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bonnefoisTitle: the boys of summer
Day/Theme: August 21st: / Strange things they declared time would reveal in direful summer
months.
Series: hanakimi
Character/Pairing: akiha, umeda, mentions of Kijima
Rating: at least in the PG-13 region
[teenage variance au]
i.
That summer it was hot enough to turn the blacktop into some torture device, steam rose and turned into a mirage of colors. No one sane went barefoot – most considered putting on the thickest work boots they could find just to shield from the scorched pavement.
Umeda wound his way through the maze-like streets, his shirt clinging to him impervious to the heat. Most everyone who could hid in air-conditioned rooms.
Two lengths away was some foreigner, tall and built with a swimmer’s body. Not bad, he had to admit. The boy smiled, all golden haired sunshine and still managing to fit in somehow.
Umeda didn’t return the smile, in fact he scowled more than usual. If only cover up that his stomach betraying him and lurching forward at the youth’s smile. (because Umeda’s stomach did not flutter dammit)
“Damn heat” He thought. Usually he reveled in the heat, drinking up the sand and sun and beaches, wearing spandex so small that it was banned in five countries. But the waves of heat had obviously had fried his brain somewhere along the way.
ii.
Umeda already knew the youth from afar, he worked on his route, lifting crates and bottles, taking them into a local store which specialized in sweets. Everything from red bean paste to icecream, and even some soda machines in-between.
“It’s on me” the youth said.
Umeda would have refused on the standard alone, but free ice cream was free ice cream, only an fool would refuse that at this temperature.
“What one? Ooh, we’ve got Rocky-Road, that’s good, but not quite as good as the Pecan-Carmel-Praline, though close – and then there’s the Rainbow Sweet Sweet Surprise – I helped make that one myself– oh and– ” the youth prattled off naming each one, smiling so much that it seemed to fill up his entire face.
“Just Vanilla.” Umeda replied, unamused.
“Waffle cone?” the youth replied.
Umeda eyed him suspiciously before answering. “Sure.”
Their fingers brushed as he handed Umeda the cone, he gritted his teeth. The same sinking feeling, except stronger came from this simple brush of fingers.
“Take it out of my pay, Taki” he yelled, towards the back room without a care.
Sunlight filtered here, it caught the youth’s hair, semi-long, almost to his shoulders now. He absently wondered how long the boy would grow his hair – It was distracting.
A yell from the back room and the youth headed back, an apology thrown over his shoulder as he ran off to help.
Umeda licked at his ice cream in peace, no customers waited in the forefront and the only sound was the humming of the refrigerators and his heel tapping against the black and white tiles.
There was an unease settling around him now, different but familiar, and he finished the cone before he got the urge to stay and wait and maybe say goodnight.
iii.
It’d been a two years since High-School.
Umeda could still remember the scent of smoke, the feel of his fingers through Ryouichi’s tousled hair, the feel of rain on his skin.It had dimmed recently. His pulse didn’t quicken as much now
as he sifted through the memories. He hadn’t forgotten, he was still haunted by that feline grace, the air of mystery and the sense of danger around him. Even when told, he didn’t forget.
But Umeda wasn’t a fool, he wasn’t a teenage girl with dramatic sweeping romances, he could take his losses in peace, without involving the world in his own damn problems.
That night he took out letters that he wrote years ago and never meant to send, an almost ripped them to pieces, flung them away with the weakness that bound him. But instead he replaced them, almost reverently at first, then flinging the cover in a fit of annoyance.
iv.
The youth was running about, a young girl on his shoulders, laughing almost as loud as he was. Two other children clung to his legs, screaming with each bear-like growl he made.
There was a nagging feeling now, that he’d met the youth somewhere else, something definitely familiar about him. It was odd, yes, that he never even bothered to ask his name, but it seemed if he asked his name it would all fall into place, and the last thing he wanted was some after summer letter telling him to forget what happened.
He sat on the far corner, away from the noise and the loping, ungraceful and jerky movements as he waved his arms, the girl squealed more and the boys roared back at him. He had a cold fountain drink he’d ordered from another worker, female this time. (The mother of the children, he guessed)
This time he waited until the youth returned to the booth – the children were already messily downing cones of their own – the youth grinned even more than he had while playing with the children, and Umeda glowered back at him, only making him grin further. It was infuriating.
“Hey Akiha, thanks for taking care of my step-kids,” called out the other man – the owner, Umeda supposed.
Umeda almost choked on his drink. “Ha...Hara Akiha” he said incredulously.
“We went to school, don’t you remember, senpai?” Akiha said, smiling even wider – he hadn’t thought it possible.
