fic: A Sentimental Mind (1/4)
Title: A Sentimental Mind
Beta: pinkeuphoria1
Pairing: Ryu/Hayato
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst, General, Romance
Warnings: Domestic abuse, violence and homophobia.
Notes: Ryu-centric. Ahh, I’m really unsure about Ryu’s characterization in this fic .____. The approach I took with this fic made him… kind of extremely sensitive and… pretty weak? I’m not sure if I got a bit side-tracked and screwed it up D: Anyway, it was… interesting to write this. I hope you won’t hate it.
Word count: 22,700
Summary: Ryu struggles to pursue his sexuality. His father wants none of it in the family, and Hayato, the target of his fancying, is being at the very least bipolar with his approaches. The situation culminates.
Ryu feels tiny droplets of saliva landing on his skin, but he doesn’t flinch. He merely sits still, apathetically, as he looks up to the red-faced vice principal who’s roaring at him, telling him how incredibly disappointed, astonished, and furious he is due to his indecent behaviour. Ryu can’t blame him.
This is his worst scolding up to date at school. At home he gets yelled at on a daily basis, so it doesn’t startle him much. His hands prickle and feel weak as depression overwhelms him. It’s lunch time, but here he is, and honestly, he doesn’t have even the slightest appetite right now.
“I guess we expected too much from you, Odagiri-kun,” the vice principal sucks a breath in venomously as he glares at him, eyes narrowed. Ryu doesn’t budge. He won’t get suspended or expelled - he could, maybe, if it weren’t for his father. “Your grades have gone down, you’ve taken part in physical fights… I’m afraid we can’t overlook this anymore. You’ve gone too far this time.”
Ryu sighs and looks away. It feels like he has a black hole inside of him, one that keeps growing and turning him into dust from the inside only to suck it away somewhere where it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s been involved in fights every now and then since secondary school - somehow his constant withdrawnness and long patience makes people eager to bully him, constantly push him until he can’t help but let them have what is coming for them. He’s been brought up to endure, but sometimes he just feels like he can’t take it anymore. He wants to cry and break things, break the entire world even, but he can’t. Instead, he beats people into bloody pulps until someone with more authority stops him.
“You’ll be transferred,” he’s told as the principal flips through his files with shaky hands, licking his fingers to help him turn the pages swiftly. “I’ll send your papers to the school counsellor. You’ll be placed in class 1-D.”
Ryu raises his head, heart pounding painfully inside his chest. He’s heard of 1-D, he’s seen them. On the corridors, in the school yard, in the lunch hall and outside of school, acting like reckless, brainless thugs and robbing students of their lunch money. He fists his aching hands, looks down at them. His knuckles are raw and bloody - he didn’t get to go through the infirmary before coming here.
So his worth is as low as those 1-D guys now. …Great. His father isn’t going to be happy about this.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles and bows his head. He needs to be forgiven, he needs to remain in his class. Just has to. He doesn’t want this. It wasn’t entirely his fault. People just don’t believe him. No one cares what gets the violent behaviour out of him. It makes him feel lonely and alone in this universe. “I’m really sorry.”
“You should tell that to the kid whose face you just turned into mush, Odagiri-kun,” the vice principal scoffs coldly. He’s in trouble, he knows, and so is the school. He raises his head and sees no sympathy in the vice-principle’s eyes. He’s pushed his toes too far over the line. “Your new classroom teacher will be here to lead you to class shortly. Don’t move, don’t try your luck anymore. I’ll go and deliver these papers and after that I will inform your parents about this.”
It’s gone. Everything. He doesn’t move, just sits still as he feels it all draining away. He’s done for.
1-D…
He doesn’t want this.
The door opens behind him. He doesn’t turn his head, doesn’t flinch. He stares out of the large window to the deserted school yard, wonders if all the students are snickering in class, exchanging tiny papers in which they’re gossiping about him.
“Get up, Odagiri-kun,” his new classroom teacher greets him. “Class starts in five minutes. I’ll give you your new timetable today after school.”
He gets up with a creak of the chair and turns around to look at the bulky, strict man. He draws in a deep breath in defeat, throws his schoolbag over his shoulder and cocks his head with a defiantly disinterested glare.
He’s tired of being controlled all the time. He’s tired of struggling for survival like a fish out of water, tired of everything. If he’s going to attend classes with 1-D, he’s got to change to make it through. He’s not going to get run over again.
“Lead the way,” he mocks curtly. His fingers tremble as he clenches his bag and pushes the other fist into his pocket to hide his weakness from his new teacher as he meets his eyes. Right now, at this moment, he needs to be reborn. He will be.
He’s strongly pushed out of the room to the corridor and forced to almost jog forward towards the class by his new teacher. He’s led outside of the school building and towards the shady looking door that leads to narrow corridors coloured with an occasional graffiti here and there. There’s a loud ruckus ahead.
He can’t break now. This can’t be the end.
“Quiet!” the teacher roars as he steps in the class. He throws the board sponge at one of the rascals as Ryu follows behind him, careful to keep his stoic expression intact and back straight. “I said quiet,” the teacher hisses and someone throws an empty juice box at him, erupting a throaty laughter from the entire class. So many of them.
“Oi, it’s the guy who punched Yamamoto-kun’s teeth in!” someone yells from the back row. Ryu’s stomach does cartwheels as he looks away with a bitter taste in his mouth. He remembers that he still hasn’t gotten to wash his hands. “It is, it is!” someone joins in and there’s a rowdy applause. It’s sickening.
“I said QUIET!” the teacher bellows again, but doesn’t get the reaction he’s demanding. Finally he just turns around and starts writing Ryu’s name on the board. Someone whistles. How on earth is he supposed to learn anything in this environment?
“ODAGIRI RYU,” the bulky classroom teacher whose name Ryu doesn’t know informs the class. “DO YOU WANT TO INTRODUCE YOURSELF?”
Ryu snorts. The class suddenly goes dead quiet. Everyone is peering up at him expectantly and curiously. He feels violated and ridiculed. This whole thing is a joke.
“Stop kidding with me,” he scoffs coldly and walks towards one of the empty desks in the back row. Someone cheers and claps his hands but most of the class remains silent as he throws his bag on the desk and crashes to sit down. The guys around him are staring at him with wide eyes. He wonders if he did something wrong.
No one objects though, so he doesn’t move. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone - he’s got to remain strong now. He can’t show a single weak spot to this bunch of dreadful animals or he’s going to get ripped apart without the slightest feeling of empathy.
It’s a brand new start for him from the very bottom. Here, Ryu decides, no one will control him. Here, in this classroom, he’s going to be his own master… for once in his life.
