[fic] Ecology of the African Savanna, chapter four
Title: Ecology of the African Savanna. Chapter Four: The Emergence of the Elephant
Pairing: Koyama/Shige/Ryo, and good ol' Pi thrown in somewhere.
Author: ezyls_girl .
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Profanity, certainly, and mentionings of drugs and lubricant. Yamapi is involved. XD.
Summary: And so the predator lunges.
School!AU, and Shige-centric.
Notes: Late 'cause I've been running track and my ideas are all craptastic. Don't shoot just yet! There's more!
PART I ----- / prologue / chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four /
PART II ---- / chapter one / chapter two / chapter three /
“Clubs are the totalitarian governments to drinking and drugs and all things vile,” he said, flipping a page in the textbook.
“No, they’re not,” Koyama snapped. He was in a very bad mood and Shige had been trying to coax him into the math homework all afternoon.
“That equation’s for an ellipse, not a hyperbola.” He added, while Koyama crossed out his hastily-sketched graph.
“We’re going. I don’t care.”
“You’ll get yourself killed.”
Koyama ignored him.
∞∞
He knew that the club had been a bad idea. Clubs were always bad ideas. They tarnished the mind of the younger generation and venerated the absoluteness of sex before seventeen and death before college. Clubs, in his mind, were just as unholy and uncultured as the burning of books, the innuendo-ed equivalent to murdering someone with an axe. A single minute in a club could result in a pill dissolved in a drink or some idiot trying to strip out of their clothing right in front of you.
And of course, in the first ten minutes Koyama had somehow managed to get high off of nothing. Maybe it was the infectious spirit in the air and the melded, strobe-colored mass of bodies in the middle of it all, or maybe he hadn’t been cautious enough with the vending machine from which he had reluctantly purchased a bottle of water, but he had a sneaking suspicion that just the idea of being in the same club as Nishikido could make Koyama tipsy. At any rate, it certainly hadn’t any problem with the entrance. Ryo’s name was every bit of an open sesame.
They found a booth. He decided that it was prudent to stay seated the entire night and risk nothing. Several times, Koyama made to get up and wander around, but he pulled his friend down and cinched an arm around Koyama’s. Oh, God, why did he even let Koyama come here? He must’ve inhaled the wrong fumes in chemistry class today.
Two minutes into a V6 song, the man of the hour shows up. He notices, with a little twist in his stomach, that Ryo’s acting a thousand times nicer than before, but the fire in his eyes that had been in the library, that predatory gaze-it was still there and it was picking up the debris in a storm faster than anything he had ever seen.
“So you guys came,” Ryo grinned, plopping down on the seat next to Koyama, who immediately squirmed and turned fire engine red. He shrugged and waited for Koyama to speak, lighting a cigarette. It was his first one all day.
“Yeah…we came…I think I need to throw up…” Koyama squeaked, and promptly ran off to the bathrooms.
“Is there something wrong with him?” Ryo sounded nonchalant.
“He’s just sick.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. Why do you care?”
Ryo ignored his question and scooted forward on the booth, “He doesn’t really smoke, does he? I heard him boasting about smoking cigarettes. Girls don’t smoke Marlboros.”
“He’s not a girl. And Koyama doesn’t boast,” he said.
“Does he smoke?” Nishikido pressed.
He wanted to lie, but Ryo’s eyes were piercing holes in his face and he figured it wouldn’t be a big deal, slowly shaking his head.
Ryo laughed, the sound strangely magnified by the enclosure of the two booth seats, and he was suddenly aware of the distance -or lack of distance- between their bodies; barely a few inches and Nishikido would have him backed against the dirty concrete wall. The predator had trapped him.
“He likes me, doesn’t he?”
He couldn’t stop himself from nodding, the bitterness welling up in his throat.
“I remember you,” Ryo’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re that kid who punched me in the library.”
He felt fear. The smoke in his fingers sizzled dead.
