BLACK CHERRY / The Game (Chapter 8)
Title: The Game (Chapter 8)
Fandom: BLACK CHERRY
Characters: Ryo x はるき
Genre: Romance, erotica
Table: One
Prompt: 032. Torn
Word Count: 1736
Rating: R-15
Summary: The rules of The Game were very simple.
Author's Notes: Chapters One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven
The Game
Chapter Eight
(032. Torn)
Haruki lay in her bed at two in the morning, wide-awake with her cellphone in hand. She ignored Ryou’s texts for the rest of the day and did not come over his place. For a second she’d been sorely tempted to answer when he called, but that mysterious girl’s words stopped her from picking up.
You're not his first.
Haruki had nothing against previous girlfriends. She had no right to begrudge a history she wasn’t a part of, but for him to have dated other students before…
He'll get over you and move on to the next one.
That girl must’ve known Ryou for some time now, but could she really trust the words of a stranger? She’d give anything to shake it off, but the seed of doubt was now planted deep in her mind, more so from the anonymous text message she’d received at midnight.
Clue #1: The library, aisle 17. Red book.
No doubt it was from that girl. She’d managed to know Haruki’s name and address. Getting her number would be no surprise. The fear of her privacy being threatened, her secrets exposed… Now that seemed inconsequential compared to all the questions eating at her. She was falling right into that girl’s trap, but now with the first ‘clue’ out, she had to keep playing.
Perhaps there was an explanation behind everything. There had to be.
The library was littered with students the following afternoon, but one of the farther aisles of the Humanities section was presently uninhabited as Haruki stood before a long stretch of shelves. The sign above her read 17, the number practically burning into her eye sockets from staring at it for too long. She’d lingered down this section for the last five minutes, half-wondering, half-afraid of what she’d find here.
It had only been days ago when she’d last been in the library, sneaking in with Ryou for a quickie. She’d argued about his reckless choice of location, even though it had been at night with hardly anyone around. It turned out to be one of the kinkiest experiences of her life; he’d clamped a hand over her mouth the whole time so they couldn’t be heard. Now, the mere memory of him made her chest tighten with anguish. She was yet to respond to his latest text from this morning.
Haruki finally took the first step, and it felt like half her energy had already been drained from her. Her eyes hastily scanned for any red titles, but it was a surprisingly uncommon color in a sea of black, green, and brown books.
Haruki traveled a restless hand along the spines, growing frustrated. That mysterious girl could simply be pulling her leg, but to what end? The mere fact that she knew of her and Ryou forced Haruki to play this game, whether she liked it or not.
A leather book with a faded, crimson spine appeared before her, sandwiched between two encyclopedias. A battered-looking copy of Milton’s Paradise Lost, its pages spotted with age. Flipping through the pages it seemed nondescript; there were no notes or dog-eared marks for her to find. At the very back was an old borrower’s card, last taken out almost six years ago. None of the names rang a bell to her.
Haruki closed the book with a sigh. This was useless. Either she was missing something or this really was just some wild goose chase. Maybe that girl was simply spiteful for reasons yet to be discovered.
She pushed the book back in the shelf, noticing a tiny hole in its spine just then. Like pierced with a thick needle it was too small to be obvious, but up close something glassy protruded from it, almost like a-
Haruki’s hand froze. It was a camera.
Why would a camera be planted inside a book? What was it monitoring?
Her blood ran cold.
She retreated several steps, back hitting the shelves. No, it couldn’t be. That time she’d been here with Ryou, they simply went to the very back of the library. It could’ve been any aisle but this one.
Trembling fingers touched her lips. Did that girl own the camera? Was that how she found out? If so, a very incriminating piece of evidence was in her hands, more than enough to destroy Haruki’s whole life.
She almost jumped when her phone vibrated in her pocket.
A message from an unregistered number, the same one that had texted her the first clue.
English Literature. Room 304. Ask K.M., what hath night to do with sleep?
Confusion briefly ebbed the spreading terror in her veins. That last sentence made no sense whatsoever.
What the hell was going on?
Ryou eyed the empty chair where Haruki usually sat, almost taunting him while the rest of his students kept their heads low in the middle of an impromptu exam. It was the only way he could get out of lecturing, not when her first absence in class coincided with her lack of response over the last twenty-four hours. His eyes shifted from her vacant seat by the window to the cellphone on his desk, but there was still no sign of her whatsoever.
