Chapter Text
Saturday
He could feel the goosebumps trickle along his skin as the water crashed below him, the scent of dew staining the inside of his nostrils, and the world collapsing around him.
It was one week since the hell had occurred. One week since the universe tore his heart in two. And one week since he had lost the only person who seemed to care about him.
He clutched the note in his fist, and he placed it underneath the hunk of metal that rested to his side, assuring himself that it wouldn't be blown in the wind. Assuring himself that he would finally be understood and cared for. For once.
After what had just happened, he couldn’t expect to be treated normally. Who would?
For once in his life, he had something to look forward to.
It was absolutely exhilarating, the feeling that would rush over him, the feeling that he would finally be able to taste the death that he had yearned for for so long.
It rested in every one of his joints. In every one of his veins. The blood was running hot in them, his heart pounding in his chest, the glow of the sun peaking over the horizon, smattering his face with yellow and orange.
The plunge was right there. The opportunity was right there. And he wasn't going to miss it. After all, everything else had already came and left in his life.
Maybe this was a happy ending. Maybe this was his destiny. Maybe this was his future.
After all, he didn't back down from any challenge. That was what he was known for.
He swung one leg over the railing, feeling the cool metal rub against his white pants, seeing the stain of rust left on the pristine fabric. Then his other one, repeating the swift clean motion. Now he was an inch away from the murky depths at the bottom.
His black boots scuffed the iron, leaving scratches on the footwear that he had prided on himself for so long, taking so much time out of his days to clean and polish them. But they'd be forgotten just like him. And he didn't care.
Standing at the true edge, the new world right below him, he cracked a small smile.
And he leaned forward, the air whizzing past him, the blood pounding in his ears.
It was really happening.
Goodbye world.
Goodbye friends.
Goodbye family.
Goodbye, M.O.
M.O.
M.O.
He never told him. He never told him what he felt. He never told him what he experienced whenever his shoulder would rub against his, or when the muscular fingers touched his knee, or when the room smelled like nothing but oil and his cologne.
His eyes widened and he let out a scream as he realized what he had missed. As he realized what he had done.
whathaveidonewhathaveidonewhathaveidone
And he prepared for the cold to seep into his skin. He prepared to make just one more mistake. He prepared for the beginning of the end.
But he didn't feel the air rush anymore.
He didn't feel the sound of the water getting closer.
He didn't feel the stabbing feeling of pressure against his throat.
He wasn't falling.
He was thrown back onto the bridges creaky base, his back resting against the rusted metal, the sky straight up. He wasn't looking at the water anymore, but instead a hazed orange with yellow fading its corners. And he was looking at a face.
And he knew that the face was screaming at him. He could feel his bones rattle from the sheer force of the language.
But he didn't mind.
Cause he was looking at him.
And he felt a tear touch his face and a pair of hands wrap around his waist, and then lips pressing onto his own, and then more cursing and more yelling and more crying.
And the whole time he was silent, just listening, just feeling the dread leave his veins and every part of his previously nerve-wracked body.
He smiled softly as the lavender eyes met his red ones, staring intently, filled with water.
"I can't fucking lose you!"
The Week: Monday
The sunlight poured out of the blinds, showcasing the neat and tidy room that was Kiyotaka Ishimaru’s. The alarm clock with its red block letters said 6:43 AM, and it was met with an agonizing screech from the ruffled up bed.
“No, no, no!” Kiyotaka nervously sweat as he practically jumped straight out of the bed, feeling the rug touch his warm feet. But he couldn’t be bothered to stretch and relish the great sensation that was getting up in the morning. As much as he wanted to, he had better things to tend to.
One of those things being that he was incredibly late.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this late for school. He lived right inside it and all, how could he possibly allow himself to sleep in so much?
It being almost seven sent enough frenzied shivers down his spine, but now Kiyotaka had to deal with only five minutes worth of getting ready.
He didn’t even track how long he had brushed his teeth for. As soon as he had spurted out an uneven line of the sticky fluoride on the bristles, he had hastily rubbed it on his teeth, the whole time staring at his wristwatch that he had left in the bathroom from the night before.
