now just felt entirely wrong. That was not how things had been done when she was growing up, and she didn't want them now either. She relished the days when the children's father came home early. Then they could eat together. (Or as much as "together" could be, considering Ryosuke rarely ate with them anymore.)

Mrs. Tsukimori had flipped onto a special airing of one of her favorite shows, "Meringue" (she loved seeing the ikemen boys, as something of a small-time fangirl) just as someone knocked on the door.

Mr. Tsukimori was home early? He tended to knock on these nights. He knew she was always waiting and didn't want to scare her, and he'd recently expressed concern over where the family's rather special doorbell had started sounding musically flat.

Dropping the remote onto the sofa where she'd been sitting, Mrs. Tsukimori rushed over to the front door in her slippers, unlocking first the top, then bottom locks, all the while thinking that if he was home this early, something good must have happened.....and she pulled open the door to find....

A boy.

Definitely not her husband and certainly not someone she knew. There was something about the boy that seemed sort of urgent. He looked worn out, maybe stressed. And dark, too. There was just something about him that seemed so mysterious.

Handsome, though, she thought, admiring the young man's face.

"Can I help you?"

[Kiyama Ryuichiro]

It was a woman that opened Tsukimori Ryosuke's front door.

And she looked surprisingly... normal.

The blonde yankee had such a distinct look, and it seemed obvious to Kiyama that family members resembled each other. It was obviously a half-baked train of thought, but somehow he expected all of the Tsukimori family to look the same. The defining characteristic of his classmate was his bleached hair and for all he Kiyama knew, he could've been some kind of genetic freak, and his hair could've genuinely been that color. He'd never even noticed any root issues...

And he'd known Tsukimori a couple of years now.

So seeing the average-looking, textbook Japanese housewife and her dark hair took him aback.

The fact that she was staring at him didn't help matters.

Did he have something on his face? Kiyama ran the back of his hand across his forehead. It felt damp, and he was a little sweaty. He was an unannounced guest, and he had run straight there. Yeah, it was probably weird.

Then the woman -- Tsukimori's mom -- addressed him.

"Can I help you?"

She sounded about as normal as she looked.

"I, uh... Is Ryosuke in?"

It was weird, saying his first name. Even though that seemed the norm for the rest of the team, Kiyama never really called him that... he didn't really feel comfortable calling anyone by their given names, really. In fact, he felt weird calling Wataru by his first name, though that was more because of the sheer length of their acquaintance and the redhead's insistence on being so friendly...

"I'm his..." Kiyama tried to continue, but suddenly found his lips stop. Quickly realizing the reason, he began again, rephrasing his sentence. "...I'm, uh, in his class. Kiyama Ryuichiro."

Then he bowed, letting his gaze linger downward even after he'd raised his head again. He was embarrassed for showing up at someone's house like this. He was also ashamed. He couldn't even use that word... friend... in respect to the other boy. Maybe Tsukimori was had every right to be mad at him. No, certainly. As certain as the fact that Kiyama was a worse person than he thought he was.

Slowly, Kiyama looked at the woman again. She looked like your average-looking, textbook Japanese housewife, and he'd rushed to her home with the intention of beating up her son.

For his own sake, of course. He was trying to help.

Kiyama felt stupid. He half-smirked, hoping that the woman wouldn't catch on or anything.

[Tsukimori Ryosuke]

"I, uh... Is Ryosuke in?"

Mrs. Tsukimori's smile drooped instantly. So the boy was here for Ryosuke. Not that it wasn't to be expected, of course. She didn't really think such a handsome young man was coming here for her. Maybe Naomi, though she would be hesitant even then to allow her daughter with a high school student apparently much older than her. Still....if Ryosuke was having friends over, he tended to deal with that on his own. He didn't leave it to her devices. And more than that, all things considered, the boy in front of her, handsome though he might be, didn't look very happy. She wondered if maybe he had some bone to pick with her son.

