Started 10/01/2014

Finished: 10/02/2014

Revision: 10/05/2014

Mood Music: Afraid of the Dark by Phildel

Repletum

Chapter 01: Coward:

In which Midousuji runs away in the presence of a glasses wearing nerd.

"That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem or to be, when it suits him, a coward" - Edgar Allan Poe

He was caught, like a fly in a spider's trap. He had been lured in by the intricate weaving of the web, and now he was imprisoned, awaiting a long and painful death.

He looked at his captor, misleading bright eyes watching him, focused on him like any prison guard would.

There was evil in him, Midousuji knew it. People were gross and disgusting, filled with trash and sewage. His guard had it too, he knew. It was just proving to be difficult to find. But when he found the filth, oh would he enjoy digging through it and flinging at that sickeningly sweet smile.

"Gross." He muttered out loud.

Onoda Sakamichi blinked at him. "Uh… Okay?"

Midousuji ignored him, and stared on the door, waiting for the man with the stupid thin mustache to return.

He should have predicted that Sakamichi would not have reacted in a typical, sane way with him. The moment they met each other's eyes, Midousuji felt the buzz of panic, because he remembered the last time they had really interacted at the last Interhigh, that last leg of the race. It had been almost a year since then, but he remembered it. He remembered that Sakamichi was strange, not typical, not standard and therefore he should have known that he wouldn't react in a typical way. When he entered the office to sign up for the Tokyo Race and saw Onoda sitting there, he should've left, should have avoided the boy but he merely stiffened instead and tried to be imposing and frightening beneath his mask.

He should have predicted that it wouldn't work.

And so now he was stuck, with Sakamichi, waiting for the man with the stupid thin mustache.

"Are you hungry? I could grab us some food, Midousuji-kun."

Midousuji ignored him, but could feel the blue eyes staring at him, and it was making his skin itch.

"No."

"Oh- Okay."

It was thankfully quiet again.

This was supposed to take so little time, so many minutes wasted here, time he could be using efficiently. Instead they were being flushed down the drain. Waiting,waiting, waiting. If it wasn't a three hour trip back home he would have left. And on top of that there was Sakamichi, the not ordinary, the strange boy, also sitting there waiting for the man in the stupid thin mustache, waiting to sign up for one race. Smiling widely.

Midousuji sighed, exasperated, air rushing through his mouth through his mask.

"Uh, Midousuji-kun?"

He peered at the boy from the corner of a slitted eye. "What."

Sakamichi fixed his glasses and he looked around nervously. Midousuji was both enjoyed and was wary of his distress. "Ca-Can we have another race someday? Like… uh, well, not that I think I'll win against you, 'cause you are an amazing cyclist! But, I wanna challenge myself. to beat you... "

Midousuji sneered behind the mask, turning his head grotesquely, eyes suddenly wide. "HAaaa? You want to race me?"

Midousuji's mind was racing, at all the ways that he could use this, that he could play this in his expertly manipulative hands. He could see a plan forming. He clenched his teeth together, relishing in the idea, grinning wide, although the boy couldn't see it.

"And what do you want if you win, . ."

He said the name sharply, haltingly, hoping to make the boy uncomfortable.

It wasn't a surprise that he didn't notice, "Well…" he began, eyes jumping nervously in his sockets, and his blinking was annoyingly incessant. Midousuji wanted to pry his eyelids open to stop the movement.

"I...wanna talk about anime. Like you said last time."

Midousuji blinked. He should have also predicted this. Was he slipping? Why couldn't he read him?

"Anime." Midousuji repeated, spitting out the word harshly.

Sakamichi nodded, looking hopeful. It was such a disgusting expression.

"Hah. Why not? . . We can race again. If you win, we can talk all you want. but…" He hissed the word, narrowing his eyes and leaning closer, craning his neck to twist like a contortionist, "... what do I get if I win?"