For just a moment, he felt lost in thought. Kiyotaka has left the wristwatch there due to the fact that his best friend Mondo Owada was there last night, and they struggled over the algebra homework that made Mondo want to blow his brains out.
It hadn’t been that much of a vacation for Kiyotaka either, and by the time they had finished the sheet, it was crumpled with eraser marks and the paper was thin from rubbing. They decided to scrap the idea and just get pizza from the cafeteria instead.
And Kiyotaka had left his watch there when he went to go wash his hands of the graphite stains that were on his palms, slowly removing it and admiring the slow moving hand that trailed across the numbers.
And he hadn’t bothered to put it back on, because he was extremely exhausted after a long night of homework, pizza, and laughter with his best friend. His bro. His kyoudai.
Kiyotaka thought back to the journal that rested in his backpack, and he grew fuzzy just thinking of the words that were scrawled onto each page of the paper, a small bird imprinted onto the right hand corner of each page.
He had bought the booklet on an impulse when he was at the bookstore with Mondo, and he had pointed out the bird that was woven into the hard leather cover. Kiyotaka hadn’t hesitated to purchase it, because if Mondo talked about it, it was bound to be good.
That journal had contained so many details and secrets about Kiyotaka’s life. He preferred to refrain from calling it a diary, as it was more a book to write about his best friend, the man that had made his life great all over again.
Each page was filled with words that described just how Kiyotaka felt about Mondo. Just how his knees weakened whenever he’d stare at him in gym class. Just how the lava spread throughout his abdomen whenever he would flash a grin at him. Just how his eyes lit up whenever he saw Mondo surprise him with something, anything.
God, he don’t know what he would do if anyone took it.
He hurriedly spat out the toothpaste into the sink, rinsing his mouth with the warm tap water before splashing some of it on his face.
Wiping his cheeks with the towel, Kiyotaka opened the door and walked to the wardrobe that was standing upright to his left, throwing the doors open and ripping one of his many white uniforms off a hanger, throwing it over himself. He would usually take a shower, but he knew he wasn’t able to take even one minute in there without being deathly late.
Throwing the pristine white clothing over his muscular pale body, he sighed as he sat down on the bed, staring down at the black shoes with those white laces protruding out at every knot.
Kiyotaka loved those boots so much, they were something that just brought everything together. And he loved them because of how much Mondo would compliment them, yeah, that was another thing.
He hastily pulled the boots up over his feet, still in the socks he had slept in last night. That night still felt like a dream, minus the hideous homework situation, because he had basically fallen asleep in Mondo’s arms. Mondo had left for the night, of course, but he could still smell the musky scent of the shampoo he used on his own body.
He made a mental note to log that in his journal. Another great thing he felt whenever he was around him.
He finished dressing, and ran a comb that was on his nightstand through his unkept hair, pulling it up into those signature spikes before throwing it back on the bed and grabbing his bag.
Kiyotaka would decide to write in it during gym class, when they were changing in the locker room. Sometimes he was a little late to lunch due to the fact that he would scrawl into that little black journal for so long, and Kiyotaka loved how Mondo would pry at him whenever he entered the cafeteria, saying that he couldn’t believe that he was late.
That’s another reason why he decided to write in that beautiful little book.
Throwing his book bag over his shoulder, he almost kicked the door down, praying to God himself that he didn’t leave a hole in the wall. Slamming it behind him, he checked the wristwatch that he had put on when he was done brushing his teeth. It was 6:57 AM.
Class started at seven, so he had precisely three minutes to get there. But he knew it was more than enough. Kiyotaka was looking forward to seeing Mondo’s lavender eyes during History, that’s for sure.
Bolting down the hallway, biting his lip with intent, he could hear the black boots of his clatter against the hallway. If he just kept on running and running and running, he knew he could make it. He knew he could stare into his kyoudai’s eyes for the first time today. That fueled him even more.
Rushing past the dorms with such ferocity, he almost threw someone over completely, slamming into them in an almost comical fashion.
“Ouf!”
