#nekumiko

[nekumiko]

For You, I Will

Fandom: Seventeen

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Light Angst

Rated: T

Chapter: 1/?

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter One: Iced Americano

As far as clichés go, their first meeting did involve coffee and exchanging numbers before they parted ways.

Except it was not a meet-cute.

In fact, she even cried.

Who wouldn't, when you're just trying to get through a stressful day and suddenly a venti-sized iced americano gets dumped onto the front of your shirt?

"I'm sorry! I wasn't looking where I was –” the culprit's apology is cut off when he hears it.

A sob.

Seungkwan's I'm sorry's grow even more frantic. People are starting to notice them, and a misleading article is not what he wants his coffee run to end up in.

But as she stands frozen right there on the sidewalk, partly from the cold liquid and the other from shock, he wills himself to calm down.

Cautiously, he touches her arm and asks in a now-gentle tone, "Are you okay?"

She finally looks up. Her face mask only allows her teary eyes to be seen, but he guesses that they're about the same age.

"I'm so, so sorry," he continues. "Let me help you, please?"

Luckily, they find a nearby bench. Seungkwan hands her all the tissues that came with his coffee order so she could dry her shirt, but a huge stain has already formed. He could only watch as she gave up with a sigh.

She then turns away from him to pull her mask down and wipe her dried tears away. "Sorry," she speaks for the first time. "That was very childish. This isn't even my favorite shirt."

"It's okay. I… can see there's more to it than that."

She sniffles. "Yeah… just a bad day."

"And I made it worse. I’m really sorry."

She shakes her head, pulling her mask back up so she could meet his eyes. "It was an accident. Don't worry."

Still, that does not make it okay for Seungkwan. "Please let me buy you a new one!"

"A new what?"

"A new shirt."

She gasps and then aggressively waves her hands in refusal. "No need! It's fine. I'm on my way home anyway."

"Please, I insist."

"Sir," she says with a slight frown now, starting to put distance between them on the bench, "I don't even know you."

Seungkwan is left speechless for a moment. On the bright side, this assures him that his hat-and-face-mask disguise today is effective. But that is working against his favor right now, as he could only reply with, "I'm sorry. I can't really reveal my identity here ."

"And why?"

"I can't show my face here ."

"Then at least tell me your name first?"

He takes a deep breath. Here goes. "...Boo Seungkwan."

"..."

"..."

"Do you mean the idol? Who's appeared in a lot of TV shows?"

This is getting even more embarrassing. "Yes."

"You have got to be kidding me."

He sighs. "You see? I knew you wouldn't believe me."

"I really can't! Because I would've known!"

"What do you mean? Are you… a CARAT?"

"Yes!" 

Good job, Seungkwan. You just ruined the day of your own group's fan.

She crosses her arms. "Well, okay, I guess you do sound like him. And your eyes…" she trails off and looks away, as if suddenly shy. But it is then that she notices something beside Seungkwan.

He follows her line of sight and finds his almost-empty coffee cup. 

She clears her throat before continuing, "And you did spill an iced americano on me." 

If the situation had been any lighter, he would've laughed at that.

"But this is just too good to be true, you know?"

Seungkwan looks around. There aren't a lot of people around, so maybe…?

"Woah, what are you doing?"

He is moving closer to her again. For some reason, he really wants her to believe him, and he tells himself it's because he has to convince her that he has good intentions. "Okay, I can show my face to you, but I have to be… close."

"Sir –"

"Just a quick peek? Enough for only you to see." He reaches up to touch his face mask.

"Hey, no!" she almost-shouts, grabbing his hand. It's her turn to look around for passersby, and though she finds none, she continues in a semi-whisper, "That would be too risky if ever you were telling the truth! If you really are my –" she pauses, eyes widening. It's as if she's filtering out her next words as she lets go of his hand. "If you really are him, I don't want to get you in trouble."

Once again, he is at a loss. She's right. What was I thinking?

But then she sighs in defeat. "Fine. Let's say you're a good person for now. But where are we going anyway?"

Seungkwan straightens up as he looks back at the street. "There's a nearby shop that I think would suit your style."

She appears to be thinking about it for a few silent moments as she watches a few cars pass by. And then she looks back at him. "Alright. It's still broad daylight anyway, so I could just kick your ass if you try anything."

He chuckles, standing up. "Deal."

"And nothing too expensive, okay?"

"Mhmm." He then takes off his jacket to drape it on her shoulders. "To cover your stained shirt as we walk."

He could see her eyes smile. "Thank you."

~~~

"Boo-nim."

"Boo-nim?" Seungkwan repeats with a small laugh.

"How else would I call you?" She peeks out from the dressing room's curtain. "Without… you know, catching anyone's attention. If you ever are him. "

"You’ve got a point." He nods. "Anyway, do you need anything?"

She hesitates. "Well, this shirt is too cute. I like it so much."

"Show me?"

"But it's also too expensive."

"That's okay."

"No, it's not! I'll find a new one."

"At least show it to me first?"

"And why?"

"I also think it would look good on you."

She hums in suspicion, but pulls back the curtain anyway.

Seungkwan nods in approval. "Let's take it."

"I already told you –!"

"Excuse me," he calls out to a nearby staff. "We'll take this shirt. Is it okay if she wears it now?"

"Boo-nim!" she tries to protest, but gets completely ignored.

A while later, she’s back in the dressing room to take the tag off and put the newly-bought shirt on. Despite her concern, it does suit her. And to get it for free? This might just be the only good thing to happen to her today, and for that, she feels grateful. You don't meet kind strangers like these every day. So she steps out to thank her companion, only to find him seemingly lost in thought. "Boo-nim? Are you okay?"

Seungkwan seems to snap out of it when he hears her concerned voice. "Yes! Are you done?"

She nods. "I'm sorry for all the trouble today."

"I'm the one who spilled coffee on you. It's all on me. So again, I'm sorry. I hope this could make up for it."

"Actually, just you helping me calm down was already enough. A new shirt isn't really necessary, but thank you very much. You're being too kind."

They smile at each other – at least, their eyes did – until Seungkwan starts to fidget. "I… uh, never really caught your name."

"Oh." This surprises her too. Then again, she'd been distrustful of him earlier. She laughs. “Sorry, I think we were too focused on you proving that you’re…” she trails off. Suddenly, the reality of the situation comes back to her. What if…? 

"Oh, that reminds me,” he says in a low whisper, “maybe I can do that face reveal here?"

That unnerves her even more. Just how would she react if he's an actual idol? And the Boo Seungkwan of all people? "W-where?"

After confirming that no one's paying attention to them, he ushers her back to the dressing room, this time getting in with her before pulling the curtain closed again. "Okay. This might be surprising but please, can I ask you to keep your voice down?"

She could only nod.

And so Seungkwan takes off his hat, shakes his hair out, and finally pulls down his mask.

And just like that, she's in tears again. She covers her face with her hands as she suppresses a whine. This day couldn't get more embarrassing.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"It's you. It really is you all this time." She peeks at him from between her fingers. "I really can't tell you my name."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's like I'm stepping on a forbidden boundary."

"Oh, come on." Seungkwan gently pulls her hands away from her face. "Aren't I just a person, too?"

This time, she's the one left speechless. Oh no. Did I just offend him?

"You've been with me for the past hour without knowing who I really am. But we're getting along already, right? I just wanted to keep this going, to get to know you more."

"Are you sure?"

He smiles. "Yes."

This is the smile she's always adored from behind the screen, from photos, from afar. No, this smile is, right at this moment, exclusively for her. With that, she tells him her name.

Seungkwan repeats her name, testing it on his tongue, and it's just so heavenly to hear. "It's nice to meet you." He then lets go of her hands so he could give her his phone. "Can I have your number too?"

Her hands are shaking, but she manages to carefully type in her contact details.

To make sure, Seungkwan sends her a message: a mere 'Hi' sticker.

She feels like fainting.

"Lastly," he says, putting his phone back in his pocket, "can I also see your face?"

Now this effectively saps all her positive feelings again. "Oh no. I'm barefaced. And I've been crying a lot today!"

"I am barefaced right now too, see?" 

"But you still look beautiful…" she mutters.

"What?" He moves closer to hear her.

"Nothing! Please, I'll just send you a selca."

"Come on, it's just us."

"I really don't –"

"Okay, since you said I'm being too kind by buying you a shirt, you can consider this as payment."

"That's unfair!"

Seungkwan softly says her name, pouting. "Please? How can we be friends if I don't know what you look like?"

She sighs. Not that pout. "O-okay." Her heart is beating so fast as she pulls her mask down. Yet even now that she's nervous, she finds that Seungkwan's smile is contagious in person too.

"There, that's better. And you do look pretty, especially with a smile."

Just then, the curtain is pulled back from the outside. In a blur, Seungkwan is suddenly pulling her into him, hiding his face in her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "there's a mirror behind you." True enough, he is facing the room's mirror, and if he wasn't fast enough, the staff would've seen his face.

But everything happening right now is too surreal! Though his arms are only hovering around her, she could still feel him breathing so close to her. She could smell his perfume, much stronger now than when his jacket was draped around her. "It's okay," she manages to whisper back.

Despite the displeased staff scolding them about using the dressing room for "things they shouldn't do in public," they thankfully got out of the store without revealing Seungkwan's identity. 

And as soon as they part ways at the bus stop, they start chatting.

On her way home while he gets ready for practice.

As she prepares dinner while he's taking a break.

As she gets ready for bed while he's cooling down after practice.

'Boo-nim!' she types, insisting to use it as a nickname. 'If I close my eyes now, I wouldn't be waking up from a long dream, right?'

'Of course,' Seungkwan is quick to reply. 'Now, it was really nice meeting you, and I loved talking to you. But you need to rest already. I put you through so much today.'

'Stop saying that!' She shakes her head at his stubbornness. ' You rest now too, please. You might be busy tomorrow.'

Seungkwan sighs, thinking about tomorrow's schedule. 'I actually will be. How about you?’

'Nah, it's still the weekend, so I could relax.'

'I wish I could do that too.'

That makes her pause. As much as she wants to, as he put it, 'keep this going,' she realizes this might just be a one-time thing after all. Seungkwan just happened to be free today, and she just happened to be there.

'Did you fall asleep already?'

It's not anyone's fault. They just live in two very different worlds. So the least she could do is to not make him feel guilty. 'No, sorry. Just fixed something here. Don't forget to take breaks, okay? Fighting!'

'Thank you. Talk to you again tomorrow! I'll message you during breaks.'

She smiles a bit sadly as she replies with an okay, along with a wish good night. 

Exiting the messaging app, she is faced by Seungkwan's smile again… in her phone wallpaper. Now that she's seen it up close, what used to make her feel giddy now fills her with yearning. 

"I really hope I'll meet you again."

~~~

"Someone's been glued to his phone since he got back."

Seungkwan briefly glances at Seokmin and Soonyoung before he presses 'Send.' He then pockets his phone. "No, I'm not."

"Did I say it's you?" Seokmin smiles teasingly.

"Whatever." Seungkwan drinks from his water bottle. "I'm just scrolling through Instagram."

"Scrolling through someone's Instagram profile," Soonyoung now joins in.

"Why are you two even looking at my phone?"

The two older members only hound him even more, moving to trap him on both sides. "You met someone today?" Seokmin presses on. "Or someone you already know but –"

"Nothing like that!" Noticing that some other members are now looking at them, he continues more softly, "Stop it, please. Not now." 

Soonyoung and Seokmin share a look before they both pat Seungkwan on the back. 

"Go away." He groans as he tries to shake them off.

“Okay, okay!” They laugh as they both run away.

With a tired sigh, Seungkwan pulls his phone out again to check her new message. Seeing that she finally said good night, he smiles again… until he notices Seokmin and Soonyoung still watching him from afar.

Okay, maybe I was a bit curious. But it's just normal to want to know a new friend more, right?  

With how she almost didn't tell him her name earlier, Seungkwan considers himself lucky that she gave her Instagram handle when he asked. At least, that means he got through to her, right? That she wants to treat him as an equal too.

So while he'd been waiting for her replies, he practically studied her feed (but was careful not to interact with any post even if he wanted to). By now, he'd already noted a few conversation topics he could casually bring up sometime. 

Because he does plan to meet her more often.

He'd just have to find a good time and place. And of course, keep some overly-curious hyungs off his back.

[misskumikosixteen]

2020 life update

it's a new year, so it's time for a reset! the last half of 2019 really shook me to the core and prevented me from posting much :(

but it's now time to get back up again! recently I've been very hooked with the new otome from NTT Solmare, Obey Me! so I'd be posting screencaps of my playthrough (because we want it to get famous enough to get merch and fanart)

and I'm about to finally rewatch Haikyuu!! it's super late lol, especially since s4 is just days away, but it's a start 😅 so yeah, while everyone would be posting about s4, I'd be back in s1. please bear with me!

as for new anime, I'd be watching only a few ones to focus on rewatching to prepare for sequels. so for this season, Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun and Toaru Kagaku no Railgun T! and maybe Sorceror Orphen? to kick off my Pikorin by Seasons series? idk. anyway, I'll be posting about those too!

hope we'd have a better year ahead!

[vii-xii]

Tagged by @electriclemons Thank you so much for tagging me and sorry it took me so long to post mine ^^;;

Rules: Answer the questions and tag 20 followers who you’d like to get to know better

Nickname: Ven, V, VII

Gender: Female

Star Sign: Sagittarius

Height: 159 cm

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Hogwarts House: I still don’t know hahaha

Favorite animal: Cats <3

Favorite color: Pink, Purple, Black, Blue, Yellow

Favorite song: Many to mention but right now my favorite song is This is Me by Keala Settle and The Greatest Showman Ensemble <3

Favorite Ideas to get creative with: Mostly from songs, then memes HAHAHA

What do I do when I’m alone: Enjoying my me time <3

What do I think of my friends: They’re fine xD

How many blankets do I sleep with: Only one

Dream Job: Voice actress, or anything in the multimedia arts

Dream trip: To Japan

When did I make this account: July 23, 2016

@sleeping-for-centuries @worldofserene @bloodierthantheredqueen @nekumiko @keneue @chengsandagan111 @keithsgurl @just-a-dot @snowembrace

[ao3feed-yoonjin]

you never walk alone

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2BSzzDK

by nekumiko

despite what has become of the world, they still have each other. but it's always much better if they're complete (and we aren't talking about limbs here).

Words: 3410, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Characters: Kim Namjoon | Rap Monster

Relationships: Kim Seokjin | Jin/Min Yoongi | Suga, Jung Hoseok | J-Hope/Park Jimin, Jeon Jungkook/Kim Taehyung | V

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, based on run!bts ep 24, i don't really ship jihope but i tried, maybe a little namkook, Angst, Comfort/Angst, mostly platonic ships though

read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2BSzzDK

[pizza-rapture]

@nekumiko: RT @rosoidae: bts took their group photo at Laundry Pizza in Gangnam https://t.co/TuCfUUDZXC ...the pizza rapture is nigh

[nekumiko]

Overshadowed

  Fandom: Kagerou Project

Genre:  Friendship

Rated: K+

Words: 627

Summary:  The day for couples in love, happy singles, and even for those bitter in love - she just had to be born on that very same day.

As always, she was the center of attention. And once again, it wasn’t how she expected it to be.

You’d think a super famous idol like Kisaragi Momo would have the privilege of a downtime as her fans celebrate her birthday with her. But with her new album’s inevitable rise to the charts, the company had decided to schedule a Valentine’s Day concert.

She was sweating like crazy. Hyperventilating, even. It’s not because she was too exhausted to move, nor was it because the performance routines could get tricky. She’d been in this industry long enough to have her body conditioned to all the work and stress. Momo was instead nervous over being so disconnected with her songs.

Love – sweet or bitter, fluffy or heartbreaking – has always been one of the most saleable concepts. Romantic love, that is. What her whole album was about. A move that has long been ironic in this business that prohibits idols to date. Yet Momo has to keep up the illusion of momentarily dissolving people’s worries away through her music, to make them believe she could relate to all of them.

As the smoke and pyrotechnics died down, the stage lift slowly propelled her up to view. As a professional, though, even without the surging emotions she was supposed to feel, Momo did her best with each performance, not once relying on her Eyes to do the trick of pulling the audience in.

And then she finished the supposedly last song.

A familiar tune sounded through the speakers, bewildering the band up on stage with her.

Momo covered her mouth that had dropped wide open in surprise.

It was difficult to distinguish faces in a dome so big and with lights so bright pointed at her, but Momo now remembered that the eight significant people in her life had been there all along. Through her concert, through all that time they can barely get a hold of her. And they knew it’d make her happy to be able to sing for them, so they made a way for her to do so. It was like a gift, their way of saying “Happy Birthday” from afar.

With a genuine smile she hadn’t been able to show in the past months of endless practices, recordings, and meetings for the concert, Momo did not miss a single beat and sang one of her brother’s masterpieces with all her heart.