Here was the big reveal, the moment of beautiful truth, where he would see the boy's true nature, the filth inside of him, spewed out like the garbage it was. Midousuji was looking forward to it.

He blinked, and shrugged, "I don't know. Wha-what would you like, Midousuji-kun?"

Midousuji felt the victory course through him. The boy had played in his hands, foolish little idiot. Stupid little moron. He had just given his worst enemy the key to his destruction.

"Depends. What are you willing to give?"

It was like playing with a mouse, and Midousuji wanted to watch the boy scurry about desperately. What would he give?

"Um. Well…" Sakamichi looked nervous, as he should.

"Are you two waiting for me?"

Midousuji shifted his dark eyes at a man who was standing in the district office. It was the man with the stupid thin mustache.

Finally.

Although, he had interrupted their conversation, unfortunately. He turned to look at Sakamichi and noted that the boy was looking at him, eyes filled with something.

"What?" he asked, hostility in every syllable.

Sakamichi stood up, "No-Nothing!" He spoke to the man with the stupid thin mustache, "Y-yeah! we want to sign up for the Tokyo Race next month."

The man nodded and went to a desk, unorganized and cluttered. It was a sign of what the man was like.

"Gross."

Sakamichi looked up at him, and Midousuji hated the inquisitive look. He knew that look, that judgment.

"Are you two together?" the man asked, sitting down as if he had been standing all his life, heavily. "Its a single race."

"No." Midousuji spat out, clearly disgusted at the idea. Sakamichi also shook his head, "No… I'm from Chiba. Midousuji-kun is from Kyoto."

The man didn't care, Midousuji could see that. That didn't matter. He was annoyed that Sakamichi had spoken for him, like he needed someone to speak for him.

"Alright, here are the submission papers. You know the dates and everything?"

Of course, of course, he knew, why ask such a stupid question?

"Alright, fill them out. Ill sign you up. You have your entrance fee ready?"

Midousuji looked up suddenly. "Entrance fee? This race has no entrance fee"

The man raised an eyebrow, apparently not liking Midousuji's tone. "Yes. It does. For a cyclist not from the Greater Tokyo area. It is the Tokyo Circuit Race, after all."

Midousuji had not been aware of that. He had not looked it up. Last year, it had been Ishigaki that signed him up for the Tokyo District Race. Midousuji wanted to blame his dumb sempai, but he knew that this was his fault. He should have pulled up the information.

"How much is it?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"5000 Yen." the man replied. Curtly. Uncaring.

Midousuji clenched his fists, feeling his short nails bite into his palms. This was so gross, so disgusting. How could he have made this mistake. It was something he should have prepared for. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid. "Why do cyclist from other districts have to pay? Are the Tokyo cyclist afraid?" He spewed out, eyes wide and staring at the man, leaning over slightly. The man felt uncomfortable but his tone was offended, "Listen, kid, I don't make the rules here. You either have the money or you don't. If you don't, then leave."

Midousuji gritted his teeth, his tongue ready to throw out sharp cutting words.

"Its okay, Midousuji-kun! Uh, Mister, we have the money! So can you...uh sign us up?"

The confrontational air between the man and Midousuji shifted and they both turned to look at Sakamichi. He shrunk slightly under their gazes but then smiled, brightly, joyfully as if he had got everything he ever wanted in life. What a gross, utterly disgusting expression.

The man also was regarding the glasses wearing boy. "You have it?"

Sakamichi reached into a pink wallet and took out some money counting it, his fingers fumbling. "Uh… yeah! Two… two cyclists would 10,000 yen right? I have it...right here! So..uh… here."

He reached over to give the money to the man, but Midousuji stopped him, grabbing the small wrist in his hand.

His eyes were hard, and black. He felt like there was a blade in his throat. "No." he said, roughly, the force of the word rasping under his mask.

Sakamichi looked confused, "Wha…?"

"Gross. No. I won't let you pay. No. Gross, Gross."

