[fic] MEGA-crossover - Jinchi High School 7A/?
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Yuki crawled to the side to avoid being plowed over by Miyavi and his mop as the taller boy ran by, soaking the water up off the tiles.
“You’re in an awful hurry…” The blonde commented, shifting in his crouched position as he watched the other boy mop furiously at the water pooled around the showers.
“The game starts at six. We’ll have to have all this done by then.”
“Still, you’re just sloshing it around like that. You’re only going to tire yourself out.” He turned back, lifting the scrub brush and continuing to scrub the grime out between the cracks in the shower tiles with a grimace.
Miyavi paused for a moment before continuing to mop at a slower pace, soaking up the water and then wringing it out in the bucket. There was silence for a while, save for the swishing sound of the mop and the brush as they worked.
“Ugh…” Yuki made a face as he examined the black gunk coating the brush bristles. Miyavi looked up at the sound. “This is so gross…”
“Yeah.” The tall boy agreed. “They probably haven’t cleaned this room in ages.” He grinned wryly and returned to his mopping as Yuki made another disgusted noise and moved to the next shower stall.
Another long silence.
“Were you skipping today?”
Miyavi looked confused. “… Huh?”
“Wood class.” Yukihiro supplied bluntly. “You weren’t there.”
“Oh… I don’t know.”
Yuki looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Miyavi’s turned back.
“… Did I miss much?”
“I don’t know.” Yuki mimicked, causing the other boy to frown. “We had to pick a project, but I wasn’t going to pick without you.”
“You weren’t?… Why not?”
Yuki shrugged, turning away from the standing boy’s questioning frown and continuing to scrub at the tiles. “You’re my partner. Besides, I’m new. I thought you might have already had something in mind.”
A slow smiled spread across the taller’s face. “… Thanks! That’s very considerate of you!” He returned to his mopping with a new vigor.
Yuki didn’t respond verbally, just continued to work, the other boy’s enthusiasm threatening to force a smile on his own sullen features.
A long while passed between them as they worked their way around the room, using various other cleaning tools when necessary. Miyavi chattered for most of the time while Yukihiro listened silently and attempted to pretend that he wasn’t. Miyavi decided that he liked that about the blonde boy and decided to tell him.
“You’re a good listener, Yukihiro-san, aren’t you?”
Yuki looked surprised at the boy standing in front of him. “Uh… I don’t know…”
“I don’t know.” Miyavi mimicked, laughing at the frown that appeared on the other’s expression.
“I just don’t like talking as much as some people do.” He looked meaningfully up at the boy leaning heavily on the mop.
“Well, I think that’s cool.”
“Cool…?”
“Yeah, I like that you’re quiet, Yukihiro-san.”
Yukihiro sat back on his heels to better view the lazy smile the other was wearing. “You like it?… Well, you shouldn’t. It’s better if you hate me, actually. I’m not a good infl-“
Miyavi yelped as the mop slipped under his weight and sent him toppling forwards onto the speaking blonde. A moment later they were a groaning tangle of limbs on the damp tile floor. As Miyavi lifted himself up on his arms, ready to apologize -or perhaps be hit-, he was shocked to hear Yukihiro let out an involuntary amused chuckle.
A second later he realized what it was that his cheek had landed on during the fall.
“Oh, gross!” He exclaimed, wiping gobs of the black slime from Yuki’s brush off of his cheeks with a repulsed expression.
Yukihiro laughed again, not noticing the suddenly mischievous look in the other’s eyes until it was too late.
“Ah, wait! Don’t!” He exclaimed, trying to escape but being unable to do so with Miyavi’s body pinning him to the hard, off-white, floor. “Don’t- Eugh… That’s disgusting.” He stopped squirming as the taller boy finished leaving a black streak across the left side of his face. “Alright, get off.”
“No.”
“… No?”
“I don’t want to.” Miyavi sat up so that he was straddling the other boy with his arms crossed.
