Disarray of Emotion - A MidorimaxTakao Story

Ride as fast as you can

"I don't - know - why I even - keep doing this." Takao spoke between raspy breathes.

Midorima chose to ignore him and instead lay his head against the Rickshaw and stared at the clear, blue sky. It was a beautiful day. Midorima took his pencil (and lucky item for the day) from behind his ear and fiddled with it, making it dance superbly through his taped fingers. He was strangely peaceful that day. "Eyes on the road Takao. And keep a constant speed."

Takao smiled as he turned forwards again to press on up the steep hill. "Why'd we pick this route again Shin-chan?"

"Because it's a beautiful day and this is the quickest route. You really should be better at cycling considering how frequently you do it. Maybe I should get you professional lessons for your birthday. To improve your technique, stamina and speed control."

"Shin-chan! Takao dragged out his name in a whine, "birthday presents are supposed to be a treat!"

"It would be. We could go on a road trip."

Takao, nearing the top of the hill, turned back to his smirking boyfriend, "don't you even joke!" He laughed.

"Eyes on the road Takao." Midorima said.

"Tada! We're at the top! Straight sailings from here on out!" Takao put one foot off the pedal and onto the floor, balancing himself. He wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand.

"Don't stop here, it's dangerous. Your such a careless driver."

Takao laughed and shifted his eyes ahead once again, "but you still love me."

Suddenly Takao fell to the floor , the Rickshaw crashing on top of him; Takao looked at his now dirty, scratched, bloody, stinging hands. He forced himself up, forced the bike off him. The bike of the Rickshaw had detached itself from the cart.

Shin-chan

Takao's eyesight was hazy and he had a splitting headache. His thoughts were completely scattered and he limped randomly in a vague circle.

Shin-chan

Like a brick it hit him. Doubling over from the realisation - the absence - he spun around, his eyesight blurring. The sudden movemt made Takao's stomach an throat burn, and his red water uncontrollably but he didn't care. Didn't give a fuck.

Only Shin-chan

A crowd had begun to gather, but they weren't Shin-chan. No vibrant green hair, no long, smooth fingers preserved deftly by tape pushing up his glasses and dismissing Takao's worry. Takao felt a few hands on his shoulder, but he wiped them off, their insignificant voices strangely muffled, distant.

Shin-chan

Where was he? Takao felt suffocated, he clawed at his throat and burst through the clump of people. Looking for relief, he found none. He found a body.

Shin-chan

Midorima lay limp in the floor, his hair a shade darker, a shade murkier. His always so clean and well looked after hands were bent backwards. His face was on the floor and Takao didn't dare look, see how his perfect face had been distorted. That was when his strength left him. Takao fell to his knees and winced as a sharp pain fled through his body, sprouting from his knee. Takao slowly shifted his keg an stared. Below him lay the shattered glasses. Thin shards splayed on the floor.

Shin-chan

Takao liked the empty frame slowly.

Shin-chan

He stared through them, they illuminated his lover's broken, twisted hands. Twisted. Edging forward, Takao gently straightened out Midorima's lifeless hand, worshippingly. They were so cold and dead that Takao shivered despite himself, but he didn't let go. Never. He caressed the pale fingers, tape discarded by the body. So soft, so soft.

Shin-chan

The ambulance came soon after that. People shook him, pried him away from the lifeless form on the road, their disgusting fingers searing his shoulders.

Shin-chan

Takao's teary eyes caught it on the floor. The small orange pencil, flotsam. Takao gripped it - completely still. Till he snapped, he writhed, pulling at the meaningless utensil. Yet fate laughed and Takao could not brea it. Instead as all the weak do, he retreated abandoning it.

--

Treading softly, Takao entered the house. Not daring to disturb the silence. He daren't make a sound, his words scratching the air. His eyes, daren't look and rip the flimsy sheath of stillness. He stood surrounded by tiny cracks in his world, forever broken.

Shin-chan

He slowly approached Midorima's massive cupboard; full of bizarre and laughable lucky items. Takao had teased him many a time, all words he'd ever said tasted bitter on his tongue. Aimlessly, he reached to his side and grabbed desperately. A case. Takao didn't look when he dropped the china, when he heard the smash, felt the shallow gash on his ankle.

Shin-chan

Takao ripped the room apart. Its incompetence was laughable. There is no such thing as fate, Takao concluded. The world is merely a series of random tragedies. An overpowering, untameable, tyrant-like force - a flame, an ocean, a storm. Those who try to bend it to their will or charm it with worship receive the same fate. For it is a cruel ray of false hope. It's all worthless.

Shin-chan

The only thing we can do is obey it. Accept it. Leave it.

--
There you go. When I said feels I meant angst but didn't want to spoil. Happy Birthday DamDam <333 your a way better writer but I hope you can read my handwriting! xoxo xx