Kiyotaka landed right on his backside, lucky he didn’t hit his head, and he just stared down at his feet breathless for a few seconds before looking back up. He was about to apologize profusely for running so fast, something that he never did in his entire life while in the halls, when he realized that the person that he bumped into was none other than Yasuhiro Hagakure.
He was sprawled on the floor, legs at an awkward angle, his bag swept a few feet away from the two of them. He ran a hand through his crazy brown hair and sighed in exasperation.
“Ah! Watch where you’re going next time...” Yasuhiro’s voice trailed off slowly as he looked up, staring into Kiyotaka’s red eyes, and he widened his own rather quickly. “O-Oh. It’s you.”
Kiyotaka scratched the back of his head awkwardly, and he laughed nervously. “Yeah, I’m extremely sorry that I bumped into you with such a manner, Hiro! I shouldn’t run in the halls, that was my mistake. My apologies!”
Kiyotaka shot straight up and saluted gingerly, scraping his book bag up from the hallway floor. He was about to bow one more time and walk off when he realized that the all to familiar clunk of his journal clashing against his computer in his bag wasn’t there anymore. It was always there when he picked it up. So why couldn’t he hear it anymore?
Kiyotaka didn’t want to be a nervous wreck, but he couldn’t help but feel a shiver run up his neck. Sweat formed at the top of his forehead as he slowly put a hand to his bag, feeling for the rectangular shape of the journal, but it wasn’t there either.
And then the sounds of students chattering hit his ears, and he slowly turned his head to his right to see something that would mark the beginning of the end.
“Uh, you probably didn’t put it there but, check the bulletin board.” Yasuhiro turned his eyes to the floor, and he readjusted his own bag, fastening it over his shoulders before rushing off in the opposite direction to his economics class, leaving Kiyotaka in the dust.
Fastening his eyes on the group of students, his hand slowly left the grasp of his book bag, and Kiyotaka could feel his legs carrying him to the cluster of people giggling, mouths agape, staring in shock.
Each clack of his boots against the tiled hallway sounded like a deafening echo, and people turned to him. Their eyes brows were raised, their faces in disgust, and scoffs were heard from every direction as he dragged himself to the board.
He noticed a familiar head staring at the board. An all too familiar head. One with thin black hair and an orange pompadour. The head that was reading the letter in front of him.
Kiyotaka’s heart dropped to his stomach as he looked up and down frantically, and as if it was on queue, the person turned around. It was Mondo, his jacket swinging with his abrupt motion, and their eyes met.
Mondo had an expression that Kiyotaka couldn’t quite make out. Was it confusion? Happiness? Hatred? Disgust? He didn’t have enough time to figure it out. however, because Mondo ran off, his eyes sliding away from Kiyotaka’s gaze.
“Mondo!” Kiyotaka cried out, and he was about to chase after him when a circle began to form around him, and it was like he was being pushed to the board, the head disappearing from his area of vision. His head snapped back to the area in front of him, and he heard insults darting around the room.
But Kiyotaka couldn’t discern them because the only thing that was in his ears was a frantic buzzing. A buzzing that only grew louder and louder, the blood pounding in his ears, his fists shaking, sweat dripping down his face, tears forming in his eyes.
Because right there on the school bulletin board, was the very first entry from his journal. The very first confession of his feelings for Mondo. The very first sensation that he had felt in his body, and now it was ready for the entire world to see.
It’s the first time I’m writing in a journal like this. I only bought it because of Mondo, but I don’t regret it in the slightest. After all, it’s a nice way to vent out my frustrations. And a lot of them are about him, so it’s good to write them out somehow.
I bought it because of Mondo, so I think it’s only right that I write only about him in this thing. I really do like him, and that’s kind of abrupt, but this is in pen so there’s no going back anyways.
But I do like him. I might even love him. I really might. Because whenever I’m with him, I just feel, well, different. Like a strange different. Like I’m always freezing up, or breaking down, or begging for him to caress me.
That sounds way too inappropriate for me to be writing!
But we hold each other sometimes. Just as friends, really, and maybe he doesn’t feel anything else, but I do. It’s really nice to just sit around with him and talk like I’m myself again.
I don’t need to always be so nervous around him. He’s the one true friend. He’s kinda like my light and hope, and I know how awkward that must sound, but it’s true.
