smash_logs | Dorm Log: Scorching Summer Edition

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Dorm Log: Scorching Summer Edition

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The staring went unnoticed by Kiyotaka, who was far too focused on his own funny familiar forgotten feelings. There was something just on the borders of his consciousness, close enough within reach that he could graze it with his metaphorical fingertips but remain unable to grasp it. It was the same as anything else that seemed familiar yet foreign to him all at once, the things he could only assume had to have been relevant during the two years he couldn't recall.

But a song of all things? He closed his eyes, his lips moving along to lyrics he wouldn't be able to recite if asked, yet came to mind so easily as he listened to the music. It was less about the song itself than it was about the vague snippets of memories it stirred within him.

Summer evenings like this. A single speaker nestled in his ear, its mate providing music for the person next to him. Two voices mingling together in an impromptu duet and a third chiming in to tell them to shut the hell up already. Listening again and again to a single worn CD instead of a news broadcast bringing tidings of despair. Warm hands and the rustling of bedsheets.

What.

That jarred him enough to get him to shut up entirely. His memory was not very reliable regarding his time at Hope's Peak before the despair game, sure, but this was beyond ridiculous. He opened his eyes again to meet Mondo's gaze for a brief second before deciding that the sky beyond the window was so much more bearable to look at.

"On second thought, turn it off." The song he'd been so eager to listen to before had suddenly become confusing and almost painful. "It... is far too much of a distraction, after all! I am not done studying."

Right. Right. That's what he needed to focus on instead of... whatever weird turn this entire night had taken.

"What? You were studying just fine before!" protested Mondo on a gut reaction about radio noise, but his second gut reaction, even stronger than the last, decided that turning the music off would be infinitely better. It was stirring up all kind of foreign feelings and tapping vague inklings of memories into his skull.

So, he reached over and pressed it off.

"...But that song was getting annoying, so fuck, whatever." Annoying? Try confusing as hell. The air between them got so awkward even KY over there could read it, and Mondo sat at the edge of his bed like he was debating getting up and leaving the room entirely. It was tempting. So tempting.

"Shit... I'm thirsty. Think I'm gonna go leave for a bit." And with that, he rose from his bed and went to go find his shoes so he could slip them on and take his leave. "See ya."

A small part of him wanted to call out to him, ask him not to leave or at least to wait for him to get dressed to tag along, but... For once, he felt like a little distance from Mondo was necessary. All at once he became far too aware of the sound of his breathing (especially now that he radio was off), the way his stupid pompadour bobbed ever-so-slightly with each movement of his head, and just... him as a whole. It seemed a little foolish to be noticing something that had been right in front of him this entire time, and it certainly wasn't productive in the least.

Kiyotaka lowered his gaze, carefully settling the notebook back into his lap. "The curfew is ten o'clock," he chided out of habit, but that still left enough time for him to clear his mind without someone so distracting around.

"Yeah, yeah," he replied, tone bothered and dismissive like it usually was whenever regulations were brought up like this. Sneaking one last look at his roommate before he left (while being somewhat relieved he wasn't returning eye contact yet on the flipside at a loss for something he denied needing), Mondo slipped out the door and vanished for an intended while into the night, closing it behind him with a finalizing wooden click.

He was no stranger to loneliness, but it was still an unwelcome and overwhelming feeling that threatened to smother him as soon as the door closed. No matter. He would ignore it, just as he would ignore his craving for the long-lost touches his memory insisted had comforted him along to that tune once upon a time.

He would ignore all these things until they went away and he could forget it all over again. At least, he would damn well try before he needed to take a more hands-on approach.

And that is the story of how something terrible and unspeakably gay was set into motion and everything went far beyond the point of no return.

Speaking of points of no returns, Mondo reached his own point of return eventually. He'd futzed around doing nothing important, finding ways to distract himself from the weird thoughts that kept rising up ~~in his pants~~ every now and then only to be patted back down hastily by his conscious, as though ignoring those problems would solve everything and cause them to stop existing. He could hide behind his denials and everything would be fine and okay and he would never have to care about them ever again. Yeah, right. Like that trick ever worked for him. But he convinced himself with his old habits.

During his meanders, he actually did grab something to drink along the way. Like he had actually been thirsty. Ten minutes past curfew, he made his return, sure that Kiyotaka had probably settled beneath the sheets and turned off the lights so that he wouldn't have to deal with his waking presence so immediately after that rattling moment they shared.

But he was wrong.

So close to the door and he heard something that made his spine feel electric and made him pause to cut his advance short.

Kiyotaka, by nature, was not at all a sexual being. Show the average teenage boy a pin-up of some girl in nothing but lingerie and they'd probably be interested in picturing the body barely hidden beneath it. Show it to him and he would be more concerned with going off on a spiel about how such things were inappropriate to have on school grounds and it was being reported immediately.

