Post by Kiyama Ryuichiro on Oct 14, 2010 21:34:40 GMT -5
OOC: Your reply wasn't bad! >.< Why do our threads together always end so quickly! This is the fourth one already D: Anyhow, I'll just add a little Kiyama angst here, if it's alright... XDDDD
As Kiyama left the yard, he could've sworn that he'd heard Tsukimori say something... but by the time he looked back, the blonde was disappearing into the confines of his home.
Kiyama took a deep breath and looked up to the second floor of the house to see someone's bedroom light lit, the curtains drawn. Had Tsukimori's parents watched? Would they call the police? There was no way they didn't know that their son was already apt to fights, but maybe... they didn't know that Kiyama wasn't just one of those kids, but that kid. They probably didn't; the Tsukimori family had moved into town quite a while after that had happened, so he was lucky that night.
Well, lucky, considering.
Had Tsukimori said anything just now? There was no way that Kiyama could ask the boy to repeat himself... Besides, he probably could guess. "Mind your own business." "Punkass excuse for a yankee." "Go f-ck yourself." Those seemed like things he'd say, befitting of the mood he was in. Those were things he probably deserved.
Would Tsukimori say anything tomorrow? Would Kiyama scrape up the guts fulfill that promise, and fight with his teammate? He could think of about ten different other courses of action that were probably better ideas. Unfortunately those ten other ideas were things he hadn't the courage to do. It would be fists or nothing.
Overcome by a sinking feeling so bad he thought he might just phase through the ground, Kiyama turned around again and got to walking back home at a much slower pace than he'd set off with earlier.
It was nearing midnight when by the time Kiyama made it back to his house. As usual, he'd quickly found himself lost in this thoughts, but it wasn't until he was walking for a time that he noticed how he was lost in the streets, too. He and his damned sense of direction wandered around for a while before he ending up at a convenience store. Finally reaching a familiar spot, he took the opportunity to grab a bit of the usual -- a couple of comics, a few snacks he'd call tomorrow's dinner, and a pack of the smokes he was supposed to have quit for the club's sake.
The shopping helped some, in getting his mind off of kinds of things. Kiyama was the type to get lost in tasks and hated boredom. But... his head was never in a good place when he was at home, and as soon as he opened the front door, he could feel the worries of the world come crashing down on top of him.
Mechanically, he toed off his shoes and flipped on a light switch before trudging over to the kitchen table. He pulled out a chair and tossed his shopping bag on the table top, leaning on it with folded arms.
He sat there for a while, deciding that despite what he'd gone through that evening, he wasn't in the mood to try any math. He wasn't in the mood to try doing anything -- apparently, his attempts would always end up like this. What the hell had he been he thinking? Nothing at all, because threatening Tsukimori, going to his house and making a fool of himself wasn't the result of rational thought. Long story short, Kiyama was a freaking idiot, and that's why he always ended up in these situations. There was a reason he was alone all the time.
Hell, his own mother didn't come home anymore.
Kiyama buried his face in his hands. So many of his own skeletons had fallen out of his closet, but he'd found a crazy group of kids that seemed willing to stand by him anyway. And then he did the things... he always did.
He sighed, another thought occurring to him. If Tsukimori was so intent on keeping whatever secrets he had, he would probably keep mum about what happened that evening. Kiyama's stupid course of actions wouldn't come out to Wataru and Yuuta and the rest of the gymnastics team... to the rest of the school. If all that was true, and even if he'd lost whatever semblance of a relationship he'd had with the gaudy blonde, he would still be able to pretend he was friends with the rest of the lot. And he'd try extra-hard not to hurt anyone this time. As selfish as it was... it was all he could do, right? When he was prone to doing stupid things like that... that was all he could do.
Rising from the table, he grabbed the bag again and went into the kitchen to put the food items away. There was the smallest hint of a spring in his step as he rounded the corner past the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. It was a stupid, wretched little hope, but it was what kept him going from day to day.