It was another love song, but one that’s written to describe the deep love for friends that had already become family. She had proposed this song to the company, but it was rejected because of the irrelevance to the album theme. Yet now that a certain virus tweaked with the sound system, Momo saw her fans’ unwavering, if not increased, appreciative smiles and louder cheers. She could only wait until the end of the concert to look at her manager as if to say ‘I told you so.’

“Thank you,” she breathed out in the end, more so to the Mekakushi Dan than to all the other fans gathered there.

There’s so much more things to say, so much lost time she wanted to make up to. And so much of this joy and gratitude that she herself can’t put into words.

Momo still had to attend the fansign event and film for the behind-the-scenes footage after the concert, yet she couldn’t be more excited. She’d most likely be ready to pass out by the time she’d join the gang in a private room feasting on cakes, pastries, and the free food from her sponsors. But no matter what plan they have to celebrate her birthday, all she ever needed was their company. Her comfort, her happiness, her home. She couldn’t have asked for more.

[nekumiko]

Colors

Fandom: Daiya no Ace

Genre: Romance

Rated: T

Words: 3, 944

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Summary:  She’s fascinated with his hair. Just his hair. But Ryousuke finds it invasive, and of course he won’t let her off that easily.

Chapter Six: Ryousuke and Aya

That sure cheered him up, alright.

And Kominato Ryousuke in a good mood spells trouble for the other teams. The opponent that Saturday is Kiryuu High School, famous for having the best batters in Osaka. In the top half of the first inning alone, Kiryuu is up by three runs – or rather, three bases-loaded walks. But then, the next batter hits to center field… right into their territory.

Toned (short) legs run after the baseball, which consequently bounces into the waiting glove of the second baseman.

“Ryou-san!”

In the split second before Kominato falls prone to the ground, he expertly throws the baseball to his reliable partner.

With his signature laugh ringing through the field, Kuramochi then practically flies over the Kiryuu runner to throw the baseball all the way to their captain at first base.

The well-known double play of Seidou’s Iron Wall had not only prevented another bases-loaded walk, but ultimately ended the top half of the inning.

“H-he stopped it?”

“How did he catch that?”

“Nothing can get past those two!”

As the crowd continues to marvel over the wholesome turnout, Aya grips the underside of the bench she’s sitting on, grinning excitedly.

The infamous duo would be on a roll now as they would finally start up the offense.

Kuramochi steps onto the box as the lead-off batter. Once he hits the very first pitch, he becomes barely a flash of white and blue speeding through the field, shocking the whole of Kiryuu team and almost freezing the fielders up. Almost. Kuramochi steps on the third white bag, but not before its baseman catches the baseball from another fielder, rendering him out. A close call.

Maybe Aya had spoken too soon.

It doesn’t change the fact, though, that the second batter is the player with the best batting eye. Having full control of the baseball once it hits his bat, Kominato Ryousuke always keeps everyone on their toes. Today, after committing three balls and two strikes, the next pitch could either advance or take him out of the field. But he intentionally drives that and the next nine pitches into fouls, prolonging him at-bat.

Alas, Kiryuu’s pitcher starts showing signs of fatigue.

That is when Kominato decides not to swing anymore, effectively prompting the umpire to call it the fourth ball and award him a walk.

Was it some sort of comeback, or something he’d been planning from the start? Either way, it fills Aya with pride, with hope for a victory today, and maybe with a little selfish happiness knowing she’s a reason behind his good plays.

But she somehow feels sorry for the Seidou team, too.

For Kominato Ryousuke in a good mood may also be a bit bad to his own teammates’ sanity.

No doubt Kuramochi would be insulted for not getting on base, as if it hadn’t been enough that Kominato playfully hit his stomach with a glove after just complaining about fatigue from camp. Aya wishes she didn’t need to see how the poor shortstop had curled up in pain.

And it seems like the senior had been more than happy to stay quiet along with the other fielders during the first five innings Furuya had pitched, a plan they had apparently come up with just to loosen the stiff first-year up. Birds of the same feather flock together, they say.

That good mood extends up to the following day – where Seidou plays in a three-way round robin against Shuuhoku and Inashiro Industrial – not even dampened by a little pest named Narumiya Mei showing off a new pitch to watch out for (if anything, it had only fired he and his friends up even more).

At the final game against Shuuhoku, as their beloved ace, Tanba, stands in the batter box for the bottom half of the inning, Kominato now teams up with another notorious bully. Their voices ring out all the way from the dugout.

“Hit it, Tanba!” Isashiki Jun shouts.

“But don’t try too hard!” “It will affect your pitching!” Kominato adds.

Back-and-forth they continue, to the point where everyone, even Aya, had to tune them out.

Yet, as all baseball games go, things always take an unexpected turn.

Shuuhoku’s pitch becomes a dead ball in the worst possible way – it hits Tanba right in the face. In a flash, the field swarms with white, crowding around the fallen Seidou ace and swallowing up Coach Kataoka, the first one to rush in.

It’s the seniors’ last chance to play in Nationals. Chris had already been eliminated from the roster because of his injury. That fact remains hard to swallow, for what would be the point of reaching the top if you all won’t be there together? And if Tanba – their ace, their friend – would end up the same…

Aya had to do quick errands for the Art Club at lunch next day, and therefore can’t help but sneak a peek at 3-B’s classroom. She had spent a good portion of yesterday staring at the cold white screen of her phone when Kominato only replied with a highly doubtful “I’ll be fine” to her texts.

He is seated up front beside the window, his chin propped on one hand. Masuko and Isashiki, as well as their other teammates from the class, surround him, along with an almost tangible gloom.

Practice the following morning is devastatingly quiet, too. The seniors remain strong in their throws and swings, remain excellent in catching. But these are all obviously out of frustration.

Dealing with a low-spirited sportsman, however, is not new to Aya. He would just need time to sort out his feelings, and that is best done in the company of his teammates. But with the upgrade in their relationship, she now has the urge – no, a sudden sense of duty to comfort him. Yet this relationship is still so fresh that she realizes she doesn’t know how to. Would he really want to be left alone? Does he have a comfort food, or a way to let off steam? Having only focused on his physical attributes before, and not to mention their bad history that had kept her distant, her knowledge about him is merely a speck of pink in a huge, white space.

As white as the papers she’s currently drowning in.

“Is this how you absorb your lessons?”

Aya opens her eyes to come face-to-face with the exact person filling her thoughts.

“Found you~” he says softly, a small smile finding its way on his lips.

She smiles back, relieved to see it. Until she realizes she’d been asleep. She immediately straightens up and covers her mouth with her hands.

Kominato chuckles as he sits up too, shifting in his chair so that he stays facing her, his knees almost touching her right leg. “Don’t worry.” He pries her hands away. “I would’ve already wiped away any drool if you had any. Although,” his hands move to fix her hair, fingers running through the flyaways, “you do have the beginnings of a bird’s nest.”

She fights the urge to lean into the touch.

When he pulls away, the amused smile vanishes. “You haven’t been getting enough sleep.”

Play it cool. Aya shrugs. “I’m taking commissions again, so I’ve been busy.”

“Shouldn’t you be studying? Final exams are just around the corner.”

“I am!” She gestures at the books and notebooks in front of her. “I only study in the library, though.”

“Sure, if that’s what you call studying.” He tilts his head at the portraits she’d drawn for the past hour, half-hidden under her book.

“I need breaks, okay?” She giggles. “And don’t worry. Between me and my cousin, I’m the one blessed with academic excellence. So I’ll be fine!”

“Oh? Then does that mean we can’t have study dates?”

She laughs uneasily at the mention of the word, suddenly turning a page in her book. “How did you find me here?”

From her peripheral, Aya swears Kominato’s lips quirk up for a second. “You texted me.”

Now, that’s not what she’s expecting. Aya looks back at him with a small frown. “I did?” She checks her phone. “Oh my god, I thought I was texting my cousin!” Because he’s the only one who occasionally asks if she got home already. The only one who texts her, actually.

“No wonder you dropped polite speech with me.” He doesn’t bother to hide the smirk now. “Again.”

“Sorry.” She puts her phone down. “But why are you looking for me?”

“Simple. I missed my Mako-chan.”

Aya whines. “I told you not to butcher my very meaningful name!”

Kominato laughs, and it’s a pleasant sound she didn’t think she’d hear this week. Suddenly, the nickname doesn’t sound too bad. It was merely a chuckle, though, before he scoots closer. “Let’s go on a date, Mako-chan.”

Her small smile disappears as she blinks. “W-what?”

“I asked you out right before two whole days of games, and then stop talking to you for nearly two more days afterwards. I don’t think I’ve been a good boyfriend.”

She shakes her head vigorously. “No, Kominato-san! I understand all that! You’ve got Nationals to prepare for, so it’s really okay!”

He stares at her. “You haven’t dated before, have you?”

Aya’s jaw falls open.

Kominato coos, tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear. “I’d be very honored to be your first.”

“I…” She lowers his hand to intertwine it with hers, resting them on top of his knee. “But what about Nationals? Are you really in a state to go on dates right now? I mean, with what happened in the game…”

“That idiot thankfully only cracked his chin, so he’d definitely still play. We’d just start off the season without him. While that would require more effort for everyone, there’s enough time.” He puts an elbow on the table and props his head on his palm, so that he’s angled to look up and into her eyes. “The team is a priority, but you’re important too.”

Aya gulps. Stares at him for a few seconds. Turns away to cover her face with her hands. “Who are you and what did you do to Kominato Ryousuke?”

He chuckles. “Oh, right. You didn’t watch afternoon practice. That’s why.”

She lowers her hands. “That’s why…?” It is then that she notices he is still wearing his white jersey. Had he sought her out right after practice?

“Tetsu and Jun did a good job at motivating the seniors earlier. But,” he leans closer to whisper his next words in her ear, “did you forget it’s you who could cheer me up the most?”

To address Aya’s concerns, Kominato – after getting harshly shoved away from her – sets the date on Saturday, for the team does not practice on weekends, and since his “smart girlfriend surely wouldn’t dedicate a whole day for studying.”

Now that they’re waiting in line at the movie theater, he turns to the girl who had shown up in a dress as pure white as her soul. “Are you sure you want to watch a horror movie?” Well, maybe not.

Aya nods quite excitedly. “I’m not actually fond of the romance genre. I like movies that could make you scream, jump, or basically just keep you up at night! Oh, especially if it’s gore. You can even ask Kazuya…” she trails off upon seeing Kominato’s tight smile.

“I just don’t think it’s a first-date movie.”

“Why not?” Aya slips her hand in his. “It would be a perfect movie for low-key cuddling when I get scared.”

If she gets scared. Aya instead ends up too engrossed with the movie, only staring straight ahead as she subconsciously munches on her sandwich. Of course, if she’d never been clingy when watching these kinds of movies before, she still wouldn’t be even if she has a boyfriend now.

“Mako-chan.”

She gasps loudly at the hand touching her arm. They are apparently outside the cinema already.

Kominato frowns slightly in concern. “Are you alright?”

Not making fun of me? “Yes, just… a little spooked. That movie was really good.” She holds a hand to her chest and breathes deeply. “Now, I need to burn all that adrenaline. Let’s go to a batting center next.”

It would be comical to say that Kominato Ryousuke’s eyes had widened. “Did I just hear you correctly? A batting center?”

“Why? You aren’t sick of baseball yet, right? Because that’d be bad news.”

Kominato shakes his head. “How would watching me bat help you with… with burning the adrenaline?”

She giggles. “Who says I’d be watching?”

And it finally clicks. “You can bat?”

She scoffs. “For your information, I am fairly good at it. It’d be a shame if I wasn’t. It’s the only game Kazuya knows how to play with me back when we were kids.”

“Oh?” Kominato drags the word out. “That’s interesting,” he says despite losing all color in his tone. He lightly grasps her wrist and starts walking. “Alright, I know a center nearby.”

Aya bites her lip to stifle another giggle.

He waits until they had crossed over to the other side of the street before speaking again. “Miyuki and you really go way back.”

Finally. “Of course we do. He’s my cousin.”

“What?” He stops. Fortunately, they are out of the way of passersby. “The cousin you’ve been talking about all along?”

“The one and only~” As he continues to only stare at her, Aya laughs. “I mean, seriously, how could people not see that? We have the same brown hair,” she twirls a lock of hair, “pretty brown eyes,” and then she places a finger gun under her chin, clicking her tongue, “and good looks!” She crosses her arms, humming in thought. “Maybe it’s because I don’t wear glasses. Oh!” She claps once. “No, it has to be the attitude. I am way kinder than he is.”

Somehow recovering during her little monologue, Kominato chuckles. “And way shorter.”

Aya gasps. But then she smiles goofily and nudges his shoulder. “But at least that makes you taller than me, right?” This time, she pulls him by the wrist so they could get a move on. “Anyway, I’d like to say that you disappoint me, senpai, for being one of those people sick enough to think of me and Kazuya as… ugh, eww.”

“But?”

Aya smirks at him. “But I’ve realized you’ve been jealous all this time, and that’s fun to think back on now!”

“I wasn’t.”

“Sure.” But before Kominato could even reply, Aya stops to look up at the batting center already in front of them. “You’re right, it is nearby!”

At first, it had been sweet.

“I’ll only play in the cages you’d play in,” Kominato says as he collects their tokens from the machine. “Don’t go off to another cage without me. I’d have to watch you because you’re not exactly wearing the right clothes for this.”

Aya blinks and looks down at herself. Her dress is not too short to ride up her thighs if she moves recklessly, but she finds her cheeks warming up at his concern. “Okay. Thank you.”

When he passes her the gloves that the center offers, Kominato tuts. “You really should’ve told me in advance that we’d go here today. I would’ve let you borrow my own gloves instead.”

She smiles, deciding not to remind him it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. “It’s okay. I’m not squeamish.”

But then he gets only one helmet, and leads her to the 90 km/h cage. And then he smirks. “Let’s start safe.” He puts the helmet on her head. “This is for you.”

“You don’t trust me.”

“You are Miyuki’s cousin, after all.”

Aya pouts. Miyuki Kazuya is known to hit homers and long balls, as long as there are runners on base. Otherwise, he only gets struck out. And in this setting that has absolutely no runners to consider, Aya might have picked up that weakness from the only one who taught her how to bat. Or maybe it’s just because of the person watching her today.

“Mako-chan, you won’t get to move on to the faster balls if you keep this up.”

“Whoa. You almost got hit. Again.”

“Mako-chan, do you want me to buy more tokens?”

“I am glad you did not decide to be a baseball player.”

Aya not only gets rid of all that adrenaline, but also develops a better understanding of the Seidou team fortunate enough to be playing in the same batch as Kominato Ryousuke. “I want to hit you.”

“I get that a lot.” He hands her a towel. “They don’t say it, but the look in their eyes does.”

“I am sure.”

After a few more rounds – to be fair, Aya had gotten over her nerves and it became a friendly competition – they finally decide to eat, and Kominato gets to choose where to go this time.

“Senpai,” Aya softly calls as she twirls her pasta around her fork, “why did you pick a French café?”

“If I let you pick again, we might be in a family restaurant right now.”

“What do you mean?”

He frowns slightly. “Aren’t you being too considerate of me? Watching a movie in a genre I like. Going to a batting center of all places.”

“And what? You expect me to suggest eating curry? I don’t even know your favorite food.”

He pauses. “It is curry.”

“Oh. Wow.”

A moment of silence passes.

Aya raises an eyebrow. “And you think I’d like it here?”

His lips part open in surprise. “You don’t?”

She shrugs. “It’s okay. I’m not exactly that high-maintenance.” Aya finally eats the carbonara on her fork. “And for the record, I don’t like curry. Or any other spicy food.”

Kominato sighs in relief. “Okay. I…” He looks out the glass wall of the café. “I just want you to feel special.”

Aya wants to melt. “Just that thought is enough, really! Don’t be pressured with me too, please.” She touches his hand on the table, prompting him to look back at her. “This might sound cliché, but I seriously think that any activity would be perfect as long as it’s with you. And hey, did it not occur to you that we might just like the same things?” She then clasps her hands in front of her, grinning. “That makes us all the more compatible, doesn’t it?”

He breaks out into a shy grin back, a slight pink on his cheeks. “I guess.”

Aya sips her iced macchiato, and then clears her throat. “I do have a very important question, senpai.”

He puts his fork down now, a small frown back on his face. “What is it?”

“Well, I know we’re a new couple, but we’ve technically known each other for a year now, making us fairly familiar with each other… so I’ve just been wondering…” It is now her turn to look out of the café. “Um, isn’t it a bit weird for me to keep calling you by your family name? Especially since your brother studies at the same school now.”

“I do remember that you call him by his first name.”

“Exactly! I call my boyfriend’s brother by his first name, but with my own boyfriend…”

He sits back. “I see. You want to call me by my first name.”

Aya turns back to him. “But that’s not all. Uh, you see, if you allow me to, another concern would come up.”

