Title: Something Rhetorical
Summary: For truth, for justice, for nightmare free slumber. AU Shinji/Takako
Rating: T (for language)
Shuuya Nanahara woke up at 3:47: 43 am, JST.
He was very much happy to be alive.
"Don't you think Shuuya looked a little off today?"
"What?" came the very bored reply, followed by a yawn. Hiroki Sugimura slung his bag on his shoulde once again as he and best friend, Chigusa Takako, walked towards the school gates.
Said person named Shuuya Nanahara indeed looked a little off as he came running towards the pair, hair disheveled and uniform in an outstanding mess. Even without fully paying attention, Takako saw the dark circles under his eyes but found them nothing worth of her brain cells. It was just an ordinary day.
(Except for the foreboding feeling of dread and betrayal, mixed with odd excitement which she tried to shrug off casually as she spotted a familiar, morning-nice looking man with a hoop earring a few distances away…)
As Shuuya came closer, Hiroki noticed his sudden halt followed by a large bulging of eyes; then definitely, the loudest scream he ever heard since the attack of the Arashi fangirls.
"Good morning to you too, Nanahara," said Takako in a much deadpanned expression.
"You! Youu—YOUU!" Shuuya started, and stopped when he felt two strong arms, feeling like it very much belonged to a martial artist, gripped his shoulders to steady him.
"What the hell is wrong with you, Shuu? Too damn early to tear our ears away, don't you think?" Hiroki said, patting his shaking friend.
Shuuya looked displeasingly, mockingly and then scared shit at Takako, making the girl arch an eyebrow as a response. Brought by adrenaline rush, fear and too much coffee, Shuuya held tight to one of Hiroki's hands and ran for his life, tagging the poor martial artist behind him who was wailing for making him trip altogether and look stupid while they were at it.
Takako Chigusa was left behind, confusion still all over her face. More confused looks darted her way, followed by a couple of oooh—aaaah's and oooh's but the girl just shrugged.
"Keep the panties intact, they're still definitely male," and as an afterthought she muttered, "…the last time I checked."
"Pretty sure they're checking me out, babe."
That bedroom voice, with words running through a smirk that invented the word swoon, could not be mistaken. Takako turned around; with a fresh, cleanly shaven, nicely trimmed, sexy standing entrance, Shinji Mimura greeted her with a smile.
"Gods, Shuu, what the fuck is wrong with you?"
Shuuya was still catching his breath at his seat when he leaned in to Hiroki. Looking around to check, (bets were if Takako was already around), he told him in a whisper; "I had a bad dream."
"Listen to me man, this dream—holy fuck, I dreamt of Mim fucking a girl, man," said Shuuya in exasperation, still catching his breath.
At that, Hiroki looked worried then resigned with a bored look. "Shuu."
"Do you like…Mim, or something?"
"Fuck no!" Shuuya attested, slamming his hands on Hiroki's desk in to which the latter winced. In his defense, Freudian subconscious references or not, Shuuya dreaming of his best friend and a girl doing what—Mim's normal roundabout of activities—was not really that confusing nor was it a big deal. He wondered what Shuuya's brain had been hitting on; Mim doing a girl either in dreamland or reality was so yesterday and therefore definitely news archives material.
Hiroki sighed. That was Shuuya's cue to continue, "Man, the girl man, listen…girl was freaking Takako Chigusa!!"
If Hiroki had been uninterested a few seconds ago, to say that his neck craned a 360 degree to look at Shuuya would be an understatement. After tapping his nose repeatedly Shuuya felt afraid it would suddenly break, Hiroki was only able to blurt out a horrified, "WHAT?!"
"Tell you man, 'was so scared…Jesus," Shuuya said, raking his hands on his already disheveled hair.
Hiroki tapped his nose again, inhaled and asked, "This got to do with the little stunt at the fair?" (1)
"Hell if I know!" he exhaled, "…shit, I was never this happy to be alive. Fucking nightmare, Sugi. Only thing that went through my mind was Chigusa getting in down, hot and heavy and she was probably eating him whole…"
Hiroki's eyes snapped shut and open simultaneously as he bricked his friend with his thick Physics boo—tome.