It was all he could do, and he hoped that he could keep it up for just a bit longer. The whole tumbling gig was kind of fun, and Kiyama wasn't quite ready to quit yet.
As Kiyama left the yard, he could've sworn that he'd heard Tsukimori say something... but by the time he looked back, the blonde was disappearing into the confines of his home.
Kiyama took a deep breath and looked up to the second floor of the house to see someone's bedroom light lit, the curtains drawn. Had Tsukimori's parents watched? Would they call the police? There was no way they didn't know that their son was already apt to fights, but maybe... they didn't know that Kiyama wasn't just one of those kids, but that kid. They probably didn't; the Tsukimori family had moved into town quite a while after that had happened, so he was lucky that night.
Well, lucky, considering.
Had Tsukimori said anything just now? There was no way that Kiyama could ask the boy to repeat himself... Besides, he probably could guess. "Mind your own business." "Punkass excuse for a yankee." "Go f-ck yourself." Those seemed like things he'd say, befitting of the mood he was in. Those were things he probably deserved.
Would Tsukimori say anything tomorrow? Would Kiyama scrape up the guts fulfill that promise, and fight with his teammate? He could think of about ten different other courses of action that were probably better ideas. Unfortunately those ten other ideas were things he hadn't the courage to do. It would be fists or nothing.
Overcome by a sinking feeling so bad he thought he might just phase through the ground, Kiyama turned around again and got to walking back home at a much slower pace than he'd set off with earlier.
It was nearing midnight when by the time Kiyama made it back to his house. As usual, he'd quickly found himself lost in this thoughts, but it wasn't until he was walking for a time that he noticed how he was lost in the streets, too. He and his damned sense of direction wandered around for a while before he ending up at a convenience store. Finally reaching a familiar spot, he took the opportunity to grab a bit of the usual -- a couple of comics, a few snacks he'd call tomorrow's dinner, and a pack of the smokes he was supposed to have quit for the club's sake.
The shopping helped some, in getting his mind off of kinds of things. Kiyama was the type to get lost in tasks and hated boredom. But... his head was never in a good place when he was at home, and as soon as he opened the front door, he could feel the worries of the world come crashing down on top of him.
Mechanically, he toed off his shoes and flipped on a light switch before trudging over to the kitchen table. He pulled out a chair and tossed his shopping bag on the table top, leaning on it with folded arms.
He sat there for a while, deciding that despite what he'd gone through that evening, he wasn't in the mood to try any math. He wasn't in the mood to try doing anything -- apparently, his attempts would always end up like this. What the hell had he been he thinking? Nothing at all, because threatening Tsukimori, going to his house and making a fool of himself wasn't the result of rational thought. Long story short, Kiyama was a freaking idiot, and that's why he always ended up in these situations. There was a reason he was alone all the time.
Hell, his own mother didn't come home anymore.
Kiyama buried his face in his hands. So many of his own skeletons had fallen out of his closet, but he'd found a crazy group of kids that seemed willing to stand by him anyway. And then he did the things... he always did.
He sighed, another thought occurring to him. If Tsukimori was so intent on keeping whatever secrets he had, he would probably keep mum about what happened that evening. Kiyama's stupid course of actions wouldn't come out to Wataru and Yuuta and the rest of the gymnastics team... to the rest of the school. If all that was true, and even if he'd lost whatever semblance of a relationship he'd had with the gaudy blonde, he would still be able to pretend he was friends with the rest of the lot. And he'd try extra-hard not to hurt anyone this time. As selfish as it was... it was all he could do, right? When he was prone to doing stupid things like that... that was all he could do.
Rising from the table, he grabbed the bag again and went into the kitchen to put the food items away. There was the smallest hint of a spring in his step as he rounded the corner past the living room and up the stairs to his bedroom. It was a stupid, wretched little hope, but it was what kept him going from day to day.
It was all he could do, and he hoped that he could keep it up for just a bit longer. The whole tumbling gig was kind of fun, and Kiyama wasn't quite ready to quit yet.
CLOSED.