He nods once for her to continue. 

“How exactly would I do that? Your teammates call you ‘Ryou-san’ and ‘Ryousuke-san.’ Now, wouldn’t it be much weirder if I do the same thing?”

He chuckles. “You put a lot of thought into this, huh?”

She only laughs nervously.

He hums in thought. “’Ryou.’ You can call me ‘Ryou.’”

Her eyes widen. “No honorifics? Are you sure?”

He only nods, then resumes his meal. 

“Okay, Ryou.” She picks at her food, repeating his name for a few more times.

But he says nothing else. There’s not even a blush on his cheeks.

So Aya waits for him to take another bite of his bread. “Ryou,” she calls, and then smiles because he had the decency to finally look up. “You can call me Aya.”

He chokes.

Gauging his coughing fit to be at a level where he won’t see white lights yet, Aya smirks and leans over the table as she dangles a glass of water. “Aww, Ryou, do you need Aya to help you?”

Despite the not-so-pure-white individual personalities of the two, their relationship could be best described as painted in the color of new beginnings.

Not only is this Aya’s first relationship, but it also marks the end of their countless petty fights from the past year. Ryousuke and Aya are starting off on a clean slate, falling under the spell of awkward but sweet innocence of getting to know each other in a new light.

But the problem with having something so white is that you can’t exactly hide it.

As they get closer to summer vacation – and Summer Nationals – practice and final exams leave the team with almost no time for themselves. That brings Kuramochi into joining Aya and Miyuki’s near-regular lunches in the classroom.

“Are you sure you two can eat that much?” Aya asks as she closes the lid of her own lunchbox, having finished before them because her meals are much lighter.

“Three bowls of rice is the minimum back at the dorms,” Kuramochi replies. “Besides, this is good. And surely healthier than those in the cafeteria. I should order from you more often.”

“That’d be very nice! New customers are always welcome!”

“Hey, don’t let it get to her head,” Miyuki says.

“Well, I’m sorry.” Aya squints. “Even if my cooking is ‘second-rate,’ they’re well-appreciated.”

“Kuramochi’s the only other person you’ve ever cooked for.”

“That’s not true! I’ve cooked for Ryou before and he likes it.”

The two boys stop.

Aya drops her chopsticks, as wide-eyed as them.

“Ryou?” they chorus.

“J-just keep eating, okay?” She grabs her poor chopsticks from the ground, but resurfaces to find them still staring at her.

Miyuki is the first one to recover, a slight frown on his eyebrows. “Aya,” he drags the last syllable out, “has something been happening the whole week you barely talked to me?”

She starts packing up her lunch set to escape that all-knowing gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And then Miyuki laughs so hard, the remaining students in the room start staring.

“Oi!” She lightly kicks his foot. “Cut it out already!”

“I just…” Miyuki manages to say before he laughs again.

Even Kuramochi sighs. “I don’t know why he finds it funny. I personally think it’s amusing.”

“That’s not very reassuring, Mochi.” 

He smirks. “I mean, who would’ve thought you two would actually – no, finally hook up?”

“You’re so foul-mouthed!”

Miyuki finally calms down. “Ah, that was a good one.” He points to the new ribbon on her half-ponytail. “I knew there was something behind Makoto Aya suddenly putting more effort in taming her hair.”

“Right?” Kuramochi shoves food into his mouth. “And it’s not like you two aren’t obvious, you know.” He swallows. “Don’t think I can’t see all his glances and smiles at the bleachers. Or how Ryou-san spends a lot of time texting.”

“Oh! Now I’m sure my eyes weren’t tricking me when I saw the ‘Ryou’ doodles at the back of your notebook,” Miyuki adds.

She raises an eyebrow. “We aren’t ‘obvious,’ you guys are just irritatingly perceptive.”

Huge grins slowly creep into the two friends’ expressions.

Aya curses.

Previous: Truce

Next: Jealousy (but not just Ryousuke’s)

[nekumiko]

Colors

Fandom: Daiya no Ace

Genre: Romance

Rated: T

Words: 3, 711

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4  | 5

Summary:  She’s fascinated with his hair. Just his hair. But Ryousuke finds it invasive, and of course he won’t let her off that easily.

Chapter Five: Truce

The first color that registers is red.

She sees it – or rather, realizes it's what her eyes had caught before he ran away – on Kominato Ryousuke's cheeks.

She feels it on her own ones.

Hence, watching practice the next day has become awkward.

It's not new for him to notice her there – it is the very matter of their banters, after all. But Kominato never looks back a second time. Until today.

Each time she would calm down, he would glance at her, and red would just creep back up to the tips of her ears.

Once, he holds her gaze for a few seconds too long before hitting very cleanly each baseball thrown at him. If this is like those cliché scenarios in books and movies, is it supposed to mean that he had performed well for her? Because she swears he had on the faintest hint of a smile. Does he think this is some kind of fun joke?

Aya takes a deep breath. Reminds herself that she has to get through this. She needs to get back to the Art Club, plus she would get paid for this. It's all for a good cause.

Promising him a week minimum is a good call, for the pre-summer training camp had started that Friday. The usual before- and after-school practices would not only intensify, but also extend until evening. She wouldn't want to disturb him at such a busy time (she's just guilty of letting two days pass idly by). And since the players would practically be living in the field for a week, it's the perfect time to gather inspiration. For right on the camp's first morning practice, Aya would be blessed with her most-awaited sight.

The pink-haired brothers are at batting practice together! With Haruichi getting promoted to first-string (which Miyuki had not-so-subtly told her the day after the announcement, with Kuramochi overhearing then making a fuss over her being a player), he has now received the right to be on the same field as his brother. And he definitely does not disappoint at how easily he could keep up with the third-year in catching and throwing. Their movements could even be described as identical.

For now. Training camp, as what Aya had witnessed last year, would be hell as it progresses.

But for now, she is swelling up with pride. Inevitably, her eyes trail over to the older brother.

As the players wait for the next cart of baseballs to be rolled over to the one batting for them, Kominato Ryousuke pauses to regard the unsuspecting first-year with a small smile.

Happiness for her junior who is step-by-step achieving his dream of getting acknowledged by his idol, and, she has to admit, happiness because she's sharing the same emotions at the exact same moment as the senior, makes her flush red. Or maybe because the sun had already risen high enough to shine on her sensitive skin now.

Or maybe because a shortstop named Kuramochi, standing near the Kominatos competing for the second baseman position, is now eyeing her with a knowing grin.

Aya could only groan.

The next problem to being uninspired is not knowing exactly what she'd draw. The scenes from practices and games that she draws have always been limited by the distance between her spot outside the fence and her subjects positioned in the diamond within a large field. The main reason why she draws Kominato with his eyes closed. She knows they aren't, but that's just how he usually appears in her perspective.

So that leaves her with the only clear image she has of his eyes.

And that would lead her to recall every single detail of how she came to see them, and most especially the moment itself where there had been mere three-ish inches between them – small beads of sweat remaining unwiped from the side of his face, their intermingling breaths, his boyish scent, his dry lips, and lastly, the piercing gaze of his black irises. Such details would, in a way, make it her first intimate drawing.

What a great thing to think about right in the middle of the cafeteria line.

And Aya almost gets a heart attack when she looks up and sees pink hair right in front of her. Almost. She's now good enough to recognize the stark difference in their haircuts from behind. Breathing a sigh of relief, she taps his shoulder. "Haruichi~"

Haruichi looks back over his shoulder and instantly brightens up. "Oh, Aya-san!"

"Long time, no see!" Aya grins, stopping herself from adding, what with all that bangs blocking your eyes.

"Yeah." Haruichi scratches the back of his head. "It's been pretty hectic."

"Don't worry about it. You got to first-string, so it's not without reward!"

Red colors his cheeks. "That's a pretty harsh way to put it."

She pauses. Pink and red is a combination she'd stuck on Haruichi, but had never imagined seeing on his brother. Could the genes that gave them unique hair (and a sad height) also be responsible for them both to blush... cutely? But what startles Aya is that she might be the only one who knows that. She gives her best reassuring smile. "But you've got to admit that it's an achievement. So, congratulations!"

Haruichi chuckles. "Thank you, Aya-san." He picks up a tray from the stack.

Aya gets a piece of milk bread. She's too distracted these days to cook lunch for herself and Miyuki. "Has your brother said anything?"

Haruichi softly sighs and shakes his head as he continues to fill his tray. Even cute little boys have big appetites, it seems. "He had never once even looked me in the eyes."

Aya sucks in a breath. Hold it in, Aya. Stop making jokes about these brothers' eyes! "Really? Not even a single 'congratulations?'"

"Maybe he doesn't think I'm ready for first-string yet."

Aya's head snaps towards him to say something along the lines of, 'Are you serious? You're already there! In fact, he's—'

But that train of thought cuts off as she sees Haruichi with a determined expression, as if his brother's indifference is what ultimately fuels him.

She hums in thought. Maybe it might be more fulfilling for him to slowly discover that his brother has already been impressed. "I'm sure he wouldn't have told you to go to Seidou without knowing you'd get into first-string, won't he?"

"Aniki… actually didn't. At least, not directly."

"I don't get it."

"He told me not to follow him." Haruichi smiles at the memory. "But when I walked with him to the station the next day, he told me to go to whichever school I'd like."

Hold up. "…Is he always like that? Saying things in the harshest way possible, but actually means the opposite?"

He grins. "You must be good friends with Aniki if you're able to say that about him."

She only laughs uneasily. With a final wish for good luck, Aya excuses herself to allow her a few moments of contemplative silence.

If Kominato Ryousuke is some kind of tsundere, and his brother, who has been living with the guy for most of his life, agrees to it, then what would all those times the third-year had told her to stop "stalking" him actually mean? Is he just someone who gets flustered when people follow him, and therefore copes with it by being mean?

That's just… endearing.

Maybe Aya is twisted. Must run in the blood.

But why do people follow him in the first place?

Being friends with Kuramochi, one-half of the Keystone Combo, has Aya well aware of how harsh his senior had been on him before. But that seemed to have been the push for Kuramochi to work hard, making him one of the best middle infielders in the area alongside the older Kominato, his now-close friend.

And she's seeing a repeating pattern between the brothers, the younger of which now sporting a dirtied white uniform as he not only struggles to breathe, but also struggles to even catch a ball. Meanwhile, the older still manages to stand straight, with just a few specks of dirt here and there in his clothes.

It's only been the third day of camp (Tuesday of the following week, as the players are fortunate this year to be given a whole weekend of rest after the first day of tasting hell).

It's too bad that Aya's too far from them to hear their conversation – she also confirms that they really don't face each other when they talk – but in retrospect, it wouldn't be wrong to assume that he just said something harsh. But as she had now expected, Haruichi stands up and continues to practice with more motivation.

Kominato Ryousuke exudes an aura that makes people want to impress him the more he… well, 'bullies' them. Reverse psychology, is that what you call it? Because it all boils down to respect for how great of a player he is.

Personally, she could attest to that. For Aya is not just here for the aesthetic. The way he plays has also reeled her in.

Yet the full extent of his talent and efforts, which provide a different light to his taunts, could only be seen by his teammates.

Apparently, the fifth day of camp's after-school batting practice would change that.

Coach Kataoka walks over with his own bat, immediately hushing the whole field. "I'm batting," he announces.

The seniors (only, because Kuramochi, a sophomore, is horrified) seem to glow with excitement.

Coach points his bat at them. "First-year Kominato, get off the field!" he commands. "Everyone else, I hope you're ready!"

Haruichi, crouching with his hands on both knees as an attempt to catch his breath, takes one last look at his brother before he walks off.

"Let's go nonstop!" the coach shouts, to which the starters (minus Miyuki and Tanba presumably at the bullpen) answer with an affirmative roar.

From 4'o clock in the afternoon, the constant sound everyone hears is the Coach's bat hitting baseballs at a frightening speed. And because he is against Seidou's current cream of the crop, each baseball is caught and thrown back just in time for the next one to zoom through the diamond.

Alas, even these "monsters" have a limit.

"What's wrong?" the Coach shouts. "You're getting quiet!"

The seven fielders' fatigue from the past five days of camp has finally caught up to them, and being in the dark doesn't help one bit.

Dark? Aya looks around. Following Miyuki's strict advice from last year's camp, she had never stayed to watch evening practice. But how could anyone go home right in the middle of this?

The first-years finally remember to turn on the field's lights, illuminating most of the starters on their knees. But the two seniors infamous for being terror figures to the juniors remain barely standing.

Centerfielder Isashiki Jun weakly begs for another round.

"I can't hear you! Where's your usual attitude, Isashiki?" Coach bellows before sending the ball his way, but he misses and instead tumbles on the ground in the process, ending up curled in pain.

"Who taught you to catch like that?"

The next baseball is sent straight down the field again within the second baseman's range. Kominato Ryousuke misses.

"Where's that smirk of yours, Kominato?"

Kominato falls to his knees, curled up and coughing.

And Aya's heart is torn between breaking from the sight and pounding with newfound, if not strengthened, admiration.

Missing out on Kominato's beginning year in the team means she only got to witness his already-perfected plays. Though she knows that he had worked hard to achieve that – for everyone always has to start from scratch – it is overwhelming to see first-hand the red-hot passion he has for the sport. His skills are above others and he knows it, but he doesn't use that confidence to brag. He pushes his peers' buttons to provoke them into working past their limits like he does, or in certain people's cases, into working harder to surpass him.

But as Aya looks at his just-inked portrait on her desk later that night, she realizes something: she isn't his teammate, so why does he have to be harsh on her? If she then likens Haruichi's story of his brother's turnaround to that late afternoon Kominato Ryousuke suddenly expressed interest in her drawings and then commissioned her to draw him of all people, despite expressing 'disgust' over her hobby for the past year…

Is he just a guy embarrassed over the amount of attention a girl has been pouring on him?

Her cousin would know what to say. To an extent, outsiders could see things clearer. Plus, his position requires him to know every player, even in the tad bit personal category. But remembering how she had barely escaped his scolding earlier when he spotted her still at evening practice, she puts her phone down. She'd deal with that tomorrow. Although if Aya tells him that watching until late had triggered his ship to at last gain ground, maybe she could get away?

Wait, what?

Is that it? Is she really… crushing on the second baseman after all? Why else would she insist on making him her muse despite being told off? It seems like she herself had fallen for that charm. Why does she feel lonely whenever she remembers he'll disappear from her life come March next year? She even considers stopping this "foolishness" called art once she loses her only muse, because she knows no one else could replace him.

Makoto Aya is stubborn, but she's not one to deny truths. (Well, technically, she'd been in denial for a year, but at least she came through, right?) She's got it bad.

Training camp takes away every last bit of the players' free time, leaving only enough for eating and sleeping. Despite her earlier decision to wait it out, here she is outside Field A, a brown envelope in hand.

Aya had stayed up late to finish the commission, as well as to sort out her feelings, so she woke up well after morning practice began. It'd be disrespectful to call him in the middle of practice, so her next chance would be before afternoon practice starts. But then the whole team – not just the starters and managers who had all apparently caught on to her infatuation ever since – would see them. Shameless as she is, she wouldn't want that to happen. Approaching him at lunchtime wouldn't do, either, for Kominato always hangs out with his classmates, Jun-san and Masuko.

The only option left is to ask someone to relay a message to him. But who? Miyuki is automatically crossed off the list. Kuramochi would be the best bet. Or even the second-year managers, Yui and Sachiko, for female support. Yet while she's sure that they won't blab about this, they would also never let her live it down. Haruichi wouldn't have the heart to tease her, but considering his circumstances with his brother right now, Aya doubts they talk outside the field.

Damn, she really needs more friends.

"Makoto-san?" a melodic voice calls.

Aya looks up at the only third-year manager. "Takako-senpai!"

"Morning practice is over. You should go on ahead, or else you'd be late for first period." She gives the brunette a meaningful smile. "Or are you waiting for someone?"

The managers may tease her about the pink-haired senior, but Fujiwara Takako, Aya realizes, could be mature enough for this kind of favor. "Actually, I was waiting for you, senpai."

"Really?" She leans closer to whisper, "Are commissions open again?"

Aya inwardly smirks. Perfect. She is also one of her regular clients (although, her orders are all sworn to secrecy, for it wouldn't be good to seem like she's playing favorites). "Yes! And I'd be willing to prioritize your next request if… well, you'd do me a little favor?"

"Ah, you don't need to do that. I'd do anything for my sweet underclassman."

"Pfft, after I just kind of blackmailed you?"

Click.

At lunchtime, the door to the rooftop opens to reveal Kominato Ryousuke.

Aya stands up from one of the benches. "Over here, Kominato-san!"

He closes the door behind him and crosses the short distance between them, stopping at arm's length. The smirk that Aya had expected is missing. "Hello," he starts in a barely-steady voice. He clears his throat. "I was told you want to meet me up here."