She considered telling him Ryosuke wasn't home and closing the door in his face, then realized that there would likely only be trouble if she so quickly shunned him without so much as even trying to figure out what was going on. She silently rebuked her only son. Why did he always have to cause so much trouble?

"A friend of his?" She looked the boy over carefully. No school uniform, but she could tell he was a high schooler. He looked about Ryosuke's age, too.

"I'm his..." The dark boy suddenly seemed lost for words. When he spoke again, his gaze went to the ground, as if examining her slippers....or maybe purposely avoiding her eyes.

Mrs. Tsukimori narrowed her eyes and followed the boy's gaze, just to make sure there was nothing on her slippers. She'd just gotten these yesterday. From a 100 Yen shop, sure, but they were still a beautiful white satin.

"..I'm, uh, in his class. Kiyama Ryuichiro," he finally answered.

The woman hesitated. Why did that name sound familiar?

"Well it's quite late and he usually....makes it known if he's having someone over--" She'd almost said he told her these things, when in fact she'd made it a point to avoid ever being told, if only because she just never really wanted to know who and what he dealt with. "--but I suppose if you guys can keep it down and keep it quick...."

She looked at the German-style cuckoo-clock on the wall. She'd bought it on her honeymoon in Europe with Ryosuke and Naomi's father. It had yet to fail her.

"10 PM....hmmm, well. I'll go get him. Please wait here." She paused for a moment, pulling her ponytail over her shoulder.

She hated to do it, but Mrs. Tsukimori finally nodded to the handsome boy outside--now that she looked at him, he had quite a stare, even in what seemed to be an attempt at a smile, like his gaze went right through her--and closed the door gently in his face. She considered locking it but refrained. If anything happened, Ryosuke would be to blame, and likewise, Ryosuke would deal with it. End of story.

* * *

Ryosuke was arguing with Hino about Kaoru. Hino had discovered that Mari-chan had been interested in him and suddenly decided that he liked girls now and was planning on dating not only just Mari, but Kaoru as well, who'd made it a point to announce to Hino in front of Ryosuke that she greatly admired his devotion and talent in rhythmic gymnastics.
Ryosuke had been in the process of demanding answers from Hino, and Hino had begun to explain, "I'm only doing it because you told Yuuta and the gang about Mizusawa and me...." when Ryosuke felt someone shaking him roughly by the shoulder.

"Don't get me involved with your mess," came the sound of his mother's voice, a sound Ryosuke didn't think he'd heard in a very long time, at least not directed at him. It made it seem all the more as though it had been part of what he was slowly beginning to realize--with a great sense of relief--had only been a nightmare.

"I thought I made it a point that I don't want to be involved in whatever garbage you've gotten yourself into? If you're going to pick fights with people or bring other delinquents here, it better not involve your father, sister, or me, got it?" She withdrew her hand from his shoulder and stormed out of the room. "He's waiting at the front door...Kiyama, whatever his name is."

F*ck it.....Kiyama had come to his house!? It at least made sense why his mom was so agitated, or why she'd actually come into his room to get him. He didn't think she'd come into his bedroom in months. It had always seemed that she tended to avoid the place if she could.

There was a pause, then Mrs. Tsukimori's voice came back to him from the stairwell. "And make it quick!"

The blonde Yankee momentarily considered telling his mom he didn't feel like answering the door or even know what she was talking about, something to avoid the encounter altogether, but out of the family's interest, he knew he better just do it. He didn't expect Kiyama to come into the house and hurt any of them--was it even possible? That was kind of a scary thought, but he couldn't imagine the other Yankee being angry enough that he would just break in and attack them. Still, having the guts to show up at all.......The guy had some nerve.

He better deal with it.