--
“Odagiri, huh,” one of the guys sighs leisurely as he hops on Ryu’s desk, followed by a small group of his friends. They all look like teenage punks with gel and wax in their hair, and casual shirts under the school jacket. Ryu glares up at the boy sitting on his desk, takes in the way the roots of the boy’s hair curl femininely. He doesn’t look as punk as he thinks he does. “I’m Yabuki Hayato, the leader of this class.”
“Uh huh,” he answers distantly and leans back in his chair. He’s not here to make friends. He never had that many, hasn’t had any in a few years now. Nothing’s going to change now.
“Don’t be so bratty!” the boy scoffs and ruffles his dark hair. Ryu slaps his hand away and looks at him straight in the eyes again with a defiant look. Someone whistles. Ryu can feel people’s eyes on him.
He just wants to get away.
Yabuki doesn’t look as welcoming anymore. Whereas he previously looked curious and interested, now he’s starting to look pissed off and judging. It makes Ryu’s heart hammer anxiously. He’s a bit scared, he has to admit. Getting beaten up is nothing new, nor is getting constantly bullied. It doesn’t mean he likes it, though. He’s just a human being like everyone else, even though people seem to sometimes forget it.
His lips quiver. His mind is screaming instructions at him to do this and that, but he can’t decide what. Fear is creeping up his limbs, alerting his body about a possible need to attack. He won’t flee, can’t flee. He’s going to fight for it if he has to.
He hopes the inner panic can’t be detected from his eyes. If it can, he might be done for. He’s heard about Yabuki. He’s the last person he needs in his life right now.
“Chill out,” Yabuki tells him, his tone deliberate and demeaning. It makes Ryu’s hands shake by his sides. “We just wanted to know about that little quarrel you had with Yamamoto.”
“It’s none of your business,” Ryu attempts to dismiss the bunch curtly. Yabuki clicks his tongue, seemingly unimpressed. Only one lesson in and he’s already making enemies.
Yabuki cocks his head and leans closer, his eyes wide and threatening as they peer deep into Ryu’s who refuses to even flinch. “You really don’t want to get on my bad side, Odagiri,” the boy threatens him with a silent hiss and withdraws a little. He’s pretty good with his act, it’s like straight from TV. Ryu gulps and licks his lips anxiously.
“I don’t care,” he answers, starting to expect a punch his way. He’s not going to fight back, all the hope isn’t gone yet. If he fixes his ways, he’s got a chance of getting transferred back. He won’t give in.
“So snobby,” Yabuki snorts as he hops off Ryu’s desk and looks down at him, all mighty and strong. “You probably think you’re better than us,” the boy chuckles meanly, the expression on his face sweetly mocking. It makes cold shivers run through Ryu’s spine. “Let me tell you something - you’ve gone your way to deserve a spot in this class. We’re just the same. Guys, let’s let him be,” he announces to his friends as he turns around. “He’ll be sorry later when he’s all alone.”
Hardly. Ryu doesn’t look at them, just listens to the bunch walking away from him. Yabuki doesn’t speak for a while, but his friends start blabbering loudly again and soon the classroom is filled with more loud, childish, and bratty behaviour. The students play all sorts of games with whatever they’ve dragged to the classroom with them, never mind school rules or policies. Ryu just stares ahead, feeling the black hole inside of him growing.
He won’t be overruled or put down. This class won’t win over him. He’s got to have control somewhere in this world.
--
“What is this?” his father enquires, showing him his latest Chemistry exam with points just enough to pass. Ryu doesn’t change his expression as he stares at the paper absently. It’s pointless to say he was the only one in his class who even passed, or that it’s impossible to learn in the environment - not only because it’s impossible to focus, but also because it’s impossible for the teacher to even teach. Most of the time, he doesn’t. Pointing it out though would just serve as a reminder of why he’s in 1-D to begin with, what a failure and disappointment he is in every way imaginable.
“Explain this,” his father demands. His voice is loud, ear-piercing, and his skin looks a little pale with the rage he tries to contain. Ryu sighs, which earns him a violent tug of the front of his shirt. He glares up at his father. “Now, Ryu,” his father insists, his temper impossibly short. Ryu doesn’t answer.
“So this is what you do nowadays, is it?” his father growls dangerously and lets go of his shirt. “You’ve got to cut the attitude right now, Ryu, or I’m going to have to send you somewhere where they can handle disrespectful little punks like you. You used to be diligent. Stop fooling around and act like your age, for once! This is high school, this will define your future! Don’t ruin it for yourself!”
Ryu can’t help it - he snorts. All the difficult emotions rise up in his throat and make themselves known in that quiet, hardly audible sound that sets hell loose in the house. There’s a harsh slap on his face and he loses his balance for a while, but doesn’t fall over. He straightens his posture and glares at his father who’s fuming, and he knows that this is going to be one of the worst nights in months. Even his mother has wisely made herself scarce.
He tries to walk away but he’s pulled back, so he resorts to struggling, to which his father answers with more furious bellowing of how much of a disgrace he is to the Odagiri family. They collide against the bookshelf and Ryu grabs for its support desperately - only to notice in fear how it’s tilting, coming his way and his father is roaring and then there are tons of books falling over him and a sound of porcelain vases shattering when he flees, leaves his father to struggle with the shelf as he snatches his shoes from the foyer and rushes out. Then he just runs.
He only stops somewhere far away when he’s out of breath and limping. His shirt is soaked through with cold sweat and he’s panting in pain, slowly starting to realise he’s bruised all over by the books. People are giving him weird looks and the evening temperatures during the early winter are regrettably cold. Of course.
The sky is painted with hues of orange and red. Ryu crashes to sit down on a park bench, shivering in the cold evening air in his thin shirt. There’s a slight wind that chills him to his very bones and he doubles over, trying to find any remaining heat within himself.
It was stupid to run off without grabbing a jacket, any jacket. His body feels weak, tender and aching all over. People look at him strangely as they pass by, fathers ushering their wives and children to the other side of the road and past as fast as their feet can carry them. Ryu wants to stand up and yell at the world that it isn’t him, he hasn’t been fighting like all the bad kids around here. This isn’t his fault, not entirely, he didn’t deserve all of these bruises and cuts. No one would care, though. No one would believe him, or if they did, well, that wouldn’t help either.
In the end, he stays quiet and withdrawn on the bench, peers up at the cloudy sky as it slowly turns redder, the golden light cast upon the world turning warmer. His eyes feel wet but he holds back the tears insistently. He’s used to this, this isn’t anything new or big.
He’s so cold.
A shiver racks through his body violently as he attempts to straighten up. He gasps a chilly breath of air that freezes his lungs, and closes his eyes. He wonders if he’d die of cold if he stayed out all night, but the truth is, he probably wouldn’t. It’s a sad thought.