She nods, and then holds up the envelope in between them. "I thought you might need some cheering up in the middle of the exhausting camp." As the third-year takes it from her, she adds, "I mean, assuming you'd like it."

Kominato opens the envelope and slides the paper out. The first thing anyone would notice is the trademark pink in her drawings of him, the color covering most of the top half of this one. As promised, his small eyes are not just mere two slanted lines anymore. Normally, it would have been intimidating, but the girl had drawn on slightly-parted lips to soften his expression into a curious one. "Wow," he can't help but whisper.

Aya stops fidgeting with the sleeves of her gray sweater. "Hm? Do you like it?"

He nods. "Yes. I… I didn't think it'd be better to hold one of your drawings up close."

Her eyes widen. "Better?" she repeats. "That would mean you already think my drawings are good."

"I do." And there it is. Aya's eyes are graced for the second time with a red-cheeked Kominato Ryousuke. "I was actually hoping I could talk to you about it if I ask for a commission. I know I've been a jerk. I'm sorry. I didn't really mean all that."

"Oh, so that's what it is…" She crosses her arms. "But you really required me to do more work just for that, huh?"

Kominato purses his lips. "I'm sorry for that, too."

Aya blinks. Pinches herself. Gets hurt. "You're serious."

He nods. "I promise I won't say such things again."

She smiles. "Well, if you're really sincere about it, and since I could get back to the Art Club because of you, then okay, I forgive you."

He sighs in relief and smiles back.

Scrambling to control the sudden staccato of her heartbeats, she says, "I was right, though, that you are a tsun."

His smile vanishes. "I am not."

"Oh yes, you are." She giggles, then pauses to look away. "It's cute, don't worry."

Kominato's sharp intake of breath could be heard clearly.

But before he could say something, Aya continues, "I wasn't planning on going through with it, but you went ahead and redeemed yourself."

"I don't get it."

"Uh, I think you could figure it out from the cliché setting by now."

"I wouldn't want to assume."

She gulps. "You see, I can completely understand why you're creeped out by me. I'm sorry for that. But I've only recently realized why I'm so persistent, and it's because I actually really like you."

There is silence as red spreads all over the senior's face. It reminds Aya of his brother, but it wouldn't be appropriate to mention another guy right now, wouldn't it?

She gives a nervous smile. "Yeah, so that's that. I'll see you around."

"Wait!"

Aya, already turning to collect her things from the bench, completely stops. He'd just raised his voice with her for the first time, and now she's even more startled. "Huh? What?"

"My answer is 'okay.'"

"...What?"

"What?"

"What do you mean by 'okay?'"

He takes a step forward. "'Okay, let's date.'"

"Why would we be dating?"

Kominato stops. "Huh?"

"I just told you that I like you. But you didn't even tell me if you like me back."

He frowns slightly. "Of course I like you too."

"'Of course?' How would I know that, senpai? You've been nothing but harsh on me. Oh, is that how you flirt with someone?"

"I—"

"And okay, let's say that's just your true nature: a tsundere. But then, why should we date just because we like each other? If you want us to be in a relationship, shouldn't you ask?"

"You're..." Kominato trails off to take a deep breath. "Fine." His frown deepens in thought, then he reaches out and takes one of her hands in his, once again getting close enough to look her straight in the eyes. "Makoto-san, would you like to be my girlfriend?"

She stares at him agape, before squeezing her eyes shut as she feels her face heat up and rival the shade of red he'd sported earlier. "Yes."

Their noses touch. "Then, may I—"

"Hey, I almost forgot!" Aya steps back, dropping his hand to hold her palm up. "Now, if you please." At the senior's confused frown, she says, "It's a commission, Kominato-san. You have to pay for it. And nope, being my boyfriend doesn't mean you're off the hook."

"...I understand." He fishes through his pants pocket for his wallet. He then places two 500-yen and two 100-yen coins on her still-outstretched hand.

Aya's hand immediately closes around the money and pockets it. "Pleasure doing business with you~"

"That's what's left of my lunch money this week." Kominato smirks. "You're a bit mean yourself."

"Then I guess we're meant for each other, huh?" She smirks back. "But you can't fool me. The whole team is loaded because you guys don't have time to go out anymore."

He deadpans, but the smirk finds its way back on his face a second later. "Well, I would have to now that I've got you, right?"

She laughs. "Nah, you've got Nationals to focus on first. Now," she sits back down on the bench and pats the space beside her lunch bag, "don't worry about lunch. I've cooked extra today."

As he takes the offer, he asks, "So does this count as first date?"

She freezes. "N-no. I would've given you these even if you didn't ask me out. It's still part of cheering you up."

As a reply, he softly says, "But you've always had, you know."

Kominato Ryousuke may have stopped tormenting her with insults, but he had definitely found a new way to kill her.

Previous: Trigger

Next: Ryousuke and Aya

[nekumiko]

Too Good to be True

Fandom: Kagerou Project

Genre:  Romance

Rated: K+

Words: 497

Summary: At first glance, they're the cutest, and probably the ideal couple, among the Dan.

Magical.

That’s how the beginning of their story could be described.

In between the time the door opened and the time she covered her eyes, she saw a little boy. A boy of the species she’d grown so afraid of.

But he was different. Despite her warning, he continued approaching, but not to hurt her nor call her a monster. “I’m just like you,” he instead spoke kindly as his warm hand gently pat her head.

The boy called Seto introduced her to a beautifully harmonious sound from the rectangular device he held, and from then on in his near-daily visits, to lots of other stuff she’d only ever read about.

For the first time in all those years of isolation and fear, she was offered the wonderful bond called friendship.

Cute.

That’s the first word anyone would think when they see Seto and Marry together.  

Piggyback rides. Falling asleep cuddling on the couch. Seto making artificial flowers with her or reading a book to her on his rare days off. Marry refusing to go to bed until Seto gets home from overtime work. Seto fixing, and ending up doing, Marry’s chores before Kido finds out the new mess the albino had made. Marry throwing (few but should-not-be-ignored) fits and Seto fondly giving in.

All the lovey-dovey fluff just comes so naturally, never awkwardly, if it’s them.

Brought together by fate.

For most of their early life, they’ve been lonely and made fun of, hence feared the whole world. But those fears literally brought Seto to her door.

They complement each other. She’s clumsy and all over the place, he’s tough and strong. And he satisfied her curiosity through all means.

Perfect.

Marry knew they are anything but.

She’d realized it long ago, when the little boy who had often visited her humble little home in the middle of the forest started growing taller, leaner, and stronger. Things change and time passes. He would age, but she’ll remain the same. Yet parting because of old age is the least of their problems.

For she knew. She just knew that being a medusa binds her to a cruel fate that would inevitably bring destruction. He loves her, and she loves him back. But that love might as well kill him. Maybe he’d die first to set an example, or he’d be kept alive until the end to prolong her agony.

But what’s she to do? Would it be better to reset to that fateful day so she could push him harder away? Or to simply wish they’d never met? Neither, because she also knew that they are destined to be drawn towards each other. Maybe not to be what they are and have right now, but one way or another, they would meet, even if she could be the only one cursed to carry the pain of falling in love all over again.

The crunch of heavy footsteps sounded against the cement, just outside the apartment’s front door.

[nekumiko]

Singles Complex

Fandom: Bangtan Sonyeondan (BTS)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Rated: T

Words: 2, 457

Summary: 

Left a single dad after an incident. A divorcee who only gets to see his kid during summers and winters. A mother subject to prejudice for choosing to raise her child on her own.

And three young kids helping each other fight off the bitterness that the world is pitting against them.

A non-chronological recounting of their daily lives as they share one multiplex floor.

Chapters: 1/?

Request scenarios!

“Papa! Hurry up, please!” little Taehyung calls from outside the door.

“Just a minute, Tae.” Seokjin suppresses a sigh as he packs the sandwiches in the basket.

It’s one of those rare summer days where the sun does not shine too brightly, making it perfect for a picnic at the nearby park. But just at the prospect of going outside, seven-year-old Taehyung, as expected, had gotten too excited and restless, Seokjin finally opens the door before Taehyung could pull the knob loose from incessant shaking and turning.

Watching his child run towards the railings of their multiplex floor to look down at the street, Seokjin had instructed Taehyung to stay within his father’s line of sight.

As mischievous as the boy could get, Taehyung has never disobeyed him.

So just imagine Seokjin’s panic when he finally finishes packing and turns to see no Taehyung outside. It is short-lived, however, for he hears the voice of his child near the door.

As if sensing his father’s presence, Taehyung immediately turns around. “Papa! This is Jimin, our new neighbor!”

Chubby-cheeked, pouty-lipped Jimin seems to be the same age as Taehyung (albeit a bit shorter), so he had to have moved in with his parents. But the four-storey multiplex could only house three tenants in one floor, and the units in theirs are already occupied by an old couple and…  

Seokjin gives the little boy a gentle smile. “Jimin, are you sure this is your floor?”

Jimin nods and points to the slightly open door behind him. “I am staying with Dad for the summer.”

“’Dad?’” Seokjin’s eyes widen.

“Jimin?” an alarmed, deep voice calls from within the unit Jimin is referring to. “Jimin, where are you? Oh my GOD-“

Jimin hurries back to open the door wider.

“There you are!” Rushed footsteps sound against the tiles before the speaker appears, crouches in front of the boy, and holds him gently by the shoulders. “I—what did I tell you about—oh, never mind.” He smooths the child’s hair and breathes deeply.

“I’m sorry. I was talking to a friend.”

“A friend?” He follows Jimin’s stubby finger and finds the dumbfounded father-and-son from next door. “Oh.”

As if snapping out of a daze, Seokjin grins. “I can see the resemblance, Yoongi.”

Yoongi carries Jimin as he stands up, the child immediately coiling an arm around his neck. “Jimin, they would be your neighbors, Kim Seokjin and his kid, Taehyung. Hyung, this is Jimin, my son. Same age as Taehyung.”

Taehyung tugs at his dad’s hand to whisper(-shout), “So does that make him Min Jimin?” He snickers, feeling proud of putting two-and-two together and making a clever word play out of it like his dad.

“No, I’m Park Jimin,” Jimin weakly protests from his perch on his father’s arms.

“Huh?” Taehyung turns back to them. “How can that—“

“Taehyung,” Seokjin gently interrupts the boy, “I think we need to go now. Papa will explain things later, okay? Chopa should be waiting at the park by now, won’t he?”

At the mention of the corgi that a couple from the neighborhood takes for regular walks in the park, the crease in Taehyung’s forehead instantly disappears and he starts jumping up and down. “Chopa! You’re right, we have to go!” He then pulls his father along with him to the stairs, but pauses to look back at Jimin. “Sorry, Jiminie! I’ll see you later! Maybe you can come with us next time?”

Jimin looks at his own father.

Yoongi smiles softly – a sight that Taehyung and Seokjin would have marveled over in a different situation – at the boy, then turns to Taehyung. “Of course.”

Taehyung cheers, but gets told off by Seokjin for being rowdy at the top of the stairs. He apologizes with a giggle, and then holds tightly on the safety railings to descend one step at a time.

Seokjin, with one hand grasping Taehyung’s and the other holding their picnic basket, follows closely behind. He looks back at Yoongi and mouths an apology.

Yoongi acknowledges it with a nod before the older disappears from sight.

Jimin then buries his face onto his father’s neck.

“It’s okay. Taehyung is a good kid, so I’m sure he’ll understand.”

It had been seven years since Room 201 was rented to a newly-wed couple looking for a fresh start in Seoul. Right before the following year ends, the wife gives birth to a baby boy. But the family of three are only allowed happiness for three years, for the mother unfortunately gets caught in a fatal traffic accident on her way back to the multiplex, preventing her from ever going home.

Seokjin has raised Taehyung by himself since then. The incident had of course left the both of them broken, but Seokjin imagines how harder it is for Taehyung. Barely even halfway through his childhood, he had been forcibly stopped from receiving the love and care of a mother. Even so, this has made Taehyung grow into a perceptive and loving kid.

So it becomes no surprise to Seokjin and Yoongi – who had moved to the multiplex almost a year ago and has since been good friends with the older guy, but apparently not close enough to divulge the younger’s secret until today – that Jimin is given a comforting hug when he comes over the next day and tells non-forgetful Taehyung about his own parents’ divorce.

It’s a big word that Jimin has to struggle explaining, for he himself only knows a little about it (“Mama and Dad are now just friends, so I could only stay with Dad during summer and winter”).

No more questions are asked. Taehyung proceeds to introduce his stuffed toy friends, shows pictures of a big, white dog back home in Daegu named Soonshim, and gets both of them busy with coloring books.

(The day ends with Taehyung hugging his new friend again, whispering soft enough so the adults couldn’t hear, “Love and forgive your mom and dad, because it’s still wonderful to see both of them even if they’re not together anymore. Okay?”

Jimin nods and squeezes Taehyung tighter into the hug.)

Jimin and Taehyung have become inseparable, making Jimin’s first summer since the split bearable, and giving Taehyung his first friend who doesn’t ask too much about having only one parent.

“Papa, do you hear that?”

Seokjin turns around in his bed – he’s sharing it again with Taehyung since school started – with wide eyes. He nods.

“It’s a baby crying,” Taehyung continues.

“But there are no babies in this building.”

“Does anyone with a baby live near us?”

Seokjin shakes his head ‘no’.

“Papa, is this place haunted?” Taehyung curls up closer to him.

The crying suddenly stops.

“I don’t believe so.” He pulls his son into his arms. “I think we are still shaken by that horror movie we watched last Saturday. I told you we shouldn’t have chosen that.”

Taehyung only smiles up at him, to which Seokjin responds by gently closing his eyes with a big, warm hand and telling him to go back to sleep.

It wasn’t until Seokjin gets home from work that the subject is brought up again.

“Papa!” Taehyung launches himself at his father as soon as his babysitter opens the door. “I know where the crying is coming from!”

“What do you—“

“It’s a real baby!”

“What?”

Taehyung points to the unit next to Yoongi’s.

“Not this again,” Seokjin mutters, and then turns back to Taehyung. “Tae, the only ones who live there are Mr. Jung and his wife. Remember? The grandpa and granny who gives you sweets?”

Taehyung frowns. “I saw a baby there!”

“Taehyung…”

Just then, the said unit’s door opens and out comes a woman with a little boy in her arms, both dressed to go out. Locking the door, she turns to the stairs, but not before seeing three people staring at her. Startled, she yelps as she takes a step back.

The little boy stirs awake and starts to groan irritably.

“No, no, Kookie! It’s okay, it’s okay,” she says softly, smoothing the boy’s back.

But the boy is already squirming in her arms.

“I-I’m sorry,” Seokjin starts to say. “We didn’t mean to stare.”

The boy turns towards the new voice he hears and stops.

Taehyung finds this chance to jump up and down and wave frantically, smiling so hard. “Hi, baby!” When he effectively captures the toddler’s attention, he starts making funny faces.

It makes the little boy laugh, eliciting a collective sigh of relief from the three adults.

And Seokjin swears he has seen her before.

“Um, do you remember me?” she asks suddenly, glancing shyly up at him.

They’re walking back from the grocery store. Taehyung’s babysitter had gone home for the day, while Seokjin decided to accompany them to pick up ingredients for dinner – partly because he is intrigued at her familiarity, and partly because Jungkook (Kookie) would not let go of Taehyung, to which the older boy is too happy for.

She then laughs. “Don’t think so hard about it. I’m sure you wouldn’t. I came around here a few months ago to look at the unit Granny and Grandpa has been offering me.”

“Ah, so that was you!”

She nods. “I wasn’t able to thank you for leading me to their unit, which was conveniently on your own floor, because I was whisked inside and smothered with affection as soon as they saw me outside their door.”

Seokjin smiles, then pauses. “So, they are your grandparents?”

“Oh, they’re Mama’s aunt and uncle. They’re set to travel back to Gwangju to live with their family again soon, so Kookie and I finally moved here.”

As if on cue, the elevator opens to their floor, where they see a certain blonde standing outside her unit.

“Sunbae!” she exclaims.

Jungkook, also recognizing the man by their door, immediately drops Taehyung’s arm and runs to wrap his little arms around Yoongi’s leg.

“Hey there, Kookie.” Yoongi smiles down at him, patting his head. Then he looks back up at her. “I was about to check on you. You know, since it’s almost dinner time.”

She now stands in front of Yoongi. “I haven’t eaten yet. I’m about to cook something quick, though.” She raises the grocery bag in her hand.

Yoongi nods and licks his lips. “Maybe…” Suddenly, as if just at that moment he realizes there’s a presence behind her, his eyes widen slightly in recognition. “Oh, Jin-hyung.”

A kid’s hand shoots up from below, prompting Yoongi’s vision to pan down to the boy who had somehow followed Jungkook to stand closely to him.

“And Tae.”

Seokjin asks, “You two know each other?”