“That was two years ago, wasn’t it? You had me down on the ground, I remember. Now you stink of smoke.” His mouth was centimeters away. He could sniff out Ryo’s breath, sour from all the beer.
“But I like it.” Ryo said, more to himself than to Shige, and a split second before it occurred, he realized what was about to happen, then the predator had lunged, and he couldn’t avoid it, and before he knew what was going on he had been pushed back against the wall and Ryo’s mouth had closed over his.
Fuck.
He’d liked to say it was disgusting. He’d loved to describe how sloppy and ugly it was to be kissing a buzzed-sober-Nishikido in a swanky club with terrible lighting and sweaty dancers groping each other in the dark, but it was because it wasn’t, because it was hot and searing and absolutely earth-shattering-he couldn’t. Ryo’s lips were rough and dimpled, traces of a mustache at the top and sticky from sweat at the bottom. They pushed into his lips, beguiling and careless at the same time, and he felt a pool of hot liquid rush past his stomach and down towards his abdomen. For a fleeting moment, he imagined slipping his tongue into Ryo’s mouth and running a finger through Ryo’s hair.
No. Wait. What the hell was he thinking?
It took ten seconds before he had assessed the situation and pushed the boy off of him, gasping for breath.
“You-You’re sick.”
Ryo smirked. “Like you totally didn’t love that, you faggot.”
“You’re fucking insane.” He fumbled for another cigarette. His fingers were shaking.
“I’m not the only one.” Ryo licked his lips, classic predatory stance, “I want you.”
“Well, stop dreaming. You’ll never have me.”
“I will.”
He grew reckless in that minute, and he thought of Kei-chan and suddenly felt a mountain of guilt flip itself onto his back, he had just kissed Nishikido Ryo, “Then do something for me.”
“What do I have to do, then?” Ryo leaned forward again, but this time he was too quick for him, and he backed away before Ryo could do anything.
“I…” he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, Koyama was emerging from the bathroom, ashen-faced and disoriented. There was a man beside the bathroom door who was staring at his sickened friend with interest. He looked rather shifty in a leather jacket and hideous cowboy boots. The guy touched Koyama on the shoulder, asking something, and Shige swallowed. Oh, just lovely, Koyama’s going to get molested if he didn’t do something quick…
Focus, he thought. Focus and we’ll get out of here alive.
“I want you to go out with Koyama.”
Ryo frowned, “What the hell are you trying to pull?”
“It’s because…I-I love him,” he muttered, admitting it to someone for the first time in his life, “and he likes you.”
There was a pause, while Nishikido stared, unblinkingly at him, bemusement etched in every line of his face, “Okay.”
“Make him happy. He likes you. Make him feel loved-” because he couldn’t “-and promise me you’ll never sleep with him.”
“What, so you can sex him up for yourself?” Ryo’s smile was jarring.
“No. Because it’ll hurt him.” He bit his lip.
“I was kidding,” Ryo said.
“Were you?”
“Well, it’ll be worth it,” Ryo said, so smug that there had to be something wrong, “You’re going to have to pay for this, you know.”
There was silence (or as much silence as was possible within a club full of dancing hooligans and people running on highs). He tried his best to glower.
“Ne, Ryo-chan, is this your new boyfriend? You should take care of him! I think he’s got stomach flu.” A gleeful-sounding voice said above the two of them, the words making Ryo jump back a couple of feet (he breathed a sigh of relief), curse loudly, and slam his hand into the table-then Koyama’s limp body had been dumped unceremoniously onto his lap, looking faintly green and slightly singed from a fire.
“The bathroom was on fire,” Koyama’s salvager explained in response to his horrified expression, “Someone didn’t clean up their lube and it caught on fire when some idiot tried lighting it with their bong. The world is full of crazy arsonists-!”
Ryo growled, “What the hell are you doing here, Pi?”
Pi went on, impervious to his demand, “He’s kinda cute, ne. Are you sure you want him, Ryo-chan? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind taking him to my-”
A glare was directed at Ryo, who responded by shoving his friend out of the booth with a loud grunt.
