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Status: In progress
Summary: Tic tac toe, three in a row; three sheets to the wind; three's a crowd; hear no evil, speak no evil, see no evil... (But the ears cannot be closed... What if you should speak of it? What if you can't help seeing it?) What else is there to threes? There's just something about that number that's so seductive. Rin's just about to fall prey to this mystery...
Disclaimer: All rights reserved. Any person and/or institution and/or Agent and/or Agency of any governmental structure including but not limited to the world also using or monitoring this fanfiction or any of its associated content, you do NOT have my permission nor the owners who are not me to utilise any of this information, false or coincidentally true. I own nothing but the idea and the freedom to bend a story out of my pure imagination. There's a reason why this is called a fanfiction. Any events, places and etcetera portrayed in this story, if upon associated in real life, is purely coincidental. The characters are not mine.
Ménage à trois
| . _ , | 3 | . _ . | 3 | . _ . |
Piko Utatane had been Rin's classmate the previous year. He was no troublemaker—trouble finds him fun to mess with, though—but neither was he that nice young gem of a boy who'd feed stray one-eyed puppies in the street. No, not a dog, maybe a fluffy little kitten would be a sight appropriate enough for him. Mention dog in front of his face and he freaks. A cat would be most preferable for this who claims to be a man. He was very—to use a word that will most suit him and wouldn't cause much of a fuss—"delicate" about topics concerning his masculinity, and his friend has been careful not to refer to it so long as he won't any that would bother her.
Coincidentally, they had become seatmates.
It wasn't they who had chosen to sit on their respective chairs, oh no: They simply drew lots with their classmates' names. However, the regret not a thing that followed after. The preceding year, they had been two ends of a mirror that just couldn't meet. They hardly ever communicated; much less have a personal conversation. Now, look at where they are now: Suddenly friends and walking each other home, either was equidistant to the other. Best friends would be giving too much credit to the unnecessary cut out moments they had with each other.
"—he's gay, I'm telling you!"
The more aggressive of the two had always been Rin, who didn't let her petite frame and angelic appearance drag her down: Piko was always the rational guy, and he only got into a knot of a mess when trouble comes looking, ignoring the girl who's chasing after it. He wouldn't kick a cat's ass for a million bucks. (Then again, who would?) He wouldn't jump to conclusions as much as this injudicious girl would.
He slung his bag over his shoulder to make his sauntering more comfortable. "Sending you to detention isn't gay in my opinion."
Rin kicked a rock in frustration at the memory. "Sorry if I'm acting so—argh—dammit—he's just so—"
"Aggravating?" supplied Piko generously. He was the sole victim of Rin's rambling on and nagging so often that he had but listen. He should already consider writing a book of Rin's life story and introduce himself as the boy who saved her from all the truculent mishaps that had come her way and gone at his heroism and supreme power and make money out of it. Perhaps Rin's company wouldn't be a waste of time after all, then.
The blonde nodded in solid agreement, groaning in infuriation. "Exactly!"
Minutes passed as Piko—who had the misfortune to not have been busy enough to have an excuse to refuse accompanying her on the way home—consoled the young girl continuing her rants, evidently keen on destroying his vocabulary with her jumbled-up sentences and swearwords. They turned up in his house—thank God—and Rin was still nearly finished with her new story about the girls who annoyed her in the classroom, all of whom Piko had not thought of as unattractive until Rin pointed out the most disgusting things about them, and his disinterest in their discussion—which was only mainly of Rin chattering—had immediately been abolished.
It was always surprisingly Rin who preferred walking alone by herself despite being the more talkative one. If you've heard her babble to you, then her mind must be pretty one whacked up place to be. From what Piko understood, she would rather take her own advice than others', thus she spent as much time yapping as she did being silent and contemplating the day to herself.
Rin leaned on his newly-painted fence, resting her chin on her folded arms. "See ya tomorrow."
Piko could only nod a yes—he was a bit busy—while he made for his door. Where was it...?
"You all right there, Piko?"
Rin wasn't still standing behind him, was she? Could his mind possibly have been playing with him again? Usually she just ups and leaves as soon as she takes him to his house…
…and it was just as that often that Piko didn't lose his keys.
He dug deep in his pockets and almost crazily frenzied his pants—it couldn't be gone! He couldn't've lost it! He'd be as dead as a roasted duck if he...!
As far as he could remember, he used it as far back as Friday…Today was Monday. The possibility that he could have left it on the top of his bedroom study table wasn't as slim as he previously thought it to be, and now, counting the probable odds—and thinking out how his luck could've gone to this—he was certainly almost sure that he did forget to put the keys in his bag.
Clutching at the empty space of evanescence for whatever grain of desperate hope he could find, he wheeled around, nearly blinded by the setting sun streaking red in the orange sky tinted with pink and woven with yellow strings of clouds as he ignored the basking magnificence of the view to face his classmate, who was watching him intently, her baby blue eyes a striking colour clash with the scene before him.
