Hikaru No Go Fan Fiction ❯ The Extent of Denial ❯ Stalking Isumi ( Chapter 12 )

Hikaru walked past endless shining storefront windows, navigating the crush of humanity in the mall with only half of his attention. The other half was bent on Waya stalking beside him.

 

“Do these people look too happy to you?” Waya was grumbling.

 

“Ah…not particularly.” Ever since he'd picked the other boy up, he had been subjected to this attitude and simmering anger. He was afraid to ask what was wrong, especially since Isumi was strangely absent.

 

Their phone call last night had been very strange, as well. He'd almost suspected that Waya was in the middle of something. Waya, of all people, who had never dated anyone, nor cared to date anyone! The auburn-haired boy didn't like most people well enough to speak to them, let alone date them.

 

The other thing that really tipped him off to a deep disturbance within his friend was that he had chosen to wear muted colors, and there was not a hint of camouflage in anything Waya had on. It ought to be amusing, but to him it seemed a clear indicator that Waya might actually be depressed.

 

Not that he blamed Waya. It seemed to be going around lately. He was rather depressed himself. He hadn't heard from Akira yet, and he'd already left a slew of messages, half of them full of apologies. He'd even been hung up on a few times. He planned to call again when he got home. And if that didn't work…

 

“Hikaru, look!” Waya suddenly gripped his arm, startling the hell out of him.

 

He followed Waya's pointing finger and saw Isumi standing inside of a nearby perfume shop with a slender, dark-haired girl. The two seemed to be joking or bantering by their expressions and brief bursts of laughter. Isumi was holding a bottle and gesturing dramatically.

 

Hikaru grinned, having never really seen Isumi relax enough to be silly. “Great! Let's go say hello—“ He began to walk towards the two, but Waya's grip tightened and yanked him back.

 

“No! It's obvious that he's on a date or something.” Waya's tone sounded like acid mixed with ground up glass.

 

He blinked, staring intently at the other boy. Those amber eyes were practically burning holes through the glass where they focused on Isumi - as if no one else existed. Waya's lips were drawn back slightly, exposing his teeth.

 

“Waya? Are you…are you okay?” He was afraid to ask, but it seemed pertinent. He'd never seen this kind of intensity from his irascible friend before.

 

Waya whipped a sharp scowl on him before turning back to stare at Isumi some more. “Of course, why would you ask something stupid like that? I'm not going to get upset just because my friend has a girlfriend. What do you think I am, some sensitive, whiny emo boy?”

 

Hikaru frowned. “Hey! I like emo.”

 

“You really shouldn't say things like that, Hikaru. It just reinforces your gay image.”

 

“Waya! People can like emo and not be gay—“ He was about to favor the other boy with one his rare rants when he was sharply interrupted.

 

“He bought it for her!”

 

Hikaru blinked, thrown off track. “What?”

 

“The perfume! He bought a gift for her! How much do you suppose that cost? How long do you think they've been dating? I've never seen her before. Is it an anniversary gift?” Waya's fists were clenched, and he was biting his lip. He still looked angry, but something else trembled around the edges of the anger, almost as if the auburn-haired boy were a heartbeat away from crying.

 

“Look, why don't we just talk to them?” Now he was convinced that something was very wrong inside of Waya.

 

“No! Let's just follow them.”

 

“Waya, that's weird, why would we do that? It's not as if we're strangers.”

 

“Why are you arguing with me? Why can't you just go along with me like a real friend is supposed to?” Waya gave him a peculiarly intense look, and he had the chance for a better look at that trembling quality.

 

Beneath the anger, there was grief in those amber eyes.

 

“Of course I'm your friend, Waya, and we'll do whatever you need to do—“

 

“What is this about?” Isumi's voice interrupted smoothly and somewhat sternly.

 

Both he and Waya gasped, whirling to face Isumi where he had emerged from the store, girl in tow.

 

“None of your business!” Waya shot back, glaring Isumi down.

 

Isumi's blue eyes were dark as they took in Waya's stance and expression. “Is that so?”