Sometimes I think of what his lips would feel like against mine. Would they be chapped? Or would they be soft? I wouldn’t really care either way, because it’s still Mondo, and I still love him. But I wouldn’t mind if he kissed me, I’m too scared to do it myself.
I hope he does it some day, because I don’t want to graduate without me at least giving him a small glimpse of what I really think of him. I think a lot of stuff about him. Because I love him.
I need to get back to my homework, this is going to tire out my hand too much.
Signed
Kiyotaka Ishimaru
Everything around him crumpled, everything around him faded, and he didn’t even realize that he’d been screaming until he heard his own voice fading away. The next thing he knew, he had curled up into a heap on the floor, tears spilling out of his eyes, dread and hate moving throughout every part of his soul, and he scratched the floor in agony as all his emotions came rushing out of him.
He didn’t even care that everyone was staring at him like he had three heads, or that a crowd had formed around him. He didn’t care that people were shaking him, trying to get him to get up, and he didn’t care that Mondo was standing right there, a look of sheer shock on his face.
Mondo.
He was right there.
Standing in front of him.
Kiyotaka shakily lifted his head, the steady stream of tears making their way down his cheeks, dripping down his chin and splattering across the cold tile floor. Everything was gone except Mondo’s face and the pounding of blood in his own ears, and he heard broken sentences come from the biker who was now kneeling on the floor in front of him.
He didn’t want to talk to him anymore. He didn’t want to look at him anymore. All he wanted to do was disappear and escape this cruel world.
Who would do this? Who does this? Who steals his journal and then proceeds to paste his secrets for everybody to see? How would they even do that? Do they hate him that much? He didn’t even do anything, what could he have done?
What the hell could he have done?
What the fuck could he have done?
”WHAT THE FUCK DID I DO?”
The scream echoed throughout the halls, rattling Kiyotaka’s bones, and he noticed how shocked everyone around him was. How freakish he probably looked, screaming on the floor, cursing. That was so unlike him. But he couldn’t even care about that.
He felt a muscular hand grasp his shoulder, shaking him. And his tear stricken eyes met quavering lavender ones. Mondo was trying to get him to stand up, desperately pulling at his shoulders, but it was no use.
Kiyotaka didn’t even mind that now all of his friends were crowded around him, or that Mondo was practically screaming in his face to stand up, or that his shoulders were being grasped with such force.
He only registered how stupid he really looked when he was lifted to his feet by Mondo and Leon Kuwata, and Kiyotaka just stood there, every bone in his body shaking. He had ceased his screaming, lowering his voice to agonized growls, and he screwed his eyes shut.
The tears ran down his face and hit his boots, ruining the perfect polish job he did after school yesterday. They smattered across the black leather and then the tile floor, and Kiyotaka hastily opened his eyes again to scoop his bag up from the floor.
He had half a mind to just go back to his dorm and never come back, just stay there for the rest of time. But a poking in his waist prevented him, and as Kiyotaka turned around to see where the poking was coming from;
Well, speak of the devil.
It was of course Mondo, and he looked extremely concerned, almost afraid. But not afraid of Kiyotaka, rather afraid for him. And that’s when the buzzing subsided and he heard the first official sentence since the beginning of his downfall.
“Taka, fuck man, stop crying!"
Mondo's face was stricken with worry and anguish, and he shook Kiyotaka, trying to get him to listen. But Kiyotaka knew he couldn't listen. Because everything that he had ever thought about Mondo was in that journal that somebody had. Just how much more of this would happen to him? He never deserved this.
Kiyotaka was such a good student. He never got anything below an A. He was so smart. He was so nice. He was so kind. He couldn't remember the last time he had said something mean to anybody, so why did someone do such an awful thing to him?
He couldn't understand.
But he understood that he had to get to class before any of this continued.
Kiyotaka shifted the bag onto his shoulder and sharply turned around, pushing everyone out of the way roughly as he exited the big crowd, ignoring all the stares at the back of his head. Mondo stood there, shocked, as he watched his best friend speed walk away and disappear into the depths of the halls.