on the last good day of the year

(we'll remember this all of our lives)

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haruhiism: what we do to get by
her voice is just a memory
what we do to get by
itsuki/kyon.1,500 words. the fragile landscape of desire.

First you set the scene. A strategy-heavy board game. Waiting until the perfectly brewed cup of tea arrives. The smile that borders slightly on cloying, so warm and harmless that it is a threat. Maybe a tilt of the head, and then-- the scrape of chairs, listening to the dice or plastic chips being jumbled by careless fingers. In the afternoon sunlight, watching his nondescript hair, his nondescript eyes. His nondescript face that you remember in perfect detail.

Always, one ear listening for her voice to call him away, and then while they banter, you think about all the ways you can arrange your pieces so you valiantly lose. Always, losing, losing, losing, and you'll laugh at every loss.


This is what you teach him: the first touch is always the most difficult. After that, everything is just a matter of flow. It is not a matter of what can or cannot be done, but what feels good. Quiet is hard. So is the floor of the gym storage room. Not there, here. There is no time for hesitancy. Don't be afraid. This is all natural. When you are warm, there are no gods, no time space continuum, no aliens, no espers, no time-travelers. Just body heat and you.


Sometimes you get to watch him running laps for gym class while you keep one-fourth of your attention on your physics teacher. Classical mechanics, kinetic forces and the effect of weight and strain. Meanwhile, his gym t-shirt flapping behind him in the merciless glare of the sun. You are probably the only one who knows that the insteps of his feet are unnaturally sensitive, the mole that is on his upper thigh parallel to his cock. You keep turning away when you think he is looking up at you. From this distance, his face is very small.

("I didn't know you had physics during second period," he says thoughtfully. "Ah, you can see the gym fields from your seat."

You pull the curtains, pull him in close for a kiss.)


You'll enjoy this, you say, your mouth on his neck, his collarbones, the stretch of skin across his stomach you will never see without secrecy. I promise, I promise. One hand pulling his shirt off his shoulders, trying to hold on so he can't see you drowning.


After SOS meetings, if he's in the mood, or if you're convincing when you smile and sling your briefcase over your shoulder in an imitation of him, or if you just happen to be lucky, so lucky, he'll double back from his route home. You'll be waiting at the station. No one was even paying attention, he says, bending down to tie his shoe. He hates all this paranoia. You smile. You don't have to remind him that the last time someone else got close to him, the universe almost ended.

Just in case, you say. Better safe than sorry, and then the two of you spend the next hour in the convenience store by your apartment reading Weekly Jump and mocking each other's snack taste.

You apartment has a huge balcony view. One day you will stop being terrified of being with him in places where there are windows. He raises an eyebrow at you as if to say, well? You have to keep yourself from trying to undress him as soon as the door is closed and locked. Waiting for him to slip off his blazer, undo his tie. Savoring your restraint.

Afterward, you watch him nap on your couch, completely exhausted, snoring as he slings his arm over his eyes. You want to shred his shoes, his clothes, keep him here forever, where only you know of his existence, where he never meets anyone from the future and no one has to explain Gosse's Omphalos hypothesis. But that would probably scare him. In your chest, you feel a repelling mix of tenderness and violence.

You don't want to do anything that will make him afraid.

The Agency calls for you. You leave him there on your couch without a note, just a key.


Shhh, you tell him. Trust me.

He does.


For Tanabata, Haruhi orders everyone to wear yukatas. "I'll be taking pictures!" she says, grinning, her eyes set on Mikuru. "Mikuru-chan, I'll personally find one for you!" Over the Chinese checkers board, you keep your eyes lidded and watch Kyon both sigh and perk up at the prospect.

True to form, everyone shows up in a yukata. You're early, waiting by the candy stalls in a white yukata patterned with navy blue bamboo and a tightly woven gray grid. When he appears, it's with everyone else in tow, Haruhi dragging him by his wrist towards you, waving frantically.

He is wearing a dark slate gray, tiny truncated lines of ancient poetry like snowflakes trembling as they fall. He has his hands folded in his sleeves when he finally comes to a stop, exhaling exhaustedly, and you want him, you want him.

"Everyone's here," Suzumiya says triumphantly. "All right! First, pictures!"

The two of you stand aside while Haruhi snaps an endless string of photos of Mikuru unsuccessfully scooping goldfish. "It's kind of depressing to see men in yukatas," he says, stretching and yawning. His sleeves slip down, revealing his arms. You understand, suddenly, why there are so many pieces of literature dedicated to geishas raising their sleeves to pour sake.

"What do you mean?"

"Only, it's not the same," he says and when he turns to look away from you, back at Asahina in her bright blue yukata and red obi, you lean towards him, put your elbow on his shoulder, your chin on your arm.