“She’s—“

“Yes, Yoongi-ssi’s a friend of one of my cousins. And actually one of the reasons why I was told to move here, because then my cousin could visit me whenever he needs help with his producing work. Two birds with one stone!”

“Oh, I see.” Seokjin’s eyes trail back to Yoongi.

Yoongi, meanwhile, moves closer to her, in what Seokjin could describe as some kind of protective stance. “So you got acquainted with your other neighbors.”

She smiles as she remembers the earlier scene, but decides to omit it. “Yes, Kookie apparently found TaeTae his friend, and you know firsthand how clingy that boy could get.”

“I made funny faces so he wouldn’t cry!” Taehyung proudly says. “And he won’t let me go, so I asked Papa if we could go with them to the grocery store, and—“

“Taehyung,” Seokjin gently says, “what did I tell you about butting into conversations?”

Taehyung then covers his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry,” he says then, his voice muffled.

Jungkook lets go of Yoongi in an instant to try hugging Taehyung. “No… no crying!” Jungkook speaks in a tone that sounds like he himself is about to cry.

It takes everything in the three adults – especially his mom – not to coo at the sight.

Taehyung, so surprised at first by Jungkook’s sudden gesture, smiles again and pats the younger boy’s back. “Hey, I’m not crying.”

Jungkook looks at Taehyung’s eyes for a few seconds, as if examining if there are really no tears.

Just then, someone’s stomach growls.

“Mama!” Jungkook turns to her, prompting everyone else to do the same.

With wide eyes, she flushes red as she laughs nervously. “Oops, looks like Mama is hungry. We have to go in now, Jungkook.”

Jungkook nods, and then holds Taehyung’s hand.

“Um, Taehyung needs to go home too, sweetie.”

Jungkook frowns in confusion.

“Don’t worry,” Taehyung says, “I just live near you! So we can play tomorrow! Right, Papa?”

Conflicted because of the children’s expectant eyes, Seokjin replies, “Yes, but only after school.”

“You hear that, Kookie? We’ll see each other again after school tomorrow! You go to school too, right?”

Jungkook appears to be counting with his hands before holding up four fingers.

Taehyung becomes thoughtful for a moment. “You will go to school in four days? On Monday?”

Jungkook nods.

“Okay, that’s good! But for now, we really need to go home. Your mom needs to eat.” Cue the woman’s small whimper. “And you need to eat too!”

“Okay.” Jungkook pouts and waves. “Bye-bye.”

“Bye-bye!”

Once the mother finally pulls her baby boy away and into their unit with one final goodbye (Taehyung had also urged Jungkook to say goodbye to the two men), Seokjin then turns to Yoongi, who awkwardly shrugs.

“There we have a new neighbor.”

Seokjin raises his eyebrows playfully. “Your girl?”

Yoongi’s pale skin visibly tinges with pink. “No, hyung! What are you saying? No.”

But for some reason, Seokjin feels a bit uneasy. He doesn’t dwell on it, though, for Taehyung starts to ask Yoongi (again) about Jimin’s return in the winter, which is always a fond sight.

Taehyung may seem so happy around his classmates, all of whom he had managed to be friends with. But deep inside, the little boy gets lonely. Yet with the entrance of Jimin and Jungkook – two kids who might just be able to finally sympathize with his situation – into his life, the boy had started to sport genuine smiles and let out the loudest laughs again.

Seokjin can’t help but silently chuckle. He has to admit that co-workers and old friends are still good company, but it’s just never the same anymore. But now, through his son (he is still amused by this fact, what with assuming the role of being the stronger emotional anchor between them), his world is opening up again – to a friendship he didn’t think could be a deeper one, and to a possibly new apple of the eye.

Life in the multiplex would get interesting from now on.

[nekumiko]

Colors

Fandom: Daiya no Ace

Genre: Romance

Rated: T

Words: 2,051

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Summary:  She’s fascinated with his hair. Just his hair. But Ryousuke finds it invasive, and of course he won’t let her off that easily.

Chapter Four: Trigger

"Copy?" Aya flops down on her bed, brown hair splayed all over her pillows. "What does he even mean by that?" She holds up her sketchbook, flipped open to her drawing of Haruichi. Then, even if it had been a month since she actually talked to him, she remembers how Haruichi talked about his brother.

Haruichi had enrolled in Seidou – had started playing baseball, even – because of his older brother. And with him playing second baseman today, it's easy to deduce that Haruichi likes to follow in his brother’s footsteps.

And based on experience, the older Kominato doesn't like that.

"Oh no!" She suddenly sits up. "What if, right at this moment, poor little Haruichi is out doing errands for his seniors and he accidentally bumps into his brother who would bully him?"

Or maybe not.

Maybe Kominato only doesn't like being followed by her. Maybe he just doesn't like her.

"Well, it's just one more year. That's nothing compared to the rest of his life without me." Aya falls back on her pillows, then turns to her side to hug the nearest one. "He should even consider himself lucky." She hides her face under the pillow and closes her eyes. "He won't be the one returning to a life of stagnant gray."

The next day, Aya spies the principal and vice-principal heading towards the field to presumably watch morning practice. It's one thing to be caught by the Coach sometimes, and another to let the misunderstanding of her constant presence there extend to the school officials. No way would she let that happen.

But then she doesn't watch the after-school practice, nor drop by for the next two practice days. And despite her excitement, she doesn't even attend the Kanto game anymore.

Firstly, it's a school day. Secondly, Seidou would play against Yokohama, where most of her old classmates back in Kanagawa are now studying. She wouldn't want to hear again the lines, "As expected of Makoto-san! If she's not holed up in a corner with a sketchbook, you'd find her in the bleachers of a baseball game!" and "What's that? You're drawing baseball players now? You've just combined your eccentricities!"

And, okay, maybe she's still a bit bitter.

What is she even trying to prove? That she can survive without a muse? She certainly did before, so it shouldn't be any different now. And didn't she once wish to stop depending on the senior so much for her to be productive? But here she is, in the middle of a creative stump. The world has become a boring gray, hence it started reflecting on her daily works - if it's not black-ink-abused, it would simply be colorless.

Friday rolls around and she's kicked out of the club room, only allowed to return once she picks herself back up. In the one year she's been with the Art Club, she knows it's just out of disguised concern and trust, so she harbors no hurt feelings. But it leaves her no choice but to set out for the field.

Nope. She also has the choice to procrastinate for one day more.

On her way home, she shoots Miyuki a message to ask if there's a game tomorrow, to which he answers hours later with an affirmative.

(Yet it was an unusually clipped reply. Aya is highly suspicious that he's pissed – not at her, though, for there are telltale signs if it is so – but unless she wants to be put into a grayer mood – for an upset Kazuya would, in turn, upset her too – she chalks it up to him just being exhausted.)

And what luck. To narrow the participating players in Summer Nationals down to twenty, double-header games have begun. In one day, two schools would be invited over for practice games against Seidou's first-string and second-string at the same time on different fields.

It hadn’t been a problem last year. With Miyuki and Kuramochi getting into first-string, she got to support them while she watched the pink-haired senior.

This year, though, Haruichi has been confirmed to be promoted to second-string.

Damn Kominato Ryousuke.

If she chooses the first-string game, it'd be like betraying a new friend. And if she chooses the second-string game, he would believe what she said last time about preferring Haruichi over him and—

WHAT.

Why does she even care what the third-year would think? Why does she even think that he would so much as spare a thought of her?

As she mulled things over, Aya's feet leads her to Field A well after two innings. She barely finishes squeezing her way towards the front of the crowd when Furuya steps off the mound, as urged by Miyuki – the evil being who 'forgot' to inform her that today's a double-header.

Not long after, Tanba runs out of the dugout, claims the mound, and immediately throws a curveball that leads to a strike.

"Hey, hey! I'm getting bored out here!" Jun-san complains lightheartedly when his friend throws another strike.

"You seem to be in a real good position," Kuramochi adds.

But all these had happened only in Aya's peripheral, for her eyes had already instinctively searched for him and locked there.

"You're finally acting like the ace," Kominato Ryousuke says with his signature smirk. "A little late, though."

Despite being in the gray moment of indecision, she still ended up choosing the older brother. "This is crazy," she mutters to herself.

What's even crazier is that two weeks later, she's still banned from the Art Club.

What is going on with her? Is it because she only drops by during games now? Does she really need to see him every day? Or has she ultimately jinxed everything and the world of colors had finally failed her, as what everyone back home expects?

On times like these, she reverts back to drawing pictures of the past – of her elegantly boring life back in Kanagawa. Today, she draws a portrait of herself in a kimono, in her personal favorite color – gray. The color that describes her family's status, and the future she is being forced into. But it's also the color of her safe space. It's true that she had fought to get her parents to arrive at a compromise, yet a gray life is what she could always fall back to if this all turns out to be a wrong decision, a mere whim.

"Won't you be ruining your eyesight, drawing in a place like this?"

Aya stops. Slowly, she straightens up and looks to her left.

The twilight shining in through the stair windows is still bright enough for her to actually see what she's doing, even to see the gray dust motes floating in the air. And right now, floating in between her and Kominato Ryousuke.

"Just where did you come from?" The moment she asks that, she realizes she had dropped polite speech. She opens her mouth to apologize.

But he simply answers, "I forgot something in the classroom."

Right, the Art Club is way up in the third floor of the school building, where the third-year classrooms are. It is close to the set of stairs that not a lot of people go through at this time of day, so Aya had been settling there in hopes of the members taking pity on her when they see her.

What a successful plan that is, so far.

"I see." She nods slowly, then hesitantly turns back to the sketchbook in her lap, not quite knowing if she should continue drawing.

Maybe Kominato let her rude question slide, but maybe he won't appreciate being blatantly brushed off when he for once approached her with nothing but curiosity. Especially when he doesn't move at all from his seat on the steps, with only Aya's box of colored pencils finally serving a purpose – a barrier between them. "So this is where you usually are these days," he finally speaks again.

"Actually, I would've been in the club room, but since I'm temporarily not allowed in there for producing very uninspired works..." she trails off with a sigh.

"How so? You were even watching the second-stringers' game today. Haruichi had played."

"But you didn't."

The senior goes silent.

This is the part where Kominato would call her out for being creepy again, and Aya is ready for it.

But today he just... continues to say nothing in response.

Confused, Aya turns to look at him again.

The dimming light from the stair windows doesn't do much, though, especially when his face is turned away from her. But he is obviously biting his lip.

"Kominato-san? Are you okay?"

He breathes deeply. "You're really… something else."

That statement is still grounds for an argument to start, but there's just something about his tone that says otherwise. That suddenly makes her heart flutter. That slowly triggers colors to seep back in. It's so startling, that the only thing she could do was to look back down at her sketchbook.

Kominato finally clears his throat. "May I... see the drawings you usually do?"

"Huh?" Surprised yet again, she snaps her head towards him. What is going on? Why is he suddenly interested, when all this time he had hated the idea of her drawing him? And did he of all people stutter?

The guy is apparently not looking at her, but at her in the current page of her sketchbook.

Of all the things she has to draw today, it’d have to be of her fitting a kimono. Not-so-discreetly covering it with her arms, she decides the best way to take his attention off it is to comply with him. And he is asking nicely. "Sure, why not?" But she pauses at the first drawing she reveals. "Oh. Do you mean you want to see the drawings I have of... of you?"

Kominato nods. "I want to confirm something."

Again, what exactly is happening here? Is she in some kind of dream?

He looks up at her. "Well?"

This has got to be the craziest thing to happen to her this week. "Okay," she says, dragging the last syllable out of reluctance, but then continues to turn the pages.

Now, it's one thing to have a muse who doesn't exactly get flattered for being one. And another to have said muse looking at your unsolicited drawings of them.

But she isn't cringing, for all her brain registers right now is that the boy had scooted closer to practically hover over her shoulder and she could feel his warmth and he smells so nice and –

"Are requests open right now?" He's suddenly putting the distance between them back up.

"What?" Her eyes widen at all her thoughts during the ordeal, the sudden loneliness she felt when it ended, and the weirdest thing that's ever come out of his mouth.

"Requests. You take requests from people and draw, don't you? Commissions, you call them?"

"You... you want me to commission you a drawing."

Kominato suddenly faces forward, at the big windows. "Yes. But please draw my eyes properly."

It takes everything in her not to laugh out loud. She bites her lip. "I'm sorry, Kominato-san, but that's pretty hard to do. I don't exactly know what your eyes look like."

"Is that so?"

"Mmm-hmm, so - what are you doing?"

"How about now?"

She's now backed up against the wall, a clear view of Kominato Ryousuke's black irises right in front of her. Relying on her photographic memory, she closes her eyes after a few seconds. "1200 yen. That's an inked close-up portrait of you, in full color."

"That's fair."

"I think so too." But when she opens her eyes, he's still there. "Senpai," she now whines, sliding the sketchbook in between the small distance between their faces, "is this actually a trap?” And with a sudden burst of courage, she jokes, “I didn’t know you feel that way."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Finally, he draws back from her. Even better, he stands up. "Okay. I'll see you around."

She peeks at him from one corner of the sketchbook. "Please expect your order in a week or so."

Kominato nods noncommittally, already bounding down the stairs.

As Aya tries to process everything that just happened, she first notices that the world of gray is gone.

Previous: New (art) interest, he seems

Next: Truce

[nekumiko]

Colors

Fandom: Daiya no Ace

Genre: Romance

Rated: T

Words: 2, 032

Chapters: 1 | 2

Summary:  She’s fascinated with his hair. Just his hair. But Ryousuke finds it invasive, and of course he won’t let her off that easily.

Chapter Two: Not even an acquaintance, but a nuisance

Snickers.

She hears snickers. From the people passing them by, and a certain distinct one.

"What did I even do wrong?” she asks distractedly. “I just made a mistake."

"Exactly."

That chuckling continues. She wants to cry. Out of humiliation and relief at the same time.

"Huh?" She blinks, then realizes, her eyes widening before settling back to a small frown. "I mean, there's nothing wrong with being friends with someone who just happened to be your brother." Her brown eyes now locks gazes with familiar ones of the same color, hidden behind thick black glasses. Help me. Please.

The source of the annoying, mocking chuckles straightens up, but his eyes still laugh. Not for free, right?

 You're unbelievable.

"Are you even friends?" Kominato pulls her back to attention, away from the three-second conversation of eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe you're just forcing it on him. Or you've been targeting him next."

"Stop treating me like some criminal."

"Ryou-san!"

She is pulled back by the scruff of her collar, her feet lifting off the ground a bit, as someone's broad back fills her vision. "Ack!" she almost chokes.

Their interrupter starts talking to the senior, allowing her to step further behind him to hide from eyes she couldn't even see. That's when a school bag is deliberately dropped on her feet.

She groans, but has to take it with her.

"Oh?" she hears Kominato as she steps onto the stairs. "So that's why she doesn't grow. Your girlfriend."

"Geh," both second-years gag.

Leaving the usual denial up to her savior, she slips away as they easily slip into baseball talk, the school bags on each hand keeping her from running up the stairs. Reaching 2-B's classroom, the bag almost flies out the window, the way it bumped into the sill before it landed on the desk behind the one she'd chosen for herself. She then hunches over on her own desk, making fake sobbing noises.

Black.

Interacting with Kominato Ryousuke, which she tries so hard not to do, always leaves her feeling dark and gloomy.

She's used to non-friendly banters, but this is something else. He'd always manage to work her up with just one word from him. And she ends up spouting unintelligible things that would put her into more of a disadvantage.

What was she even thinking? Even back at the train station. What could have happened if ever she had encountered the older Kominato back then?

So much for wanting to advance to the 'friends' category.

"Bop." A light tap on the back of her head.

Almost instantly, she turns with both arms outstretched. "You-!"

"Not the glasses, no marks on skin," the male brunette warns, which temporarily halts her actions until he sits down.

"Ka-zu-yaaa!" She settles on pulling his bangs with every syllable before flopping face-down again, now on his desk. "Kazuya," she groans, "I'm so stupid."

Black. That's all she can see right now.

How wonderful would it be to sink in darkness and stay there forever.

"I'd be lonely," she hears Miyuki say.

So she said that out loud. "Ew, Kazuya. Please listen to yourself."

But if only she'd stop seeing color—no, if she'd only stop seeing that pink, she'd stop approaching it like a moth to a flame.

She buries her face into the blackness, wishing for a black hole to swallow her up.

"Stop hugging that, it's not him." Miyuki carefully pulls his bag out from under her, replacing the black she's seeing with the beige desk.

She remains unmoving.

"Did you throw this? I have a packed lunch in here."

"I don't care because it's not true."

"My contacts and goggles are—"

"You have them back at the dorm."

"As expected of a stalker, huh?"

"As if."

Miyuki laughs. "Now what was that all about earlier?"

She groans again.

"I thought you've been avoiding direct interactions with Ryou-san? And now you do a surprise attack?"

"You mean you saw everything?" She shoots up, prompting Miyuki to lean back on his chair for she almost hit his chin.