Now Umeda was somewhere in-between “miffed” and “two breaths away from strangling someone”
Hara was most certainly not suave or handsome or attractive. He spent most all of school chasing, clinging to or whimpering like some demented schoolgirl crush. He was loud and a complete idiot, and most all of Umeda’s class had teased him about “his boyfriend.”
Umeda narrowed his eyes.
“But senpai! Aren’t you glad to see me? Don’t you remember the time we– ”
“No.” he said, giving every bit of mercy he had and not throwing his drink in the idiot’s face.
He laid some yen on the counter, just enough to cover his lunch and walked out.
v.
Umeda didn’t change his route. Not even for some idiot who had pretended to be cool and suave and handsome but was really just an idiot underneath it all. He glowered all the more from the familiar – and detested stomach lurch. He did, however, modify it. There were other stores he visited, with perfectly sane owners who didn’t play with children or have long undone hair. The product tasted just as good, he was sure.
Umeda didn’t run into Akiha again, if he had, he probably would’ve kicked him out the nearest window. (He was actually lucky there were children there, if not Akiha would have promptly molested him)
Umeda took this path often, testing it at odd hours of the day – But three weeks later and still no sighting of Akiha. He braved a chance to go inside. The same owner, his children and wife were away today, and it the shop only had a few patrons, chatting in a corner booth.
Ordering a cold drink, he chanced one question.
“And the worker? The blonde one.”
“Oh, he only works here in the summer. I can tell him you asked about him, if you want” the owner said, pushing back his dark hair with his tanned and muscled forearms.
“DON’T” Umeda nearly shouted. The patrons stopped their conversation abruptly and
turned to him. He ignored them. Damn nosy people, couldn’t keep their nose out of his business.
“Well, I’m afraid you’ll miss him next time – he got a scholarship and is on campus now.
Umeda ended the conversation with a nod.
He closed the door behind him, and let summer fade on out behind him, with one last sound of that off-kilter bell which needed oil or maybe just replacing.
The sound muted into silence as it was overwhelmed by the sounds of cars and shoes on pavement, market goers and children. Honking horns, snatches of radio from passing cars.
Umeda walked home, the sun pausing for a moment, hanging suspended surrounded by a golden sheen of clouds. Like a reflection on hair in a store, one he won’t admit to remembering.
Day/Theme: August 21st: / Strange things they declared time would reveal in direful summer
months.
Series: hanakimi
Character/Pairing: akiha, umeda, mentions of Kijima
Rating: at least in the PG-13 region
[teenage variance au]
i.
That summer it was hot enough to turn the blacktop into some torture device, steam rose and turned into a mirage of colors. No one sane went barefoot – most considered putting on the thickest work boots they could find just to shield from the scorched pavement.
Umeda wound his way through the maze-like streets, his shirt clinging to him impervious to the heat. Most everyone who could hid in air-conditioned rooms.
Two lengths away was some foreigner, tall and built with a swimmer’s body. Not bad, he had to admit. The boy smiled, all golden haired sunshine and still managing to fit in somehow.
Umeda didn’t return the smile, in fact he scowled more than usual. If only cover up that his stomach betraying him and lurching forward at the youth’s smile. (because Umeda’s stomach did not flutter dammit)
“Damn heat” He thought. Usually he reveled in the heat, drinking up the sand and sun and beaches, wearing spandex so small that it was banned in five countries. But the waves of heat had obviously had fried his brain somewhere along the way.
ii.
Umeda already knew the youth from afar, he worked on his route, lifting crates and bottles, taking them into a local store which specialized in sweets. Everything from red bean paste to icecream, and even some soda machines in-between.
“It’s on me” the youth said.
Umeda would have refused on the standard alone, but free ice cream was free ice cream, only an fool would refuse that at this temperature.
“What one? Ooh, we’ve got Rocky-Road, that’s good, but not quite as good as the Pecan-Carmel-Praline, though close – and then there’s the Rainbow Sweet Sweet Surprise – I helped make that one myself– oh and– ” the youth prattled off naming each one, smiling so much that it seemed to fill up his entire face.
“Just Vanilla.” Umeda replied, unamused.
“Waffle cone?” the youth replied.
Umeda eyed him suspiciously before answering. “Sure.”
Their fingers brushed as he handed Umeda the cone, he gritted his teeth. The same sinking feeling, except stronger came from this simple brush of fingers.
“Take it out of my pay, Taki” he yelled, towards the back room without a care.
Sunlight filtered here, it caught the youth’s hair, semi-long, almost to his shoulders now. He absently wondered how long the boy would grow his hair – It was distracting.
