Gaining Your Love: a Heisei Kumi fanfic (5/14)
Author: ryosukekoibito
Pairing: Ariyama
Rating: PG-13
Genre:Romance
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone, c'mon guys.
Summary:Long before the Heisei Kumi knew Keito Daiki makes it his mission to make the stunning Yamada Ryosuke fall in love with him, and it's going to be much harger than Daiki expected. So! For anyone who read my Heisei Kumi fic, this is the Ariyama spinoff I said I'd write! And if you didn't read it, please go check it out. The first chapter can be found here.
A/N: Um, sorry it's so late. Life is crazy....BUT I DIDN'T ABANDON THE FIC. I have been writing the whole time I was MIA. Sorry.Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
The wrong door. Chinen peaked his out of his office, his hair was still unbrushed, and his oversized pajamas hung loosely on his tiny frame. Despite this cuteness, when he gestured for Daiki to come over, Daiki felt a nervous shift in his insides. He followed the young boy into the room, Chinen sitting nimbly behind his desk, a cup of warm tea waiting for him, its steam rising into the air in twisting contortions, relaxing the knot in Daiki's stomach as he trained his eyes on its fading tendrils.
"Daiki, Hikaru told me what happened." Chinen announced, eyes meeting Daiki's own.
"What did you do after you found Inoo?" Daiki felt the answer pulled from his lips.
"I tracked down the Wakaba members that beat him up and repaid the favor." Chinen's eyebrows went up.
"With Yamada? He left with you."
"No sir....I...left him behind. He didn't come with me." A flash of comprehension burned through Chinen's eyes. One that made Daiki feel guilty.
"And did you bring Yamada home with you, once you had finished your revenge?" Chinen already knew the answer; Daiki could see it in his eyes.
"No sir."
"You can go now, Daiki. I will not be needing anymore information from you today." Chinen dismissed him suddenly, head lolling back on the chair, eyes shut. Daiki stood, and after a small bow he left the office, and returned to the living room-where Yamada was standing, dripping wet and shivering by the open door.
Yamada didn't look him in the eye; his face covered all most all of the way by his hands, balled into fists, and pressed to his cheeks, obscuring everything except for his eyes. The morning sunlight streamed through the crack in the door, reflecting off of his wet skin and hair in thousands of little lights, blinding. Daiki froze. Yamada stepped out of the light, shutting the door, and the shadow of the room transformed him from the dazzling creature he had appeared to be, and allowed Daiki to fully see what the night had done to him. His pale skin, no longer reflectant, showed the deep purple bags under his puffy red eyes. His lips were bleeding where he had bitten them, and he had left his own fingernail marks on his arms, the blood leaving trails down his arms and dripping off at the elbows, dried once crimson pathways.
Daiki's eyes swept over the damage, and it was as though someone had taken a knife and decided to carve their name into his stomach. He wanted to apologize, to get angry, to fix his mistake. He didn't have the right to do any of that. He ducked his head, and silently left the room, climbing the stairs and ducking into the bathroom, numbly starting the shower and stripping himself of his clothes, briefly noting his swollen lip before hopping into the little cubicle, and shutting the door. The warm water soothed his muscles, the walls around him washed away, and he despaired.
He let the waves of regret and frustration crash over him, and he slumped, watching the water swirl down the drain listlessly.
Daiki blinked, eyes unfocused. He looked around to find himself in a blank whiteness, empty space stretching for an immeasurable distance. He recognized this place; he'd been here once before. Numbly he looked down at his arms and there, as expected, was a red ribbon tied simply around his wrist. He began walking. As he walked, he looked ahead for the sakura tree, and soon he found it. As before, his ribbon began fading to a dull gray the closer to the tree he came, until suddenly the lengths were streaked with a pale peach, small threads of the color forcing their lengths through, until the ribbon was nearly all peach. He froze. This was not the only new thing. Yamada was now crying, shivering and crying, and surrounded and covered in an ugly greenish-yellow paint.
The paint was smeared in his hair and on his clothes and skin, and it had even gotten on the peach colored ribbon that was looped tightly around Yamada's wrist, drowning the gentle peach with the repugnant yellow. As he observed the scene a wave of nauseous regret filled his body, and somehow he understood that the yellow paint was his fault. His cowardice, his anger, his betrayal-was the cause. Daiki ran, but as he drew closer the sakura tree pulled its branches in, wrapping around Yamada. Daiki clawed and pulled, yelling at the tree, but it just tucked Yamada's weeping form closer. The ribbon connecting their wrists drew taught, and began to fray, until only a few small threads connected them. Daiki watched it disintegrate in horror, and finally let out desperate "NO!"-
Daiki's eyes opened with a jolt, and he looked around, disoriented. He was still in the shower, he had fallen, and his head was resting against the wall, his neck at an awkward angle. He adjusted himself on the shower floor, the water still hitting his body warmly, soothing his stiff muscles. He tried to remember when he had fallen asleep. He couldn't. He quickly washed his body, embarrassed, and hopped out of the cubicle. Once he had dried himself and pulled on some boxers he returned to his bedroom, and tiptoed in, his eyes catching on Inoo, who was fast asleep, his black hair all Daiki could see peeking out from his sheets. Standing there in the dimly lit bedroom, Daiki felt the chills of loneliness and fatigue creep over his body. Before he thought about it, he crawled under the covers, and curled up next to Inoo, burying his head under his friend's chin and falling asleep.