"Of course." He grins.

"Then why...?"

He shrugs. "I was wondering what you're up to."

She sighs and looks out the window. "I thought he's Haruichi."

"Haruichi?"

"Ah!" She looks back at him. "Kazuya, why didn't you tell me Kominato-san has a little brother?"

He holds up both hands to chest-level. "Trust me, this is the first time I'm hearing this."

"He just joined the team! You met the new members last week, right?"

"Do you really expect me to remember every single new face?"

"But... but he has pink hair too! That'd be hard to miss!"

"What do you think do we do in the field? Gawk at each other and gossip?"

"Hmph." She crosses her arms. Then she lights up. "Aha! Maybe you got punished for being late!"

He chuckles. "All-seeing eye."

"Spot on!" She giggles. "So that's why you didn't have time to observe?"

"Don't be silly. Practice lasted for the whole day, we all ate in the same cafeteria, and live in the same dorm. It's just, for someone to be remembered, they should do something remarkable first. Or be a miserable failure." Miyuki glances out the window with a smirk.

Click.

"Whoops, forgot to turn that off." She lowers her phone to see Miyuki raising an eyebrow at her. "Sorry, I need money."

"Since when did the little princess need money, huh?" he asks. "My face practically fills up your phone memory. How come you won't just take Ryou-san's pictures too? That way, chances of interaction are lowered." He leans forward. "Or do you just like looking at him in person?"

"I-I wouldn't deny that, but it's really not how you make it sound like. Besides, taking someone's picture attracts more attention. He'd really call the police."

"You think I wouldn't anytime soon?"

She laughs and pokes his cheek. "Of course you wouldn't! Kazuya loves me!"

"Listen to yourself, Aya."

"This is why you two are mistaken as a couple," a voice says beside them.

"Eh? Mochi's our classmate again?" she says monotonously, turning to the voice.

"Nice to see you again too, Aya." Kuramochi puts his bag down on his chair. "Wait, haven't you seen me in the opening ceremony earlier?"

"Of course she didn't," Miyuki butts in. "Her eyes are over to the third—"

"I was just kidding, Mochi!" she cuts off, waving her hand left and right, smacking lightly on Miyuki's cheek. "Don't take it to heart!"

"I thought so, actually," Kuramochi looks back and forth at them.

"And besides," Miyuki's at it again, "she wouldn't be mean to her strongest link to Ryou-san."

"I don't need to be linked to him! I'd cut off all ties you'd ever create between us two!"

"Woah, there!" Kuramochi laughs. "Maybe you should stop for now, Miyuki."

"What do you mean, ‘for now?’”

It's so unfair.

'I work and live for the aesthetic. It's only natural for me to get attracted to what I think is beautiful,' she'd say. Or used to say.

Apparently it had only solidified the misunderstanding.

"You won't drop by practice?" Miyuki notices her heading the other direction after class.

"Aww, Kazuya, do you miss me that much?" she says sweetly as a joke. At Miyuki's deadpan expression, Aya continues walking. "It's recruitment day. I'm—I mean, my drawings—are Art Club's front liner."

"Oh. The double play drawing?"

She sighs. "And more."

The more she draws, the more she needs to observe. The more she needs inspiration, the more she gets teased.

"For Ryou-san's birthday?" she hears Kuramochi overhead.

She'd been sitting outside, a ways bit under a window. "Nah, an order. Miyuki Kazuya #5. I finished one of you, would you like to see…?" She looks up. "Really? It's his birthday?"

"I'm really more concerned now with how you make money."

"At least you know you have fangirls~"

"Huh." He leans out the window. "So do you accept commissions requesting Ryou-san too?"

"Why wouldn't I? It's money."

He shrugs. "I just thought you'd want to keep him for yourself."

Aya squints. "Shoo, Mochi, shoo."

"I'll request one for his birthday, with your full name and signature at the bottom. It has to have a huge 'Happy Birthday' in it."

"That's really sweet of you, to get a birthday gift for your beloved senior. But requests are closed. Go get a gift using your own effort."

Kuramochi laughs his usual. "I'd pay you double if you give it to him personally."

"…I-ignoring you." She picks her pencil up again.

The more she denies, the more she gets misunderstood.

"Makoto-san!" Someone taps her shoulder.

Aya turns around to find the three Seidou managers, plus a younger-looking girl wearing a similar jacket to them.

Sachiko's pigtails seem to bounce as she continues, "I knew you'd be here!"

Aya grins. "Of course! I love supporting the team!"

"And him?" Yui, the short-haired manager, smirks.

"And Kazuya." She beams proudly, despite noticing the two exchanging glances. "He's amazing, right? Three-run homer, man!"

"We know!" both second-year managers, somehow brought back to the excitement of the game with that, chorus.

She then turns to the youngest girl. "Hi!" She waves. "New manager?"

"Y-yes! My name's Yoshikawa Haruno, the first-year manager. Nice to meet you!" The girl bows.

She returns the bow. "Makoto Aya. I'm... a mere audience."

"She's Art Club's pride!" Sachiko says. "You might have seen her drawings of the team on recruitment day."

"U-uh..."

"She's also designed official banners for the team last year," Yui adds.

"W-well-"

"Really?" Yoshikawa faces her fully. "I did see those drawings! They're awesome!"

"T-thank you!" Aya laughs nervously.

"Oh, oh, since you've seen her drawings, have you seen that double play one?" Sachiko asks. "That one of-"

"Stop!"

"Back to the game, you four." Takako, the third-year beauty, smiles, which effectively hushes them.

It's the spring tournament. Seidou High is playing against Ichidai Third, with the former back to the top of the batting lineup.

Kuramochi, as they had all hoped, gets on base.

As the second batter steps up to the box, she tightens her hold on her sketchbook.

Black.

It's also how the surroundings seem to dim whenever he moves in the field. Like there's a spotlight. A pink spotlight, that is. His hair's the spotlight itself.

It's also something she does not want the field to look like for her after he graduates.

Kuramochi successfully steals a base almost at the same time Kominato hits, getting the latter on base as well.

Top of the second, no outs, runners on first and third.

Those two's teamwork has really gotten better since she had first drawn them. And it's a big credit to Kominato's strict training (and harsh words) that had inspired Kuramochi to improve.

"Aaaaand Makoto gets her pencil ready~"

Aya is startled by Yui's face on her shoulder. Even without anything on it yet, she holds the sketchbook to her chest as she turns to the four girls behind her—three of them grinning and one confused.

Everyone who knows about her quest for inspiration—basically the first-stringers, team managers, and the Art Club—would always interpret it as a cute crush on the pink-haired baseman.

Why? Just… why?

Well, she does lurk by the field almost everyday, she pauses to stare at him for a few seconds in the halls, and drawings of him fill her sketchbook and pile up under her study desk.

Man, she's creepy.

Maybe that's why Kominato hates her.

She's surprised she isn't banned from the field.

But really, she just likes looking at him.

He actually looks kind. Just don't let him talk. And he's so cool when he plays. She would dare say Kominato has made her like baseball again more than her cousin could ever influence her.

But that's it. He's just easy on the eyes. She doesn't see it necessary to have feelings for him. It is perfectly possible to simply admire someone without getting romantically involved, but these people wouldn't believe it.

If only she had not messed up just once—or rather twice—she wouldn't be marked as Kominato Ryousuke's number one fangirl.

 Previous: That hair is legit

Next: New (art) interest, he seems

[nekumiko]

Don’t Fall for Fiction

Fandom: Bangtan Sonyeondan (BTS)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Rated: G

Words: 3425

Series: She Dreamt, She Wrote

Summary:  Jimin falling in love with you too is but a dream.

Have you ever wished to dive into the universe of a certain book?

The book club she joined sure promises to grant that wish – literally.

Well, kind of.

It’s better described as an exclusive, more advanced Virtual Reality café that specializes on letting its members live in worlds that books create – a process they call “Reading”. Old and new books, in a supernatural location or just set in a different country, you could visit them all. And whether you finish the book’s timeline or unfortunately die in the middle of it (or more unluckily, in the beginning), you are guaranteed multiple chances for a do-over.

And just like the experience of reading a book, you are allowed to take breaks. You get directed to stops – “bookmarks,” as the club members would call them – that are separate from the book universes. Accessible from the drop-down menu you can conjure with a specific swipe of the hand and a direct command to the brain, bookmarks house small societies that give you the comfort and entertainment you need to prep you for the next book, or calm you down as the climax approaches. The catch, though, is that you can’t fall asleep in there. Otherwise, you wake up back to the real world – your progress in your current book universe won’t be disrupted, but you can never return to that bookmark again.

She had joined the book club as a beta-tester – thus earning a privilege to pay discounted fees – in high school, and while she skipped a half year of Reading to focus on her studies, she’s become active again well after she graduated. Life is harsh, so she had decided to put off college until she gets enough money saved for tuition. But since she just can’t get a decent job yet, Reading has become a form of stress relief.

Hence, she is being assigned her fifth bookmark this year. She has never messed up this much, and she’s not even one to break rules. But hard times have been coming at her left and right lately, so she just can’t help but fall asleep because of the comforting bookmark societies.

She enters a garden. To her left is a patio of a white mansion where, as if on cue, three girls emerge to greet her.

Julie, Jessie, and Jenny introduce themselves as sisters (despite the varying hair colors and very different facial structures) and chat her up as they lead her to the living room, where all the other ‘sisters’ are lounging on the big, white leather couches. Everyone’s clad in cocktail dresses and donning heavy makeup (despite the afternoon sun still shining from the floor-to-ceiling windows), and laid out on the glass coffee table are a few bottles of wine and a plate of sliced cheese.

Having decided to visit before she starts on a new book, she had come in only sweatpants and a shirt – not the attire she would’ve had in the book universe she was about to enter.

She had never been a part of a sorority, much less attended any high-class party at all. But these girls are so welcoming and easy to talk to, that she doesn’t feel inferior at all. They even ask if she wants to be dolled up, and at her “yes, if it’s not too much of a bother,” they lead her upstairs and into a walk-in closet. She however opts for light makeup, for she is not supposed to stay here long today.

She returns downstairs and back out the patio, because most of the girls had decided to get some sun into their system.

And sitting on a white garden chair is a new addition to the group – so out of place but at the same time isn’t – wearing a light blue hoodie and clutching a handheld game console of the same color.

“Jimin!” Jenny, the sister she’s been shadowing, calls out to the boy.

The boy stops laughing and turns to them, his black hair almost concealing his eyes. “Oh, hello!” He smiles softly and waves at her, then pronounces her name as if confirming if he’s gotten it right. As she nods, he turns his head towards the sisters. “Why didn’t you tell me it’s today?”

“It’s not like we know if a day had already passed here, don’t we?” one of them replies.

She is given the chair next to Jimin’s. Their conversations continue, mostly about her and the book universes she had visited, as programmed. But she just can’t help but steal glances at the only male in the group, who, after learning her name, had returned to his game. From time to time, though, he quips short comments and participates in back-and-forth banter, surprisingly keeping up.

Alas, the sisters decide to retreat to the living room and put some music that would brighten up the forever-afternoon. It is then that Jessie taps her shoulder to ask, “Are you perhaps infatuated by our little brother?”

Of course. He’s a very attractive guy, with permanently rosy cheeks contrasting with his laid-back demeanor, a cute laugh, and a smile that makes his eyes disappear. And, well, she’d once read that a guy would sit or stand facing you when they’re interested in you, and Jimin is doing exactly that right now, albeit only lifting his eyes every now and then to look at anyone else but her.

Jessie doesn’t wait for an answer and instead pulls her to her feet. “Look, I know we are fun company, but you also have some Reading to do. Jimin, do you mind?”

“Hm?” Jimin immediately pauses his game and looks up. Understanding Jessie’s gestures, he nods and pockets his console. “Sure.” He smirks as he locks eyes with her for only the second time that day, holding out his arm for her to link with. “I’ll walk you.”

It’s not customary to spend more time in bookmarks than in actual book universes. Everyone’s too busy with living in their books than socializing with people modeled after actual persons in the real world. The idea has been conceived as weird – borderline creepy – but it seems like she alone finds it interesting. And so, she really tries to befriend them. She would even try her best to find these people in the real world, yet her circumstances would prevent her from making good progress.

And that’s also why it’s very heartbreaking for her to be blocked from a bookmark forever, just for the club’s sole reason of having a variety.

A month later, she had lived through three books while simultaneously visiting the garden patio bookmark. She had become good friends with Jimin. He’s still usually immersed in his game, rarely ever seen without his console. Personally, she would find this rude, but since this is Jimin, she could make exceptions. Besides, it’s not like he ignores her. He could answer any question she raises and respond whenever needed without losing a round.

One day, for the first time since she came there, time becomes… slow.

Scratch that.

It’s gotten boring.

She doesn’t drink wine, claiming it would make her feel drowsy after a long day of Reading. And the conversations can sometimes be repetitive. The music is fit to her tastes, but even that could get dragging.

She feels a nudge on her shoulder.

“Don’t sleep,” Jimin grins at her.

“I won’t.”

“Sure.”

She playfully rolls her eyes, then turns to look at the sisters. “I don’t want to be re-assigned again. I don’t want to never see you guys anymore.”

Jimin hums. “That’s good. I also don’t want that.”

She gives him a side-glance to find that he isn’t smirking.

He’s staring at her intently. “D-do you want to go upstairs?”

She fake-gasps. “Park Jimin, what are you planning to do?”

He visibly blushes, but proceeds to pull her up from the couch. “Come on.”

“Very pushy, huh? I didn’t even say yes.”

“Oh?” one of the sisters notices the sudden movement of the only people sitting around. “Getting impatient, Jiminie?”

“Shut up,” he mutters, not letting go of her hand. When Jimin turns back to her however, his expression had become apologetic. “Sorry, we don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

She laughs. “Nah, I’m just kidding.” She then waves at the curious girls and leads the way to the stairs. Once out of earshot, she whispers to the boy, “I think you’re more fun company today, anyway.”

He puts an arm around her shoulders when they reach the top of the stairs. But maybe that’s just because she had headed straight to the right of the hallway, when Jimin’s room is actually at the left side.

“Why is your room so dim?” she asks when they sit by Jimin’s study desk.

“So I could sleep.”

“Won’t it be dangerous for me, then?”

“My skills will keep you awake, I promise you.” Jimin wiggles his brows at her.

She scoffs. “Okay, then. Show me what you’ve got.”

True enough, Jimin’s technique at the game has her mesmerized. It is some sort of rhythm game, and because of his high level, he now has the ability to slow the song down and catch the otherwise impossible notes, then resume his fast taps once that boost ends. And that’s just one of many skills in one of many games.

But already she’s exclaiming, “That’s amazing, Jimin!”

“Pfft. That’s what I’ve been doing all this time!”

Her hands reach out to tickle his sides as she coos, “And you seem to forget it’s my first time to see you play, huh? Huh? Huh?”

Jimin’s smug expression instantly gives way to his eye smile, his giggles resounding through the dim room.

She realizes what she’s doing, then, and stops. Yet when she tries to pull away, she finds herself getting propelled closer to him, face consequently smushing against Jimin’s chest.

Her muffled whines make him chuckle as he wraps an arm around her waist to secure her in place.

They stay silent for a while.

“Don’t sleep,” he then gently reminds her.

“I won’t.”

Yet he feels her getting heavier. “Hey.”

“I… I don’t want to leave.”

“Well, if you’re really tired today, I’ll walk you to the entrance so you could go back to your world. Instead of risking falling asleep here.”

“But Jimin, I don’t want to leave.”

“We still have tomorrow. Or later, once you wake up refreshed. You’re always free to come back here. You know that, right?”

She shakes her head. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to leave anymore. I just want to stay here with you.”

Jimin gently says her name.

“I know it sounds crazy, but that’s what I feel.”

“And I feel the same way. Or maybe that means we’re both crazy?”

She laughs, and then pauses. Of course. He’d say something like that because he’s programmed to comfort a Reader. “Would you miss me if I go forever?”

“Yes, of course.”

“But what if I retire from the club?”

“Then you’ll have to ask the creators to model a character after you, and then put her here. So when we get the next Reader, they won’t fall in love with me, because I’m already taken.”

“You are not my boyfriend.” She smiles when he laughs, snuggling closer and holding her tongue from voicing out her doubts. “And besides, that won’t be me.”

“That’s okay, because you will find me in the real world anyway.”

“How can you be so sure? I’ve told you I’ve never been successful with that.”

Jimin lifts her chin up and leans forward until their foreheads touch, staring at her in the eyes again so intently. “Trust me, baby.”

Then, filled with a foreboding feeling, they do the most reasonable thing to do at this moment. The feather-light kisses were soft and gentle, but at the same time, filled with need and sadness. With each firm but short smack, two hearts crack, even if she believes only one of them actually beats. Alas, she breaks away and hides her face back on his shoulder.