Yukihiro blinked up at him and then frowned. “… Uh, why not?…” Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.
“Because.” Miyavi stated simply before elaborating. “Because, I want to see if that sludge turns you into some sort of mutant.”
Yukihiro stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. “You’re crazy.” He made to sit up, propping himself up on his elbows and making their faces uncomfortably close. “Move please.”
“No, I’m serious!” Miyavi countered, though the grin on his face and the laugh in his voice told otherwise. Evidently, he was unbothered by the close proximity of their faces. “Like in the movies, when the lead falls into toxic sludge and turns into a crime-fighting mutant, but everyone else just thinks he a monster. You know?”
Yukihiro looked down, his suddenly solemn expression making Miyavi drop his smile. “… Maybe-… Maybe I am a monster…”
There was a long pause. Feeling a surge of bravery, Miyavi reached across the short distance between them and tipped Yukihiro’s chin up so they were eye-to-eye. He shook his head softly. “… I don’t think so.”
The conviction in those words and those eyes left Yukihiro swallowing over a lump and lacking any smart retorts. He’d never meant to open up and show such weakness in front of this guy he hardly even knew. He blinked, averting his eyes and gaping for a moment before any words would come out.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“
“You don’t need to be sorry.” Miyavi grinned, tapping the other boy on the tip of the nose and startling him slightly. “That toxic sludge hasn’t even kicked in yet.”
Yukihiro stared at him for a moment before a small smile appeared on the blonde’s face. He sniffed and let out a sort of half-laugh, and Miyavi’s smile widened as a result.
“You really are crazy, Miyavi-kun.”
Miyavi beamed at the use of the title.
“Thanks-“ He made to reply, but was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat by the entrance to the shower side of the room.
“Uh, excuse me, but I’m here to fix the door… Just wanted to let you know.” The mustached man shifted awkwardly, moving his toolbox from his right to left hand. “You know, you’re… uh… not alone anymore, so you might not want to-… Yeah. Just letting you know.” He turned and hurried out of sight to fix the door they’d unhinged the day before.
Yukihiro and Miyavi frowned at his behavior as he left and then turned back to face each other. Both sets of eyes widened as they were suddenly aware of their questionable position and the short number of inches between their noses.
“Oh!~” Miyavi exclaimed as the realization hit him.
“Shit, get off.” Yukihiro pushed at his chest, helping the gangly boy to stand without stepping on him in the process.
“Oh no!” Miyavi cried in alarm, glancing at his watch as Yukihiro clambered to his feet. “We’re running out of time!”
Yukihiro glanced at his own watch. “Oh. Well… I think we’re almost done the floor. I finished all the shower stalls, that’s probably good enough.”
“Yeah? So… what’s left? Just the…” He looked around. “… mirrors?”
“And the lockers.”
“Oh.” Miyavi’s shoulder’s slumped, his lower lip jutted out dejectedly.
Yukihiro snorted at the glum expression, taking the mop from the boy’s hand and going to trade it in for some squirt bottles and rags from the cleaning supplies trolley in the corner. “What’s with that face?”
“I probably won’t be able to play if we don’t finish in time.”
“Play?” Yukihiro frowned. “You’re on the basketball team?”
Miyavi nodded, taking the offered rag and bottle of blue cleanser from the blonde’s outstretched hand.
“Well, don’t worry about it.” Yukihiro continued, moving towards the lockers with his own cleaning supplies. “The mirrors won’t take any time at all, and all we have to do is give the lockers a quick wipe off. It won’t take too long.”
Miyavi brightened, beaming at the blonde’s retreating form for a moment before rushing in the direction of the sinks. For a few minutes neither spoke. Between the two of them there was only the squirting sound of liquid chemicals being sprayed on hard surfaces, the metallic creak and grind of locker doors opened and shut, and the rustle of rags polishing hurriedly at the nastier spots of dirt they came across. Behind all that, of course, was the noise made by the repairman working on the locker room door.
CONTINUE TO PART B?
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