[Missing sensation]
Title: Missing sensation
Fandom: Gokusen 2
Pairing: HayaRyu
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: They're not mine. Sad but true.
Summary: There is something missing inside of thing, and it has something to do with the nameless guy.
Yabuki Hayato gulps down his shot, the alcohol burning his mouth and all the way down to his throat. He has had too much to drink but nonetheless he motions the waiter to bring him another one. The man raises an eyebrow at him, maybe wondering whether he should serve more alcohol to his already drunken customer or not, but finally puts another glass filled with the transparent liquor on the table. Hayato drinks it almost immediately. He doesn’t remember what it iwas that he was drinking and he can no longer recognize the taste. But he doesn’t care and continues to drink shot after shot, wishing for the alcohol to erase that sensation that is taking over him.
Hayato raises his head when a hot form presses against his back. He turns around, hands tracing her little frame, grabbing her hips and pulling the girl closer to his body. They dance, spinning around a world where the lights are too bright, the music too loud, and Hayato is grateful because they don’t let him think, not even when the girl’s cute face starts to turn into the one he knows so well, yet he can’t tell anything about it. A nameless, male face framed by fringes of reddish hair, his expression hard and rough, but eyes that are somehow caring, yet sharp, that stare right into him. Hayato finds himself looking at these dark orbs, and not even the alcohol and the music pounding in his ears are enough to shut this sensation.
* * *
He has stopped wondering why he felt like that a while ago. He is not that smart, but somehow he has realized that there is something missing inside of him. Though, he thinks, it is normal for him to feel like that after what happened. He used to think that it’ll fade away, too. And it kind of did.
He had grown used to it by the time he first met the nameless guy. It was the morning after an especially hard fight and Hayato was still lying on his bed, recovering, when the doorbell rang. It was Tsuchi who opened the door, and even from the bedroom Hayato had been able to hear the anger in his voice. He had got up and walked to peek through the door. And he had seen him. The nameless guy. His face had been filled with apprehension and something inside of Hayato had stirred at the sight. The missing sensation on his chest had became stronger and there had been a name trying to escape his lips, a name sweet and treasured. But then Tsuchi had spoken, the voice low and threatening. “I won’t let you hurt him again.” The boy had left, and the word was gone.
It wasn’t after some months after the encounter that Hayato found the photo. He was fumbling with the drawers in his bedroom when he spotted the wood photo frame under some shirts. He took it, tracing his fingers lightly over it, and he noticed the letters carved in it: O.R. Hayato did not recognize the initials. He turned the frame and there he was, the nameless guy. With him. In the photo, Hayato was laughing hard at something, his arm wrapped around the other’s waist to hold him close. The other boy was looking up at him, lips curled in a half-smile, lightly amused.
Hayato stared at the photo for a lot of time; he couldn’t remember how much he stayed like that. He seriously wondered whether his friends had lied to him or not, back then. Because even without looking into a mirror, Hayato knew his current smile wasn’t as bright nor as happy as the one he was wearing in the picture. And the nameless guy’s eyes were fixed on him, looking adoringly at him, filled with affection and something that Hayato could not quite understand. He wondered why he was able to read so much in the stranger’s eyes, and realized that it was because he could see the same feelings when looking at his own face in the photo. That is why he thought that Tsuchi had lied. Hayato didn’t understand how someone who held those feelings toward him could possibly hurt him, and more than once too.
But Tsuchi, Take and Hyuuga were the ones who had been at his side when he had awakened at hospital. They were the ones who had smiled and said it would be all right even when Hayato had told them he couldn’t remember their names nor faces. They were the ones who had said that they would begin from the start again. They were the ones who had helped Hayato with his rehabilitation and with anything he had needed after it. They were Hayato’s friends, and the nameless guy just a stranger in a picture. Hayato remembered the tone full of hatred Tsuchi had used with the boy and put the photo away, not daring to ask about it. Friends do not lie at each other.
Nonetheless sometimes Hayato still takes out the photo and looks at it, because he likes to see the stranger’s smiling face. He likes it, and yet it makes him feel worse, the missing sensation stirring in his chest everytime he looks at that smile. He still likes it. He likes it more than when the face is not really the guy’s but some stranger’s turning into it, staring blankly at him as to tell him something Hayato doesn’t get. And he likes it more than when it is the real one, but it is looking worringly at him from some dark corner outside a pub, and Hayato wants to go near him but doesn’t dare.
* * *
Hayato pulls the girl’s body away from him and stumbles out of the pub. He is dizzy, the alcohol taking its toll. Hayato has been drunk a lot since he left the hospital. Nevertheless he spots his nameless guy waiting for him outside. He briefly wonders when has the boy become his. And Hayato does not know why, maybe it is the alcohol taking over his mind, but this time he approaches him and slowly raises a hand, pressing it against the other’s cheek. For a moment his vision is not blurry, his mind awaken and fresh. For a moment he can see the boy’s face perfectly, and it is beautiful even under the dirty yellow lights. Hayato thinks it is beautiful because his eyes are big and soft, shining with hope. He brushes his thumb over the pale skin and feels something wet sliding down to the chin; the boy opens his mouth for a low sound. Hayato wipes away another tear and this time he can barely hear his own name escaping the parted lips. He wants to call back, but can’t.
Hayato tries to come closer to the boy, but there’s a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back. He turns around and finds that Take is the one holding him. His friend is not looking at him but at the nameless boy. He is telling him to go before the others find him and his voice sounds unsure, as if he is doubting whether he is doing the correct thing or not.
He repeats nonetheless, “Go away, R...”.
But Tsuchi appears and shouts, and the name is gone. The boy looks at Hayato oce more time, doubful, but Tsuchi comes closer. The boy turns and runs away. Hayato leans on Hyuuga’s shoulder because he suddenly needs something to hold onto. Hyuuga says it is because of the alcohol. Hayato thinks it is not.
Hayato goes back home and the alcohol knocks him out as soon as he drops himself on the couch. He sleeps through the morning and noon comes by, but he doesn’t wake up until it is already afternoon. Hayato does not try to get rid of his pounding headache, because once again it doesn’t let him think. He showers, eats something and gets dressed because it is late and life goes on: pointless fights and sore mornings, drunken nights of drinking shots in a dark pub, bodies hot and sweaty as they grind against each other. His nameless boy and this sensation that though numb, is still there.