 

“Who's that?” Waya snapped, gesturing at the girl.

 

“If your life is none of my business, then mine is none of yours. And if you're going to be like this, I have no need to speak with you. I certainly have other people in my life that behave more kindly towards me.”

 

Isumi turned away, cupping his female companion's elbow and turning her away with him. He murmured a few words to her as if reassuring her, then steered her back into the main flow of mall traffic.

 

Hikaru glanced at Waya. The other pro was markedly more disturbed now, fighting against some powerful emotion as they watched Isumi walk away.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Waya was trembling so violently he thought that passerby must be able to hear his teeth chattering. He was about to burst into tears, or insanity, or something equally bad to give into in public or around friends.

 

Isumi had never dismissed him before. Had never given him such a cold, closed look in all the years they'd been friends. It had always just been the two of them. He'd never had competition for Isumi's smile.

 

As he watched other boy walk away with his girlfriend, he felt strangled by panic, rage and pain. He didn't understand half of the feelings that were throttling him, making him feel as if he were going into emergency melt-down mode. He wanted to run after them and hit Isumi. He wanted to scream. He wanted to throw the girl through the nearest storefront glass. He wanted to throw his arms around the taller boy and beg for forgiveness, cry into that sure and comforting shoulder.

 

Revolting. Perhaps his mind had been corrupted by what they had done…last night. He tried not to think of it, for it just seemed to squeeze his throat even more tightly. But if Isumi was determined to slip away from him…would that not lure him back? It seemed to be what the dark-haired boy wanted.

 

If sleeping with Isumi would cement their friendship again, would it be worth it? If it would drive away his competition for the other boy's affection, would it be worth it? It certainly hadn't been unpleasant, just…bad. But it had felt so good.

 

He vowed to never admit such out loud, but in his secret inner world, he could. No one else would know. But Waya knew, which still made it something horrible. He had done something horrible, and he was thinking of doing it again just to save his friendship with Isumi.

 

Isumi was slipping away from him.

 

“…Waya!!”

 

“What?” Hikaru's voice and touch on his arm snapped him out of his thoughts and he realized he had been staring vacantly after Isumi for several minutes. The other boy wasn't even in sight anymore.

 

“You were completely out of it. What's going on with you? Please tell me if something is wrong. I'm worried about you. First you're enraged, then you look like someone died on you…”

 

Waya looked into Hikaru's concerned green eyes, noting the furrowed brow and his friend's sincerity. “Thank you, Hikaru. But Isumi and I are just arguing right now, that's all. Everything will be fine.”

 

Everything had to be fine. He had never truly thought of what his life would be like without Isumi being a part of it. A large part of it. It made him feel chilled and panicked all over again.

 

Hikaru sighed, as if sensing he had been lied to. “Well, just so long as you're okay…”

 

“What about you, Hikaru? You've been rather off lately.”

 

The bleach-banged boy blushed slightly, glancing off to the side with eyes both desperate and anguished. “I'm fine. Really fine.”

 

Waya sensed something in Hikaru's attitude that made him ask, “Where's Touya?”

 

Hikaru glanced up sharply with wide eyes, looking like a deer in headlights. “I…don't know. Home, I guess.”

 

“Hm.” He couldn't bear to think about Isumi or Touya anymore. “Let's go to the record store. I want to buy things. Now.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Isumi saw his cousin off and went upstairs to his apartment, sighing as he entered the dark, lonely space. He'd been out longer than he'd intended, and it was now almost early evening.

 

He dropped his bags on the floor to one side of the couch and removed his shoes, heading straight for the shower. As he removed his clothes and stepped into the shower stall, he noticed that the tile was still slightly damp, which was extremely strange. He had taken a shower early this morning, so the tile should have been dry.

 

With a shrug, he went on about taking his shower, and his thoughts turned back to his encounter with Waya at the mall. It had not gone well, nor even as he'd intended. That demanding, arrogant attitude of Waya's had set him right off. After the way he'd been rejected last night, he didn't think the other boy had any right to demand anything. Why did Waya care, anyway?