There was no way he could be in debt to the little fool, to the not standard cyclist. Who knows what Sakamichi would want in return. That unknown factor made his blood run cold.

"It's...it's okay, Midosuji-kun! I don't mind paying for you! Really!"

His grip on the boy's wrist tightened. No, no, no, no, annoying, gross, gross, gross! He did not want to owe Sakamichi anything. He would rather miss the race.

The man was looking at their interaction boredly. "Well, what? Are you paying or not?'

Sakamichi gently pulled at his hand, touching Midousuji's hand hesitantly with his other one. Midousuji pulled back as if he had been scorched, "Gross!"

Sakamichi tensed for a second before shooting him a an apologetic glance, "Uh, sorry! Sorry, Midousuji-kun! And here." He turned to the man and handed him the money. Midousuji watched passively, confused why he wasn't taking action, why he wasn't stopping. It was like watching the executioner tying up the hanger's knot for his hanging.

"Okay. All set. Two cyclists. Your numbers will be given to you at the race. Names?"

"Uh… I'm not actually racing. Its… uh for a friend of mine." Sakamichi said, scratching at his face.

The man sighed, "It doesn't matter. What's their name."

"Imaizumi Shunsuke. Uh… From Chiba"

The man wrote the name on a paper, and then turned to Midousuji, "And you?"

Midousuji was focusing on the fact Sakamichi was not here for himself. That he was running an errand for the weak one, for the standard one, Weakzumi. Maybe the petty all rounder was just as annoyingly superior acting in his own club as he was on the course.

"Midousuji Akira. Kyoto."

The man wrote it down, "Got it. Okay. You're in. Be on time. The office of Sports and Recreational Activities in not responsible for-"

He began to drone on about legalities, and Midousuji tuned him out. Instead he began forming another plan, something to help him this situation he had fallen in with Sakamichi. He tried to predict what the boy would want. To talk about anime? Would he ask about his cycling? Could he get away with just paying him the money back? But that would mean they would have to meet again, something Midousuji did not like the idea of.

Could he twist this? Make it benefit him? How could he use Sakamichi. How? How?

"Midousuji-kun? Are you...uh are you going home after this?"

The man had stopped talking, apparently, and Sakamichi had turned back to him, that hopeful, kind look in his eyes again. It was so gross and familiar, that look. Midousuji wanted to ignore him, now that they were done, but now Sakamichi was holding him ransom, and if he left, Sakamichi could use this hanging rope against him at any point in the future. He needed to minimize the destruction.

"Yes, yes, I'm going home."

"Oh. Okay! Well, me too! I think, maybe I should get something to eat, first though. I'll probably miss dinner."

Midousuji felt the hint, and he clenched his teeth. "Is that what you want? You wanna talk about anime?"

Sakamichi's eyes widened, so wide, so excited that Midousuji wanted to poke them so they would close, and not look at him like that. "Really?! Can we!? I mean… Yeah! I really would like to! I have so much to-"

He stopped, suddenly, closing his mouth, his abrupt pause even surprising Midousuji.

"Uh. It would be nice… but… I haven't won the race against you." He said, eyes looking all around.

Midousuji felt his stomach clench, "What?"

"The race, Midousuji-kun! I haven't won against you, so we really can't talk about anime. I mean, I want to really win against you! Its...its like a challenge!"

He stared at the boy, not comprehending any of his reasoning. Sakamichi smiled, the curve of his lips making Midousuji's chest heavy for some reason. "I'll pay you back." He finally forced out.

Sakamichi was still smiling, shining light at him and Midousuji couldn't tear his eyes away. "You don't have too, Midousuji-kun! Its okay! Really! we're friends! So-"

"No. We are not friends. Is that what you want? You want to force me to be your friend?"

Sakamichi stopped smiling, and for some unknown, for some fearfully confusing reason, Midousuji didn't like that smile disappearing, his hands itched, his eyes widening as he felt panic make his heart pound in his ribcage.

