Work Text:
Boys are a distraction.
Daiya has been dead for three weeks and the terrible cocoon of pain and longing is beginning to metamorphosize. He wakes up in the morning, looks at his reflection and realizes how temporary it all is. That one day he will be dust, too, like his brother, cremated into ash and fragile shards of bones. He tosses his hair into a loose bun, not bothering with any of it, the hairspray, the makeup. He pulls on his uniform and trudges out the door.
School feels quiet. When he moves through the hallway, there is a shadow that follows him. He hardly makes it through the first lecture before excusing himself to the bathroom. He smells nicotine when he walks in, then sees the stream of smoke, oozing from behind a stall. When he knocks there is a response, a startled shuffle of rubber on linoleum.
“Can I smoke with you?” Mondo asks.
After a moment, the stall clicks open.
"Sure, man."
Leon Kuwata is alright. He just goes with the flow and enjoys the popularity his athleticism has earned him. Everything is surface level in high school, few things follow, no reputation is grand enough to survive graduation. In a year, none of this stuff, the gossip or the status, it won't even matter. It barely matters now. Mondo, he doesn't really know Leon, no one does, because Leon does that fake laugh and that fake smile. Mondo hates it, because he recognizes it in himself, the camouflage, the performance. Mondo is cradling a cigarette in his mouth and Leon lights it with the end of his own, gets real close and flashes this grin. That seemed real. Real suspicious. Is he flirting? Mondo takes a drag and coughs unexpectedly into his fist.
He cracks open a window and waves away the residual smoke. He has no problem ditching class, it's 3rd year and his brother is dead and honestly he can't give a fuck anymore. He just wants to crawl back into bed and feel sorry for himself.
There is a sound, an unfamiliar pair of footsteps entering the bathroom. Mondo hides his cigarette, but doesn't extinguish it. Ishimaru is standing in the doorway, with his button up shirt and center crease trousers. This guy always has something to say.
"Get back to class." There it is.
Leon raises his hands, defensively, then offers this sheepish smile. He gives Mondo this directional nod, a sort of let's go gesture. Mondo doesn't move a muscle, though. Ishimaru is staring at him and so he stares back at Ishimaru. What the fuck does this guy know? Just looking at his face, it makes Mondo so unreasonably angry.
"Fuck off," Mondo warns.
Ishimaru crosses his arms. "Is there a problem?"
Mondo isn't sure why he does it. He goes up to Ishimaru and knocks his ass to the floor. The guy is stronger than he looks, though. They wrestle and Leon panics, he tries to break it up, but Mondo pushes him away. Mondo gets a bit too cocky, easing up for a second as his opponent goes limp. Ishimaru takes the opportunity, flails, and somehow, he's got Mondo pinned to the floor now.
"Calm down!" Ishimaru orders, he's breathing hard, chest pounding. Mondo reaches for his fallen cigarette and decides to play dirty, crushing it against the back of Ishimaru's hand. The boy yelps.
"That feel good? Ya like that?" Mondo taunts as Ishimaru rolls off of him. "Answer me, bitch!"
There is a stampede of footsteps rushing up the hall. A few students pop their heads in for a whiff of the drama, followed by a teacher demanding an explanation. Mondo curses under his breath.
"One day," Ishimaru is saying, cradling his injured hand, "things will get better for you, Oowada. I'm sure of it."
The color drains from Mondo's face. He should have punched his teeth out, too.
He gets a mouthful from the headmaster. He keeps his head bowed the whole time. Not because he feels bad, but because he keeps nodding off. Ishimaru is sitting beside him, his hand wrapped in loose gauze. His father is there in his police uniform, baton on his hip, looking thoroughly exhausted. He pats his son on the shoulder and he seems like a good dad, coming in on short notice. For Mondo, there is no family to call. His emergency contact was Daiya. Someone asks him about his mother. No, she's dead. Then how about his father?
He was facing suspension, but now all the adults take pity. Just regular detention, then. He also can't participate in after-school clubs, trips, or activities for the remainder of the semester. Whatever. He accepts his punishment and gives Ishimaru a lackluster apology.
