#chikamitsu

Is it too late to contribute to the meme?

ALSO GODDAMN IT I DIDN'T REALIZE THAT WALL WAS A FEW CENTIMETRES BACK NOW KOSHOSHO JUST HAS RANDOMLY FLOATING SQUISHED HAIR

Sorry for posting this so late awahh. Anyways I hope you like it! I tried to fit in everything you requested, but I hope it isn’t too rushed! Aha well I actually like this ship a lot more than I already did after writing this omg I had a lot of fun! I hope you have fun reading it!

Happy New Year, Bell! :D I hope 2014 brings you lots of happiness :)

Title: Drown in Your Words

Characters: Motochika x Mitsuhide

  The day was Saturday, a hot, soggy, afternoon, after another day’s swim practice. Motochika was exhausted and just wanted to get back home to rest. With championships coming up so quickly, their practice schedule had increased, not to mention their already busy high school schedule. Motochika sometimes considered why he put himself through such difficulties, especially since his grades dropped significantly during swim season… But then, looking to his right, he found his answer.

Standing in front of his locker, only a few down from his, was another boy: long, dark hair, mysterious eyes, a bit quiet. He was currently reading one of those long novels he always got so entranced by, even as he changed out of his practice suit. His long, flowing hair fell elegantly down to his shoulders as he took his swim cap off with one sweep, not even noticing the other male staring him down.

Motochika himself didn’t even realize he was starting himself until the other suddenly looked up, realizing he forgot something by the pool. Walking off with his precious book, he started back towards the pool, but not before something fell from his side pocket. A small slip of white paper drifted to the floor, like a leaf at the end of summer. “Ah, Mitsu…hide…” Motochika breathed, but the former was already out of the locker room. So the white-haired male went over to pick it up, his head still dripping wet. Wrapping his towel around his neck, he unfolded the paper carefully as he tried to ruffle his hair dry. But his hand suddenly fell to his side as he read. The small, barely legible print, handwriting he’d notice anywhere, scribbled briefly:

/The aching does not stop,

The pain is ubiquitous, too,

Yet I cannot help but drink from your cup,

The mission for which I was due/

Motochika stared at it a while longer, trying to decipher what it meant. More importantly, why did Mitsuhide write it? The long-haired male walked back in at that moment, making Motochika glance up at him in surprise. Mitsuhide met his eyes and let a small smile escape his lips.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He questioned, going over to grab his things, but then the small white object in his friend’s hand caught his eye. "What’s that…?" Mitsuhide blinked, slowly recognizing his own handwriting. "H-Hey! Where’d you get that?!" He shrieked, pouncing on him as he took the slip of paper back.

Motochika grinned and crossed his arms, leaning against his locker coolly. “You dropped it on your way out.”

"Oh… Well, you shouldn’t just be reading other people’s things!” he continued to complain. “That… That’s private…”

“Private?” Motochika repeated. “It was in your pocket…” He breathed, just earning a scowl from Mitsuhide as he slammed his locker shut. “Ah, anyways, it sure was something. I didn’t know you liked to write like that. Are you into poetry?” Motochika rambled on as he began to follow Mitsuhide out of the locker room.

Mitsuhide sighed and kept his eyes on the floor. “Yeah, so what? I… I like writing it. It lets me express myself better, I guess. I mean… better than speaking, in a way.”

Motochika smiled silently, thinking ‘what a Mitsuhide-like thing to do’. Then, an idea occurred to him. “Hey, Mitsu. You wanna come over? We can order a pizza and watch old movies like we used to.” He sang persuadingly.

Mitsuhide glanced over at him hesitantly, his pace slowing down by only a bit. “Pizza…?” he breathed.

“Yeah, supreme, pepperoni, the works. How about it?”

“Ah… I don’t know, Motochika… I-I have a lot of homework to get done for history, and… well.” Motochika rolled his eyes and turned toward him, giving him a sarcastic look that said, really? Mitsuhide sighed again. “Alright, alright.” He agreed, and Motochika gave a fist pump as they took the next turn to the latter’s residence.

                “So what’s on for today?” Mitsuhide asked as soon as Motochika got off the phone with the pizza company a few streets away. He leaned back into his favorite chair at Motochika’s place, a dark blue lazy boy, just like old times. They hadn’t hung out like this in… well, a while.

                “Actually, I was thinking we could do something different this time…” Motochika replied casually.

                “Oh?” Mitsuhide replied briefly. “What do you mean, different?”

                “Just… read me some of your poetry?” he answered with a shrug and a questioning tone, as if suggesting it as a game to play.

                Mitsuhide grinned incredulously. “Wait. What?”

                “You heard me!” Motochika crossed his arms, and the other male could’ve sworn a pout crossed his lips at the same time. “I… I wanna hear it.”

                “What? No. Since when were you so interested in poetry, anyway?”

                “Since, well… since. I don’t know, okay. I just find your writing… intriguing.” Motochika found his face heating up and quickly looked down.

                “O-Oh… really?” Mitsuhide started blushing as well, and quickly cleared his throat. “You only read, what, four lines? And suddenly it’s your passion to read my poetry?”

                “Precisely.” The white-haired male smiled mischievously at him, but Mitsuhide just pushed him away with a groan.

                “Whatever; come on, let’s just put on a movie.” Mitsuhide curled up on the chair he was in and turned his attention to the TV. “How about something scary?”

                “Oi! Don’t try and change the subject.” Motochika demanded, playfully climbing onto the arm of Mitsuhide’s chair. But at the same time, gravity seemed to curse him, for then he suddenly lost his balance, and before he knew it, he was in the lap of his best friend.