"No! Not force! Its just that… well… I guess I sometimes assume things. I think we could be friends, though! I especially want to be friends with you! You're an amazing cyclist! And you know about anime!"

There it was, the reason that he could benefit Sakamichi. If he didn't know about anime, if he hadn't of said 'Zaku' in front of him at that first Interhigh, then Sakamichi wouldn't be talking to him now. Everyone had desires, everyone had reasons.

"Haa. Whatever." He said bitterly, disappointed despite of himself. Disappointed in what? That he was right? That he knew the ugly behind the masks people wore?

"I really think you're a cool person, Midousuji-kun! So, I kinda want to be your friend."

Midousuji was getting tired of the mockery, of the hypocrital words.

"Fine. What? What? What do you want, really?"

Sakamichi winced at the harsh words, "Uh. Nothing! Really!" He paused and fixed his glasses, a habit that Midousuji was noticing, he had when he was nervous, "Nothing at all!"

Midousuji grit his teeth. With his arms whirling, he turned and left the office, knowing that Sakamichi would trail behind like a lost puppy.

"Midousuji-kun! I'll walk with you! Are you going to the train station?"

Midousuji wanted to stop him, to tell him to go on his way, to leave him alone, because he was gross and Midousuji couldn't understand him. If Sakamichi was true, if he really was this honest, he wouldn't be clinging to him like this. He wanted to push the boy away, and leave him behind.

But...

He didn't.

He actually slowed his steps to let the boy reach him. His eyes were wide at his body's refusal to listen to him, at the fact that he knew this was stupid, that it was gross and so foolish, but he continued to wait there.

Sakamichi walked along side him, smiling happily, hands holding the straps of his backpack.

Midousuji wanted to just stare at him, wanted to find out what was wrong with him, why he wasn't standard. Why he made him feel… afraid.

They made their way through streets and Sakamichi was surprisingly quiet, and would only talk in spurts, excitedly about whatever he was mentioning.

Midousuji distantly remembered that Sakamichi had ridden to Akihabara everyday in his youth, much like he had done for his mother. Comparing the two of them was preposterous though, because there was no way that Sakamichi had ever felt the pain and loneliness of his childhood. Not that it mattered now. None of that mattered now.

He watched the boy from the corner of his eye, his smile wide on his face as if he had won something, as if he was the happiest creature in the world. It made Midousuji sick and warm at the same time. That smile was wasted...

He blinked at the thought. Wasted? Why wasted?

Midousuji gripped the strap of his bag, snapping teeth behind his mask.

They walked over an overpass, the cars underneath making a constant zooming noises. The sun was hanging limply in he sky, rusty orange and lighting up the world around the with a blinding annoying light.

"-but I didn't expect to run into you. I was actually on my way to by the new season of Love Hime! But Imaizumi-kun told me about the race, and since he's really busy these days, I kinda wanted to help him out..." Sakamichi turned to look up at him, "But I'm glad I ran into you, Midousuji-kun! I didn't think I would see you until the next Interhigh."

Midosuji narrowed his eyes at him, "You used the money. For your movies, didn't you? Used it for the entrance fee?"

Sakamichi looked stricken, and blushed, "Ah! Yeah.. but it's not a big deal, though! I can always come back for it! Really!"

Midousuji felt his stomach flip, painfully, as Sakamichi tried to reassure him with a smile. He knew how much the Non-Standard loved his anime, how much he invested into it. Why would he sacrifice for Midousuji's sake? Why? He would never do anything to jeopardize his victories, his want and his desires. He lived to win, to move forward. What was Sakamichi trying to achieve? Was he just nice? Why? Why? Why?

He stared at the smile, that bright, seemingly permanent smile on his face, something about it hypnotizing because Midousuji knew, understood that it was genuine and real.

What was he?