When he arrives at detention, Leon is there. He says his coach is pissed at him, because he's wasting time sitting on his ass when he should be at practice. Leon appreciates the break. He tries balancing a pencil on the tip of his finger and perfects it by the time detention is dismissed.
"Lemme walk you home," Leon says.
They walk in silence, until Leon takes out his phone and pulls out his earbuds. They each take a side, connected by a wire, and Leon plays a song. Mondo expected him to be into pop music, so he's surprised to hear a thrashing guitar and an off-tune vocalist. Mondo sort of smiles. He accidentally yanks the earbuds away from Leon, with the walking and being as tall as he is. They try again and Mondo cranes his neck a bit. Between them, they share a cigarette, and Mondo feels warm for that small trace of spit Leon leaves behind.
Daiya started smoking young. Really young. When their father found out, Hell would have been a kinder place to be. Mondo cowered and peeked through his fingers as his father snuffed the cigarette against Daiya's neck. It left a scar, this white imprint a few inches beneath his jawline. His brother was littered with marks, dozens of them, some were self inflicted, some were accidental, but most were Dad's handiwork.
Leon starts rambling about his favorite punk bands and Mondo reaches for the crossing button on the street light. Leon does the same and their hands touch, accidentally. The brevity of it sets Mondo aflame. It's right about now that he decides he's going to sleep with him.
The apartment is a mess. Mondo kicks off his shoes at the door and invites Leon inside. He chews on his tongue for a moment, mulling over his next move. Mondo shoves the other boy down onto the couch and before Leon can respond or recoil, their mouths are connected. It feels sloppy and it must look strange, too. Leon is so hesitant, his hands grasping the cushions, unsure where to place them. Mondo moans into the kiss and that seems to flick a switch, because Leon goes from indecisive to insatiable. He eagerly tugs Mondo closer, sucking and biting and he's a surprisingly good kisser. He wastes no time getting Mondo onto the couch and admittedly it feels a bit odd, when Leon climbs on top of him, because Leon is a considerably smaller guy. Leon, he latches onto his neck and Mondo winces.
He hates hickies. His brother always used to get on his case when he came home with one. If he had a dick, like, if he was born with a dick, he thinks his brother would have gone easier on him. He probably would have clapped him on the shoulder, asked if he used a condom, then teased him for being such a lady killer. Instead, his brother pulled him by the wrist and asked who the hell he was fucking. If it was someone in the gang. To drop a name. During moments like that, Mondo felt as though he never stopped being the foolish little sister, and Daiya, the overprotective big brother.
He spent a lot of time being angry at Daiya. He spent a lot of time hating him and loving him. He feels as though he should love him unconditionally, now that he's dead. Daiya said and did a lot of fucked up things, though. He wasn't a bad brother, or a bad person, but he was human. He made some mistakes. There was still tension between them when Daiya croaked. A ton of unspoken bullshit. About their childhood, about their father. Daiya had been the man's personal punching bag, but he was trauma bonded, too. He made excuses, he said men used force and fists and he dared, Mondo fucking dared Daiya to hit him and call that love.
Leon gropes Mondo between the legs. His packer is convincing, it feels authentic, except it doesn't get hard, no matter how much Leon touches it. Mondo should have disclosed this earlier, and he can hear his dead brother in his ear, harping about it. He tells Leon to slow down for a sec.
"I'm transgender."
He hates saying that. He hates this two word sentence that has the power to destroy his world or simply result in a shoulder shrug. Leon is of the shoulder shrug variety.
"That's so hot," he confesses into a kiss.
Mondo snarls before kissing him back. "Shut up."
"Sorry, I just, y'know, I didn't—" Leon pulls off with a pop, suddenly apologetic. "I'm kinda more into you now. Is that fucked up to say?"
It kind of is and it kind of isn't. Mondo feels more flattered than offended. He ignores Leon's question and unzips him. When he pulls down his briefs, his cock springs out; it's not that big, sort of average, but it looks good. He's uncircumcised and his dick has this inward curve.