                They both froze as they locked eyes, neither one sure of how to react or what to say. But suddenly Mitsuhide started laughing. Actually laughing. Laughing like he hadn’t laughed in a long time.

                Eventually Motochika started to chuckle as well, Mitsuhide’s being quite contagious. And so they sat there for a while, Motochika hopelessly sprawled out in the other’s lap, laughing at each other and how ridiculous they were. Motochika had never seen Mitsuhide so happy, at least not in a while, and he couldn’t help but feel extremely giddy as well. He couldn’t exactly explain it, but something about the quiet boy’s smile seemed to light up the whole room.

                Once they’d caught their breath again, Mitsuhide took a breath and let it out before turning to Motochika with a grin. “So… Are you going to sit on me all day, or…?”

                Motochika blinked in confusion before realizing he was still in a pretty awkward sitting, literally. “Oh! O-Of course.” He tried to reply casually, but his voice came out sounding weird. He quickly cleared his throat as he got up and went to sit on the sofa nearest Mitsuhide’s chair, fiddling with his fingers a bit nervously. However his pride got the best of him, and he suddenly became the cool guy again as he crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. “So…” He began again. “Now will you do as I ask?”

                Mitsuhide glanced his way incredulously, wondering what had gotten into him. He gulped. “Honestly… You’re really that interested in my poetry?” Mitsuhide clarified. Motochika shrugged nonchalantly and eventually added a nod, hoping Mitsuhide would realize he just wanted him to read a few poems. It wasn’t as if he was signing over his soul.

                “Come on. Just… Just a few lines.” He urged with a wave of his hand, gesturing for the dark-haired boy to take out some of his writings he knew were in his book bag.

                Mitsuhide hesitated, but soon found himself reaching for his swim bag, sticking his hand in, and fishing for his journal where all of his most recent writings were. Pulling it out, he looked over at Motochika curiously, but he only gave him a small smile. Mitsuhide cleared his throat and asked, “What do you want me to read?”

                Motochika shrugged. Hoping the poems would help him understand his mysterious best friend at least a little bit better, he replied, “Just… read your most recent one.”

                Mitsuhide blushed a bit and looked through the pages of his journal, quickly stating, “I-It isn’t done yet. Here, I’ll read you this one…”

                Motochika grinned silently as he prepared to listen, wanting nothing more than to drown in Mitsuhide’s words. Knowing him, they probably would, too. Still, he remained quiet as Mitsuhide began aloud:

                “Why does the cloud wave?

                The sun quivers in the blue.

                The moon itself does not behave,

                And the stars are also a new hue.

                Under the surface, everything is different,

                Seeing things change from more than just pigment.”

Mitsuhide paused, glancing up at his friend for a reaction, but Motochika seemed to still be pondering. He sighed, knowing he’d embarrassed himself, and in front of his best friend, too. Playing with his fingers, he looked at his lap in humiliation, just when Motochika was about to speak up.

                “It’s about the water, isn’t it?” He breathed quietly, not looking at the other man.

                The latter looked up slowly, pushing his long, black, locks out of his face. “You… How’d you know?” He replied slowly.

                Motochika shrugged yet again. “What else could it be about…?” He said nonchalantly, almost unconsciously reaching to his side to grab his old shamisen to pull it into his lap. He looked down at it and placed his hand on the neck, pulling at the dusty wires and knobs. “The moon and the stars quiver… that night you and I… well.” He tried to hide his smirk as he started strumming and tuning his strings.

                Mitsuhide suddenly turned red and looked away quickly. “Hey… That was your idea. You’re the one who wanted to sneak out and swim in the river.”

                “Yes, but whatever else happened that night was not…” Motochika corrected, just making the other turn brighter red while he strummed away as if nothing had happened.

                “Would you shut up? You make it sound so much dirtier than it was…” Mitsuhide muttered, giving the other male a shove.

                “Am I though?” Motochika chuckled, and Mitsuhide groaned. “Hah… Go on, read some more.” He urged then, nudging the other with his foot.

                Mitsuhide sighed and looked at his friend again, calmly playing his shamisen, a slight hum in the room that you had to be quiet enough to listen for. The dark-haired male smiled and looked down at his journal again, muttering quietly, “I can’t believe you play that old thing still…”

                Motochika looked up for a moment, but never extinguishing his melody. “What do you mean, this old thing?” he contradicted. “This is brand new.”

                “Brand new, huh?” Mitsuhide questioned, grinning. “Then how come the paint is chipped, and the strings have scratches on them?” He quipped without even looking at the other man. Motochika raised his eyebrows as he glanced up at his friend. Then he suddenly stood up and went over to Mitsuhide, gazing into his eyes passively. “What are you doing…?”

                Motochika didn’t reply, but slid onto the arm of Mitsuhide’s chair and leaned onto the latter’s shoulder as he strummed at his shamisen aimlessly. “Keep reading…” he only muttered, slowly letting his weight shift onto his friend’s side. His fingers eventually started to slow down, letting his song come to an end.

                “Motochika…” Mitsuhide murmured, turning pink. “What…” he looked over at his friend’s face to see his eyes were closed. “You sucker… you were using me that whole time, weren’t you…?” he grinned to himself and quietly took the shamisen out of Motochika’s hands, gently placing it on the floor. “Heh… One day, when I’m a famous swimmer, I’ll buy you a new shamisen…” He looked over at the man’s sleeping face, and couldn’t help himself as he leaned over and quickly pecked his cheek. He turned red afterwards and crossed his arms embarrassedly. “You crazy… I told you not to stay up so late yesterday…”