“You look like shit.”
Ryu turns his torso around swiftly, peering up wide-eyed at a very certain Yabuki Hayato who circles the bench to sit down next to him. He’d get up and leave, but his pride doesn’t let him. He only blinks away the remainders of the bitter tears from his eyes and sniffs to regain his strength.
He’s too tired to deal with this. Yabuki is looking at him. He looks strained and worried, eyebrows knitted together as he tries to think something through in his miniscule brains. Ryu kind of wants to tell him he’s wasting precious energy by thinking, that he isn’t made for it, just to piss him off and get beaten up just a little more. He doesn’t, though, too startled by Yabuki’s sudden movement. The boy strips his school jacket off and tries to wrap it over Ryu’s shoulders but Ryu squirms to stop him, his breathing hitching up.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Yabuki snaps at him anxiously. The scary thing is that he looks genuinely worried. The wind hits against Yabuki’s face, uncovering it from the curly locks. Ryu feels his own hair getting into his mouth and he tries to move it away with his violently shaking hands.
“I don’t need your help,” Ryu tries to insist but Yabuki scoffs agitatedly and finally forces the jacket over Ryu’s shoulders. Ryu peers up at him, unable to figure him out. He looks too warm and soft, too caring. It doesn’t suit him.
“If you get in trouble, tell me, won’t you?” Yabuki tries to say nonchalantly, motioning at Ryu’s bruises. Ryu purses his lips together, the look in his eyes hardening as he faces Yabuki. Like hell. “Or any one of us. We’ll beat them up.”
“I don’t need you,” Ryu tries to argue, his teeth clattering from the cold. Yabuki grimaces and touches Ryu’s hand before Ryu pulls it away in a jerky motion. He’s starting to shake again. The jacket doesn’t grant him much heat.
“Fuck, you’re cold,” Yabuki groans. “What are you, self-destructive?”
“It’s none of your business -”
“It IS my business!” Yabuki roars at him as he stands up, his breathing rapid and wheezy as he peers down at Ryu angrily. Ryu’s heart hammers in his chest, the traitor it is. Ah, Ryu comes to a sudden realisation that doesn’t make any of this any easier. His stomach sinks helplessly, and then he’s weak and vulnerable again.
“It is my business,” Yabuki repeats with a mumble as he crosses his arms and purses his lips. “You’re one of my people, so it is my business. Everyone is worried about you,” he waves his hand and Ryu raises his eyebrows in question as much as he can while his body violently shivers from the cold. He turns around, looks down the hill and - ah. He can see Yabuki’s in-group looking up at them from below. “Come?” Yabuki asks him hopefully and pulls him up from his wrist. The jacket falls and Ryu barely has time to turn around before Yabuki has already snatched it and wrapped it around his shoulders. “Put it on properly,” he insists and Ryu tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “Come on…” Yabuki snarls until he manages to properly dress Ryu.
He’s probably cold, he’s only wearing a t-shirt and the wind is quite sharp. His flesh has goose bumps but he tries to act strong as he wraps his arm around Ryu’s shoulder and starts leading him down the hill towards his friends. Ryu’s chest feels tight. He wonders how he got here, or if he even wants to be here. He doesn’t know.
“We’re going to that café down the road,” Yabuki announces to his friends once they’re close enough for their voices to carry to their ears. Most of the young men look perplexed and nervous as they peer at Ryu, but the short boy is smiling with a kind and relieved expression.
“Let’s go then,” the short boy says. His name is Take, Ryu knows - or that’s what the class calls him anyway.
The walk to the café isn’t long, but it’s long enough to make Ryu doubt himself. The others chatter nervously, tease each other about things Ryu has no idea about so he remains quiet. Yabuki has removed his arm from around his shoulder and is walking with a pained expression on his face. The cold air probably irritates him, but Ryu didn’t force him to give him his jacket. It was Yabuki’s choice to act all courteous. He doesn’t necessarily have to feel sorry about it, even though he does.
At the café, it’s warm. The short boy, Take, accompanies him to the table. The evening starts turning dark, Ryu observes absently from the window as he shakily sits down at the table. His body is still shivering violently as it attempts to stabilize his body heat. He hates it, hates looking so vulnerable. Not to mention, he now owes the group a favour. He’s let Yabuki lead him too. He’s lost his independence.
“Are you alright?” Take asks him kindly with pitiful eyes that sicken Ryu, who looks away and out of the window, trying anxiously to sink back to his stoic apathy that gets him through. He’s quite successful, he thinks, as the other boys noisily arrive back at the table and Yabuki sits beside him, pushing a steaming, large cup of hot chocolate in front of him. He looks a bit like a puppy when Ryu looks at him, clinging helplessly to his mask.
“It’s for you,” Yabuki barks. “You don’t owe us anything.”
“…Mmh.”
“Let’s drink then, shall we?” one of the other boys, commonly addressed to as ‘Tsucchi’ urges them all and the group smiles with shiny eyes, squealing delightedly and Take clapping his hands as they raise the glasses to their lips. Ryu sits quietly with his hands squeezed between his thighs as he observes them, wondering what he should do.
He thinks way too much sometimes.
“Drink,” Yabuki nudges him. “It’s okay, we bought it for you so don’t you dare waste it!” he pouts and picks up the mug himself, bringing it forcibly to Ryu’s lips. “Hayato!” someone cries out and there’s a lot of startling noises and chuckles before Ryu helplessly opens his mouth and feels the hot liquid pouring down to his mouth and burning his tongue. He coughs and Yabuki withdraws with a smug smile, his eyes gleaming happily. “That’s how you do it!”
Ryu’s mouth twitches into a faint smile, emitting an embarrassing cheer from the group. They’re all so ridiculously happy just because he’s here, smiling, even if it’s not even a full smile. It catches him off guard and makes him nervous as he places his hands around his mug, letting it warm them.
Without really noticing or trying, he’s managed to make friends for the first time in the past few years. How it happened, he doesn’t know. Somehow, here with these people, he feels more at ease than he’s felt in a very long time.
--
He should’ve known making friends with the students from 1-D would only bring him trouble, though. He feels stupid as he stands still in the middle of the snickering group as Tsucchi asks a nerdy-looking 2-B student for his lunch money. Asks doesn’t mean he’s doing it kindly - he sounds surprisingly polite with his request, but there’s something threatening in his aura and the poor student looks shaky under the shadow Tsucchi’s tall form casts over him. Hayato is whistling lazily.
“N-no,” the boy tries to refuse and takes a few steps away before Hayato grabs him by the back of his school uniform jacket and pulls him back sharply. Hyuuga is laughing, his tone low and somehow stupid. Ryu watches the situation evolve, the look in the bullied boy’s eyes getting more desperate. Hayato does some kind of a weird gesture with a peace sign with his fingers and clicks his tongue. “Please,” he adds mockingly and smirks.
