keisuke “hugs not drugs” (ケイスケ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
underlined) wrote2015-06-06 12:20 am
underlined) wrote2015-06-06 12:20 am
IC INBOX: INUGAMI
[VOICE CALL, TEXT MESSAGING, AND PHOTO SHARING IS ENABLED ON THIS CELL PHONE.]
[VOICE CALL, TEXT MESSAGING, AND PHOTO SHARING IS ENABLED ON THIS CELL PHONE.]
( study hall, october 12 )
[ His appetite arrived in unhealthy intervals, sparse in its irregularity of the usual tremors that influenced the rest of his peers during routine, opportune moments - but seemed to have abstained from infiltrating the orbital thoughts that rendered him unintentionally negligent. A voyage of rumination that may as well serve as fodder that barely sustained him, it was a nonsensical journey of collecting meandering trivialities, only succeeding to distract than to recall the importance of whatever conviction he had unconsciously cultivated during the few aimless months spent in the academy. Still, if it wasn't hunger, dull in its once-recognizable need to be satiated, thirst was a natural in persuasion, enticing in its promise to alleviate if he chose to follow after his instincts.
Akira opted for a small carton of juice instead of water. Sporadic intake throughout the initial month was enough to question the dubious taste that assaulted his palate. He has found that its substitute was a seemingly trustworthy counterpart in comparison - the taste was agreeable, and it subdued leftover suspicions, craving eventually satisfied with a favorable aftertaste. He would normally pocket one and withdraw, finding temporary solace elsewhere as his eyes remained forward, an obvious avoidance of startlingly red. However, Akira continued to idle along, eventually cementing himself before a familiar shelf donned with a supply of pudding cups. This time, no one was there to disturb the endeavor of obtaining one, and his grip enclosed around plastic, held under contemplated scrutiny.
A color that hardly frequented the Japan he had always known, he had become acquainted with it now, favoring it over the bland walls of the building that detained various others. It reminded him of the scent of nature, what it meant for the world to remain alive instead of bleak, desolate, nearly permanent in its wasted potential. His memory stirred as if restless, however - a struggle to evoke what he had once disregarded in his obvious detachment. But, rather than dwell any further, he reached for a plastic spoon encased in clear wrapping before abandoning the cafeteria - with an undetermined next time. The academy's whims and what he had desired were hardly in sync, and he fell victim to its caprice. There was a lack of reaction on his part, his nerves calloused towards occurrences that he had long since adjusted to.
Akira entered the open space of study hall with casual steps, like it was his initial destination rather than a last minute detour. He eventually slowed by the edge of a table, pudding cup lowered until it sat confidently on the chilled surface. His peripheral caught the pleasant gleam of one of the windows, granting a decent view of the courtyard outside - and untidy brown hair, a familiar slouch. Akira risked a glance then, heart palpitating in expectation before lulling into its careful tempo. Structured education, companions of a similar age group crammed into organized classrooms, it was something Akira didn't care for, never felt robbed of. However, a glimpse of Keisuke, earnest in the assignments provided, stifled the memories that threatened to escalate. He thought it was oddly fitting - or he wanted to believe so, fending off imagery of hopeless as he pushed the pudding away with purpose.
Instead of conveyed curiosity, he watched the pudding cup, its pale shade of green, glide across the table, curling the corner of paper as its brief adventure reached an end. Akira walked past from behind, but not before dropping the plastic spoon, still in its obvious wrapping, beside it. "Have you eaten yet?", he wanted to ask. But, perhaps that may breach their silent agreement - and his pride wouldn't allow for any damage to be inflicted upon his unspoken promise. Anyway, he wasn't necessarily hungry: just walking around with pudding in tow due to an oddly placed sentiment of recollected memories - solids in its vast selection, and a particular deep green he never once cared for - so it wouldn't be a loss if Keisuke decided that he didn't want it, either.
A seat next to one of the windows, it was less tempting to look over his shoulder, hoards of students situated somewhat behind him, obscuring his general location from where he sat. Removing the carton of juice from his pocket, his grip was moderately limp around it, but firm enough to confirm its tangibility against his palm. Akira finally stared out into the courtyard. He figured he could get used to it now, small encounters like this. ]
no subject
He's adjusted so much to the privilege of ever-present food that he even forgets meals from time to time. Wrapped up too much in whatever horror was currently haunting the student body, or perhaps just too absorbed in whatever spike of homework the teachers had assigned him, he relegates it for "later," another meal he might snatch out of a vending machine rather than eat in earnest in the cafeteria with the rest of the students.