If not for to the sense of urgency now, Ryosuke would have been sluggish getting out of bed. He tossed aside his sheets and got to his feet, quickly altering his pajama pants for some jeans and rushing down the stairs, past his mother, whose gaze he felt come his way as he moved for the door. It hadn't been fully closed, and as he pulled it open, revealing a stern but concerned-looking Kiyama, Ryosuke froze. He considered slamming the door in the other's face. Slamming the door and heading back upstairs, past his annoying mom and back into his bed. He knew his eyes were red, he knew he looked like absolute sh*t, and truth be told, Kiyama Ruichiro was the last person he wanted to look at right now, let alone deal with.

Still, he knew if he left the guy outside now, shut him out, not only would his mom start griping about it, but Kiyama probably would have something to say or do about the matter too. Wataru would. Everyone would. That's how it always seemed to work out, didn't it?

Ryosuke narrowed his eyes in the very same fashion his mother had just moments before, and stepped outside, pulling the front door shut behind him. If Kiyama tried anything, he was at least close enough to the front door that he could presumably get back inside without too much a problem, and his mother would be sure to hear. Though this was something he hoped could be avoided. He didn't want his mom hearing any kind of fight involving him. He didn't need to be put any further down on her personal blacklist. Maybe the whole neighborhood would hear too, considering how thin the walls of most of the homes were. Even so, if Kiyama was going to use this opportunity to try to beat him up, he was as prepared as he could be. He wasn't feeling up to his best, of course, but he'd fought under worse conditions. He'd manage.

"I thought I told you to leave me alone?" Ryosuke glanced down the narrow street--his dad would be home soon, dammit--before looking back to the dark-haired Yankee. "What the hell with you? Can't respect me over the phone, I guess I shouldn't expect you to respect me in real life either."

He paused. He was feeling a bit ill for real now, and certainly resentful, but the look Kiyama had in his eyes just seemed painful. For both of them. Ryosuke found himself looking away.

"I don't normally give a damn what my mother says, but for once I think I'll listen to her when she said keep this short. If you're gonna beat me up, let's just do this, then leave me the hell alone, yeah?"

[Kiyama Ryuichiro]

OOC: omg, I can't tell you how much I lol'ed at Mrs. Tsukimori's initial reaction <3 I'm sorry that this reply is so bad, though... Also, I go pretty far in this post, so tell me if it's too much and I'll take some out!


"Well it's quite late and he usually....makes it known if he's having someone over--but I suppose if you guys can keep it down and keep it quick...." The woman briefly looked inside. "10 PM....hmmm, well. I'll go get him. Please wait here."

The woman gave him a last look. But before Kiyama could place it, she closed the door, and was left staring at the panel of painted wood.

While Tsukimori's mom went to retrieve him... she was going to do that, right? He hadn't noticed it was that late...

But Kiyama folded his arms, tapping a finger against one of them. Was he nervous? Annoyed? He had dealt with a lot of different things, and had been called a lot of things in his life, but he'd reached the point where most of it was water off the duck's back.

Yet that day, what Tsukimori said stuck in his head. He wondered how much of it had do to with his concern for his teammate, rather than with his preoccupation with his own faults. He honestly couldn't say. That bugged him even more.

He'd been debating that last question in his head for what seemed like a when the door slowly opened again, and Tsukimori slipped out of the door. His hair was messy, his clothes were winkled... his face was dreary, eyes still pink and puffy from whatever had gone on earlier that day... Kiyama had never seen the blonde yankee look that disheveled, even after he'd been in a fight. The lying little crap -- but yeah, he'd established that already. Still, just seeing the boy looking like that... it made Kiyama feel a little worse than he'd been.

Tsukimori looked around a bit before turning his attention to Kiyama. "I don't normally give a damn what my mother says, but for once I think I'll listen to her when she said keep this short. If you're gonna beat me up, let's just do this, then leave me the hell alone, yeah?"

Kiyama was surprised by how flippant and resigned Tsukimori seemed to the turn of events. Whatever had happened must have been pretty serious... But Kiyama shook it off. Just do this, he says. Kiyama huffed through clenched teeth and grabbed the boy by the front of his shirt.