"Gimme your hairclips."
Piko clicked his tongue and stomped over to her. "Just trust me."
He must have looked so frightening for Rin to have reached to her hair and oblige to giving him her bobby pins. Her fringe had, by the subjugating law of gravity, bounced down free to pool over her left eye. She handed him the potentially laudable objects—to which he responded with a slight sole hop and a quick "thanks"—and he hurriedly inserted the clips in the keyhole, hoping they'd fit.
The sun's rays were hot at that precise moment of sunset: Sweat was running down his forehead profusely while he attempted to pick the lock as smoothly as he could. Admitting to himself that he's an amateur to this, he thought to at least put up a small show by pressing his ear on the door to hear the lock giving way: It didn't. Just random clicking of the silver and metal. It would've hurt his ears had the wood of the door not blocked the frequency. He's got very sensitive hearing, but that didn't mean he was superhuman: He's just afraid of high pitches.
The gears were scraping against the surface of the keyhole's small walls… Vexed by the inevitability of his inescapable situation with means and ends he knew futile and unpleasant, he pumped Rin's clips deeper into the keyhole.
Apart from his angry lock-picking, he heard Rin's footsteps coming closer and sounding different from grass being scuffled. "Hey! Quit it, you psycho! You're gonna snap it in two!"
"Don't worry, I got this."
Rin, who saw his stubbornness so unbendable to make her efforts fruitless, sighed and turned around to give Piko some space. "You could just get in through your back door—damn, no dice. I think your window's—God, it's locked. Ugh—there's this rock over here! You can just fling it and you're in! …Stop that. It's my favourite pair."
"It's just hairclips—"
Ignoring her pleas that were more like demands, Piko continued ruthlessly venting his exasperation with the door. And then—
"I can't believe you're letting me crash into your place."
Piko was standing a little behind Rin as she unlocked her door. (The former secretly envious of how easily her key just got in the hole and felt like he needed to take those pills his grandma kept mulling on about to him.) The sun had already set a little while ago, and the light was being sucked back to the east as darkness stumbled in their place, what remained of the light casting shadows on the high walls and silhouetting Rin's figure while she was busy. The dimness of the entire place was making Piko feel slightly nervous: Not to mention, he'd be inside someone else's house. A girl's house. A girl he barely even knew. And until his parents would come back, too. (They'd be back pretty late, it being Monday, which was their boss's favourite day to announce something, thus a meeting amongst the employees was a must.) That bit he explained thoroughly to the blonde.
Rin hadn't any complaints or any irritating badgering. Oddly enough, she had been the first to suggest it.
Just as a cold wind blew past Piko, making him think twice about this, he heard the glorious noise of a lock clicking from Rin's direction.
"Wicked." Rin beamed, and she opened the door, the warmth of the house's interior reaching Piko. She nodded at him. "C'min!"
He took one step into the house and was entranced by the mesmeric scent that bound him in the embrace of heaven before his eyes perceived the house clearly. It was a very quaint but somewhat big home with the stairs just a few metres away from the front door: Upon entering he was already in the middle of the hallway, with doors almost at every availed corner.
The faint aroma of citrus wafted into his nostrils as he strode to what looked to be Rin's living room, plopping down on the couch with the angular vision of the wide open threshold.
Rin closed the front door.
"Stop being so shy—make yourself at home." She walked past the room: Piko had his legs crossed and was sitting quite modestly on the seat. He was a little uncomfortable, and Rin saying that made him feel more conscious.
"I believe the word you're looking for is demure," Piko replied a little loudly so she could hear, helping himself to the plate full of cookies on the coffee table. He's such a sucker for white chocolate—he wondered if Rin was into cooking, or at least baking. There was a clock hung up at the wall: It was already seven?
When Rin didn't reply, he reckoned she had gone upstairs.
He relaxed and let his body sink into the seat, letting out an easy sigh. His head deflated the problems and questionable consequences that await him, exhausting from his ears, leaving a cool emptiness inside him.
Only the sweetness of the white chocolate melting was the distinct reminder that he wasn't spirited away from awareness. The stress that came with school was easily being steamed out of his system in the mere atmosphere of Rin's humble abode. What was with this place that comforted Piko so much? Whatever it was, he thought restfully, biting from another one of the cookies.
"Anyone ever tell you how nice an ass you got?"
That's the end of the teaser! XD It's PikoxRinxLen, and don't worry, Len fans: He's in this chapter, too. This story's strictly rated M (Christ help my soul, I only turned 15 two weeks ago!) so I'm gonna post the full version in another site, NovelJoy (to which I've decided to post my future lemons after Plaisir du lait.) PikoxRin here, and next chapter's RinxLen, and the last...XD (HELL NO. I'm not a yaoi fan, folks.) There's a reason why this is STRICTLY STRICTLY M. Don't you just love Piko?