Daiki woke with a jolt, as a cold weird feeling in his ear pulled him out of his rest. He sat shaking his head back and forth for a minute, and Inoo giggled, the look on the older boys face announcing him as the culprit.
"Hey there, handsome." Inoo said, grinning at Daiki, and then wincing, the action irritating some of the bruises on his mottled face. Daiki just stuck his finger in his ear, attempting to dispel the weird feeling that still lingered, tingling. He tried not to look at Inoo, just seeing his friend looking so abused was upsetting.
"So, how've you been while I've been under? Everyone's acting funny..." Inoo tacked on the last bit under his breath, barely loud enough for Daiki to hear.
"It's been a crazy night...but first, let me see you-how bad is it?" Daiki forced himself to give Inoo a once over, despite Inoo's slight protests. The bruising was substantial, but they hadn't taken a knife to him, and it wasn't anything permanent. Daiki relaxed a little. He'd done much worse damage to them. After the checkup, Daiki told Inoo all about his night, from the moment he first noticed the Wakaba, up to when Yamada came home. The only part he left out was the dream. Somehow, that felt personal, private, something he wanted to keep to himself. As he talked the playful smile that usually resided on Inoo's pouty lips fell off of his face, and he looked one hundred percent serious. He sat still in the bed, and when Daiki told him about running off to find the Wakaba members Inoo suddenly whacked him on the head.
"What the hell?!" They both said at the same time, and Daiki shot Inoo an incredulous look. What was the thwack for?!
"Why'd you do that-run after them? Why would you...?" Inoo looked strange, the expression on his face a painful looking mixture of happiness and grief, one that Daiki didn't understand. He thought it was obvious.
"You're my best friend. You're important to me. I couldn't let them do something like that to you." Inoo was looking down at his hands, his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks gently, and he sighed, a small smile on his face.
"I'm your best friend." Inoo said, and Daiki nodded. What was the deal? They had established this years ago.
"Okay so, back to the story. You ran off and beat up the Wakaba members, and....?" Inoo prompted, back to his normal self. Daiki let it slide, taking Inoo's change in topic as a sign that he wanted Daiki to forget whatever weirdness Inoo had shown just seconds before, and continue on with his recount of the nights events. Inoo didn't speak again until Daiki had finished, and was sitting there nervously, waiting for a response.
"....you left Yamada alone in a thunderstorm, after he begged you to stay, knowing full well that he was afraid of thunder, to go beat up guys for me...basically." Inoo sighed. "You are no good at this love thing, Dai-chan."
Daiki would have been defensive...but it was true. He buried his face in his hands and let out pathetic sound.
"Any ideas on how I could fix this?" Inoo stroked an imaginary beard, pondering.
"No...but I know where you could get some ideas...have you ever seen a chick flick, Dai-chan?" Inoo broke out in a grin as he uttered the words 'chick flick'. Daiki looked at him as though he had just suggested that he eat rubber.
"No."
"You should."
"Hell no. That's just...no."
The next day Daiki found himself at the movie theatre, cursing silently to himself as he paid for his ticket, and sat down in the crowded theatre, full of teenage girls, accompanied occasionally by the semi-reluctant looking boyfriend. He found himself a seat at the back of the theatre away from the katagi and sat down, trying not to act uncomfortable. The previews began, and the girls stopped chattering. Then, finally, the movie started, just as-tap tap Daiki sent the direction of the tapping his best I'm going to eat you if you touch me again, you bastard face. It was a little boy.
"Dragon-san, Sir!" The boy muttered an urgent tone in his voice. That threw Daiki for a loop. In the dim light of the theatre, he tried to make out the boys face.
"Kishimoto?" Daiki whispered. The boy nodded. Kishimoto was one of the Kumi underlings.
"Morimoto-san sent me. There are rumors of a Wakaba attack-a retaliation for something we did."
Daiki's stomach sank into his spine as he comprehended the message. The Wakaba were coming; he had baited them.
"Go warn the underling's. I'm going to go-thanks, Kishimoto." Daiki said in a rush, already halfway out of the theatre, barely giving the little boy a glance before breaking out into a run, all thoughts of his girly-movie forgotten. As he ran the sun began to set, the shadows lengthening, and the sun's rays seeping across the sky, dying it a blood red. Daiki ran numbly until he reached home, and he felt a weight off of his chest when he realized he couldn't hear any sounds of battle. This weight swung back around and slugged him in the throat when the gunshot cracked through the alley.
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