That wasn't to say he hadn't been turned on before. While he never really functioned on the same emotional level as the average person, his body was young and healthy and operated just as any other human being would. Most of the time it wasn't a problem - more often than not it was just the occasional morning wood, but no matter what time of day it was it took nothing more than ignoring it in lieu of his work for it to slowly die down, and that was the end of that. A hard-working honor student like him didn't have time for such indecent pleasures, and frankly, he wasn't a fan of the mess it left the few times he had tended to it just so he could leave his room according to schedule.

As troubling as the night had been, at least he'd been able to keep his primal urges at bay through determination alone, and after a cold shower he went to bed without incident.

Until he looked at the clock and 10:06 stared back at him in bold red.

Past curfew and no sign of Mondo. It figured... Even though he knew it was ultimately futile, he mentally prepared a lecture so he could give the biker an earful the minute he walked in the door. Or in the morning, if he fell asleep before then. Which might be better off, really. The night's revelations were still too fresh in his mind, and he probably wouldn't be able to look in Mondo's direction without his stomach tying itself into knots in worry over the implications of what he thought he remembered.

Thinking about it again quickly proved itself to be unwise. Kiyotaka grit his teeth in frustration as he felt his briefs tighten for the second time in the past hour, and he resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably sleep a lot easier if he just got it all out of his system and was done with it.

So he rolled over and did just that: one hand moving beneath the sheets, his gaze fixed firmly on the wall, mentally scolding himself for this lack of willpower. He tried to recall the song that had started all of this, but with the radio off he couldn't hope to even do so much as try to hum the chorus accurately, so only his ragged breathing broke the silence of the empty room. Gradually it grew in volume, a quick little gasp thrown in here and there, until finally he finished with a low groan.

He took about half a minute to compose himself and calm his breathing before he dragged himself out of bed to wash up, because there was no way he was just going to go to sleep without doing that first. Ugh. Well, hopefully that was the end of all that.

Mondo found himself pressing his back to the wall cautiously to avoid making his presence known, soaking up the sounds of his ridiculously prudish roommate restraining gasp after moan behind the structure he leaned against, sounds that went contrary to his reputation as a morally rigid stick-in-the-mud. If only someone would tell him how utterly engrossed he looked, eyes wide and glazed over like he had discovered sex for the first time. Was it stranger that there was no moment of natural doubt in what was going on in there? Were the unfamiliar noises you wouldn't expect out if Kiyotaka actually familiar after all?

Fuck.

This really bothered and upset him because he wasn't into that kind of stuff with other men and his bond with Kiyotaka wasn't like that. But he knew he had memories he couldn't access except by accident, and that was scary. What counted more was the certainty he had now, the fact that he knew better and could easily tell himself that there was no way this could happen, that he wasn't thinking about him that way and most definitely wasn't baffled in the slightest about this revelation. It was just an awkward moment he had been misinterpreting this entire time and it was by sheer coincidence alone that he returned to his room to find Kiyotaka taking care of business, which hey, was totally normal and healthy and he really shouldn't be getting so analytical, even if it was Kiyotaka.

The swelling content of his own pants woke him to the realization that it sure was Kiyotaka, all right. The thorniness of this situation just got untamably prickly for him. He panicked about the implications of each signal that sparked his body, like each time his voice rose in the silence it managed to stroke against his entire being, but not firmly enough to quell his growing anticipation. He was being tickled, teased, downright toyed with and there was nothing he could do about it. In some of these faltering moments, he second-guessed his preferences, mentally thumbed through instances spent with other guys and tried so hard to recall moments that could be construed as attraction and found way too many subtleties for his liking, so he resurfaced from those deep, dark waters and came back to an especially robust cry of pleasure.

How could anyone deny the jolt that shot through him after hearing that? For a short while, he let go of his immediate conscience and sunk down again without grasping onto any of his fears, mesmerized and succumbing to the ghostly sensations coursing through every inch of him.

This was getting stupid and dangerous and he was going to leave again so he could take a shower and forget all of this entirely, stuff it deep down into the overflowing trash bin of his often-neglected subconscious and go the fuck to sleep so he could wake up the next morning and pretend this weird night never existed at all. Then he could resume his life the way it was an hour or so ago. Everything came straight out of left field. How did this happen? What did this even mean for him? These kinds of thoughts would plague him until he fell asleep.

Edited (I SURE SHOWED YOU) 2013-06-20 17:32 (UTC)

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Dorm Log: Scorching Summer Edition

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I can't believe this is a tag I am writing what have we done

We're shooting down the wrong lane at lightning speed

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