He was yet to see her down the hallways today. Contacting the same person thrice in one day was yet another exception he’d broken for that girl, and it was infuriating. She was changing his order of things, gaining dominance over his mind and body. God, as soon as he saw her, he was fucking her to clear the last stage, win the game, and end everything.
Ryou stopped twirling his pen and gripped it tight. Perhaps he’d ambush her in her apartment and demand why she was ignoring him. At least he’d be assured she wasn’t missing, or hurt.
Stellar fucking timing, Haruki, he angrily thought. Where the fuck are you?
Haruki stood in front of Room 304, books clutched close to her chest as she took solace in a corner amid the throng of students down the hallway. It was almost three o’clock on her watch, five minutes before the next class.
According to the student office, the only English Literature class held in Room 304 was with Prof. Mikura. Luckily the next clue fit right in today’s schedule, even though she was still shaken from her discovery of the camera in the library. Within the last two hours she’d fought not to hurl and break down in panic, even debated whether or not to confront Ryou immediately. There were too many questions running through her mind, but she still wanted to give Ryou the benefit of the doubt.
The bell rang as a fresh wave of students emerged from the doors. Haruki surreptitiously entered the room with a few others, sitting in the back of the room while scanning everyone’s faces.
What hath night to do with sleep? What did that mean? Who in the world was K.M. and what did he or she have to do with all of this?
Haruki restlessly drummed her fingers in her seat. She had the dire urge to just run home and never come out again. If the camera had indeed caught her and Ryou, that video could be anywhere by now, spreading like wildfire. She could be part of a campus-wide scandal in a matter of hours. She’d be kicked out, reputation forever tarnished, and God, what would her parents think?
A dark-haired man who looked to be in his late twenties entered the room, placing his things on the teacher’s desk. He wore a simple dress shirt rolled at the sleeves, a skinny tie, and jeans. Prof. Mikura was young and attractive with his mussed hair, sky blue eyes and dimpled smile, and his predominantly female class seemed to perk up immediately at his arrival.
Haruki would’ve enjoyed his easygoing, enlightening interpretation of Chaucer, but her nerves were too frayed to process any part of his lecture. For the remainder of the hour she kept scanning the room for any sign of K.M., trying to ignore the thousand paranoid voices in her head all the while.
Students rose from their seats before she knew it, and she was left scrambling for her books to leave. Great, a whole afternoon wasted chasing shadows. The first tears began to sting her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. As soon as the first tear fell, she would surely break down. Not here. Not in public.
“Excuse me! Miss!”
Prof. Mikura was waving at her direction. At least a dozen other girls in the room looked at each other, wondering if they were the ones being called.
Prof. Mikura sprinted past rows of seats, gently wading through disappointed-looking girls. Haruki was halfway through the door when he caught up with her.
“Hey, where’s the fire?” he asked with a laugh as she paused at him in surprise. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in my class before.”
She weakly smiled. “I’m not. I was just sitting in. I hoped you wouldn’t mind.”
“Not at all.” He raised his hands. “So what brings you to my class, Miss…?”
“Shinjo. Haruki,” she answered, slowly shaking her head. “Look, this is a shot in the dark, but do you know What hath night to do with sleep?”
Prof. Mikura chuckled. “As a matter of fact I do. It’s a passage from John Milton’s Paradise Lost. Why?”
Her heart skipped a beat. The book with the camera. Yet it still didn’t mean anything.
“Right. Of course,” she feigned, swallowing her unease. “I just stumbled upon the quote somewhere. I figured a Literature professor would know about it.”
His sky blue eyes seemed bright with amusement, lingering on her face a little too long for comfort. “Well, feel free to approach me any time if you happen to have more questions about that book. Paradise Lost happens to be one of my favorites.”
Haruki slowly nodded. “Sure. Thanks, Prof. Mikura.”
“Call me Kei.” He extended a hand. “Everybody else does.”
K.M.. Kei Mikura.
She accepted the gesture, hoping it didn't give away her rising pulse.
“Drop by my class again sometime, Haruki,” he said, releasing her with a smile. “It would be nice to see you again.”
