Keigo and Mizuiro Thing
It hit Keigo suddenly one day. The light was shining in the classroom window just right and Mizuiro was looking back at him in a certain way and he realized that Mizuiro was cute.
Keigo could live with that idea. It was an objective opinion. All of Mizuiro's girlfriends had to see something in him, didn't they? There was nothing strange at all about recognizing that your best friend was cute when he was, in fact, cute.
Walking up the stairs behind Mizuiro the next day and suddenly realizing that his friend had a nice ass was a bit more troubling. This, too, could be explained away. Keigo only looked accidentally because it was at his eye level. He wasn't checking him out! Deciding that the butt in front of him was nice was just making a decision on the aesthetics of something, like deciding whether he liked a painting or not.
Later that week, they were all eating lunch on the roof when Mizuiro got a bit of pudding on the side of his mouth. Instead of thinking that he should hand his friend a napkin, for a split second, Keigo wanted to lick it off.
"Why are you looking at me like that, Asano-san? Do I have something on my face?"
Keigo was too traumatized to even complain about the formal speech. This time, the thought couldn't be explained away. Guys weren't supposed to think about other guys that way. At least, not unless you were the kind of guy who joined the Handicrafts Club.
Realizing that his friend was still staring at him, he waved his hand at Mizuiro's face and then worried if he had put too much wrist into the gesture.
It got worse and worse each day. He couldn't look away when Mizuiro ran his hand through his hair. His heart beat faster with each laugh. He was going crazy. He liked girls, damn it! Girls with soft hair, bright smiles, great legs and big boobs. Not guys!
Keigo made a point of staring at cute girls for one entire day. By the end of the day, he had been slapped four times. He called it a success. Until the following morning, when Mizuiro tapped his mechanical pencil against his mouth during math. The quadratic equation drifted away to be replaced by thoughts of those lips pressed against his. Would he kiss softly or with force? Would he use tongue right away or wait? Keigo groaned and buried his head in his arms. He was doomed.
Keigo couldn't go on like this. He had to do something.
He saw his chance one morning a few days later. He and Mizuiro were walking to class, talking about a TV show. It was so normal, Keigo could almost cry. The supply closet was coming up, and they were alone in the hallway. Keigo suddenly opened the closet door, grabbed Mizuiro by the wrist and dragged him inside.
"What are you doing, Asano-san? We're going to be late for class," Mizuiro protested as he stumbled into the closet.
Keigo turned the light on and shut the door. "Mizuiro, I-" He swallowed hard and started again. Why had he turned the light on? This would have been a lot easier to say without actually seeing him. "Mizuiro, I think I'm attracted to you. I can't get you off of my mind. I can't stop looking at you." He averted his eyes for this next admission. "I had a dream about you last night." Oh, please don't ask me what that dream was about, he silently begged.
He steeled himself for the reaction. He expected revulsion, maybe laughter. He certainly wasn't expecting complete calm and a small sigh.
"Oh. I was afraid this might happen. In the same way that Ichigo's spiritual abilities have made so many of us here in this school spiritually aware, no man can spend too much time around me and remain immune to my natural cuteness. You've performed admirably, Keigo, by lasting all these years since middle school."
"Really?!" It was like a weight had lifted off of his soul. It wasn't his fault! It was Mizuiro's super-shota powers that were to blame!
"Of course, not really." Mizuiro peered at Keigo with a concerned look on his face. "Are you feeling OK, Asano-san? Would you like to visit the school nurse?" He placed a hand on Keigo's forehead.
No. He wasn't going to stand for that. Keigo flung the hand away, leaned in and kissed Mizuiro. His lips were still and unyielding. That answered that question.
The closet door slammed open. "Asano-kun, Kojima-kun, do you need some assistance?"
"K-Kuchiki-san?"
There was a flash of light.
"Asano-kun! Kojima-kun! Thank you so much so helping me pick up my books after my bag spilled all over the hallway. I'm sorry it made you late for class." Rukia bowed deeply, a carefully constructed look of sorrow on her face.
They looked at her blankly. "Of course, Kuchiki-san. Anything for you, " Mizuiro turned on the charm. Keigo had the feeling that he was forgetting something important. Something that had happened recently.
Ichigo appeared beside her as she watched the two walk back to class in a daze. "What's your game? How many times are you going to erase my friends' memories? They didn't even see shinigami business this time. And you don't even have any books with you."
"Some things are better left undiscovered and untried." She put on her biggest, fakest smile. "Now, Kurosaki-kun, what kind of example are you setting for the class, arriving so late? What would your father say?" She ducked the swipe he took at her, and the two ran to catch up with Keigo and Mizuiro.