“Just hand it over,” Hyuuga says and Take joins in too. They’re circling the boy who knows he’s defeated already. His eyes meet Ryu’s who still stands still, feet glued to where he is. He isn’t a bully, hasn’t been so far at least. Yes, he’s beaten people up, but they’ve all had it coming. He hasn’t raised his hand if there hasn’t been an absolute need for it.
“Ryu?” Hayato asks him and he snaps back to reality. Hayato is looking at him weirdly, urging him to come over too, join the bullying. It sets off an internal battle - to join or not to join. He can’t look like a weakling, but he doesn’t want to be one of Hayato’s puppets either. He needs to have his control.
In the end, he scoffs like he doesn’t care and slouches over beside Hayato with a disinterested and stoic expression. Their target gives in and shakily goes through his bag to dig for the money he has. Hayato takes the bag from him and makes sure he isn’t leaving anything before he tosses the bag back with a triumphant yell, making the boy roll over. “Game hall, here we come!” Hayato wails happily and Ryu raises his eyebrows in question.
“Huh?” he cries out as the group of friends suddenly dash back towards the front gates of the school. He looks at the school building and curses in his head, trying to come up with a solution to the dilemma. It’s Hayato who notices that he isn’t running with them - the boy turns around and jogs slowly backwards.
“RYU!” Hayato yells at him. “QUICKLY! COME ON!”
His stomach sinks. He thinks of all the classes, all the unnecessary hours he spends at school without learning a thing. He starts backing away from the building and tears his gaze away - the other boys are right, he can spend his time better.
“YABUKI-KUN!” a teacher’s shrill voice comes from somewhere and Hayato curses loudly before making a dash outside the gates. Ryu pales - they’re screwed. He squeezes his school bag against his chest as he runs after his friends before someone recognizes him and the teachers find out he had taken part in the unfortunate scene with the 2-B boy. His father doesn’t need to hear about this.
The entire group waits for him near the gate. They grab him from his arms and start dragging him somewhere past bushes and tiled roads to freedom. If someone told him his life would be like this five years ago, he would’ve laughed straight at that person’s face. Now, though…
He’s living a life that feels more like his than anything he’s ever had before.
--
He doesn’t fully blend in with the group, not really. They’re loud and always so insanely full of energy Ryu doesn’t know where it comes from, but he follows them, maybe a few steps to the back or side, and no one gives him weird looks or whispers behind his back. Oddly, he feels accepted and wanted, and every now and then his friends insist on engaging him in the conversation too. Especially Take becomes his friend - he’s not so bad, not when Ryu gets to know him. He’s just never been too smart, and he was originally put in 1-D for his bad grades, not behaviour, although that has gotten to him later on. Ryu can’t blame him, because he isn’t the same person anymore either.
“Come on, Ryu, don’t just stand there,” Hayato moans at him and pulls him from his arm in front of the stacks of hair colouring products. Ryu blinks stupidly, and then suddenly Tsucchi, who’s fluttering his fan with one hand, is examining his hair. It’s nerving. Somewhere on their right, Hyuuga is pulling different packets off the shelves to examine them better.
“Red could suit him,” Tsucchi notes and pulls out a packet with the picture of a woman with cranberry red hair. Ryu shoves his arm away quickly - he’s not going to put any of that stuff in his hair. “Ooh, he’s mad!”
“Relax,” Hayato whines and starts curling his locks around his finger. Ryu scoffs and tries to back away but then Take is suddenly pushing him from behind, chirpily asking them what colour he’s getting. Ryu doesn’t really like where this is going.
“Copper isn’t that extreme,” Hayato mumbles thoughtfully as he pulls one of the packets from the shelf. Ryu rolls his eyes - when hasn’t copper been extreme when compared to black? Then again, the packet Hayato is holding is hardly going to do anything much to his hair, tint it slightly reddish if anything.
“Whatever,” he mumbles and his friends cheer happily as they start making their way to the checkout, everyone blabbering excitedly.
Ryu has a bad feeling about the whole ordeal as they all force themselves to fit in Take’s home’s bathroom. Hayato squirts the conditioner-like substance to his hair and tells him to keep still. He’s only got one stripe put on his fringe from Take’s solution. He insists it’ll look cooler than any of their hair, but Ryu thinks he’s just being a pussy about colouring his hair.
It burns. He wonders if he’s allergic to the solution or if anything’s wrong as he waits and shivers in his boxers, watching the others fool around. After ten minutes or so, Tsucchi stares at the package in his hand carefully and squints his eyes.
“Hey, isn’t this Ryu’s stuff?” he asks and then everyone keeps looking back and forth between the two of them. Ryu looks at Hayato, who groans and walks over to grab the package from Tsucchi’s hand and peers at it. He starts paling a little and Ryu’s eyes widen. Oh no.
“Uh, I might’ve mixed your stuff,” he mumbles and Tsucchi groans. Ryu makes a dash for the shower and turns it on. “Don’t worry, Ryu!” Hayato tries to yell after him, even if his voice is shrill like a girl’s. “I’m sure blond will suit you!”
Fuck. He washes his hair before everyone else starts arguing over who gets to wash their hair first before it all falls off. He glares at Hayato who’s washed his stripe in the sink and starts blow drying his hair nervously. It looks dangerously light - there’s no way his father isn’t going to notice the change.
“Hey, it looks pretty copper,” Hayato notes delightedly. “All well!”
It’s copper, and weirdly enough, it does kind of suit him. Tsucchi’s a bit cranky because his hair didn’t bleach too much, but he thinks it kind of suits him anyway and he’s a bit unsure whether he would’ve looked good with blonder hair. Take’s hair is the wildest - it’s nearly blond with a reddish tint that suits him remarkably well.
The rest of the evening, Hayato plays around with Ryu’s hair, the look in his eyes marvelling. He keeps bragging about his handiwork, as if he hadn’t mistakenly mixed up his and Tsucchi’s colours, and tells Ryu how he’s now a branded member of their group like he’s supposed to be.
He’s nervous when he arrives home, muttering an anxious “I’m home” as he steps in. His mother hurries to the foyer and stops in her tracks as she sees his hair.
“Ryu?” she asks disbelievingly and Ryu shrugs before walking past her to make his way upstairs.
“Son.”
He stops. It takes him a brief while to turn around and look at his father who’s glaring at him from below with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t shiver under the scrutiny, doesn’t show any signs of weakness as his father finally nods and tells him to go.
When he gets to his room, he leans his back against the closed door and exhales out of relief. This was easier than he thought it would be.