 

He was sure that it was simply a territorial behavior on Waya's part. Waya was used to having Isumi all to himself; thus the amber-eyed boy had a greater attitude problem than usual on discovering that his friend could spend time with other people. Typical.

 

Isumi left the shower and dried off, hanging his towel back on the rack to dry. He turned the light off and went to his dresser to find something to wear. His back was turned to the bed, so when he heard the faintest murmur of fabric, he had only a moment to wonder and begin to turn before arms wrapped around his waist from behind.

 

He gasped, heart rate accelerating violently in fear until he identified the person behind him by feel, scent and lack of clothing. It was Waya's cheek that was suddenly laid against his shoulder blade.

 

Isumi was more than a little shocked. He turned within Waya's embrace, catching the other boy's wrists to remove his arms, but as he looked down, those amber eyes turned up to gaze into his…and he froze.

 

Waya's eyes were intense and full of heat, seeming to burn all the more brightly in the dimness. But there was such vulnerability in them, such grief, such determination.

 

The other boy pressed his naked body against Isumi's, freeing his arms to embrace once again.

 

Isumi gasped, closing his eyes, and felt Waya's face turn into his chest. He had intended to order the amber-eyed boy out immediately, to push him away, but instead felt his arms returning Waya's embrace. He sensed that the other boy sought reassurance from him, and the fact that his friend was here like this, vulnerable and seeking his embrace, of all things…

 

“I love you, Waya,” Isumi whispered into the auburn hair right below his chin, inhaling the warm, sweet scent of his own shampoo and soap that Waya had apparently used not too long ago.

 

Waya trembled against him, but didn't say anything. That pale face turned up to him again in the darkness, eyes closed, mouth offered to accept his kiss.

 

“Waya,” he whispered again, tears stinging his eyes. Tenderly, he touched his lips to the other boy's.

 

Waya's arms slid up and around his neck, pulled him closer. The auburn-haired boy strained against him, deepening the kiss abruptly, almost as if he were desperate to be close to Isumi.

 

He had never suspected before they had known each other like this that Waya was so passionate. He had thought that all of the other boy's intensity was wrapped up in biting humor and a prickly attitude.

 

Isumi found himself being tugged towards the bed and pushed down on it by Waya, and was slightly amused by how aggressive the other boy was. Some part of him was full of joy and exhilaration, for he'd never thought that he would have another chance to be this intimate with his Waya.

 

Waya rushed down on top of him, conforming to every curve of Isumi's body with his. It made their bodies almost as one.

 

“Who was she?” Waya whispered into his ear, sharp little teeth nipping the side of Isumi's neck.

 

“Who?” he responded dazedly, pulling Waya tightly against him. All he could concentrate on was here in his arms, his dearest dream.

 

“The girl you were with!” Waya growled, biting his throat.

 

Isumi bit back a moan, fingers curling into the other boy's shoulders. “It doesn't matter,” he breathed.

 

Waya's face was suddenly close to his, amber eyes shining strangely. “Yes it does! Why won't you tell me?”

 

His desire was making it difficult to think, but it seemed to him that his friend was rather upset about something. Was Waya actually jealous of his cousin Ami? Waya would never say anything about love, and the way the other boy had reacted to their first lovemaking, as well as things the other had said, told him very clearly that Waya did not believe in love between boys. But if that was the case…

 

“What if she's my girlfriend?” he tested, watching those amber eyes closely.

 

Waya tensed up immediately and closed his eyes, and Isumi felt moisture hit his face. The other boy's body shook with some kind of tremor.

 

“Waya?” Isumi murmured, awe-stricken. Were those tears hitting his face? He reached up, intending to gently wipe them away, but those eyes opened and caught him, and Waya grabbed his wrist.

 

“Is she?” Waya whispered harshly, grip almost painfully tight on Isumi's wrist. Amber eyes blazed into blue with a complex array of emotions.

 

“Why do you care, Waya, since you've said many times that boys can't love each other, and what we're doing is just sexual?”