There were a few of the people he counted as "friends" that he might've expected to see in the study hall today, but Akira hadn't been one of them. During the day the room was frequented by students, both native and transfer, that used the place for what it was intended—or a quiet place to get away and rest. So entrenched in the former, Keisuke had neglected to think that his friend might be interested in the latter. He didn't even think to look up from the pages he was scrutinizing before the strange sound of something skidding across the surface of the table he sat out drew his attention. He looks up, eyes locking onto and tracking the movement of the pudding cup until it comes to a halt against his notebook. One could practically imagine a question mark drawn up over his head as he hastily looks up, around, to see who might've done it, turning to catch sight of Akira just as he walked past—but not before placing the spoon alongside the container of food.
Keisuke's shocked, and it's written fairly plainly on his face for a long moment. He has never known Akira to be very considerate—sometimes he could be, though Keisuke thinks often also (or perhaps worries, frets) that it's just something to appease others so it might end up being best for himself. This, however, without the complication of word or intention, anteceded by Akira walking away and assuming a separate place near the window showed that it was meant just as it was. An offer, hazy between either thoughtful or unplanned, but Keisuke ends up thinking that he doesn't mind. As he reaches out to accept the food, moving it slightly closer to him, he decides to attempt to be selfish for just a moment and think that perhaps it was a kind gesture meant just for him, and one he will graciously accept.
That space is still drawn between them is something that Keisuke blames himself for. He can't seem to bring himself to say that the initial request had been born of uncertainty and fear, that an Akira showing up in his classroom out of the blue and telling him a fine weave of things that seemed to perfect to believe might or might not have been another trick of this place. He had wanted time and space to see, and, if he was real, accept what he had declared. Keisuke—feels as though he's gotten closer to that, though speaking with his friends has only made him more confused on the subject of Akira.
But keeping him at arm's length wasn't going to help anything, was it? Keisuke is immobile for several long moments, conflicted, consternated, but eventually he does move. He gathers his notebook and pencils, the gifted pudding cup and spoon, and relinquishes his chair before walking a short distance over to where Akira sat quietly, looking out the window into the courtyard.]
Do you - [voice small and subdued, and not just because of where they were,] mind if I sit with you?
[Back home in the CFC, or even in Toshima, he wouldn't have asked such a thing. It was generally understood. But that wasn't the case here, largely because of his own words and actions. But that's what he's trying to fix, a bridge he was attempting to mend.
But only if Akira was interested. So he waits, mien a faint miasma of nerves, all pins and needles.]
no subject
Like a thief pilfering from a home they no longer had a place in, he absconded with an auditory memory that could never promise to last. An attempt to recall every inflection, the unhurried cadence of conveyed thoughts, simple and compact, but hardly enough, glimpses of before had already waned: adamantly sincere, a heart on Keisuke's sleeve potentially debauched by words he didn't mean to disclose, his memories had become involuntarily selective, incited by regret and underlying remorse. Distance, and the sharp intersections that relocated his progressing thoughts to its unsurprising regressive dead end, he wasn't given the opportunity to meld the two into an individual entity. But, the devotion was there, consistent, unwavering, an incessant hope that refused to die.
His gaze retreated from the view of the courtyard, gradual in his search for the source as he assumed the role of a momentary bystander to casual exchange, uninvolved and mildly curious, unintentional eavesdropping. However, familiar coveralls obscured his visual pursuit, his grip around the juice box firm, immediate recognition: halcyon blue, mundane brown - prevalent monotony metamorphosing into something exceptional. Subtle surprise in slight stretches of widened eyes ascended to encounter distant camaraderie, and for a moment, he stared - like he was convinced that the outline of his friend will gradually blur, then evaporate, elusive and out of reach all over again. It wasn't something he had anticipated, a suffocated prospect submerged beneath the weight of routine distractions. Now that Keisuke was here, his mind drew a blank - as if pacified by startled confusion, rendering words meaningless.