--
-- > part 2/4
Beta: pinkeuphoria1
Pairing: Ryu/Hayato
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst, General, Romance
Warnings: Domestic abuse, violence and homophobia.
Notes: Ryu-centric. Ahh, I’m really unsure about Ryu’s characterization in this fic .____. The approach I took with this fic made him… kind of extremely sensitive and… pretty weak? I’m not sure if I got a bit side-tracked and screwed it up D: Anyway, it was… interesting to write this. I hope you won’t hate it.
Word count: 22,700
Summary: Ryu struggles to pursue his sexuality. His father wants none of it in the family, and Hayato, the target of his fancying, is being at the very least bipolar with his approaches. The situation culminates.
Ryu feels tiny droplets of saliva landing on his skin, but he doesn’t flinch. He merely sits still, apathetically, as he looks up to the red-faced vice principal who’s roaring at him, telling him how incredibly disappointed, astonished, and furious he is due to his indecent behaviour. Ryu can’t blame him.
This is his worst scolding up to date at school. At home he gets yelled at on a daily basis, so it doesn’t startle him much. His hands prickle and feel weak as depression overwhelms him. It’s lunch time, but here he is, and honestly, he doesn’t have even the slightest appetite right now.
“I guess we expected too much from you, Odagiri-kun,” the vice principal sucks a breath in venomously as he glares at him, eyes narrowed. Ryu doesn’t budge. He won’t get suspended or expelled - he could, maybe, if it weren’t for his father. “Your grades have gone down, you’ve taken part in physical fights… I’m afraid we can’t overlook this anymore. You’ve gone too far this time.”
Ryu sighs and looks away. It feels like he has a black hole inside of him, one that keeps growing and turning him into dust from the inside only to suck it away somewhere where it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s been involved in fights every now and then since secondary school - somehow his constant withdrawnness and long patience makes people eager to bully him, constantly push him until he can’t help but let them have what is coming for them. He’s been brought up to endure, but sometimes he just feels like he can’t take it anymore. He wants to cry and break things, break the entire world even, but he can’t. Instead, he beats people into bloody pulps until someone with more authority stops him.
“You’ll be transferred,” he’s told as the principal flips through his files with shaky hands, licking his fingers to help him turn the pages swiftly. “I’ll send your papers to the school counsellor. You’ll be placed in class 1-D.”
Ryu raises his head, heart pounding painfully inside his chest. He’s heard of 1-D, he’s seen them. On the corridors, in the school yard, in the lunch hall and outside of school, acting like reckless, brainless thugs and robbing students of their lunch money. He fists his aching hands, looks down at them. His knuckles are raw and bloody - he didn’t get to go through the infirmary before coming here.
So his worth is as low as those 1-D guys now. …Great. His father isn’t going to be happy about this.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles and bows his head. He needs to be forgiven, he needs to remain in his class. Just has to. He doesn’t want this. It wasn’t entirely his fault. People just don’t believe him. No one cares what gets the violent behaviour out of him. It makes him feel lonely and alone in this universe. “I’m really sorry.”
“You should tell that to the kid whose face you just turned into mush, Odagiri-kun,” the vice principal scoffs coldly. He’s in trouble, he knows, and so is the school. He raises his head and sees no sympathy in the vice-principle’s eyes. He’s pushed his toes too far over the line. “Your new classroom teacher will be here to lead you to class shortly. Don’t move, don’t try your luck anymore. I’ll go and deliver these papers and after that I will inform your parents about this.”
It’s gone. Everything. He doesn’t move, just sits still as he feels it all draining away. He’s done for.
1-D…
He doesn’t want this.
The door opens behind him. He doesn’t turn his head, doesn’t flinch. He stares out of the large window to the deserted school yard, wonders if all the students are snickering in class, exchanging tiny papers in which they’re gossiping about him.
“Get up, Odagiri-kun,” his new classroom teacher greets him. “Class starts in five minutes. I’ll give you your new timetable today after school.”
He gets up with a creak of the chair and turns around to look at the bulky, strict man. He draws in a deep breath in defeat, throws his schoolbag over his shoulder and cocks his head with a defiantly disinterested glare.
He’s tired of being controlled all the time. He’s tired of struggling for survival like a fish out of water, tired of everything. If he’s going to attend classes with 1-D, he’s got to change to make it through. He’s not going to get run over again.
“Lead the way,” he mocks curtly. His fingers tremble as he clenches his bag and pushes the other fist into his pocket to hide his weakness from his new teacher as he meets his eyes. Right now, at this moment, he needs to be reborn. He will be.
He’s strongly pushed out of the room to the corridor and forced to almost jog forward towards the class by his new teacher. He’s led outside of the school building and towards the shady looking door that leads to narrow corridors coloured with an occasional graffiti here and there. There’s a loud ruckus ahead.
He can’t break now. This can’t be the end.
“Quiet!” the teacher roars as he steps in the class. He throws the board sponge at one of the rascals as Ryu follows behind him, careful to keep his stoic expression intact and back straight. “I said quiet,” the teacher hisses and someone throws an empty juice box at him, erupting a throaty laughter from the entire class. So many of them.
“Oi, it’s the guy who punched Yamamoto-kun’s teeth in!” someone yells from the back row. Ryu’s stomach does cartwheels as he looks away with a bitter taste in his mouth. He remembers that he still hasn’t gotten to wash his hands. “It is, it is!” someone joins in and there’s a rowdy applause. It’s sickening.
“I said QUIET!” the teacher bellows again, but doesn’t get the reaction he’s demanding. Finally he just turns around and starts writing Ryu’s name on the board. Someone whistles. How on earth is he supposed to learn anything in this environment?
“ODAGIRI RYU,” the bulky classroom teacher whose name Ryu doesn’t know informs the class. “DO YOU WANT TO INTRODUCE YOURSELF?”
Ryu snorts. The class suddenly goes dead quiet. Everyone is peering up at him expectantly and curiously. He feels violated and ridiculed. This whole thing is a joke.
“Stop kidding with me,” he scoffs coldly and walks towards one of the empty desks in the back row. Someone cheers and claps his hands but most of the class remains silent as he throws his bag on the desk and crashes to sit down. The guys around him are staring at him with wide eyes. He wonders if he did something wrong.
No one objects though, so he doesn’t move. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone - he’s got to remain strong now. He can’t show a single weak spot to this bunch of dreadful animals or he’s going to get ripped apart without the slightest feeling of empathy.
It’s a brand new start for him from the very bottom. Here, Ryu decides, no one will control him. Here, in this classroom, he’s going to be his own master… for once in his life.