They take a brief intermission to search for a condom. Mondo dumps the contents of his book bag and finds one inside of a hidden zipper. He rips open the foil and hands it to Leon, who eagerly rolls it on.
He slides in, achingly slow. His mouth falls open, his eyebrows pull together, and for a moment, Mondo thinks he already came.
"Holy shit," he sounds breathless. "You're so tight."
His dick feels amazing. He's incredibly hard and that curve hits Mondo in a place he can rarely reach by himself. He bites down on a sound, not wanting to make noise, but Leon makes enough noise for the both of them. He's a noisy top and that's a rarity, boys are usually so quiet until the last couple moments. He keeps praising Mondo, telling him how good he feels, how hot he is, and he sounds so genuine. He thrusts harder and Mondo can't swallow the cry on time, the moan rumbling in his throat.
"Oh, fuck!" Leon gasps. Then he comes just like that. He hasn't even fully recovered before hiding his face in his hands. "I am so sorry."
He's cute. Mondo isn't upset.
Leon becomes a past time. He sleeps over at least three nights a week and soon it becomes routine, rolling out of bed together, brushing their teeth. At school, they don't hold hands or kiss or any of that shit. Partly because they are both closeted, but mainly because they are not dating. Friends with benefits? Something like that. They smoke after school together, out in the field, by the bleachers where the girls are practicing baton hand-offs. The sun is merciless today. Sweat beads down their brows and between their breasts and Mondo can't help but stare. Leon stares, too. It's like that for a while, until Aoi passes through with a duffle bag and wet head of hair. She waves to a girl on the track, then leers at the two boys.
"You guys are perverts," she tsks.
Mondo doesn't really know Aoi. Of course he knows about her, she's one of the pride and joys of Hope's Peak, her and every other goddamn athlete. Mondo isn't special like her, or special like Leon, and he feels like an outcast as they start chatting about nationals. Her phone chimes from inside her bag. She excuses herself then trots off.
The track team finishes with practice. The girls leave the field, a few blush and wave to Leon, then quicken their pace as they get a good look at Mondo. Most girls are scared of him. It's funny and a little unfair. You know, considering it all. Mondo lights a fresh cigarette and goes still as Leon lays his head in his lap.
"Gay," Mondo snides.
"Shut up," Leon smacks him lightly. "I really like you, man."
Something happens in the hallway a few days later. Leon is talking to this guy about body piercings and Mondo is zoning out and waiting for them to finish. The guy says that Leon's tongue piercing kind of makes him look like a faggot. Leon laughs it off, but Mondo sees red, he suckerpunches the guy, a simple crack to the nose. Boom. Done. A few girls shriek and alert a teacher.
He gets detention again.
This time, it's just him. Him and Mr. Perfect.
Mondo watches, bored out of his mind, as Ishimaru tidies up the classroom. He cleans the blackboard and sweeps the floor and Mondo is a bit surprised he hasn't been forced to help. Instead, he just sits there at his desk, face on his palm. Mounted to the wall is an analog clock and the more Mondo looks at it, the more it doesn't seem to be moving. Ishimaru assures him five minutes has already passed and Mondo hopes he's lying.
"You know why I punched that guy, right?" Mondo munches on a stick of bubblegum. "He called my friend a fag. You woulda punched him, too."
Ishimaru takes a second to consider this.
"Violence is never the answer."
"Sometimes it's the only way to get people to listen," Mondo pops a bubble. He spits the wad into the wrapper before Ishimaru can bitch about it.
"I think that people are more receptive to healthy communication," Mr. Perfect explains.
Mondo disagrees. A face will always be incredibly receptive to a punch. He stands and his chair screeches. Ishimaru gives him this sort of disapproving look. He is looking at eye level, until Mondo gets close enough that he has to peer up. Ishimaru sucks in some air, his chest rises, like he is firing himself up for a reprimand, but Mondo drops to his knees, and the boy loses steam.
"What are you doing?"
The shucking of loose metal echoes in the classroom and just like that, Mondo has already unbuckled his belt. Ishimaru braces the rim of the blackboard and a stick of chalk snaps in two upon meeting the floor. This guy is annoying, a real thorn in the side, but he looks good like this, cornered. It makes Mondo feel powerful, this, the illusion of control. He unzips Ishimaru, and plants a kiss just beneath his belly, on the trail leading to his pubic hair.