She barely managed another nod before quickly leaving the classroom.
to be continued
Fandom: BLACK CHERRY
Characters: Ryo x はるき
Genre: Romance, erotica
Table: One
Prompt: 032. Torn
Word Count: 1736
Rating: R-15
Summary: The rules of The Game were very simple.
Author's Notes: Chapters One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven
The Game
Chapter Eight
(032. Torn)
Haruki lay in her bed at two in the morning, wide-awake with her cellphone in hand. She ignored Ryou’s texts for the rest of the day and did not come over his place. For a second she’d been sorely tempted to answer when he called, but that mysterious girl’s words stopped her from picking up.
You're not his first.
Haruki had nothing against previous girlfriends. She had no right to begrudge a history she wasn’t a part of, but for him to have dated other students before…
He'll get over you and move on to the next one.
That girl must’ve known Ryou for some time now, but could she really trust the words of a stranger? She’d give anything to shake it off, but the seed of doubt was now planted deep in her mind, more so from the anonymous text message she’d received at midnight.
Clue #1: The library, aisle 17. Red book.
No doubt it was from that girl. She’d managed to know Haruki’s name and address. Getting her number would be no surprise. The fear of her privacy being threatened, her secrets exposed… Now that seemed inconsequential compared to all the questions eating at her. She was falling right into that girl’s trap, but now with the first ‘clue’ out, she had to keep playing.
Perhaps there was an explanation behind everything. There had to be.
The library was littered with students the following afternoon, but one of the farther aisles of the Humanities section was presently uninhabited as Haruki stood before a long stretch of shelves. The sign above her read 17, the number practically burning into her eye sockets from staring at it for too long. She’d lingered down this section for the last five minutes, half-wondering, half-afraid of what she’d find here.
It had only been days ago when she’d last been in the library, sneaking in with Ryou for a quickie. She’d argued about his reckless choice of location, even though it had been at night with hardly anyone around. It turned out to be one of the kinkiest experiences of her life; he’d clamped a hand over her mouth the whole time so they couldn’t be heard. Now, the mere memory of him made her chest tighten with anguish. She was yet to respond to his latest text from this morning.
Haruki finally took the first step, and it felt like half her energy had already been drained from her. Her eyes hastily scanned for any red titles, but it was a surprisingly uncommon color in a sea of black, green, and brown books.
Haruki traveled a restless hand along the spines, growing frustrated. That mysterious girl could simply be pulling her leg, but to what end? The mere fact that she knew of her and Ryou forced Haruki to play this game, whether she liked it or not.
A leather book with a faded, crimson spine appeared before her, sandwiched between two encyclopedias. A battered-looking copy of Milton’s Paradise Lost, its pages spotted with age. Flipping through the pages it seemed nondescript; there were no notes or dog-eared marks for her to find. At the very back was an old borrower’s card, last taken out almost six years ago. None of the names rang a bell to her.
Haruki closed the book with a sigh. This was useless. Either she was missing something or this really was just some wild goose chase. Maybe that girl was simply spiteful for reasons yet to be discovered.
She pushed the book back in the shelf, noticing a tiny hole in its spine just then. Like pierced with a thick needle it was too small to be obvious, but up close something glassy protruded from it, almost like a-
Haruki’s hand froze. It was a camera.
Why would a camera be planted inside a book? What was it monitoring?
Her blood ran cold.
She retreated several steps, back hitting the shelves. No, it couldn’t be. That time she’d been here with Ryou, they simply went to the very back of the library. It could’ve been any aisle but this one.
Trembling fingers touched her lips. Did that girl own the camera? Was that how she found out? If so, a very incriminating piece of evidence was in her hands, more than enough to destroy Haruki’s whole life.
She almost jumped when her phone vibrated in her pocket.
A message from an unregistered number, the same one that had texted her the first clue.
English Literature. Room 304. Ask K.M., what hath night to do with sleep?
Confusion briefly ebbed the spreading terror in her veins. That last sentence made no sense whatsoever.
What the hell was going on?
Ryou eyed the empty chair where Haruki usually sat, almost taunting him while the rest of his students kept their heads low in the middle of an impromptu exam. It was the only way he could get out of lecturing, not when her first absence in class coincided with her lack of response over the last twenty-four hours. His eyes shifted from her vacant seat by the window to the cellphone on his desk, but there was still no sign of her whatsoever.
