Slam Dunk Fan Fiction ❯ An Almost-Tragedy in Two Parts ❯ Sakuragi's Endurance ( Chapter 2 )

When he wakes up the bed is cold. Rukawa is gone again. Sakuragi tries to be optimistic, but today marks their third anniversary and Rukawa's absence seems like a cold slap across his face. He is always gone. Why should today be any different?

Jesus-fucking-Christ. His blood runs cold. Three years and Rukawa has never said a word of affection that Sakuragi can remember. He always whispers those three words that seem forbidden to come out of Rukawa's mouth. In a burst of cynical amusement, Sakuragi wonders if there is a password that he must know to hear Rukawa say he loves him, or even that he cares. If there is, he doesn't know it.

He's beginning to think he never will.

Rukawa just lays there, and sometimes he gives, but more often he takes. And after three years, this is still all they share.

No. That's wrong. Sometimes Sakuragi thinks that even sex is something selfish for Rukawa. He doesn't make a noise besides some pants and moans. And he never, never calls out Sakuragi's name. Rukawa is taking everything from him, and he was more than willing to give it yesterday and all the days before that, but today...

Today he isn't. Today that seems like too much to give.

The same blind determination Sakuragi had showed during his old games in Shohoku he displays in loving Rukawa. The difference is, this time the chase for the goal is too long even for his monstrous endurance, and he can feel himself fading.

What is he waiting for? Sakuragi nearly chokes, he laughs so violently. And when he stops there are tears at the corner of his eyes, but he can just brush that off as always and convince himself that they aren't there.

Today he can't. He cries about only a few things, and he can admit now that Rukawa is one of them.

Sakuragi doesn't have large enough pieces of his heart left to break, so the only thing to lose is the hope that one day Rukawa would help put them back together again, piece by piece.

Sometimes Sakuragi thinks he's going to break, just break and scatter across the floor like so much shattered glass in the wake of a car accident, tires screeching and metal sparking on pavement. Sometimes he thinks he should just leave and find someone else, something else to do, to live for.

Because if he can't get his dream, he could still get somewhere awfully close.

Maybe he should start packing his things. If he leaves now there will be no messy break-up; Sakuragi knows that if Rukawa returns to find his things gone he'd understand and that'd be the end of it. He would probably appreciate the extra space and the silence, Sakuragi thinks bitterly. He would probably find a replacement if that wasn't the case.

But after Sakuragi drags out his old, beat-up suitcase and opens it, he can't bear to put anything inside it. It's so final, he thinks, and then Maybe I should give him one last chance.

This is going on Rukawa's fifteenth last chance, and Sakuragi feels like he is betraying himself. But hey, sixteenth time's the charm.

Right?

Here Sakuragi realises how much he has changed within the time he and Rukawa were together--are together. Three years ago he would not have accepted this. He would have walked out the door without ever looking back. Now he can't leave the house without being sure that Rukawa would be coming back. And he never knows for sure.

So Sakuragi goes on with his daily grind; he brushes his teeth, he combs his hair, he eats instant ramen for breakfast. He even leaves the bed unmade, because he is just that optimistic.

Then, after all the nervous movement and pointless effort, he sits down on the windowsill and looks out at the world, so detached from his troubles, so careless and indifferent. He doesn't see the cars on the street below him, nor the people, nor the basketball that rolls across the black top, like a symbol from a dream. He sees the grey, tired sky of December, and it reminds him of himself.

End.