Akira shook his head in response, partly to shy away from the self-induced mental collapse of Keisuke's unexpected approach. He redirected his focus then, as he placed the carton of juice on the table, detaching the straw from its base before discarding its plastic bind, watched as the end pierced through the circular foil, anchoring itself to the bottom. An excuse to keep a part of himself busy while remaining hyper aware of the quiescent presence that lingered nearby, he couldn't help but to feel that the question made them seem awfully like strangers - a contradiction, absolute hypocrisy, to the thoughts he proclaimed as his personal truth. He didn't like it, that sudden disconnect. But, he knew that he was the one responsible for it. ]
... You don't have to ask. [ He finally said, regarding Keisuke anew, attention shifted to where it ought to be. This wasn't the time to bother with anything else. Even if this were to last only for a second, he wanted to keep this image of his friend alive: unsullied by Line, hands free from blood - the Keisuke he had always known, and will come to know better, someday. ] I don't mind.
no subject
It had been excruciating, when he had first come here, after their fight, to think that he would never speak to Akira like that ever again. It was even more painful to think that all of his constant worries and fears were (apparently) well-founded. It was a lot to recover from, despite how desperately he wanted to. But time had passed, he had gradually accepted the truth that Akira had given him all at once, in a rush that seemed (still seemed) too good to be true. But the persistent mildness of Akira's presence in the school helped bolster him, enough that he did manage to gather what little backbone he had to approach him like this.
He was tired of the uncomfortable distance. It hurt—in a different sort of way that the confusion and doubt had, but at least this was an issue he could attempt to combat head-on. Keisuke of months back might not have. He might have remained inactive, non-confrontational, but this place had helped change him as well. He was more willing to stand up for things that he might want, albeit slightly, even if those things were as simple as spending time with his friend like he used to.
He's worried for a moment. Akira turns to look at him with a look of faint surprised, stuck in suspended animation that his nerves seem to roil off of him even more than normal. But then he shakes his head, chasing away those worries as much as Keisuke could've asked for. He smiles nearly immediately, a shaky and small sort of expression, but present nonetheless. He nods, setting his books and the gifted pudding cup down at the chair near his friend, sitting down a little hurriedly as Akira sets the straw into the juice box. It does feel a bit strange and awkward, especially with the silence stretching between them, but Keisuke was trying his best to ignore it. It wasn't something that would be improved if they kept focusing so much on that that distance that they failed to try to bridge it.
He's beginning to fiddle with the wrapper around the plastic spoon when Akira speaks up. Now it's Keisuke's turn to look up, surprised; the guy doesn't really speak up apropos of nothing very often. He looks down, breaking the spoon from the wrapping.] ...Okay. [He believes him; he doesn't have any reason not to anymore, to doubt what he once thought was fine.] You - um. If... you wanted to hang out, you could just do that, too. Just come find me. I don't mind either.
[He'd actually really appreciate it.
He tears the foil off of the top of the pudding cup.] And - thanks. I didn't really notice what time it was... I guess I studied through lunch, huh.
no subject
So, it was part of his self-induced curriculum in the academy: cultivating patience while scavenging for scraps of information that could lead them towards a prospective escape - as if submerging into what he had once abhorred was a means to repent and contemplate the odds that he was forced to encounter, and the gravity of Keisuke, what he had failed to understand and grasp with conviction because he had gotten too comfortable, nearly incorrigible in his selfishness. Present-day, and his emotional agitation eroded into a comfortable determination to continue on, steadfast, towards one more day - knowing that his friend was there and rarely out of sight.
The juice box had fallen victim to his disregard as his hand settled against the table top, fingers loosely stretched out before curving into a fist. Akira surveyed Keisuke's features as if unconvinced by his current reality; the nails pressing lightly against his palm rooted his mind into place, urging him to accept rather than to question and doubt the honest offer provided despite their previous words exchanged from months before. He hadn't imagined the possibility of his friend's eventual approach, growing oddly acquainted with distance, readjusting muscle memory, the urgency to pursue with good intentions, in order to settle for a glimpse before wandering elsewhere. To be close, even in just proximity, perhaps he had missed it all along - after all. ]
... They have vending machines for a reason, don't they?
[ Something of a suggestion than scathing criticism. On-the-go snacks were better than an empty stomach, basically. But, it was a minor distraction, one's temporary negligence towards meal times. His eyes fell to Keisuke's notebook after offering a reply, though the written word was indiscernible from where he sat. Still, he found it unsurprisingly typical how their paths had diverged even in a place like this, their differences evident in routine and implicit habits. Akira wasn't one to pay them any mind, the life that others had chose. An inability for immediate understanding that aligned with his usual insouciant acceptance, Keisuke laboring over his studies wasn't something he felt much towards. After all, it was what his friend had chosen for himself - much like how he had chosen to converse with him despite everything. ]
I see you during class. [ Akira finally said, after a careful delay. ] At the gymnasium. [ It wasn't a class he looked forward to. The ambiance was excessively light-hearted - at least, in Akira's terms. But, it was something to do, to keep himself from getting too soft. That particular location was a start, but it was too narrow. After all, he had already assumed Keisuke would have something like a perfect attendance anyway. ]
Where else can I find you?