--
“Odagiri, huh,” one of the guys sighs leisurely as he hops on Ryu’s desk, followed by a small group of his friends. They all look like teenage punks with gel and wax in their hair, and casual shirts under the school jacket. Ryu glares up at the boy sitting on his desk, takes in the way the roots of the boy’s hair curl femininely. He doesn’t look as punk as he thinks he does. “I’m Yabuki Hayato, the leader of this class.”
“Uh huh,” he answers distantly and leans back in his chair. He’s not here to make friends. He never had that many, hasn’t had any in a few years now. Nothing’s going to change now.
“Don’t be so bratty!” the boy scoffs and ruffles his dark hair. Ryu slaps his hand away and looks at him straight in the eyes again with a defiant look. Someone whistles. Ryu can feel people’s eyes on him.
He just wants to get away.
Yabuki doesn’t look as welcoming anymore. Whereas he previously looked curious and interested, now he’s starting to look pissed off and judging. It makes Ryu’s heart hammer anxiously. He’s a bit scared, he has to admit. Getting beaten up is nothing new, nor is getting constantly bullied. It doesn’t mean he likes it, though. He’s just a human being like everyone else, even though people seem to sometimes forget it.
His lips quiver. His mind is screaming instructions at him to do this and that, but he can’t decide what. Fear is creeping up his limbs, alerting his body about a possible need to attack. He won’t flee, can’t flee. He’s going to fight for it if he has to.
He hopes the inner panic can’t be detected from his eyes. If it can, he might be done for. He’s heard about Yabuki. He’s the last person he needs in his life right now.
“Chill out,” Yabuki tells him, his tone deliberate and demeaning. It makes Ryu’s hands shake by his sides. “We just wanted to know about that little quarrel you had with Yamamoto.”
“It’s none of your business,” Ryu attempts to dismiss the bunch curtly. Yabuki clicks his tongue, seemingly unimpressed. Only one lesson in and he’s already making enemies.
Yabuki cocks his head and leans closer, his eyes wide and threatening as they peer deep into Ryu’s who refuses to even flinch. “You really don’t want to get on my bad side, Odagiri,” the boy threatens him with a silent hiss and withdraws a little. He’s pretty good with his act, it’s like straight from TV. Ryu gulps and licks his lips anxiously.
“I don’t care,” he answers, starting to expect a punch his way. He’s not going to fight back, all the hope isn’t gone yet. If he fixes his ways, he’s got a chance of getting transferred back. He won’t give in.
“So snobby,” Yabuki snorts as he hops off Ryu’s desk and looks down at him, all mighty and strong. “You probably think you’re better than us,” the boy chuckles meanly, the expression on his face sweetly mocking. It makes cold shivers run through Ryu’s spine. “Let me tell you something - you’ve gone your way to deserve a spot in this class. We’re just the same. Guys, let’s let him be,” he announces to his friends as he turns around. “He’ll be sorry later when he’s all alone.”
Hardly. Ryu doesn’t look at them, just listens to the bunch walking away from him. Yabuki doesn’t speak for a while, but his friends start blabbering loudly again and soon the classroom is filled with more loud, childish, and bratty behaviour. The students play all sorts of games with whatever they’ve dragged to the classroom with them, never mind school rules or policies. Ryu just stares ahead, feeling the black hole inside of him growing.
He won’t be overruled or put down. This class won’t win over him. He’s got to have control somewhere in this world.
--
“What is this?” his father enquires, showing him his latest Chemistry exam with points just enough to pass. Ryu doesn’t change his expression as he stares at the paper absently. It’s pointless to say he was the only one in his class who even passed, or that it’s impossible to learn in the environment - not only because it’s impossible to focus, but also because it’s impossible for the teacher to even teach. Most of the time, he doesn’t. Pointing it out though would just serve as a reminder of why he’s in 1-D to begin with, what a failure and disappointment he is in every way imaginable.
“Explain this,” his father demands. His voice is loud, ear-piercing, and his skin looks a little pale with the rage he tries to contain. Ryu sighs, which earns him a violent tug of the front of his shirt. He glares up at his father. “Now, Ryu,” his father insists, his temper impossibly short. Ryu doesn’t answer.
“So this is what you do nowadays, is it?” his father growls dangerously and lets go of his shirt. “You’ve got to cut the attitude right now, Ryu, or I’m going to have to send you somewhere where they can handle disrespectful little punks like you. You used to be diligent. Stop fooling around and act like your age, for once! This is high school, this will define your future! Don’t ruin it for yourself!”
Ryu can’t help it - he snorts. All the difficult emotions rise up in his throat and make themselves known in that quiet, hardly audible sound that sets hell loose in the house. There’s a harsh slap on his face and he loses his balance for a while, but doesn’t fall over. He straightens his posture and glares at his father who’s fuming, and he knows that this is going to be one of the worst nights in months. Even his mother has wisely made herself scarce.
He tries to walk away but he’s pulled back, so he resorts to struggling, to which his father answers with more furious bellowing of how much of a disgrace he is to the Odagiri family. They collide against the bookshelf and Ryu grabs for its support desperately - only to notice in fear how it’s tilting, coming his way and his father is roaring and then there are tons of books falling over him and a sound of porcelain vases shattering when he flees, leaves his father to struggle with the shelf as he snatches his shoes from the foyer and rushes out. Then he just runs.
He only stops somewhere far away when he’s out of breath and limping. His shirt is soaked through with cold sweat and he’s panting in pain, slowly starting to realise he’s bruised all over by the books. People are giving him weird looks and the evening temperatures during the early winter are regrettably cold. Of course.
The sky is painted with hues of orange and red. Ryu crashes to sit down on a park bench, shivering in the cold evening air in his thin shirt. There’s a slight wind that chills him to his very bones and he doubles over, trying to find any remaining heat within himself.
It was stupid to run off without grabbing a jacket, any jacket. His body feels weak, tender and aching all over. People look at him strangely as they pass by, fathers ushering their wives and children to the other side of the road and past as fast as their feet can carry them. Ryu wants to stand up and yell at the world that it isn’t him, he hasn’t been fighting like all the bad kids around here. This isn’t his fault, not entirely, he didn’t deserve all of these bruises and cuts. No one would care, though. No one would believe him, or if they did, well, that wouldn’t help either.
In the end, he stays quiet and withdrawn on the bench, peers up at the cloudy sky as it slowly turns redder, the golden light cast upon the world turning warmer. His eyes feel wet but he holds back the tears insistently. He’s used to this, this isn’t anything new or big.
He’s so cold.
A shiver racks through his body violently as he attempts to straighten up. He gasps a chilly breath of air that freezes his lungs, and closes his eyes. He wonders if he’d die of cold if he stayed out all night, but the truth is, he probably wouldn’t. It’s a sad thought.