"I'm gonna suck yer dick," Mondo sort of laughs.
Ishimaru is impassive. Mondo wants to see his face turn red. He should be stuttering by now. Instead, he asks, in the clearest goddamn voice:
"Why would you want to do that?"
He noses Ishimaru at the groin and to his disappointment, discovers how un-erect he is. He tries not to sound agitated.
"Because," Mondo grits. "I don't need a fuckin' reason, alright? Maybe I'm just horny."
Ishimaru is so pliable. Mondo touches him and the boy just allows it, as though he is not nervous or threatened. Mondo kisses his stomach again, in some ditch effort of winning him over. Ishimaru offers little response, flinching only slightly from a ticklish spot Mondo had grazed. Mondo can see the outline of it, the shape through his underwear, and he so badly wants it in his mouth. Ishimaru finally touches him, but in the least exciting way, placing his bandaged hand on Mondo's shoulder. He swallows audibly, and it's a small victory, the only real indication that Mondo has done something to rile him.
"I don't think I want to."
Above them is the steady, monotonous ticking of the clock, like a heartbeat that never stops or accelerates.
"Why not?"
Tik... tik... tik... tik. Four seconds.
"If you don't need a reason, then I don't need a reason, either."
Ishimaru rejects him. Somehow, it feels a lot worse than an average rejection, like when Mondo tries talking to a girl and she ignores him with a hair flip. Girls seem like an impossibility. Ishimaru seemed like a challenge, but Mondo was sure no guy, even that guy, would turn down a blowjob. They spend the rest of detention in silence. Ishimaru finishes cleaning and for the remainder of the hour, he picks the seat opposite to Mondo, and he stares. Not really a stare, more like gaze, likes he's searching for something that might not exist. Mondo makes a V sign with his fingers, then wriggles his tongue between them, hoping to annoy the honor student.
He walks home with only his cellphone to keep him company. Leon is still at practice, his coach keeps him late because he's the best on the team and he has potential and blah, blah, blah. Home is too quiet, he shoots a text to his plug and spins on his heel when his phone chimes with an answer.
Yasuhiro Hagakure is alright. He is 20, the oldest student in the academy, and Mondo thinks that if he doesn't graduate this year, he probably never will. He barely seems like a high school student, he has a fully furnished apartment and a fortune telling gig, which might actually be bogus, but whatever, it pays. Mondo steps into the kitchen and it looks like a fairytale, plants outgrowing their pots and an explosion of flower petals. Hiro rummages through the cabinets for rolling paper and Mondo stands there with his book bag. There is a table littered with objects, playing cards and tarot cards and ceremonial beads. Hiro checks there next and right beside this gorgeous, sparkling crystal ball, lo and behold, is the rolling paper.
"Can you talk to dead people with that?" Mondo asks, pointing to the sphere.
"Nah," Hiro says. "I use it for meditation and like, opening my mind up to the universe, y'know?"
They smoke in Hiro's bedroom. There isn't even a door, just these beads that hang down from the entrance. His bed is a mattress on the floor, the sheets are scrambled in with blankets and the pillows, about a dozen of them are tossed throughout. Hiro lights up and passes the blunt to Mondo. He holds the smoke in his lungs and it's too much, he coughs like an amateur. His face stings with embarrassment, he expects Hiro to laugh, but he doesn't. He returns the blunt and this time, Hiro feeds him the smoke, blowing it into his mouth like a goddamn gentleman. Hiro asks for permission to kiss him, whispers it low and sweet, and wow, he's kind of smooth.
They make out for what seems like an hour. It's the most foreplay he's ever experienced, usually high school guys just want to get right to it. His brain is floating and he forgets to panic as Hiro presses a finger inside him. No packer today. He never told Hiro, he forgot to, he starts stuttering an explanation, but is silenced with a kiss. Hiro tells him to chill, relax, and rolls on a condom.