The moments passed, and Midousuji felt his muscles bunch uncomfortably, springs ready to snap. His head buzzed, and he wanted to reach out dig his nails in the sunlit streams highlighting Sakamichi's face, to see if he was real, and there staring at him with clear blue eyes, to see if he felt pain, to make sure he was alive.

Sakamichi's mouth changed from the shining smile, closing slightly to perhaps speak, but to Midousuji to was like shutting off glorious saving light, leaving him in the cold, bitter, stabbing darkness.

His hands snaked out to his face, grabbing roughly at his cheeks, pulling the skin back in attempt to bring it back.

Onoda's eyes widened, catching more of the afternoon light in them, and he squirmed in Midousuji's hold "Ah? Midou-"

Midousuji resisted digging his short nails into the boy's neck, his calloused hands feeling acutely the too soft skin his cheeks under his palms. Too warm and smooth and…

He pulled back his hands abruptly, and rubbed them furiously on his jersey, trying to get rid of the warmth crawling like a thousand ants under his skin, "Gross! Gross!" he said, the word shooting out of him in confusion for his own actions.

Sakamichi came forward a little, his eyes filled with concern, "Midousuji-kun? Are you… Is everything alright?"

Midousuji refused to look at him, staring hard into the cement at their feet. He could feel the tingling in his hands, like fizz from a soda pop, start at his fingers and travel up his arms until they engulfed his face, and the fuzzy feeling was choking him, turning into heat and making his face hot.

"Midousuji…?"

Sakamichi placed a tentative hand on his arm, and even through the fabric of his long sleeved shirt his could feel the warmth, the blood. He reacted instantly, "GROSS! Stop touching me, you moron!" He took a failing step back, wincing at the over reaction. He shouldn't be so bothered. He had to control himself.

Sakamichi looked shocked, and extremely apologetic. "I'm- I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to touc- You look a little red, so I was worried you might be catching a fever or something! I don't want you to get sick, Midousuji-kun! But, of course, I shouldn't touch you. I'm sorry! Really! I won't. I won't do it agai-"

"Shut up! You talk too much!"

Sakamichi shut his mouth. It was rather hypocritical that he was complaining about being touched when Midousuji was to one that had so uncharacteristically grabbed the boy's face.

Midousuji gritted his teeth hard, as if in pain. He hated this. His face was hot, like he was too close to an open oven, and he wished he could dive into the hot coals to burn his skin off the tingling across the skin, to escape this stupid, idiotic situation.

Sakamichi looked confused, but he waited patiently, his eyes blinking at Midousuji. His eyes were too expressive, and deep, and Midousuji felt like Sakamichi was staring straight into his soul, seeing the mass of writhing snakes and viscera that was inside him.

"Stop it! Close your gross eyes!"

Ondoa blinked at him, his brow furrowing momentarily before he closed his bright blue eyes, leaving him standing there, face still so full of emotion despite his smile gone, and his eyes shut.

Midousuji felt anger course through him, quick and savage. Fool! Fool! He could reach out and push Sakamichi over the bridge's side, making him topple over the the slick metal guards, into the black street below. Midousuji almost wanted too, to push him down, to teach him not to… not to trust like this. To hurt him so he could learn not to be so stupid, so foolish. Not to leave himself vulnerable like this. Teach him a lesson.

He sneered cruelly and reached a long arm, but it when his fingers were inches from the boy's shoulder, his whole frame seized up, chains snapping his arms back, rusted braided steel anchored somewhere deep within his chest, making his usually light frame so heavy.

"Why!" he seethed, through clenched teeth. His whole body felt sluggish, heavy and hot, like the days when he would cycle for too long in the muggy Kyoto mountains, "Why!? Gross. So gross. You moron! You idiot! I could hurt you, I could push you. Why did you listen to me?"

Onoda's face changed, from worry when he heard Midousuji's pained, angry voice to confusion. "Midousuji-kun, You would never hurt me."

A desperate forced laughed wracked his spine, "You don't know me! I hate, hate people like you! Gross people like you."