A yell from the back room and the youth headed back, an apology thrown over his shoulder as he ran off to help.
Umeda licked at his ice cream in peace, no customers waited in the forefront and the only sound was the humming of the refrigerators and his heel tapping against the black and white tiles.
There was an unease settling around him now, different but familiar, and he finished the cone before he got the urge to stay and wait and maybe say goodnight.
iii.
It’d been a two years since High-School.
Umeda could still remember the scent of smoke, the feel of his fingers through Ryouichi’s tousled hair, the feel of rain on his skin.It had dimmed recently. His pulse didn’t quicken as much now
as he sifted through the memories. He hadn’t forgotten, he was still haunted by that feline grace, the air of mystery and the sense of danger around him. Even when told, he didn’t forget.
But Umeda wasn’t a fool, he wasn’t a teenage girl with dramatic sweeping romances, he could take his losses in peace, without involving the world in his own damn problems.
That night he took out letters that he wrote years ago and never meant to send, an almost ripped them to pieces, flung them away with the weakness that bound him. But instead he replaced them, almost reverently at first, then flinging the cover in a fit of annoyance.
iv.
The youth was running about, a young girl on his shoulders, laughing almost as loud as he was. Two other children clung to his legs, screaming with each bear-like growl he made.
There was a nagging feeling now, that he’d met the youth somewhere else, something definitely familiar about him. It was odd, yes, that he never even bothered to ask his name, but it seemed if he asked his name it would all fall into place, and the last thing he wanted was some after summer letter telling him to forget what happened.
He sat on the far corner, away from the noise and the loping, ungraceful and jerky movements as he waved his arms, the girl squealed more and the boys roared back at him. He had a cold fountain drink he’d ordered from another worker, female this time. (The mother of the children, he guessed)
This time he waited until the youth returned to the booth – the children were already messily downing cones of their own – the youth grinned even more than he had while playing with the children, and Umeda glowered back at him, only making him grin further. It was infuriating.
“Hey Akiha, thanks for taking care of my step-kids,” called out the other man – the owner, Umeda supposed.
Umeda almost choked on his drink. “Ha...Hara Akiha” he said incredulously.
“We went to school, don’t you remember, senpai?” Akiha said, smiling even wider – he hadn’t thought it possible.
Now Umeda was somewhere in-between “miffed” and “two breaths away from strangling someone”
Hara was most certainly not suave or handsome or attractive. He spent most all of school chasing, clinging to or whimpering like some demented schoolgirl crush. He was loud and a complete idiot, and most all of Umeda’s class had teased him about “his boyfriend.”
Umeda narrowed his eyes.
“But senpai! Aren’t you glad to see me? Don’t you remember the time we– ”
“No.” he said, giving every bit of mercy he had and not throwing his drink in the idiot’s face.
He laid some yen on the counter, just enough to cover his lunch and walked out.
v.
Umeda didn’t change his route. Not even for some idiot who had pretended to be cool and suave and handsome but was really just an idiot underneath it all. He glowered all the more from the familiar – and detested stomach lurch. He did, however, modify it. There were other stores he visited, with perfectly sane owners who didn’t play with children or have long undone hair. The product tasted just as good, he was sure.
Umeda didn’t run into Akiha again, if he had, he probably would’ve kicked him out the nearest window. (He was actually lucky there were children there, if not Akiha would have promptly molested him)
Umeda took this path often, testing it at odd hours of the day – But three weeks later and still no sighting of Akiha. He braved a chance to go inside. The same owner, his children and wife were away today, and it the shop only had a few patrons, chatting in a corner booth.
Ordering a cold drink, he chanced one question.
“And the worker? The blonde one.”
“Oh, he only works here in the summer. I can tell him you asked about him, if you want” the owner said, pushing back his dark hair with his tanned and muscled forearms.
“DON’T” Umeda nearly shouted. The patrons stopped their conversation abruptly and
turned to him. He ignored them. Damn nosy people, couldn’t keep their nose out of his business.
“Well, I’m afraid you’ll miss him next time – he got a scholarship and is on campus now.
Umeda ended the conversation with a nod.
He closed the door behind him, and let summer fade on out behind him, with one last sound of that off-kilter bell which needed oil or maybe just replacing.
The sound muted into silence as it was overwhelmed by the sounds of cars and shoes on pavement, market goers and children. Honking horns, snatches of radio from passing cars.
Umeda walked home, the sun pausing for a moment, hanging suspended surrounded by a golden sheen of clouds. Like a reflection on hair in a store, one he won’t admit to remembering.