He feels so degraded, ass up and moaning into a pillow. Hiro encourages him to be louder so Mondo gets loud, he howls, he sounds like an animal, as he begs for Hiro by name. His pace is slow, almost lazy, but he hits all the right spots and he hits them hard. He leans forward to kiss Mondo, right along his spine, and it's so chaste despite everything.
"Please!" Mondo sobs. He hates the sound of his own voice. He hates when he sounds this weak, but right now his brain is mush, because Hiro is so deep, and Mondo is so close.
"You like that, baby?" Hiro hums, a low rumble in his chest.
Hearing the pet name sends a pleasurable jolt throughout Mondo and Hiro must notice, because he chuckles. Mondo is so accustomed to that dopey, spaced out tone of his. He never knew Hiro could sound this sexy, if he did, he might have jumped his bones earlier. Hiro slaps his ass, not rough, but experimental, and Mondo groans. He does it again and Mondo, his eyes roll so far back into his head, he's sure they might get stuck there. He's so horny, it almost feels like he's drunk. He's so wet and everytime Hiro presses in, the squelch is obscene. Hiro keeps hitting him, spanking him between every few series of thrusts, and Mondo cries. Actually, cries.
His dad spanked him as a child, he remembers crying as he was hit with a belt. He remembers, too, when his dad cornered Daiya and punched him in the gut. When he kicked him into the floor. When he spat on his face. It wasn't fair, but Daiya always got the brunt of it. He was the elder sibling, he was a boy and Mondo was not, he was simply dismissed as a bad mouthed little girl. Mondo remembers crawling into bed with his brother afterward. His brother, facing the wall with his trembling shoulders. Whenever he saw Daiya cry, he always cried, too. Until eventually, Daiya got a little bigger, and when he took a fist to the face, he began throwing it back.
So many stitches.
Hiro slaps him again.
Mondo calls him daddy. Maybe he should feel dirty for it, but instead he feels cleansed. His orgasm has been building like a tidal wave, and when it hits him, he is swept up, completely. His knees give out, he collapses and Hiro continues to fuck into him, as he clenches like a vice grip. The pillow is wet with drool and tears and defeatedly, Mondo rests his face in it. He's so spent. Hiro finishes inside him, inside the condom, and for a cum-drunk moment, Mondo wishes he hadn't. He pulls out and chucks the rubber into a nearby wastebasket.
"Hey," he exhales and Mondo is close enough to feel it, the ghosting of breath against his ear. "That was really good. You felt amazing."
Mondo feels empty. The sex was incredible, but somehow he feels emptier than before. Hiro invites him into the shower and in the middle of washing, he is dragged into a hug.
"Your aura is black," Hiro says.
He remembers being 10 years old and stopping Daiya from killing their father. Daiya was 18 and he was tired, he was leaving, and he was taking Mondo with him. Civility was out of the question, the argument exploded into a brawl and Daiya, he was stronger now. There was blood on the floor and Daiya was shaking, that was the scary part, he was holding back. The veins in his arms were protruding, his face red, his eyes wild. Mondo tore him away from their father, the man was spitting blood, his missing tooth had rolled somewhere into the darkness. He screamed at Daiya, told him he was a mistake, that he was unwanted, and in the dead of night, Mondo grabbed all he could carry, then jumped onto the back of his brother's motorcycle.
"I love you," Daiya had said, crushing him into a hug. They were in his cheap motel room with a single bed and a leaky sink. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I love you so much, alright?"
Alright. Mondo should have said.
I love you, too. Mondo should have said.
So why didn't he?
"Hiro told me what happened the other night," Leon says.
They are sitting in the field again. There's no track practice today, no entertainment and no audience, just them, alone in the grass. Mondo is picking it apart between his fingers and Leon is weaving it into a bracelet.
"Yeah, and?"
"It's whatever, man. You can do what you want," Leon sighs.
The air is heavy between them. Mondo knows Leon wants to say more, but he is clearly holding back. He keeps his eyes down and his hands busy.
"You jealous or somethin'?"
"Well," Leon does this sad, hollow laugh, "you kinda fucked my best friend."
"I ain't datin' either of you. You just said it, I can do what I want."