“You look like shit.”
Ryu turns his torso around swiftly, peering up wide-eyed at a very certain Yabuki Hayato who circles the bench to sit down next to him. He’d get up and leave, but his pride doesn’t let him. He only blinks away the remainders of the bitter tears from his eyes and sniffs to regain his strength.
He’s too tired to deal with this. Yabuki is looking at him. He looks strained and worried, eyebrows knitted together as he tries to think something through in his miniscule brains. Ryu kind of wants to tell him he’s wasting precious energy by thinking, that he isn’t made for it, just to piss him off and get beaten up just a little more. He doesn’t, though, too startled by Yabuki’s sudden movement. The boy strips his school jacket off and tries to wrap it over Ryu’s shoulders but Ryu squirms to stop him, his breathing hitching up.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Yabuki snaps at him anxiously. The scary thing is that he looks genuinely worried. The wind hits against Yabuki’s face, uncovering it from the curly locks. Ryu feels his own hair getting into his mouth and he tries to move it away with his violently shaking hands.
“I don’t need your help,” Ryu tries to insist but Yabuki scoffs agitatedly and finally forces the jacket over Ryu’s shoulders. Ryu peers up at him, unable to figure him out. He looks too warm and soft, too caring. It doesn’t suit him.
“If you get in trouble, tell me, won’t you?” Yabuki tries to say nonchalantly, motioning at Ryu’s bruises. Ryu purses his lips together, the look in his eyes hardening as he faces Yabuki. Like hell. “Or any one of us. We’ll beat them up.”
“I don’t need you,” Ryu tries to argue, his teeth clattering from the cold. Yabuki grimaces and touches Ryu’s hand before Ryu pulls it away in a jerky motion. He’s starting to shake again. The jacket doesn’t grant him much heat.
“Fuck, you’re cold,” Yabuki groans. “What are you, self-destructive?”
“It’s none of your business -”
“It IS my business!” Yabuki roars at him as he stands up, his breathing rapid and wheezy as he peers down at Ryu angrily. Ryu’s heart hammers in his chest, the traitor it is. Ah, Ryu comes to a sudden realisation that doesn’t make any of this any easier. His stomach sinks helplessly, and then he’s weak and vulnerable again.
“It is my business,” Yabuki repeats with a mumble as he crosses his arms and purses his lips. “You’re one of my people, so it is my business. Everyone is worried about you,” he waves his hand and Ryu raises his eyebrows in question as much as he can while his body violently shivers from the cold. He turns around, looks down the hill and - ah. He can see Yabuki’s in-group looking up at them from below. “Come?” Yabuki asks him hopefully and pulls him up from his wrist. The jacket falls and Ryu barely has time to turn around before Yabuki has already snatched it and wrapped it around his shoulders. “Put it on properly,” he insists and Ryu tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “Come on…” Yabuki snarls until he manages to properly dress Ryu.
He’s probably cold, he’s only wearing a t-shirt and the wind is quite sharp. His flesh has goose bumps but he tries to act strong as he wraps his arm around Ryu’s shoulder and starts leading him down the hill towards his friends. Ryu’s chest feels tight. He wonders how he got here, or if he even wants to be here. He doesn’t know.
“We’re going to that café down the road,” Yabuki announces to his friends once they’re close enough for their voices to carry to their ears. Most of the young men look perplexed and nervous as they peer at Ryu, but the short boy is smiling with a kind and relieved expression.
“Let’s go then,” the short boy says. His name is Take, Ryu knows - or that’s what the class calls him anyway.
The walk to the café isn’t long, but it’s long enough to make Ryu doubt himself. The others chatter nervously, tease each other about things Ryu has no idea about so he remains quiet. Yabuki has removed his arm from around his shoulder and is walking with a pained expression on his face. The cold air probably irritates him, but Ryu didn’t force him to give him his jacket. It was Yabuki’s choice to act all courteous. He doesn’t necessarily have to feel sorry about it, even though he does.
At the café, it’s warm. The short boy, Take, accompanies him to the table. The evening starts turning dark, Ryu observes absently from the window as he shakily sits down at the table. His body is still shivering violently as it attempts to stabilize his body heat. He hates it, hates looking so vulnerable. Not to mention, he now owes the group a favour. He’s let Yabuki lead him too. He’s lost his independence.
“Are you alright?” Take asks him kindly with pitiful eyes that sicken Ryu, who looks away and out of the window, trying anxiously to sink back to his stoic apathy that gets him through. He’s quite successful, he thinks, as the other boys noisily arrive back at the table and Yabuki sits beside him, pushing a steaming, large cup of hot chocolate in front of him. He looks a bit like a puppy when Ryu looks at him, clinging helplessly to his mask.
“It’s for you,” Yabuki barks. “You don’t owe us anything.”
“…Mmh.”
“Let’s drink then, shall we?” one of the other boys, commonly addressed to as ‘Tsucchi’ urges them all and the group smiles with shiny eyes, squealing delightedly and Take clapping his hands as they raise the glasses to their lips. Ryu sits quietly with his hands squeezed between his thighs as he observes them, wondering what he should do.
He thinks way too much sometimes.
“Drink,” Yabuki nudges him. “It’s okay, we bought it for you so don’t you dare waste it!” he pouts and picks up the mug himself, bringing it forcibly to Ryu’s lips. “Hayato!” someone cries out and there’s a lot of startling noises and chuckles before Ryu helplessly opens his mouth and feels the hot liquid pouring down to his mouth and burning his tongue. He coughs and Yabuki withdraws with a smug smile, his eyes gleaming happily. “That’s how you do it!”
Ryu’s mouth twitches into a faint smile, emitting an embarrassing cheer from the group. They’re all so ridiculously happy just because he’s here, smiling, even if it’s not even a full smile. It catches him off guard and makes him nervous as he places his hands around his mug, letting it warm them.
Without really noticing or trying, he’s managed to make friends for the first time in the past few years. How it happened, he doesn’t know. Somehow, here with these people, he feels more at ease than he’s felt in a very long time.
--
He should’ve known making friends with the students from 1-D would only bring him trouble, though. He feels stupid as he stands still in the middle of the snickering group as Tsucchi asks a nerdy-looking 2-B student for his lunch money. Asks doesn’t mean he’s doing it kindly - he sounds surprisingly polite with his request, but there’s something threatening in his aura and the poor student looks shaky under the shadow Tsucchi’s tall form casts over him. Hayato is whistling lazily.
“N-no,” the boy tries to refuse and takes a few steps away before Hayato grabs him by the back of his school uniform jacket and pulls him back sharply. Hyuuga is laughing, his tone low and somehow stupid. Ryu watches the situation evolve, the look in the bullied boy’s eyes getting more desperate. Hayato does some kind of a weird gesture with a peace sign with his fingers and clicks his tongue. “Please,” he adds mockingly and smirks.