“He’s mine, Pi. Go away, you ugly drug trafficker. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Selling cheap weed to minors again?”
“Hey! It’s good money!” The boy retorted, slapping Ryo’s back with a childish pout, “And who’re you?” He looked up from mopping Koyama’s wet forehead to see a finger pointed at him; it was the oddly dressed man who had been hanging around the bathrooms earlier.
“That’s Shige.” Ryo said, “and don’t you dare start formulating perverted sexual fantasies with him, either.”
Pi winked at him, “I’ll try not to. But Ryo-chan makes it really difficult, doesn’t it? He’s so sexy. Tell me, Shige-kun, do you like cosplaying?”
“I hope you get slaughtered by the cops one day,” Ryo scowled.
“Oh, you don’t mean that!”
“I do! And when you die I’ll dance on your grave!”
“Not before I rise from my coffin and strangle you! No deus ex machina for you, my friend.”
Deus ex machina? What a well-versed drug-dealer, he thought, as he watched them continue bickering, the two boys throwing around casual insults like an old married couple, and then remembered Koyama, who was beginning to stir in his lap.
“I think we should go,” he mumbled.
“You must be tired hanging around with him, ne. I’ll walk you home,” Yamapi offered.
He declined as politely as he could, and hauled Koyama back home on the public bus. This will certainly be an experience he would never repeat. His head was ringing and his nostrils were sick of the dirty smell of the club. Ryo’s alcohol breath lingered on his mouth and he felt a strong desire of washing it out with a bar of window soap. All the while, Pi’s grin kept showing up every time he closed his eyes.
And he must’ve known it, even then, though he refused to believe it and convinced himself otherwise afterwards that it wasn’t so and that it had turned-out that way simply because it had.
Because, quite incontrovertibly, that had been the night that commenced the destruction of Koyama Keiichiro.
I have run out of snark so I'm alternating between random things and perverted things. Has anyone seen my stalker?
Shamelessly advertising: This is my new PJO commy! --> percylicious . Please visit~
Pairing: Koyama/Shige/Ryo, and good ol' Pi thrown in somewhere.
Author: ezyls_girl .
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Profanity, certainly, and mentionings of drugs and lubricant. Yamapi is involved. XD.
Summary: And so the predator lunges.
School!AU, and Shige-centric.
Notes: Late 'cause I've been running track and my ideas are all craptastic. Don't shoot just yet! There's more!
PART I ----- / prologue / chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four /
PART II ---- / chapter one / chapter two / chapter three /
“Clubs are the totalitarian governments to drinking and drugs and all things vile,” he said, flipping a page in the textbook.
“No, they’re not,” Koyama snapped. He was in a very bad mood and Shige had been trying to coax him into the math homework all afternoon.
“That equation’s for an ellipse, not a hyperbola.” He added, while Koyama crossed out his hastily-sketched graph.
“We’re going. I don’t care.”
“You’ll get yourself killed.”
Koyama ignored him.
∞∞
He knew that the club had been a bad idea. Clubs were always bad ideas. They tarnished the mind of the younger generation and venerated the absoluteness of sex before seventeen and death before college. Clubs, in his mind, were just as unholy and uncultured as the burning of books, the innuendo-ed equivalent to murdering someone with an axe. A single minute in a club could result in a pill dissolved in a drink or some idiot trying to strip out of their clothing right in front of you.
And of course, in the first ten minutes Koyama had somehow managed to get high off of nothing. Maybe it was the infectious spirit in the air and the melded, strobe-colored mass of bodies in the middle of it all, or maybe he hadn’t been cautious enough with the vending machine from which he had reluctantly purchased a bottle of water, but he had a sneaking suspicion that just the idea of being in the same club as Nishikido could make Koyama tipsy. At any rate, it certainly hadn’t any problem with the entrance. Ryo’s name was every bit of an open sesame.
