Slam Dunk Fan Fiction ❯ I Don't Know How To Love Him ❯ Thaw ( Chapter 2 )

A/N: A million thanks for the reviews from the previous chapter. They're very flattering; it's really nice to know that all the effort that I gave just to write this fiction didn't go to waste. Unfortunately, I fear that inspiration starts to run low on me. And another fandom begins to call my attention. I'll just see where the tide takes me, okay?

As it is, I'm wondering if I should put more ANGST, less ROMANCE or the other way around. I'll just let the story have a life of its own.
The first chapter contains RuHana hints, so I deemed that it's only fitting that I add some SenHana hints in this one. Not too much though...

Enjoy reading. ^__^

It was rather fortunate that Sendoh was leaning on the side of the bed when Hanamichi uttered the slurred words, for otherwise he would no longer be standing.

What? Sendoh's eyes widened, surprised at the sudden outburst. He briefly wondered if there's any truth to the words or if they were just borne from the fever-induced stupor.

To say that he didn't think of that angle before is a big understatement. Hell, it never crossed his mind before. But still, was it even possible? Hanamichi? Loving... him? Basically, he would brush the idea as nothing but a big bunch of absurdity... but still...

He couldn't suppress the nagging feeling that the words held the truth in their depths. Whatever they were...

A small, wet lump caught his attention. Turning his head, he saw Hanamichi's discarded jeans and shirt on the floor. The clothing were still sopping wet, bleeding the beige carpet a disturbing pink-brown. He winced; it would take hours before the carpet will dry and it will be such a nuisance to step on the wet spot every time he entered the room.

Sendoh stood up, careful not to make noise, and then picked up the garments on the floor. He ambled to the laundry hamper near his door and tossed the clothes inside. He'd worry about that later.

"Kaede..."

He padded softly back to his seat beside the bed. A million thoughts suddenly raced on his head, calculating, forming and analyzing all the clues that somehow made the whole picture less vague than before. Mixed reactions churned inside the dark haired boy's being. First, he felt surprise, as the revelation resembled a freight train running in the middle of the silent night. Never mind that they were both men, but Hanamichi? Loving Rukawa?

But then, whatever excitement he felt over the little discovery was overshadowed by sadness and sympathy for Hanamichi. Sendoh finally understood the redhead's pain.

I never knew...

Of course, he couldn't have known this. The loss of someone held dear probably evokes unimaginable pain; time can only tell when Hanamichi will be able to move on and let the healing process begin.

A pressing question began to form unconsciously in his mind. Did Rukawa know about this? Was he even aware of Hanamichi's feelings? Or was it a one-sided affection? He couldn't be sure of the answers to such questions; Rukawa, for one, was a very private person who kept much to himself. If ever he did return Hanamichi's feelings, he certainly didn't show any evidence of it.

Sendoh shook his head, deciding that there's no actual need to ponder such matters when it's fairly obvious that he couldn't do anything about it. It was not his business to meddle with in the first place; the real score between Rukawa and Hanamichi was a secret that only the two had the right to keep. The only thing that he could offer is a shoulder-- the solace-- that Hanamichi obviously needed.

A small sigh escaped Hanamichi's thin lips, jostling Sendoh's thoughts back to the realm of consciousness. A quick glance at the wall clock told him that the night was still young; he should take some sleep or he'll be unfit for his next basketball practice. But rest seemed to be his farthest concern as he glanced back to his ailing companion.

Even the weather agreed with his grim thoughts; rain still pounded furiously outside as another round of storm moved in. Lightning flashed, ensnaring the sparsely furnished room in a display of black-and-white relief. Moments afterwards, thunder rolled mightily, shaking the ground with its force.

Sendoh placed his hand to Hanamichi's forehead, truly worried at the redhead's condition. Even though the act was more of an anxious gesture to somewhat relieve himself of his irrepressible worries, he couldn't deny that it certainly assured him that Hanamichi will be fine. But he's still burning... He assumed that Hanamichi had been in the rain for too long, thus contributing to this bout with fever.