His head ached with the burst of feelings that Sakamichi seemed to cause him and Midousuji felt so threatened, so wary of the power that the boy held in his small fist. How was he making Midousuji feel so vulnerable, so afraid when he was the one in control, free to do anything he wanted, giving the commands, and manipulating the situation, and his victim had his eyes closed, and Midousuji could hurt him, but he just stood there, shoulder relaxed, hands loose not afraid. It didn't make sense, and Midousuji retreated in self preservation.

"Oh, I know I don't know you very well, but I at least I know you wouldn't hurt me. I trust you Midousuji-kun! I do feel a little weird closing my eyes though, but I want to make sure you are as comfortable as possible. We're friends now, so…"

"Stop! Stop talking! I- I'm leaving! Don't follow me!" Midousuji said, his voice almost screeching as Onoda's words were daggers into his bones, ice cold crystal blades that were digging deep into Midousuji nerves.

Sakamichi was smiling slightly but frowned again, when Midousuji declared his departure. He opened his eyes, blinking at the afternoon sun. The light bathed him in an orange glow, his glasses shining, blinding Midousuji briefly.

"Oh, Okay! I had fun, Midousuji-kun! I hope we get to do this again!"

And then he smiled, and it was like the long awaited sun bursting over a hill to chase away the demons of the night, like that first breath after being trapped underwater too long, it was an explosion color, of red, and yellow and purple all at once attacking him, fireworks in his chest, shaking the heavy chains attached there.

Midousuji stumbled back, and covered his face from the assault, and he dug his nails into his skull.

"Midousuji -kun! Are you okay!?" he sounded panicked and worried, and Midousuji wanted to yell at him, to assault him with sharp words and blame him for all of this because it was his fault.

He could feel the burning warmth from the small boy coming closer, like an overbearing presence of an oncoming cyclist. He stepped back further and peeked through his fingers.

Onoda was watching him with those disgusting emotional eyes of his, concern in them. Midousuji grit his teeth and growled at him, wary of how destructive this boy was.

He had to run.

Now.

He turned around, suddenly thankful for his long limbs and ran away.

Like a wounded, hunted animal from the monstrous, ravenous predator.

He ran and ran, until he got to the train station, not looking back, because even now he could feel the looming tendrils of sunshine reaching out grab him, to choke him, to drown him, the bright colors ready to blind him with… with feelings.

He covered his eyes, waiting for the bullet train to arrive, holding his ticket limply in his hand.

His hand was hot against the hollow of his eyes, and the darkness of his eyelids suddenly burst into light as his mind betrayed him, bringing forth the memory of the joy filled face of the boy.

Onoda was the sky, his eyes had the depth of the expanding horizon, endless and vast, and his smile was the sun, exploding over the skyline, and Midousuji was unable to hide from it, unable to tear his eyes from it.

Fear gripped him. He could not escape, he opened his eyes, and stared at the train tracks desperately, scrubbing his face as it he could erase the image, the feelings out of his mind.

But he couldn't. It was a hook in his soul, and something was gripping his heart, so tight it hurt.

Midousuji cowered, because it was in him, the tingling, the fluttering, like a parasite embedded into his body.

Midousuji was afraid.

He sat in a chair, wrapping his arms around himself, shielding himself from the horror, but he knew it was already inside of him, and he knew it would only grow.

"Gross…" He muttered, and heat suddenly filled his face as in his mind a smiling Onoda appeared, saying , 'I know, I know I'm gross, Midousuji-kun.'

And despite himself, with fear in his heart but warmth in his soul, he smiled.

Notations:

Hah. Rejected for a reason.

Whoa, there Midousuji, no need to get all OOC on us...

This is quite the odd style of writing, I know.

Sorry, Yo.

Chapter 02: Patience

Summary: In which Midousuji learns that winning could be losing and vice versa

Mood Music: Sweet Talk by The Killers