“You can stay,” Jimin says after a few short seconds, as if he had to break out of a daze first. He kisses the top of her head.

“And you can continue your game.”

“Ah, yes, you are going to make me level down, I swear.”

“I didn’t know I’m distracting you that much.”

“Ever since the first day, sweetie.”

She wraps her arms around him and pinches his side. “Stop those pet names. You’ll make me fall in love.”

“Aren’t you already?”

“Game. Now.” She presses START.

Jimin yelps in surprise. “Jagi! Don’t ever do that!” But the game master is back in his element, so it’s not really difficult for him to clear a round. He lightly squeezes her arm when he does.

She only smiles. “Keep playing.”

“Alright, just one last game for you. Then I’ll walk you to the entrance, okay?”

“Okay.”

Before he presses START, he leans down to press a soft kiss on her nose. “I love you.”

Her eyes widen, and then she smiles again. “That’s nice to hear.”

Jimin raises a brow.

“I love you too.”

He smiles back then straightens up, turning back to his game.

Jimin is warm. So warm and comfortable. The warmth she needs everyday. The warmth that tells her everything would be okay. The warmth she needs to feel to forget all her worries even for a short while.

“Oh no,” she says once she opens her eyes to the darkness of the VR headset.

She quits the day after.

Reading is fun, but she has to face the real world. She has to save up, get back to school, and pursue an actual career.

But of course, since it is her last day, she takes the risk of asking if she could: 1) request to add a character in a bookmark; 2) be used as a model for said character to be put in a bookmark of her choice; and 3) ask for more information about a Park Jimin.

Surprisingly, the first two requests are actually possible, and she isn’t even questioned why. Apparently, the time a user spends in book universes and bookmarks is monitored. She just now discovers that when they give her its final tally, which determines how much would be refunded from her annual membership fee.

She would have flushed out of embarrassment, but she’s more focused on how they’d answer her third request – the riskiest one, because it would invade the actual Park Jimin’s privacy.

Instead, she is given a weird look, even laughed at. The girl at the counter turns to the programmer behind her and says, “Hey, someone finally got Park freaking Jimin’s bookmark! I still can’t believe you made one!”

Now is the time to blush, maybe more intensely because this adds to her earlier embarrassment.

“Have you been living under a rock?”

“Huh?”

“Just search him up. For sure, you’d know all you need.”

And that’s how she spent the rest of the week – listening to Bangtan Sonyeondan’s songs right from the very first era (of course getting drawn to Jimin’s sweet voice and high notes), watching performances (muffling her squeals when he lifts and RIPS his shirt off) and Bangtan Bombs (her stomach aching from all the laughs and her heart melting from all the solo Jimin moments), and even joining the fancafe (but never once had the courage to reply to Jimin’s posts).

She’s gotten more smitten, but at the same time, anxious. This Jimin is not the one she had met and hung out with in the fictional white mansion. This is a real person, who has emotions and a mind of his own.

His plump lips are not the same ones she kissed. He is not the Jimin who told her that he loves her.

He is not her Jimin.

That week she had apparently planned to use for job-hunting is only salvaged by her mother knocking on her bedroom door to mention a nearby café currently short of people manning the counter.

“You would love to work there, I swear,” her mother says.

And why wouldn’t she? One side of the cafe is practically a shrine for Jimin, the walls and shelves filled with lots of knickknacks owned by the guy – One Piece figurines, the HipHop Monster version of himself, a doll of himself, his drawings, official signed albums and posters, framed and non-framed pictures (of course, there has to be one of him lifting his shirt up).  There’s also a wall for fans to stick Post-it messages for him.

It’s a café owned by Jimin’s dad.

Her experience as a part-timer in cafés before had helped her easily score the position, to which she is very grateful. Not only does she get to gaze at the Jimin memorabilia during breaks, Mr. Park – the very proud father – also has a lot of stories about his son (she also gets teased a bit, for she’s not exactly good at hiding her crush).

She doesn’t know if she’d last here before she even gets to see Jimin in person, considering his too-busy schedule and her stroke of bad luck in workplaces, but she’d be lying if she said she’s not hopeful.

Then one night after her shift, she hears an unfamiliar – yet also very familiar – voice float from the counter and into the staff room she’s currently in.

“Can I stay he – oh.”

She freezes.

Park Jimin, clad in a simple shirt-and-jeans ensemble and a beanie hiding what she presumes to be his new hair color, is in the same room with her, breathing the same air as her. The real Park Jimin in the flesh, just a few meters from where her feet are rooted in place.

“Hi,” he waves then pronounces her name in a way that’s very nostalgic for her. “You’re the new employee, right?”

She could only nod.

He tries to avert his eyes. “And I… uh, heard that you… well, like m- BTS. Yeah, you like our group.”

“I…”

At the sound of her voice, Jimin looks back at her quite expectantly.

“I… finally found you.”

Jimin’s eyes grow wide. “Woah, hey, um…”

“Jimin.” She tries to wipe her free-flowing tears away. “It’s you. It’s really you.”

“Y-yes, it’s me?” Seeing no sign of her stopping from crying anytime soon, Jimin quickly closes their distance to stand right in front of her, his pretty bare face and tufts of orange hair peeking out of the beanie now at plain sight. “Are you okay?”

She starts to sob.

Jimin panics even more, feeling his pockets for a handkerchief. He steps even closer to gently dry her tears. “Please don’t cry.”

She eventually quiets down, comforted and startled by how much this Jimin’s warmth is so similar to the same one she’d been engulfed in a week ago.

Jimin smiles at her. “It’s okay. It’s not everyday you get to see your favorite idol right in front of you.”

She giggles. It’s a good thing he mistook her tears for a fangirl’s outburst.

“To be fair, I’m also a little nervous. It’s not a usual thing for me to meet a fan just by myself… ah, I’m sorry. You work here and I should treat you as an employee and I—“

“It’s okay.” She smiles. If that is so, anything he says would be unpracticed and straight from his very own heart and mind, right? “I’m the one who made things weird, so I’m sorry about that. How about we just start over?”

The crease in his brows disappears and he takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’m Jimin. And no, I’m not the idol! Everyone says I look so much like him. Do you think so, too?”

She merely rolls her eyes, but her smile stays, if not growing wider.

He chuckles, his eyes flashing an emotion she can’t decipher yet, before he continues, “And you are?”

She tells him her name. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Again.

Who knows if finding Jimin in the real world means their fates are intertwined, or if this may just be their first and last time seeing each other? Mixing up fiction and reality can be dangerous. But a dream-like moment such as this is something she knows she’d treasure forever.

Not all kinds of love are meant to be reciprocated nor made known, but at this one point in her life, Jimin only sees her. And somehow, that is enough.

[nekumiko]

The Untold Story

Fandom: Yu Yu Hakusho

Genre: Fantasy/Romance

Rated: T

Words: 1191

Chapters: 1  | 2

Summary:  Yuki finds an old library book about the legendary Youko Kurama. Once she opened it, she soon finds herself in Demon World as Yana, a silver kitsune in the fox thief’s past.

Chapter Two: The Book

“A library?” he repeated. “Which particular library is it?”

I grinned sheepishly. “Well, actually, I am in search of one. The school’s library won’t be open until school starts.”

“By ‘school,’ do you mean Meiou High?”

I nodded.

“Hmm, you must be a new student. I don’t remember seeing you before.”

“I am,” I smiled. “I just moved to town with my mom quite recently.”

“I see. At the house beside the ramen shop, right?”

“Yes.” He must be living nearby to know that. Or this town is just that small? “And actually, my mom said we’ve lived there before when I was still a baby. But then we moved when I turned two years old. So I don’t really remember the town much.”

“Is that so? Well, I’m sure you’ll like it here.”

“I already do. It’s really peaceful and orderly.” I hesitated for a while. “Anyway, do you know any other library around here?”

“There are two or three,” he answered smoothly, as if he was waiting for me to bring it up again, “but if you want a wider range of books, we have to go out of town. I know of a huge library that hosts a large number of genres.”

My eyes widened in amazement. “Oh, Shuichi-kun, if you don’t mind, then please take me to this library. I don’t care how far. I just need to get a dose of good books.”

Shuichi chuckled. “Then follow me, Yukiko-san,” he said.

Boy, it is indeed huge. And the fact that this library was built near a temple outside of town makes me feel there’s something magically mysterious about this place.

“Good morning,” a middle-aged woman greeted from behind a wooden desk by the entrance.

“Good morning,” Shuichi and I greeted back with a bow.

The woman, who must be the librarian, smiled at me. “Why, Shuichi-kun brought someone along today! What kind of books would you like to read? We’ve got plenty of different genres in this library.” She motioned to the huge bookshelves behind us.

Her cheerful warmth had me excited. “I love almost all kinds of books, but legends – oh, especially folk legends – are what strike my fancy the most.”

“Well then, if it’s legends you want, they could be found in the fantasy section. There are a lot, but finding a book should be easy.” She turned to Shuichi. “Could you please do me a favor, Shuichi-kun, and assist Miss… oh, sorry, I forgot to ask your name.”

I giggled. “I am Yuki.”

She laughed lightly. “Okay, Yuki-san, Shuichi-kun here would be your guide. Just take your time, and please feel free to approach me with your concerns. Enjoy reading!”

We thanked her, and with that, Shuichi ushered me towards the said section.

A few people are also in the library with us – children, adults, and even some teenagers. Wheeled ladders are provided in each aisle of bookshelves so that readers could reach the high shelves.

We stopped at the middle left part of the library, where a huge sign board hung from the ceiling. It read:

                                                 Fantasy Literature                                   Supernatural, Myths, Legends, and Magic                                                        (243-250)

“Here you go, Yukiko-san,” Shuichi said. “Would you like me to help you find a book?”

“No, thanks. I’m sure I could manage.”

He seemed to hesitate. “Very well, then. I’ll be at the Science section.” He pointed to a part of the library not far from where we’re currently standing. “We could meet up by the librarian’s desk when you’re done.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “See you later, then.”

Each bookshelf is under a specific category, so finding where the folk legends are was truly not difficult. I’ve picked out a few and took them to a table in the readers’ area. However, it turns out a lot of the legends in these books are ones I’ve basically got memorized long ago.

I continued to look for more new folk legends, but to no success. I sighed as I reached the last aisle of bookshelves, #250. I hope I could finally find something interesting here. Looking up, a thick silver spine at the topmost shelf caught my eye.

I carefully climbed up the ladder. With my right hand on the ladder’s railing, I used my other hand to pull the silver book out… not knowing how seriously heavy it is for me to carry in one hand only.

BAM! The sound echoed through the whole room when I accidentally dropped the book. From above the ladder, I saw everyone turn to me.

Oops. “I’m sorry.” I grinned sheepishly. I waited until they all got back to their own businesses before climbing back down as quickly as I can.

I picked up the book and turned it over to the front cover, blowing the dust off… and was astonished at what I have read.

                                          THE UNTOLD STORY                   The Account of the Youko Kurama, the Great Fox Thief

My eyes slowly widened. I was rendered speechless.

A whole book about Youko Kurama? Wow. Just… wow.

I was about to open it when I heard Shuichi behind me. “Yukiko-san, are you alright?”

I turned to face him and nodded, smiling. “I finally found a book I liked. How about you?”

“I was just waiting for you to finish,” he replied. “But are you going to borrow that book? It’s almost lunchtime.”

“It is?” I looked at my own wristwatch. It’s 11:45 AM already. “Well then, I guess it couldn’t be helped.” I smirked. “Besides, I’d much prefer reading this by myself in my own room.”

Shuichi decided to stop by the ramen shop for lunch. I told him that he could just come over instead and let me cook for us, but he insisted on eating here.

We were seated at a corner of the restaurant, waiting for our orders. I set the heavy book on the table, and once again I saw Shuichi eyeing it with an emotion I can’t quite pinpoint. “What’s up with the book, Shuichi-kun?” I finally asked. “You’ve been looking at it… cautiously, even before I took it out of the library.”

He was silent for a while, but soon he looked up and smiled, though I could tell it was forced. “It’s nothing. I just thought it looked familiar to me.”

I frowned slightly. What could be in this book that made Shuichi react like that? I decided to take a peek, but his hand is suddenly over mine.

“Just read this when you get home.” He smiled kindly.

Realizing what it must have looked like, I quickly bowed in apology. “I’m sorry. That is impolite. I was just about to sneak a quick look, but… yeah, I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I understand that my reaction to it had piqued your curiosity.”

I looked up to smile awkwardly, and then grew thankful when I saw the waiter approaching us with two bowls on a huge tray. I put the book under the table to make space for our food.

With the waiter gone, Shuichi and I broke our chopsticks apart at the same time. “Itadakimasu!” We grinned at each other, and then started eating.

Previous: Acquaintance

[nekumiko]

Been here all along, so why can’t you see?

Fandom: Bangtan Sonyeondan (BTS)

Genre: Angst

Rated: T

Words: 2, 746

Series: Guess the Song

Summary: He’s cheer captain, and I am on the bleachers.

They’ve been at it for a while now.

The thing with their quarrels is that no one raises their voice. Discreet glares, softly-delivered accusations, firm grips on waists—no other indication of a fight except for the tension that only the truly sensitive people could feel sizzling.

Taehyung watches her unfreeze as she ends the call, seemingly deliberating if she’d throw her new phone across the room out of frustration.

As if feeling his eyes on her, she turns to look out her window and give him an apologetic smile.

Taehyung immediately retrieves the notebook he has prepared for times like these. He writes a sentence that conveys not even a quarter of the things he wants to say, then holds it up for her to read: You ok?

Her own notebook is already out, so with a playful shake of her head and a now-amused smile, it does not take long for her to write back: Just call me, Tae.

And so he does. “Hey, you.”

The soft atmosphere is gone in an instant as she doesn’t even open with a ‘hello.’ “It was just a joke! I love that he pays close attention to me, but it also makes him overthink everything! He doubles over at every single one of our sunbae’s dad jokes, but with me, he’s just…”

Taehyung pushes up his glasses. “Well, I keep telling you that dark humor does not work on most people.”

She sighs. “Wait until he meets my cousin. He’s coming back from Seoul soon.”

“Hyung is a different case. Jimin’s just worried about his girlfriend proclaiming that she’s okay with dying,” Taehyung replies, mentally congratulating himself for not tripping up. “And he might even blame himself, considering how you two have been lately, right?”

She only falls silent, pulling her knees to her chest.

“But just so you know, I do understand your sentiment.”

At this, she laughs a little. “Stop kissing-ass, Kim Taehyung.”

He chuckles as well, though he makes an excuse of picking up a shirt off the floor to hide his reddening cheeks.

“What are you studying, Tae?”

Deciding to indulge her distraction tactics, he holds up his thick textbook for her to see. “Just doing some advance reading. It’s a Wednesday tomorrow.”

She fake-shudders. “Politics.”

“Yes.”

She smirks. “But you really don’t have anything to worry about.”

“Now you’re doing it.”

“What? Kissing your thick ass?”

“W-what are you—“

“You’re so cute, TaeTae.” She grins at the sight of the blushing boy.

He pouts, making his glasses slide down a bit from the bridge of his nose, and whines out her name. Just then, a violin solo rings through his whole bedroom, making the both of them yelp, and so he dives for his laptop speaker to turn the music down.

“Noooo!”

“Huh?”

“Don’t turn it off. It’s really cool.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen. “You think so?”

“Yep. Jimin listens to pop a lot, and though I don’t exactly hate it, I prefer relaxing music every once in a while.”

A pebble hits her window just then.

She stands up from her bed to check.

And Taehyung knows he’s lost again when she sighs and smiles wryly. “It’s Jimin, huh?”

Keeping her eyes on the visitor, she replies, “Yes.” As she signals to the person to wait, she continues, “I guess he doesn’t want to drag the fight until morning.” Then she runs towards her coat rack to get her cardigan.

“That’s very diligent of him.”

“Yeah, which is good, right?”

“Yeah. Proves he’s serious with you. I just hope you lessen the fights.”

“I hope so too.”  She finishes buttoning her cardigan up, so she turns back to her friend. “Hey, Tae.”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for talking to me. You really helped clear my mind up and made me feel lighter. I’m just really sorry that I have to hang up so soon.”

“It’s no problem. Go get him.”

With a final “thanks,” she ends the call and exits her room.

Taehyung, meanwhile, looks out his window to find her hurrying out her back door and over to Jimin. Being the constant witness to how the couple makes up, he’s memorized how it always plays out: their postures would be stiff for a while, but as Jimin unleashes his flurry of apologies, her walls would break down and she would fall into Jimin’s fuzzy-sweater-embrace.

Well, sometimes it’s a muscle shirt, if Jimin is fresh from practice.

Taehyung doesn’t wait for her to nuzzle her boyfriend’s neck or for Jimin to kiss the top of her head. He turns away from the window and flops back onto his bed, playing with the hem of his ratty old t-shirt that could barely keep himself warm.

Does she miss his hugs?