He was yet to see her down the hallways today. Contacting the same person thrice in one day was yet another exception he’d broken for that girl, and it was infuriating. She was changing his order of things, gaining dominance over his mind and body. God, as soon as he saw her, he was fucking her to clear the last stage, win the game, and end everything.
Ryou stopped twirling his pen and gripped it tight. Perhaps he’d ambush her in her apartment and demand why she was ignoring him. At least he’d be assured she wasn’t missing, or hurt.
Stellar fucking timing, Haruki, he angrily thought. Where the fuck are you?
Haruki stood in front of Room 304, books clutched close to her chest as she took solace in a corner amid the throng of students down the hallway. It was almost three o’clock on her watch, five minutes before the next class.
According to the student office, the only English Literature class held in Room 304 was with Prof. Mikura. Luckily the next clue fit right in today’s schedule, even though she was still shaken from her discovery of the camera in the library. Within the last two hours she’d fought not to hurl and break down in panic, even debated whether or not to confront Ryou immediately. There were too many questions running through her mind, but she still wanted to give Ryou the benefit of the doubt.
The bell rang as a fresh wave of students emerged from the doors. Haruki surreptitiously entered the room with a few others, sitting in the back of the room while scanning everyone’s faces.
What hath night to do with sleep? What did that mean? Who in the world was K.M. and what did he or she have to do with all of this?
Haruki restlessly drummed her fingers in her seat. She had the dire urge to just run home and never come out again. If the camera had indeed caught her and Ryou, that video could be anywhere by now, spreading like wildfire. She could be part of a campus-wide scandal in a matter of hours. She’d be kicked out, reputation forever tarnished, and God, what would her parents think?
A dark-haired man who looked to be in his late twenties entered the room, placing his things on the teacher’s desk. He wore a simple dress shirt rolled at the sleeves, a skinny tie, and jeans. Prof. Mikura was young and attractive with his mussed hair, sky blue eyes and dimpled smile, and his predominantly female class seemed to perk up immediately at his arrival.
Haruki would’ve enjoyed his easygoing, enlightening interpretation of Chaucer, but her nerves were too frayed to process any part of his lecture. For the remainder of the hour she kept scanning the room for any sign of K.M., trying to ignore the thousand paranoid voices in her head all the while.
Students rose from their seats before she knew it, and she was left scrambling for her books to leave. Great, a whole afternoon wasted chasing shadows. The first tears began to sting her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. As soon as the first tear fell, she would surely break down. Not here. Not in public.
“Excuse me! Miss!”
Prof. Mikura was waving at her direction. At least a dozen other girls in the room looked at each other, wondering if they were the ones being called.
Prof. Mikura sprinted past rows of seats, gently wading through disappointed-looking girls. Haruki was halfway through the door when he caught up with her.
“Hey, where’s the fire?” he asked with a laugh as she paused at him in surprise. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in my class before.”
She weakly smiled. “I’m not. I was just sitting in. I hoped you wouldn’t mind.”
“Not at all.” He raised his hands. “So what brings you to my class, Miss…?”
“Shinjo. Haruki,” she answered, slowly shaking her head. “Look, this is a shot in the dark, but do you know What hath night to do with sleep?”
Prof. Mikura chuckled. “As a matter of fact I do. It’s a passage from John Milton’s Paradise Lost. Why?”
Her heart skipped a beat. The book with the camera. Yet it still didn’t mean anything.
“Right. Of course,” she feigned, swallowing her unease. “I just stumbled upon the quote somewhere. I figured a Literature professor would know about it.”
His sky blue eyes seemed bright with amusement, lingering on her face a little too long for comfort. “Well, feel free to approach me any time if you happen to have more questions about that book. Paradise Lost happens to be one of my favorites.”
Haruki slowly nodded. “Sure. Thanks, Prof. Mikura.”
“Call me Kei.” He extended a hand. “Everybody else does.”
K.M.. Kei Mikura.
She accepted the gesture, hoping it didn't give away her rising pulse.
“Drop by my class again sometime, Haruki,” he said, releasing her with a smile. “It would be nice to see you again.”
She barely managed another nod before quickly leaving the classroom.
to be continued