Sendoh brought a small damp washcloth, promising some blessed coolness and relief. He rubbed it gently to Hanamichi's forehead, earning a startled whimper from the sudden contact. The redhead turned his head, shying away from his touch.

Leaning forward, Sendoh tried again. "Shhh..." he murmured awkwardly, "it's okay..." He wiped the dampness that formed at Hanamichi's forehead. After a few more soothing words, he began to settle down and relax under the dark haired boy's careful ministrations.

Another shot of lightning struck nearby, and Hanamichi whimpered once more in his slumber. From the scant lighting provided by the lamp on his nightstand, Sendoh could clearly see his agitation. He was tossing and turning on the sheets restlessly as though in the deep clutches of a horrible nightmare.

Sendoh didn't know what to do; he was inexperienced in these matters. Should he touch him, comfort him, wake him? What was he supposed to do in times like these?

"Hanamichi," he whispered in a soothing manner, wincing at the relative uncertainty of his voice. Damn. Apparently, he didn't know what to say next. His lips quirked in a frustrated grimace; he was never good in comforting but awkward as it is; he deemed that he had to do his best. "It's okay..." How he wanted to bite his tongue off the moment he realized what he'd said. Can't he think of something more imaginative that that?

For someone dubbed as a genius in court, he was an utter fool. He never felt this helpless, almost panicky in his life.

Whether Hanamichi heard him or not, Sendoh was profusely thankful for the relative calm that soon followed after he murmured the reassuring words. It seems as though he wasn't useless in this matter after all...

He brushed a wet strand of hair off Hanamichi's forehead, easing the locks onto place.

Soft... so soft...

Sendoh couldn't help but wonder at the smoothness of Hanamichi's hair. Although slightly damp on the ends, the crimson tendrils flowed like silk under his caress. And to think that this is Hanamichi; how could someone who's supposedly so uncouth, so irascible, have such a fine hair?

Hanamichi...

He halted his tentative exploration in surprise. What the hell did I just do? He started, eyes widening in surprise. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, drumming wildly akin to the roll of thunder outside. What did I just do?

He began to stand up, carefully pulling his hand away. Hanamichi cried in protest as the warmth vanished, and then blindly reached out to grab his wrist. Sendoh wondered if the redhead was already conscious of what he was doing at all; he didn't seem to be.

"Don't leave me," Hanamichi said. His words were barely audible in the midst of the tapping sounds of rain on the window pane. "Please."

Please.

The words echoed loudly and it felt like his ears burned. Something about the way the redhead had said the words tugged painfully at Sendoh. Begging? To hear Hanamichi say 'please' in such a manner, to beg for something as if his life depended on it, was alien to him. From what he knew, Hanamichi was bursting with pride and ego that made him the unique young man that he is. Always proud, unyielding and strong...

But his eyes...

It took him several instants before noticing the honey-colored eyes that bore into him in the semi-darkness of the room. Glazed as they were, Hanamichi's eyes spoke volumes that refused to be ignored. It reflected the unspoken need to be held, to be comforted, and to have his fears and uncertainties banished so they wouldn't plague him any more. He caught the look of a deer trapped in headlights; equal parts fear and vulnerability.

Don't look at me like that... Sendoh swallowed heavily, fidgeting under the intensity of the look. Why can't he move? Why is that he felt like pinned to the spot under a mere gaze? Maybe Hanamichi thought he was talking to Rukawa. Even though he knew the redhead wasn't even aware of whom exactly he was talking to, his words had the same effect.

He couldn't comprehend why such a simple act render him immobile. Maybe, he reasoned out, because I finally understand his pain, his suffering.

Understanding.

And that will have to make do for the moment.

"Don't worry. I'll stay."