Surely not, he thinks.

Taehyung doesn’t see her until the weekend. He’s on his way to the park to take a relaxing stroll after a few errands, when he suddenly feels a nudge on his shoulder.

Again today, she has abandoned their matching glasses for clear contact lenses. Her hair falls to her shoulders in waves, the result of an hour-long fight with the curling iron. Her cropped top that has a huge cat face printed on its front side makes up for her worn-out jeans.

“Aren’t those the pants you bought last ye—“

“Shut up, Kim Taehyung!” She playfully hits his arm. “No one else is supposed to know that!”

The both of them are not that big on money, so mixing-and-matching has always been their thing to make them look still-presentable. And so, Taehyung laughs, comforted by the thought that she hasn’t let it go, that he’s not the only one left in town who wears old clothes for a day out.

“And why is that even the first thing you’ll say to me? Where are you even looking, huh?” Her eyes squint in suspicion.

“Why do you always make me out to be a pervert?” He lightly pushes her.

“Hey!” She dramatically holds on to a tree they are conveniently passing by. “That hurts!”

“Says the woman who dives on the floor multiple times to receive a 280-gram ball.”

“Hmph. You’re lucky I love you so much.”

He only smiles. Her constant company may have changed since the past year, but she never did. They still walk in sync, still talk endlessly, still laugh over the simplest things. This is how it’s all supposed to be.

Now sitting on a park bench, he watches her laugh, he stares at the smile he could so easily put to her lips. The smile that, even if it’s cliché, he’d dare say could make this whole town ten times brighter. Is it so hard for Jimin to bring it back himself?

Jimin could effortlessly do that long ago as her crush, and even more often when they started going out. But ever since their first big fight a month ago, her smile had turned upside-down, if not thinning out into a tight line. The rare times she does smile for and because of Jimin, it couldn’t even last for a minute.

“Are you supposed to be somewhere? You keep checking on your phone.” Taehyung asks her, giving her a look that screams the unfinished thought: You’ve never done this to me before.

Immediately, she puts her phone back in her pocket, but her hand stays there. “Sorry. Jimin is taking me out today, and this park is the pick-up point.”

So much for thinking that she just went out the same day as him by chance and they are on a spontaneous date. “And?” Taehyung prompts, seeing how she just bit her lip, an anxious mannerism of hers. “Is he late? Again?”

“Don’t be like that. He’s trying his best to come on time. Today’s just not his day. But I bet he’s already around the corner. So, let’s just chill.”

Taehyung stares at her for a long moment, but she is equally determined to keep herself turned away from him, so he sighs. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Taehyung.”

He knows better, of course. And while he wants to keep the mood light for the sake of her date, this has gone on for too long. What is she still doing with a guy like that?

But a flashy red car stops nearby just then, the color prompting everyone to look. Very much like its owner now exiting the door.

Park Jimin in his white shirt, skinny jeans, and boots.

Funny how Taehyung’s dressed almost exactly the same, except he has on his old, yet still sturdy basketball shoes. And nerdy glasses, of course. And also without Jimin’s gold jewelry and gray beanie.

Of course Jimin would still look stunning even when dressed down.

The couple smiles at each other and holds hands as a greeting, before Jimin turns to Taehyung, who stood up as well. “Oh! We’re twinning, Tae!”

Taehyung puts a hand behind his neck. “Wow, yeah.” Then maybe I could replace you today. At that thought, he grins, which could be mistaken as him taking the comment well.

Jimin pats Taehyung’s shoulder. “Thanks for accompanying her, man.” He pouts as he looks at them both. “And I’m so sorry for being late, I swear I—“

“Hey, it’s no problem.” Taehyung smiles as reassuringly as he could. “You guys have fun now.”

Jimin smiles and utters another “thank you.” He proceeds to lead his girlfriend by the hand back to his car. He opens her car door for her and waits for her to get settled, then walks over to the driver’s side. With an excited grin on his face, he even waves Taehyung goodbye before he disappears into the vehicle.

Despite being last year’s new kid who moved from Busan to Daegu, Jimin instantly shot to fame because of his innate sweetness and kindness that makes a lot of hearts burst – Taehyung’s bestfriend included. She had endlessly gushed about his versatility – getting high test scores while being one of the best members of the cheerleading squad – and, of course, his “pretty, pretty face and that hot damn body.” A perfect combo. And how there would be a lot of chances for her to get close to him, for the squad sometimes practice in the school gym, where the girls’ volleyball team frequent.

And she was right. Just months later, news had spread throughout the whole school that the top candidate for cheer captain had asked the female libero out. Two individuals brought together by their complementary hobbies, therefore it would be easy and natural for them to support each other. A cute, perfect couple.

Meanwhile, Taehyung is still stuck in the bleachers. He wouldn’t have minded it if it’s her volleyball match, but nope, he had to be dragged along to watch Jimin’s first cheerleading competition as the new captain.

Taehyung could’ve said no. He could’ve told her that he needs to study. But he also could never really resist her pleading eyes. And keeping her physically within his reach has become more difficult as of late, so, under the pretense of getting bribed by her presence in Taehyung’s marching band parade (at this point, his saxophone could pass for his new bestfriend) the next day, he decides to go. Even if the crowd’s too noisy and rowdy for his liking, even if he has to see her so excited and supportive for a person besides him.

And accompanying her had been the right choice.

Jimin is attractive. Too attractive for his own good. He attracts anyone and everyone, most of them not minding that he’s already taken. It had been the reason for the couple’s big feud. Would it be revived now that she and Taehyung reached backstage and saw a female cheerleader sidling up against Jimin? Hooking arms with him? Touching his chin and pinching his cheeks?

“I’m sorry, Taehyung,” she calmly tells her bestfriend, albeit never straying her gaze away from the scene. “I’ll have to meet you back home.”

And Taehyung knows that once she drives home and finds him waiting at her back door, she would bury her head on one of his shoulders and soak it with her tears as she voices out her pain, all the while holding his hands tight to prevent him from hugging her.

“Then why?” he asks her again as the exact same scene happens once more. “Why are you keeping this up?”

“Because I love him,” she answers the exact same reply. “I love him so damn much, Taehyung.” The only difference tonight is that she straightens back up and wipes her eyes right away. “And I know Jimin loves me too. We’re only a new couple. Things would be better once we graduate, because all these immature people who can’t keep their hands to themselves would be gone, right? We can’t just give up at the first sight of a storm.”

True enough, her boyfriend calls. And the sound of car tires could be heard from the distance.

“If you can’t trust Jimin yet, at least just trust me, please?” She smiles.

The problem with Jimin is that Taehyung can never really hate him.

Jimin loves her just as intensely. He is just a naïve, young teen born with exceptional talent and good looks who legit freezes up whenever someone flirts with him, but who has never chosen fame and opportunities over the girl he loves. He makes time for her, treats every one of her friends as his own, and most of all, rushes over to fix things with her, no matter how often he’d had to do that lately.

A perfect couple isn’t measured by stereotypes or fairytale concepts. She and Jimin are a  perfect couple, because young as they are, they take each other seriously – they continue to get to know and understand each other, they learn to forgive and adapt, they dream of a future together.

“Okay,” Taehyung replies, hands twitching from being forbidden to touch her like he used to.

Taehyung had tried. He had tried hard, before and after Jimin came along. He knows he could do everything Jimin could do for her, surely even more. He is ready to fight. But what’s the point of waging war if it’s been a losing battle from the start?

Kim Taehyung used to live two blocks away, in the busier side of town, where no one would be suspicious about a car pulling up near his house in the middle of the night. She would call him, and he would help her sneak up to his room. Taehyung is a friend who would tell her that she’s not as terrible as she thinks she is. Someone who makes her cry only because he made her laugh too hard. Someone who could quiet her self-deprecating thoughts down with the songs she never named as her favorite, but Taehyung had knowingly downloaded in his phone.

Back then, he had been free to hug her as tight as he could. He could hold her close as she talked about her plans of traveling around the world, of her schemes to be internet-famous, of future recipes she wants to try.

And whenever she would finish talking, she’d look up to regard his reaction, and the close distance between their faces wouldn’t be forbidden.

Taehyung should’ve kissed her. Taehyung should’ve told her that she could fulfill all those dreams together with him, because despite their differences in attitude, in social standing, and in interests, they meet halfway, and he could keep doing so because he genuinely likes to. Taehyung should’ve said that they just plainly fit. Taehyung should’ve put his thoughts into words: I think you belong with me.  

But he didn’t.

Because for all those times he had stared deep into her eyes, he found that hers never held affection of the same kind as his own.

She belongs with him, in a way the best of friends are brought together. If it weren’t for Taehyung, she would’ve given up on life long ago. If it weren’t for her, life would be dull for Taehyung. Platonic soulmates, that’s what they are. That’s what they could only be.

So with a sad smile, Taehyung walks past her, and she turns towards the street. The back door of his house closes moments before Jimin’s car arrives. Taehyung has always been attuned to the couple’s hushed conversations, but tonight, he just can’t hear anything else over his sobs.

Hint: A Taylor Swift song from the Fearless album.

[nekumiko]

Colors

Fandom: Daiya no Ace

Genre: Romance

Rated: T

Words: 1,531

Chapters: 1/?

Summary:  She's fascinated with his hair. Just his hair. But Ryousuke finds it invasive, and of course he won't let her off that easily.

Chapter One: That hair is legit

Pink.

It’s the color always filled in last. In her watercolor, oil pastel, colored pencil, and rarely, crayon drawings— the best is always saved for the last. Sometimes, even, pink would be the only color seen, and always in that one specific feature, with the rest of the drawing left uncolored.

It’s not her favorite. In fact, it is so overused, it basically blends into the background. It’s in shop displays, clothes, cell phones, toiletries. More so on girls’ birthdays, and of course, Valentine’s Day.

So, what sparked the partiality?

Pink is usually associated with the female population. And being surrounded all her life by girls who, along with her, have belongings seasoned with pink here and there (even if, for some reason, most would claim they hate pink), she has gotten used to the notion.

So to see it in the sun-beaten, dust-ridden, testosterone-dominated baseball field is, well, intriguing.

A random passerby the brunette had been that day when the sun caught the out-of-place color. She had thought it was someone’s t-shirt that got unfortunately mixed in with the wrong laundry pile (because it was kind of low). But there it had shone in all its glory under the sun—a mop of pink hair.

Hair. A permanent feature of a person.

Person. She’d been staring at a person.

Her new muse.

Well, okay, maybe she hadn’t been just a random passerby. She had to audition for the art club. So she had decided to impress them by trying to master drawing a moving subject. And who could be more perfect than someone from Seidou’s baseball team? (Besides, the female art club members wouldn’t really dislike a bit of fanservice.)

Informed that a practice game within the members of the team would happen that afternoon, she had rushed over and luckily found a nice spot.

That was when that head of cotton candy pink had emerged from the dugout, and since then, she couldn’t look away.

A drawing of him in an almost-perfect double play was produced. She had passed the audition, got in the art club. But she couldn’t move on.

She couldn’t stop drawing.

Weeks had passed. His name, she had learned, was Kominato Ryousuke. A second-year back then (at first, it had surprised her—for very obvious reasons—though she’s not really one to talk).

Now, why pink? Surely it’s just hair dye, but still, why pink? He doesn’t look like someone who’s that hungry for attention.

Weeks turned into a year of near-daily observing and drawing, and she’d hauled home a bag full of papers from her apartment. It’s not all Kominato, though. There’s also the Seidou team—old and new—with a bespectacled young catcher rivaling the amount of drawings she has of the second baseman.

Honestly, she’s not interested in the person. Severe bluntness aside, you’d also never really know if he’s looking at you. That’s pretty scary, right? It’s uncute.

It’s just his oddly beautiful hair that she adores. And now, there’s one more year left to admire it. Just one more year of Kominato filling her sketchbooks.

Somehow, it feels lonely.

And she had to cringe at that. Shake her head. Slap herself thrice.

They’re not even friends.

But it really doesn’t help that just months ago, while gazing out the snowy surroundings from inside the crowded train back home, she had seen that familiar pink reflected in the glass. But as she had turned to get a better look, he already got off the train. Off one station away from hers.

Of course, she wouldn’t go so far as finding out where his house is. The only effort she’d do for him is to go to his games. She won’t even try getting close. Just drawing from a distance is enough.

She has a life apart from Kominato Ryousuke.

Or so she thinks.

The new school year rolls in. Stepping out of the train to Tokyo, she unmistakably sees again a flash of the pink she’d grown accustomed to.

So before she knew it, her feet are hurrying over to him. And like it’s been bottled up in her for so long, she calls out, “Kominato –!“ But then, she misses a step and almost tackles her pink-haired senior to the ground.

Luckily, he had turned to her before she even finished. She falls into his chest, but stays upright because of his hold on her shoulders.

It makes her heart thump loudly in her ears. Not out of excitement. But out of fear. Definitely no lovely, tingly feelings here. Because this is not a romantic encounter. She is in an embarrassing (and crowd-disturbing) situation with Kominato Ryousuke of all people. “I-I’m so sorry, Kominato… -san…?”

She had looked up to see that his cheeks are starting to glow bright red as he slowly releases her. Also…

“Hair…” She absentmindedly stares.

Kominato’s fox-eyes are already too small, so wouldn’t he have difficulty seeing if he covered them with bangs?  “I-I think you’ve got the wrong person.” And he’s got a too-soft voice. No way would Kominato Ryousuke be nice to people who almost knocked him down in a crowded station.

Her eyes widen, processing his words just five or so seconds later. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” She bows apologetically. “I just happen to know someone with the same hair color. Didn’t think it’s a fast-growing trend in hair dyeing.”

“Hair dye?”

“I mean, there’s no way that’s natural, right? Anyway, sorry for bothering you!” She bows again, laughing nervously, and turns to make a run for it. Adrenaline would get her out of there despite her bags’ weights. But, as if suddenly realizing something, she stops. “Although you reacted when I called his name.”

The guy takes a deep breath. “I am Kominato. Kominato Haruichi.” The blush in his cheeks lightens to a rosy pink as he mutters, “Aniki must not have mentioned me to his friends yet.”

“Aniki?”

“Kominato Ryousuke.” He slightly turns his head away. “You mistook me for my older brother.”

A few moments of silence unfold as she blinks back at him. “You mean… natural pink hair is actually a thing?”

Haruichi, she learns, would be a freshman member of Seidou High’s baseball team.

In the short time they had walked together (her apartment is conveniently in the same path as Seidou’s), she could say Haruichi is the polar opposite of his brother. The younger Kominato is sweet and easily flustered, though that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

It’s like they’re only similar physically.

Both of their eyes are a mystery. While Haruichi has his eyes hidden by his too-long bangs, the older brother has too-small eyes that you’d only probably see if you stand close to him. And who would want to be at such short distance from him? He’s pretty much feared by his underclassmen, maybe even by his peers.

They also have the same height despite the two-year difference. Although she can’t really laugh at that, because the first-year’s even taller than her.

And of course, they both have the same eye-catching, genetically pink hair.

From behind, they look so identical.

First day of school brings her once again to the first floor hallway of Seidou High. Taking her time to get to the stairs leading to the second-year classrooms, she sees him.

“Ha~ru~ichiii!” She grabs his shoulders, expecting a surprised yelp and a cute blush. “Good mor… ning…” She instantly freezes.

“Oh, Stalker-chan! What pose shall I do for you today?”

Slowly, she backs away. “Kominato-san…”

“Ah, so drawing people without their permission isn’t enough for you now? You decided to be a higher level of creep by touching them?”

“I-I didn’t mean to… I only thought you’re…” She gulps and looks away, but glances back with a frown. “And I thought I told you before—!“

“You’re incomprehensible as ever.”

“No, you just cut me off!”

“You’re incapable of completing a decent sentence. It got irritating. Did you think that’s cute?”

“I-I wouldn’t want to be cute for you.”

The senior goes silent.

Unnerved, she looks away again.

Then he continues, “As if I’d see you that way, anyway. When did stalkers even look cute? They’re feared.”

“You’re the scary one.”

He leans in, to which she steps back. He smirks. “Are you actually trembling?”

“No!”

“You’re really loud. Just go to your classroom, creep.” He points behind him, at 1-B’s classroom.

“As if you’re any taller than these first-years.”

“What was that?”

“Did you even grow from your first-year high school height?”

“Have you been watching me even before you got into Seidou? My, how scary.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself.”

“Which reminds me! You seem to know Haruichi already. And you’re close enough now for sneak attacks? He’s only arrived here a few days ago. You’ve become increasingly dangerous by the minute, Stalk~er-chan.”

“It was just coincidence that—“

“Just get off my case, Stalker. Give me a peaceful final school year.”

Pink.

The color of his beautiful hair.

The color of her flustered cheeks whenever she gets to interact – usually in a verbal battle that she loses – with her muse who has hated her guts since the beginning.

Next: Not even an acquaintance, but a nuisance