"Look, Tsukimori--"

He glanced back to the door, wondering if his mom was standing anywhere near it. Out of some silly notion of respect, and not wanting to do "this" on what was literally Tsukimori's doorstep, he opted to relocate... at least, a little.

Kiyama ended up dragging the other boy to a spot that was hopefully out of sight for most of the windows, toward the side of the house.

"...let's get one thing straight. I, uh..."

Oh, yeah.

That was when Kiyama remembered that he didn't really know what he wanted to say. But he backed Tsukimori up into the wall of the house, and began to speak in a low quiet voice that he knew that most people would find convincing.

"It may be none of my business, but... I could... you could... talk. To me. It's fine." Kiyama paused; he was grasping at straws. "I'm not Wataru... or Nippori, but..."

What he hoped would be serious, soul-moving talk turned out more like verbal dribble, and Kiyama felt like he was doing nothing but making himself look stupid. He'd felt like an idiot even before he'd arrived at the Tsukimori residence. It was like every moment he'd spoken to the blonde that evening had decreased from his apparent intelligence. If there was something that Kiyama hated, it was looking like an idiot.

Luckily for him, it was then that his phone ringer went off. Glad for a distraction, he reached into his pocket and flipped it open with his free hand, doing his best to keep Tsukimori pinned to the wall with his other. While he spoke, he tried to focus on this weird-looking bush in Tsukimori's neighbor's front yard.

"Hello? ...Ah, yeah, I did... no, it's fine... page 126? The whole thing? Ah... yeah. Thanks." Kiyama paused, as the person on the other line inquired about what was going on on his end. His eyes flew towards the boy he was restraining before focusing on that bush again. "Everything's good here. Yeah. See you tomorrow."

He flipped his phone closed and held it up for a moment, muttering "Takenaka" before he returned it to his pocket.

Kiyama took his fist and raised it into perfect position for punching Tsukimori between the eyes. He was about to do what he'd come to do.

He was. Kiyama's arm was shaking with anticipation, he was so ready to punch Tsukimori in his freaking face and put an end to his freaking whining and fix freaking everything and--

"Fffffuuuuuuuu..." he started, his voice fading into a hiss. He withdrew his fist, instead shoving Tsukimori against the wall again. His concentration had been broken, so he couldn't focus on beating someone up now... if he was even going to do it in the first place. Had he meant to do it in the beginning? Was he really going to do it when he'd been knocking at Tsukimori's first door?

Kiyama didn't know what he was doing, or saying, or even why he was there anymore.

So, with a disappointed grunt, he let go of Tsukimori's shirt and turned away from him.

"Page 126, if you care. The math homework."

For a minute, he let his mind wander to the assignment. A whole page of math problems? That was... a lot. Kiyama wasn't the best in math and he got the feeling that even if he tried it wasn't one of those things he'd ever be really good at. If he had actually been able to start on his homework when he intended, maybe he would've had a chance of finishing, but now...

He looked up to Tsukimori. "I should go and... work on it. We can do this tomorrow?" With a small shrug, he took a step towards the road. "But before that, you can always... call."

Kiyama opened his mouth to say something else, but he was completely at a loss. In fact, he'd been at a loss for quite a while at that point... Instead, he shoved his hands in his pocket and turned to leave. He seriously doubted that Tsukimori would say anything he hadn't already, though he made sure to walk extra slowly... just in case.

[Tsukimori Ryosuke]

OOC: LOL, Mrs. Tsukimori....a ped? XD Hahaha, I don't know...she's an oddball. I'm surprised at how she came out, because I just sort of wrote and it just sort of...happened. O.O But anyway, your response isn't bad! At all! Mine....well....mine is terrible. XD Sorry about that! (Also, I put closed at the end, but we don't have to close it, if you don't want--please let me know if you want to add a response, and I can edit this! >.<)


Ryosuke wasn't sure whether he should have been surprised by Kiyama's determination or not, the instant the other boy dived forward and snatched him up by the shirt. He was feeling so deeply resigned, that he wasn't sure he could muster any other feelings anyway, and then again, Kiyama had never been one to go back on his word. Ryosuke supposed that if the other really intended to beat him up, then he would do it. Or try to. Not that it wouldn't be easy, what with the state Ryosuke himself was in. Stepping outside, angry though he was, he suddenly felt like just letting Kiyama have his way, taking his punches....