Leon groans in frustration.
"Yeah, but it still makes me feel weird! Okay? Do you get that?" He is shaking now, too. He glares at Mondo, his eyes glisten. "Dude, you know what? You are such a fuckin' asshole. The only person you care about is yourself."
"Damn straight," Mondo scoffs.
"I'm done," Leon stands.
He drops the unfinished bracelet. Mondo doesn't bother calling out for him. If Leon wants to leave, then let him leave, whatever, no use in begging or crying about it. He shoots Hiro a text, asks if they can smoke later, and receives a curt reply. Sorry, man. Which means they both must hate him now.
He always does this. He always fucks up. When Daiya was alive, he struggled to keep Mondo's ass in check. Now that he's gone, Mondo has no one to check him. He relied on him too much, he leaned and leaned, but Daiya held him steady. They argued and they yelled and now Mondo just wants to forget it. A few weeks before Daiya died, they got into this nasty fight. It was a mistake, okay? This guy in Crazy Diamond, he had been flirting with Mondo for weeks. He was older, in his 20s like Daiya, and if that wasn't bad enough, him and Daiya were tight. The guy would come over with beers and one night, after Daiya conked out, Mondo worked up the courage. He kissed the guy. It escalated. Word spread quickly and Daiya, of course, was the last to know. His brother pulled him by the wrist and asked who the hell he was fucking. If it was someone in the gang. To drop a name.
"You wanna be a man? You wanna be a man so fuckin' bad, huh?" Daiya spat. His eyes were so dark. "Then stop being such a goddamn slut!"
There. That's when Daiya should have hit him. It seemed like he had been waiting his entire life for his brother to finally repeat the abuse of their father. He never did, though. Even when Mondo was being a slut, as Daiya had so gracefully put it. That's all he is, right? He uses sex as a coping mechanism the same way he uses smoking as a coping mechanism the same way he uses Leon and Hiro and every boy with a heartbeat.
He is so angry. He is so horny and depressed. He is so empty and vindictive. Daiya has been dead for three months and Mondo hates him. Yeah, he hates him. He wants to tell his brother to fuck off, as if he could fuck off any further than the afterlife.
He hasn't spoken to Leon again. Sometimes they make eye contact in class, or in the hallway, or wherever, and it feels so awkward. He should just apologize already. He tries working one out, but it's full of excuses. Sorry I fucked your best friend, that wasn't cool of me, but he kind of started it and I'm just really sad, y'know, about my dead brother and I can't cope with the thought of him, so I just fuck people instead.
He ditches class and goes to the rooftop. Graduation is looking less and less realistic, soon all his absences and tardies will make it impossible. He lights a cigarette and presses it to the back of his hand. It hurts, but he keeps it there, until the flame loses oxygen. When he pulls away, there is a burn mark, it looks lonely, so he makes another. Someone creeps up behind him.
"Stop," says a voice. It's Ishimaru.
"Go away," Mondo warns, without turning to face him.
The sky is grey today and all the athletes will get to go straight home after class. Leon prays for rainy days. There has been a dry spell in Tokyo and now here it is, the rainy season. The clouds look so heavy.
"Do you think you deserve this?" Ishimaru asks, horrified. He takes a step closer. "No one deserves this."
"Go away, man."
"Please," his voice quivers. Ishimaru drops to his knees and reaches for the lighter. Mondo can see the faint scar on his hand, this white crescent of flesh.
"Why the fuck do you even care?" Mondo snarls. "I hate you! I fuckin' hate you, okay? I'm not sorry about your stupid hand, either! I would do it again, I— I—”
His voice cracks. He sobs. His hands are trembling and the lighter clatters to the ground. There is a pressure and a warmth, then the scent of laundry detergent and fresh linens. That is what Ishimaru smells like. A clean, tidy home. The hug is stiff until Mondo sheds his last ounce of dignity. He melts into it and wails, hideously. Ishimaru holds him through it, tighter with each tremor, and Mondo can't fathom why. He has been awful to this boy.
The rain comes down in a mist.