It was around noon when Hanamichi awoke. He stared at the ceiling of the room as though it held all the secrets of the universe.

Warm tendrils of sunlight leaked over the top of the curtains to bleed pale gold across the wood above him, twining and melding into the darkened corners. Bright flecks of dust glittered and danced in the light before vanishing when they hovered into the gloom.

Hanamichi just lay there for what seemed like eternity, taking in where he was, and the sensation that was so familiar yet foreign now.

Warmth.

It brought a sense of security and a strange feeling that he thought was lost to him now.

Using his right arm, Hanamichi tried to shove himself to a sitting position. The strain on his still unfit state harassed him immediately, sending a wave of dizzy spell that rode his senses painfully. He panted, "Ouch!", and then gently eased back to the mattress. He attempted to hold his breath until the throbbing lessened.

Sendoh bounded up from the floor and approached him. "What's wrong?" he asked in alarm.

His startled gaze flew to his worried frown, sleep riddled face, and mussed hair. He stood there barefoot and bare-chested, still attired in his snug-fitting sleep pants. He reeked of boyish charm. "W-Where did you come from?" He asked in amazement, inwardly wincing at the croaked way his voice projected.

"I was sleeping on the floor," Sendoh answered quickly, giving him a sheepish grin.

"Oh," he nodded in understanding. Of course, Sendoh had no place to sleep, damn it! He's on his bed...

What a humiliating scene; he couldn't believe that he had the nerve to impose himself on Sendoh's home like this. First, he rushed to the middle of the night, and then disturbed the dark haired boy's sleep. And now, he's burdening him with getting sick!

"I'm sorry," he began, grimacing at the throbbing sensation on his hands. "I- I shou-"

"Oh my," Sendoh's voice interrupted him. Following his line of gaze, he noticed that the dark haired boy was staring at his injured knuckles. Jagged red scratches and cuts marred his hand, contrasting to the paleness of the sheets around him.

"Where did you get this?" he asked.

Hanamichi couldn't answer; he tried to avert his gaze, ashamed that he had to rely on other people for his welfare. Deciding that Sendoh deserved an explanation for all that he's done, he began to fumble for words. "I... you see... uh..."

Sendoh shook his head. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." Why is it that he seemed to understand his dilemma? Did he know that much?

A few moments later, Sendoh tended the wound with surprising expertise and gentleness. He procured a bandage from his medical cabinet and proceeded to wrap it to prevent any infection.

"I-I'm sorry," Hanamichi began to apologize once more.

Sendoh, who had been holding his hand as he wrapped a bandage around it, lifted his eyes in question.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, closing his eyes as he suddenly felt light-headed. "I'm sorry for troubling you so much. I shouldn't have bothered you for this." There was bitterness in his voice that he couldn't hold back. It was pathetic.

Yes. He is pathetic. And it doesn't just stop there.

"Hanamichi," Sendoh voice pulled him out of his self-depreciating reverie. He opened his eyes and leveled his gaze to him. "There's no need to apologize. I just did what I though was right. I promised to help you, right?"

"But still-"

"Uh-uh... no buts okay?" Sendoh flashed him one of his trademark grins. How could one be so happy about this situation? "Besides, what are friends for?"

Friends.

Somehow, that brought a semblance of comfort to him. It was rarely offered to him; more often than he'd ever admit, most of the people that he knew were just mere acquaintances. Strange that such a precious thing would be offered by someone he barely knew.

It's strange.

"Thank you."

"Here, take this," Sendoh held a couple of aspirin tablets and a big glass of water.

Without thinking or hesitating, Hanamichi swallowed the medicine. As he choked and coughed, he cowed back in pain and twitched. "Take it easy," he advised. "You need a lot of rest."

"Don't you have to go to school?" Hanamichi asked.

Sendoh slowly shook his head. "No. I have far more important matters at hand." He gave him a warm smile.

At Hanamichi's confused frown, he clarified his words.

"You."

To be continued...