"Look, Tsukimori--"

A pause. Kiyama was looking around almost hesitantly, as if afraid for them to get caught like this. He glanced at the door--Ryosuke knew just what the darker Yankee was thinking--and then suddenly the blonde found himself being practically dragged around the small frontal area of the house for the side. He momentarily considered fighting back, both annoyed and a little embarrassed that he'd allowed Kiyama to carry him away like that...

"...let's get one thing straight. I, uh..."

Ryosuke really had to bite his tongue. Looking back into the other Yankee's eyes, he wasn't sure what he saw there, but he knew he was annoyed enough that the guy really had come to his house to try beating him up for something that was none of his damned business. More than that, Ryosuke didn't understand what he was trying to pull, acting like he was going to kick his ass one second and then wimping out like this, the next...As if there weren't already enough mind games being played between the two of them!

Kiyama pushed Ryosuke up into the wall of the house and began speaking again in a low voice. Yet the words that came out of the other's mouth didn't seem to match the look on his face. In fact, Ryosuke thought he'd heard him wrong at first, glaring at the other from such close proximity, both of them--he'd thought--seething.

"It may be none of my business, but... I could... you could... talk. To me. It's fine."

Even the pause in between the dark Yankee's speech didn't give Ryosuke enough time to fathom what he'd just heard.

"I'm not Wataru... or Nippori, but..."

Kiyama seemed hesitant again, a look Ryosuke couldn't quite place crossed the other boy's usually serious features, and then suddenly a phone went off.

Kiyama was quick to attend to it, delving one hand into his pocket and snapping his keitai open, while holding Ryosuke in place with his free hand. Ryosuke fought every urge to just slug the guy in the face and be on his way, but he realized that he didn't have to fight very hard. There was something about what Kiyama had just said that intrigued him.

Did he still believe that the other Yankee thought less of him? Was patronizing? Yeah, kind of. He'd always sort of thought Kiyama felt that way about him, and he'd certainly felt stupid being the last one on Kiyama's list of possible people to call for help tonight. That had been a real blow to any sense of pride he had left.
But he also believed in Kiyama's genuineness. He knew the other could probably succeed at feigning interest or concern, with some effort, but he didn't get that impression here. He was still being patronizing, in a way, demanding that Ryosuke tell him what was up, but he was apologizing too. Even if indirectly.

And it made Ryosuke feel bad. He didn't even have the heart or mind to say that, truth be told, neither Wataru nor Nippori knew about his secrets either. And they wouldn't, if he could help it. He'd come close to slipping with them before, but he hadn't. And he wouldn't just come out with it now. He....well, he couldn't. He just couldn't. End of story.

Ryosuke broke out of his thoughts almost the exact same time that Kiyama finished his phone conversation.

"Takenaka," the other explained, and it was enough, though Ryosuke simply stood there, staring at him.

The look was met with Kiyama's fist. The dark Yankee was suddenly in the perfect position to sock him--and sock him good--in the face. Ryosuke realized his eyes were still narrowed in careful concentration as an afterthought of his previous thoughts, but he did nothing to change his expression. In fact, he looked first to the raised fist, then back to Kiyama's face, as if daring the other Yankee to go ahead.

Ryosuke knew he didn't even have to say a thing. Was he scared? Yeah, he wasn't going to lie and pretend he wasn't. He'd never felt that Kiyama had considered him a friend so much as a Yankee acquaintance--comrade, at best--and even though he'd liked to pretend they were a bit more than that, he also knew Kiyama to be true to his words. He knew Kiyama to be fierce. He didn't want to be on the other's bad side, and yet at the same time, he got the impression, even if only from the Yankee's hesitation and shaking fist, that he didn't want to do this. Ryosuke wasn't sure why that was.