They found a booth. He decided that it was prudent to stay seated the entire night and risk nothing. Several times, Koyama made to get up and wander around, but he pulled his friend down and cinched an arm around Koyama’s. Oh, God, why did he even let Koyama come here? He must’ve inhaled the wrong fumes in chemistry class today.
Two minutes into a V6 song, the man of the hour shows up. He notices, with a little twist in his stomach, that Ryo’s acting a thousand times nicer than before, but the fire in his eyes that had been in the library, that predatory gaze-it was still there and it was picking up the debris in a storm faster than anything he had ever seen.
“So you guys came,” Ryo grinned, plopping down on the seat next to Koyama, who immediately squirmed and turned fire engine red. He shrugged and waited for Koyama to speak, lighting a cigarette. It was his first one all day.
“Yeah…we came…I think I need to throw up…” Koyama squeaked, and promptly ran off to the bathrooms.
“Is there something wrong with him?” Ryo sounded nonchalant.
“He’s just sick.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. Why do you care?”
Ryo ignored his question and scooted forward on the booth, “He doesn’t really smoke, does he? I heard him boasting about smoking cigarettes. Girls don’t smoke Marlboros.”
“He’s not a girl. And Koyama doesn’t boast,” he said.
“Does he smoke?” Nishikido pressed.
He wanted to lie, but Ryo’s eyes were piercing holes in his face and he figured it wouldn’t be a big deal, slowly shaking his head.
Ryo laughed, the sound strangely magnified by the enclosure of the two booth seats, and he was suddenly aware of the distance -or lack of distance- between their bodies; barely a few inches and Nishikido would have him backed against the dirty concrete wall. The predator had trapped him.
“He likes me, doesn’t he?”
He couldn’t stop himself from nodding, the bitterness welling up in his throat.
“I remember you,” Ryo’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re that kid who punched me in the library.”
He felt fear. The smoke in his fingers sizzled dead.
“That was two years ago, wasn’t it? You had me down on the ground, I remember. Now you stink of smoke.” His mouth was centimeters away. He could sniff out Ryo’s breath, sour from all the beer.
“But I like it.” Ryo said, more to himself than to Shige, and a split second before it occurred, he realized what was about to happen, then the predator had lunged, and he couldn’t avoid it, and before he knew what was going on he had been pushed back against the wall and Ryo’s mouth had closed over his.
Fuck.
He’d liked to say it was disgusting. He’d loved to describe how sloppy and ugly it was to be kissing a buzzed-sober-Nishikido in a swanky club with terrible lighting and sweaty dancers groping each other in the dark, but it was because it wasn’t, because it was hot and searing and absolutely earth-shattering-he couldn’t. Ryo’s lips were rough and dimpled, traces of a mustache at the top and sticky from sweat at the bottom. They pushed into his lips, beguiling and careless at the same time, and he felt a pool of hot liquid rush past his stomach and down towards his abdomen. For a fleeting moment, he imagined slipping his tongue into Ryo’s mouth and running a finger through Ryo’s hair.
No. Wait. What the hell was he thinking?
It took ten seconds before he had assessed the situation and pushed the boy off of him, gasping for breath.
“You-You’re sick.”
Ryo smirked. “Like you totally didn’t love that, you faggot.”
“You’re fucking insane.” He fumbled for another cigarette. His fingers were shaking.
“I’m not the only one.” Ryo licked his lips, classic predatory stance, “I want you.”
“Well, stop dreaming. You’ll never have me.”
“I will.”
He grew reckless in that minute, and he thought of Kei-chan and suddenly felt a mountain of guilt flip itself onto his back, he had just kissed Nishikido Ryo, “Then do something for me.”
“What do I have to do, then?” Ryo leaned forward again, but this time he was too quick for him, and he backed away before Ryo could do anything.
“I…” he stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, Koyama was emerging from the bathroom, ashen-faced and disoriented. There was a man beside the bathroom door who was staring at his sickened friend with interest. He looked rather shifty in a leather jacket and hideous cowboy boots. The guy touched Koyama on the shoulder, asking something, and Shige swallowed. Oh, just lovely, Koyama’s going to get molested if he didn’t do something quick…
Focus, he thought. Focus and we’ll get out of here alive.