 

“Is she!!” Waya cried, shaking Isumi's captured wrist violently. Waya then collapsed on him, shaking with what were undeniably silent sobs of anguish.

 

Isumi stared down at Waya with pure shock. He had not expected that reaction. A stronger rejection, maybe. But not this sobbing, this breaking down.

 

Suddenly Waya's lips were on his again, forcing his mouth open. The other boy kissed him aggressively, passionately, as if trying to steal his soul.

 

He shuddered, reacting helplessly to the onslaught. He suspected that his lips might be bruised later, but he wasn't capable of caring, or even saying anything to Waya. He didn't want to say anything against that passion, say anything that might make the other boy pause or let up. He wanted all of this, all of his Waya.

 

He wanted Waya to love him.

 

Waya drew back, the tears on his cheeks shining in the dim light from the window. The pain and torment were plain in his expression at that moment, if the tears weren't enough of an indication.

 

Isumi's heart felt as though it were being pressed for preservation, so great was the weight upon it. He couldn't torment Waya like this. “She's just my cousin,” he said softly to those desperate eyes - against his better judgment.

 

Reassuring Waya would undoubtedly only lead to more pain for him, since the other boy would be confident that there was no competition. Waya could continue to lead him on, toy with him or whatever else he felt inclined to do.

 

Waya seemed to be relieved and kissed him with renewed vigor. “I want to be…friends again,” he breathed between kisses.

 

“You're the one that always runs away,” Isumi replied, reaching one hand up to caress Waya's cheek.

 

“I'm here now.” Waya's expression was pained and slightly defensive, but his voice was tremulous.

 

“You are. But why?”

 

Waya made a dismissing noise, reaching down to stroke the insides of Isumi's thighs.

 

He clenched his jaw, trying to retain some shred of rational thought. He was certain that this was a distraction technique, meant to keep him from questioning his friend.

 

“Isumi…I…want you…” Waya moved against him sensuously, fingers trailing up his thighs and over more sensitive areas of Isumi's body.

 

Must think! He arched into the caress, a breathy moan slipping past his defenses. “Why are you doing this?” he forced out.

 

Waya paused. “Don't you want it?”

 

Graceful fingers coasted over Isumi's stomach, tormenting him. “Mm…ah…of course, but I'm inclined to question your behavior since—“

 

“Don't you love me, Isumi? Didn't you say that?” Waya's expression was tender, doubting.

 

Isumi blushed, looking away. “Of course I said that. I have for some time.”

 

Waya leaned close, gently turning Isumi's face back to his. “Then do this for me. Let's be friends, please. I need us to be friends.”

 

“We are friends. You're the one that was thinking about dissolving our friendship, remember? But our making love isn't really part of friendship. It's beyond friendship.”

 

“We're not making love!” the auburn-haired boy exclaimed violently. “It's just sex, sex between friends!”

 

Isumi stiffened and opened his mouth to argue, but Waya used one hand to cover his mouth and touched him with the other, kissing down his torso. His thoughts melted away again, overpowered by the way he felt when the other boy was intimate with him.

 

It hurt to hear Waya say that, even though he knew that the other boy was only saying what he thought.

 

But I want it to be love, Isumi thought, tears welling in his eyes again. He cried out as he was suddenly taken into Waya's mouth. The other boy's hand slipped away from its guardianship of his mouth, trailing down to take hold of Isumi's hip.

 

Isumi reached down to grip Waya's narrow shoulders, unable to tear his eyes away from the other boy's face. The amber eyes were closed, but the expression on his friend's face was intense and complex, one part pain, one part pleasure and one part something mysterious and exposed.

 

I love you so much, you wretched boy, Isumi thought fervently, smiling even as tears escaped to roll down his face.

 

Why did he always end up crying when Waya touched him? It was slightly embarrassing, but the other pro didn't seem to mind.

 

Finally, he closed his eyes and laid his head back, allowing himself to relax into the moment. It was pointless to fight Waya, or to try to discern the other boy's motives if his sometimes-lover refused to share.

 

He could only accept what Waya offered.