Kiyama began to say something, and he appeared to be leaning forward, ready to finally act, when his voice suddenly died out and Ryosuke saw the boy's fist drop. He didn't get much of a chance to even react to the gesture, because Kiyama suddenly shoved him up into the wall again hard. But Ryosuke did nothing to try and stop him or fight back.

The nervous anticipation he had felt, waiting for Kiyama to land that punch, seemed to sink all at once. The feeling that was left was maybe even more uncomfortable than the anger and resentment he'd felt moments before. Like a weird emptiness he couldn't quite place.

Ryosuke felt the weight of the other's fist leave his chest and realized he was free. Kiyama had released his hold on his shirt and was even now beginning to move away. The words that came next seemed irrelevant and unimportant. Especially after what had just happened.

"Page 126, if you care. The math homework."

Ryosuke remained silent.

"I should go and... work on it." The blonde Yankee felt Kiyama's gaze on him, but he'd already turned his own attention elsewhere. He....

"We can do this tomorrow?" A pause. "But before that, you can always... call."

He...couldn't bring himself to look at the other Yankee.

Kiyama was leaving....

Ryosuke stared at the gravel beneath their feet. The first time he'd come to Miura City and moved into this home, he'd carefully looked the place over, comparing it to his home back in Tokyo. The first thing he had noticed was the gravel. Back in Tokyo, the part he'd lived in had had lots of close residences, like this neighborhood. And the gravel path had reminded him of the city--he'd always imagined these parts of Japan having something a little more country-esque. Maybe dirt roads? He wasn't sure what he'd expected, but looking at the ground now, perhaps even the same spot he'd studied when he'd first come here some years back, he felt his heart sink. He didn't think he'd ever end up in this kind of situation. The worst part was that while it wasn't even something so serious--there were far more serious things going on in life, like the thefts or gang fights--and yet his heart and mind couldn't seem to carry the weight of his emotional baggage. Maybe it all boiled down to the fact that he'd never been the best at having that kind of mental weight. In fact, before Kaoru, and before Mizusawa and Hino, he'd always tried to avoid any kind of mental connection that could cause him this kind of strife.

Maybe it was good to tell Kiyama? Maybe Kiyama would really keep hushed, wouldn't make fun of him or think he was joking about Kaoru. Maybe he would keep hold of Mizusawa and Hino's secret too......Handing part of the safeguarding over to Kiyama, in turn, would certainly lessen the burden.

But no. He really couldn't do that.

Kiyama was walking away now, slowly. Ryosuke was still at the same spot, his back against the side wall of his house, his eyes still on the gravel.

"Kiyama."

He hesitated.

"I'm....sorry." He didn't look at Kiyama, still, even as he made his way past him, back for the front door. There was something else he wanted to tell the dark Yankee, but found he was still incapable of coming out with it. Like all his other secrets, some things just remained better left unsaid.

Instead, not pausing to wait and see what Kiyama would do, Ryosuke slipped back inside the home, forgoing all the customs and pleasantries upon entering. Exhausted both physically and mentally, he just went on his way, avoiding his mom, still lounging on the couch, watching the TV, not looking at Naomi, who wished him goodnight as he passed her on the stairs....and he even refrained from looking at anything else too, once he got to his room.

Out went the lights, he climbed back in bed, and though he wasn't entirely sure he could find peace in his sleep again, there was some sense of calm in that he'd apologized. He didn't hate Kiyama. And though he wasn't really sure about how Kiyama was feeling about him.....he didn't think that was hate either. Maybe Kiyama thought he was a dummy or a tad mendoukusai....but he didn't think, at least, Kiyama hated him.

Ryosuke looked forward to the day when he could look back on this event and be grateful it was over and he'd gotten through it. He just hoped that day was soon.

-Closed-