“I want you to go out with Koyama.”
Ryo frowned, “What the hell are you trying to pull?”
“It’s because…I-I love him,” he muttered, admitting it to someone for the first time in his life, “and he likes you.”
There was a pause, while Nishikido stared, unblinkingly at him, bemusement etched in every line of his face, “Okay.”
“Make him happy. He likes you. Make him feel loved-” because he couldn’t “-and promise me you’ll never sleep with him.”
“What, so you can sex him up for yourself?” Ryo’s smile was jarring.
“No. Because it’ll hurt him.” He bit his lip.
“I was kidding,” Ryo said.
“Were you?”
“Well, it’ll be worth it,” Ryo said, so smug that there had to be something wrong, “You’re going to have to pay for this, you know.”
There was silence (or as much silence as was possible within a club full of dancing hooligans and people running on highs). He tried his best to glower.
“Ne, Ryo-chan, is this your new boyfriend? You should take care of him! I think he’s got stomach flu.” A gleeful-sounding voice said above the two of them, the words making Ryo jump back a couple of feet (he breathed a sigh of relief), curse loudly, and slam his hand into the table-then Koyama’s limp body had been dumped unceremoniously onto his lap, looking faintly green and slightly singed from a fire.
“The bathroom was on fire,” Koyama’s salvager explained in response to his horrified expression, “Someone didn’t clean up their lube and it caught on fire when some idiot tried lighting it with their bong. The world is full of crazy arsonists-!”
Ryo growled, “What the hell are you doing here, Pi?”
Pi went on, impervious to his demand, “He’s kinda cute, ne. Are you sure you want him, Ryo-chan? ‘Cause I wouldn’t mind taking him to my-”
A glare was directed at Ryo, who responded by shoving his friend out of the booth with a loud grunt.
“He’s mine, Pi. Go away, you ugly drug trafficker. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Selling cheap weed to minors again?”
“Hey! It’s good money!” The boy retorted, slapping Ryo’s back with a childish pout, “And who’re you?” He looked up from mopping Koyama’s wet forehead to see a finger pointed at him; it was the oddly dressed man who had been hanging around the bathrooms earlier.
“That’s Shige.” Ryo said, “and don’t you dare start formulating perverted sexual fantasies with him, either.”
Pi winked at him, “I’ll try not to. But Ryo-chan makes it really difficult, doesn’t it? He’s so sexy. Tell me, Shige-kun, do you like cosplaying?”
“I hope you get slaughtered by the cops one day,” Ryo scowled.
“Oh, you don’t mean that!”
“I do! And when you die I’ll dance on your grave!”
“Not before I rise from my coffin and strangle you! No deus ex machina for you, my friend.”
Deus ex machina? What a well-versed drug-dealer, he thought, as he watched them continue bickering, the two boys throwing around casual insults like an old married couple, and then remembered Koyama, who was beginning to stir in his lap.
“I think we should go,” he mumbled.
“You must be tired hanging around with him, ne. I’ll walk you home,” Yamapi offered.
He declined as politely as he could, and hauled Koyama back home on the public bus. This will certainly be an experience he would never repeat. His head was ringing and his nostrils were sick of the dirty smell of the club. Ryo’s alcohol breath lingered on his mouth and he felt a strong desire of washing it out with a bar of window soap. All the while, Pi’s grin kept showing up every time he closed his eyes.
And he must’ve known it, even then, though he refused to believe it and convinced himself otherwise afterwards that it wasn’t so and that it had turned-out that way simply because it had.
Because, quite incontrovertibly, that had been the night that commenced the destruction of Koyama Keiichiro.
I have run out of snark so I'm alternating between random things and perverted things. Has anyone seen my stalker?
Shamelessly advertising: This is my new PJO commy! --> percylicious . Please visit~