“Just hand it over,” Hyuuga says and Take joins in too. They’re circling the boy who knows he’s defeated already. His eyes meet Ryu’s who still stands still, feet glued to where he is. He isn’t a bully, hasn’t been so far at least. Yes, he’s beaten people up, but they’ve all had it coming. He hasn’t raised his hand if there hasn’t been an absolute need for it.
“Ryu?” Hayato asks him and he snaps back to reality. Hayato is looking at him weirdly, urging him to come over too, join the bullying. It sets off an internal battle - to join or not to join. He can’t look like a weakling, but he doesn’t want to be one of Hayato’s puppets either. He needs to have his control.
In the end, he scoffs like he doesn’t care and slouches over beside Hayato with a disinterested and stoic expression. Their target gives in and shakily goes through his bag to dig for the money he has. Hayato takes the bag from him and makes sure he isn’t leaving anything before he tosses the bag back with a triumphant yell, making the boy roll over. “Game hall, here we come!” Hayato wails happily and Ryu raises his eyebrows in question.
“Huh?” he cries out as the group of friends suddenly dash back towards the front gates of the school. He looks at the school building and curses in his head, trying to come up with a solution to the dilemma. It’s Hayato who notices that he isn’t running with them - the boy turns around and jogs slowly backwards.
“RYU!” Hayato yells at him. “QUICKLY! COME ON!”
His stomach sinks. He thinks of all the classes, all the unnecessary hours he spends at school without learning a thing. He starts backing away from the building and tears his gaze away - the other boys are right, he can spend his time better.
“YABUKI-KUN!” a teacher’s shrill voice comes from somewhere and Hayato curses loudly before making a dash outside the gates. Ryu pales - they’re screwed. He squeezes his school bag against his chest as he runs after his friends before someone recognizes him and the teachers find out he had taken part in the unfortunate scene with the 2-B boy. His father doesn’t need to hear about this.
The entire group waits for him near the gate. They grab him from his arms and start dragging him somewhere past bushes and tiled roads to freedom. If someone told him his life would be like this five years ago, he would’ve laughed straight at that person’s face. Now, though…
He’s living a life that feels more like his than anything he’s ever had before.
--
He doesn’t fully blend in with the group, not really. They’re loud and always so insanely full of energy Ryu doesn’t know where it comes from, but he follows them, maybe a few steps to the back or side, and no one gives him weird looks or whispers behind his back. Oddly, he feels accepted and wanted, and every now and then his friends insist on engaging him in the conversation too. Especially Take becomes his friend - he’s not so bad, not when Ryu gets to know him. He’s just never been too smart, and he was originally put in 1-D for his bad grades, not behaviour, although that has gotten to him later on. Ryu can’t blame him, because he isn’t the same person anymore either.
“Come on, Ryu, don’t just stand there,” Hayato moans at him and pulls him from his arm in front of the stacks of hair colouring products. Ryu blinks stupidly, and then suddenly Tsucchi, who’s fluttering his fan with one hand, is examining his hair. It’s nerving. Somewhere on their right, Hyuuga is pulling different packets off the shelves to examine them better.
“Red could suit him,” Tsucchi notes and pulls out a packet with the picture of a woman with cranberry red hair. Ryu shoves his arm away quickly - he’s not going to put any of that stuff in his hair. “Ooh, he’s mad!”
“Relax,” Hayato whines and starts curling his locks around his finger. Ryu scoffs and tries to back away but then Take is suddenly pushing him from behind, chirpily asking them what colour he’s getting. Ryu doesn’t really like where this is going.
“Copper isn’t that extreme,” Hayato mumbles thoughtfully as he pulls one of the packets from the shelf. Ryu rolls his eyes - when hasn’t copper been extreme when compared to black? Then again, the packet Hayato is holding is hardly going to do anything much to his hair, tint it slightly reddish if anything.
“Whatever,” he mumbles and his friends cheer happily as they start making their way to the checkout, everyone blabbering excitedly.
Ryu has a bad feeling about the whole ordeal as they all force themselves to fit in Take’s home’s bathroom. Hayato squirts the conditioner-like substance to his hair and tells him to keep still. He’s only got one stripe put on his fringe from Take’s solution. He insists it’ll look cooler than any of their hair, but Ryu thinks he’s just being a pussy about colouring his hair.
It burns. He wonders if he’s allergic to the solution or if anything’s wrong as he waits and shivers in his boxers, watching the others fool around. After ten minutes or so, Tsucchi stares at the package in his hand carefully and squints his eyes.
“Hey, isn’t this Ryu’s stuff?” he asks and then everyone keeps looking back and forth between the two of them. Ryu looks at Hayato, who groans and walks over to grab the package from Tsucchi’s hand and peers at it. He starts paling a little and Ryu’s eyes widen. Oh no.
“Uh, I might’ve mixed your stuff,” he mumbles and Tsucchi groans. Ryu makes a dash for the shower and turns it on. “Don’t worry, Ryu!” Hayato tries to yell after him, even if his voice is shrill like a girl’s. “I’m sure blond will suit you!”
Fuck. He washes his hair before everyone else starts arguing over who gets to wash their hair first before it all falls off. He glares at Hayato who’s washed his stripe in the sink and starts blow drying his hair nervously. It looks dangerously light - there’s no way his father isn’t going to notice the change.
“Hey, it looks pretty copper,” Hayato notes delightedly. “All well!”
It’s copper, and weirdly enough, it does kind of suit him. Tsucchi’s a bit cranky because his hair didn’t bleach too much, but he thinks it kind of suits him anyway and he’s a bit unsure whether he would’ve looked good with blonder hair. Take’s hair is the wildest - it’s nearly blond with a reddish tint that suits him remarkably well.
The rest of the evening, Hayato plays around with Ryu’s hair, the look in his eyes marvelling. He keeps bragging about his handiwork, as if he hadn’t mistakenly mixed up his and Tsucchi’s colours, and tells Ryu how he’s now a branded member of their group like he’s supposed to be.
He’s nervous when he arrives home, muttering an anxious “I’m home” as he steps in. His mother hurries to the foyer and stops in her tracks as she sees his hair.
“Ryu?” she asks disbelievingly and Ryu shrugs before walking past her to make his way upstairs.
“Son.”
He stops. It takes him a brief while to turn around and look at his father who’s glaring at him from below with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t shiver under the scrutiny, doesn’t show any signs of weakness as his father finally nods and tells him to go.
When he gets to his room, he leans his back against the closed door and exhales out of relief. This was easier than he thought it would be.
--
-- > part 2/4