"Sorry man…can't get it out of my head, you know?" Shuuya leaned in, "…screwed in my dreams and screwed me bad while they were at it, holy fuck," said Shuuya, holding on to Hiroki's strong arms as if he could get support from the gravity of it all.
Hiroki was feeling numb from Shuuya's grip on his arm, and was about to reply when Takako came to view right at the classroom door. He noted that there wasn't—oh come on, really—anything extraordinary. Shuuya then followed his gaze and was reminded of his dream. He attempted to look away but not before catching his best friend, Shinji Mimura, in view behind Takako—and this all in slow motion, catch this, catch this, catch this;
Shinji's hand very very very subtly (and sneakily) touching Takako's lower back as he passed, his hands straying until it reached somewhere her side, his hand finally drifting away, Takako's failed attempt at indifference (but only the ones closely watching could catch it, and without blinking), Shinji's malicious lopsided grin, Takako's subtle eyebrow arch (oh there was it again) , the one millisecond meeting of their eyes and the tension at the classroom door finally breaking free in one early morning of April, 8: 25: 16 am, JST.
Hiroki and Shuuya looked at each other, and looked at the classroom door again, the little interesting exchange replaying in both their minds.
In Shuuya's mind, thoughts were more oriented towards on how amazing Shinji knew his way on girls—even girls like Takako Chigusa. Being the sole (and pretentiously not looking) witness to that equally interesting hug at the sale last fair, he suddenly found himself drawn to the possibility of them hooking up. Mimura's untainted record in wooing girls faster than he can shoot balls and Takako's clinical image of being off-limits-off-market-single-but-not-available-except-to-Hiroki-Sugimura—he would have bet all his money it would not happen.
However, something in the air changed, and definitely not due to global warming or climate change. Kudos to them if they had been working it outside fangirls' range or pestering-of-friends zone; the only clue left on the trail was that two weeks after Mim whored a hug, they were talking like they had been doing that forever.
In Hiroki's mind, there was only one thing going through his head: Takako is growing up. Then another thought—Mim was probably hitting on her for real? He did ask him before (if they were dating), yes, but not in this universe and lifetime did he thought of Mimura actually pursuing his best friend. Hell, never in his mind he thought that Takako—even just once—would give Shinji a piece of her attention, if that was what the little exchange all about. Then another thought—did he like, like, Takako or was he just merely looking out for her in this sudden worry? Then another thought—oh, Kayoko, looking like a fresh morning flower. Lastly, he thought—he lost his Math for a while there because those were actually five (plus this, makes six) thoughts that he thought and what the hell was happening in his mind—for a total of whooping seven thoughts.
Shuuya and Hiroki looked at each other again, both of them speaking at the same time;
"Ass grab man, I said it first."
"You're a syllable ahead, dickhead."
Hiroki sighed, probably in an effort to comfort himself, apparently disturbed. "It wasn't that low."
Shuuya put his hand on his forehead, and said, "Mim would have died if he had gone further."
In response, Hiroki muttered absent-mindedly, "He wouldn't, if Taka was totally letting him..."
As if they hadn't had enough with each other, they looked at each other again and an imaginary light bulb flashed above their heads.
"Takako was totally letting him…"
Hino-sensei arrived, signaling the start of the class—textbooks on the desk, page 246—but both of Hiroki Sugimura and Shuuya Nanahara's minds were boggled not by the 'coefficient of friction on the wall' but something along the lines of friction between Shinji Mimura and Takako Chigusa that probably involved getting it down, hot and heavy, and yes, in a wall.
Are they or are they not?
Kant's categorical imperative or not, moral dilemma or not, the seeking for the truth was began.
A/N: Dedications, dedications to the lovely imjuzakyd, jenizaki, Hickoryflower, Myarah and SkyLilies (you are like my BR fandom friends and I love you all forever). Everyone else who is reading—this is for you too. Review and…well, you get a shoutout next chapter?
(1) in reference to The Kinky Music Party (oh I see what I did tharr, shameless plugging)
Also, I planned this to be a three-shot, but I've written as far as Chapter 3 and hey, it's far from being finished. I might be finishing at five? Who knows? Review and show me love.
Another note, after this story, I might not write for a while. You should be way getting too used to me. But I still love you all.