He has nothing left. No more tears to cry or snot to ooze, his throat is sore from all the strain. Ishimaru pets his head, gentle and slow, then offers a handkerchief from his pocket. Mondo wipes his face and blows into it. He must look disgusting. The rain is cold and Ishimaru coaxes him into standing. They retreat to the staircase and Ishimaru closes the heavy rooftop door behind them. Mondo wobbles on a step then crouches. He notices that Ishimaru is still holding his hand.
"I hate you," Mondo sniffles, head between his knees. "I hate you so much."
"That's okay," Ishimaru replies. "It's okay if you hate me."
"I hate you," Mondo keeps saying it. He needs to say it. It's not really meant for Ishimaru and it's not really meant for his dead brother, either. He keeps saying it and hopes Ishimaru might say it back, but he never will.
"It won't hurt forever," Ishimaru promises. He's not talking about the burn. "It'll get better."
"You don't know that," Mondo exhales.
"Yes, I do."
"No, you don't."
"Am I interrupting something?" Leon asks with a raise of his eyebrow. Hiro is close behind him. It must be lunch time already, Leon is holding a carbonated drink and Hiro has an armful of goodies. They're just passing through.
"It's raining," Mondo says. By now, the roof must be soaked.
"I know," Leon rolls his eyes. "We're celebrating. Now move it."
"Go around us."
"Hey, guys, c'mon," Hiro tries to keep the peace. There is a sullen pause.
"Forget it," Leon groans. "Let's just go to the field instead."
He turns his back and starts down the steps. Hiro hesitates. He offers Mondo a sympathetic look and sort of shakes his head. He ought to walk away without saying a word, but instead he extends an invitation.
"You guys can chill with us if you want." The corner of his mouth lifts, it is the suggestion of a smile. "I just want things to be cool, y'know?"
Leon impatiently taps his foot at the base of the stairwell. Hiro takes his sweet time climbing down, then the two of them disappear around the corner. Then it's quiet again.
"Let's catch up with them," Ishimaru encourages with a small tug, because right, the two of them are still holding hands. Mondo shakes his head, but Ishimaru is patient. "Please?"
The rain has really picked up. What began as a light shower has become a downpour. Mondo hears his cellphone buzz with a flash flood warning. Leon and Hiro screech like madmen in the storm, Leon with his hands raised and Hiro with a coat over his head to protect his locs. Mondo is shocked when Ishimaru pulls him into it, he is completely stunned. The rain is cold, it soothes his burns in an instant, reducing the pain to a distant throb. Ishimaru looks like a wet dog, with his big eyes and his flattened hair and Mondo barks out in laughter. They join the other two boys further out in the field. Hiro has taken refuge in the dugout, gobbling down a bag of chips, but Leon is kicking around in the mud. Yeah, practice is definitely cancelled.
"I'm still pissed at you!" Leon calls from first base. He doesn't sound that pissed, his tone is almost playful.
He charges Mondo, Ishimaru tries ducking away, but gets scrambled in it. The three of them wrestle and it reminds Mondo of when he was a kid, when his brother would wrestle with him. He would always let Mondo win. He would be pinning Mondo down, about to claim victory, then complain about his back hurting, or some made up excuse. That used to annoy Mondo, he wanted Daiya to give it his all, he wanted to know who was the strongest. He realizes now that it was less about winning and more about Daiya, refusing to hurt his little brother. Mondo, he would wear himself to the bone for just a brief triumph. Daiya knew that.
I love you so much, alright?
Leon grinds his knuckles against Mondo's head and Mondo pokes a wet finger into Leon's ear. Ishimaru is the weird jelly between them, wriggling for freedom.
"This is the end," Ishimaru gasps for air very dramatically.
"Calm down," Mondo teases.
Hiro shouts something from the dugout, but his voice is muffled by the rain. Exhausted, Mondo rolls onto his back with a wet slap. Leon collapses on top of him, Ishimaru too, he huffs and rests his body. They might get sick after this, being in the downpour for so long, but Mondo will take his chances. Leon nuzzles against his chest and Ishimaru releases a sigh he must have been holding for a hundred years. The sky goes still.
Alright.