"I think you look good in a yukata," you say. You're not whispering, but your mouth is close to his ear, and you can smell his body wash, the sweat. For a moment, the entire festival slows down to the two of you standing under the feeble lights of lanterns. You are breathless, overheated, desperate. You can tell he is resolutely not looking at you. You were the one who told him, it's better if we don't do anything when anyone else can see.

(You idiot, he snaps, a blush rising to his face. Of course not. I don't even want to do anything when no one can see.)

Finally he answers, grimacing, "When you put your face that close to mine, Koizumi, I can't breathe."

Suzumiya is watching the two of you, or maybe just him, as she stands behind Nagato, who is steadily and surely destroy the targets of a rifle-shooting game. She is tapping her camera against her wrist with an impatient gesture.

You pull away.

Nagato hands you the stuffed animal she wins as a prize while Haruhi pesters Kyon into buying takoyaki. "Be careful," she says. This is how she always sounds, like a piece of ice in the summer air that refuses to melt. "What you're doing is dangerous." Her eyes are so calm they could smother you without blinking. But you have never been afraid. She probably knows, you think as she walks away.

"Oi, Koizumi, we're leaving now. We'll leave you behind," he calls out, turning his head just barely over his shoulder and grinning.

You've bitten that shoulder. You remember your teeth marks, how the next day he would absently touch that spot through his blazer and you could tell he was feeling them. You have to keep yourself from stroking the back of his neck when you catch up, remembering his flushed face, the first time he didn't refuse the hook of your fingers on the waistband of his pants.

As the five of you walk towards the fireworks, the back of Suzumiya's hand brushes against his arm. He doesn't pull away. You hold Nagato's teddy bear with both hands tightly. Hold your breath and count to five.You feel like the teddy bear in your hands is a ball of energy, like you could make this entire festival explode. You feel like you could create closed space, some sacred place where you could touch him and no one would see, the only place where it would be safe.


Still, though, you'll do him later in the genkan of your one-person apartment, his yukata hanging onto him by just the belt and the grasp of your needy hands, your tongue sliding up his thigh while he moans and writhes, saying no, wait, hold on, not here, don't stop over and over again. You imagine the fabric of your lives shifting invisibly with each stroke, each time your skin meets his. How you are probably, inexorably, undeniably sending everyone straight to hell, because nothing is secret forever. You want to know how it got this far, him panting while you move his sweaty bangs away from his forehead to kiss him softly on the cheek.

In the end, it is probably your fault.

A/N: This is what happens when you read 4chan's /y/ board and then go look for fanart :((((
Inspiration: Hot Chip - Boys From School
Tags: ,

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oh dear god i think my mind just exploded.


I want season 2 so bad. I'm in Kyon and Itsuki withdrawal. :(((((

there's gonna be a season 2? holy cow have i been sleeping under a rock?

YES. THERE IS A SEASON 2. OHMYGOD HAVE YOU BEEN? THERE IS A SEASON 2!! DEFINITIVELY!! Although it'll have to wait until god knows how long since KyoAni is doing Clannad right now.

OMGOMGOMG i just saw the light at the end of my tunnel~~!!@@

/y/ is always good for the soul :)

It is! The other day I spent probably 15 minutes ogling the same picture on /y/. It's a good way to take a break during homework.

Ugh. I need my brain to live! But.. but.. that.. I .. you..

Thank you. May you be showered with cookies and chocolates and ... puppies. But in a good way. <3

Having just watched this anime yesterday, I have to say THANK YOU so much. Finding this made my night!

Thank you! Isn't it such a great show, subtext or no?

Haruhi is exactly the sort of crack sci-fi I needed in my life. I wasn't even looking for fic; I'm actually subscribed to your "fic" tag not in a creepy way, I swear, just in an admiring way so this was in my LJ inbox.

You finally wrote one!

Sad that it took me months and 4chan to finally get around to it. XD

oh my god, I think my soul exploded. I NEVER expected to see Haruhi fic pop up on my list, but I'm so ecstatic it did! Gorgeous work!!

GOD I TOTALLY UNDERSTAND. I feel like I'm the only person on my flist that has even seen the show, much less be willing to write terrible porn for it.




wheehehehee *flounders*

Yeah I made it here from ItsuKyon XD thankies~~ To think I'd just showed my friends Haruhi today and decided I'd missed fantasizing for a while. Looks like I didn't have to on my own.

It's good. I like it. Now let me go read it again and nosebleed XD

No one should ever have to fantasize on their own. ♥

Bit more explicit than I tend to read, but it was worth it. You write very beautifully and passionately.

Ahhh, sorry about that. To be honest I'm not good with ratings to begin with; I never put them on my lj and am always flummoxed when I end up posting on communities that appreciate them.

But thank you. :)

Oh no, the rating is fine. Perhaps slightly higher than necessary, actually. I was just saying that I tend to read tamer things, but took a shot with yours.

Oh I loved this, thank you so much for posting. There's never enough Itsukyon fanfiction ;_; I'm so motivated to write something with them as well now. ♥!

There really isn't enough ItsuKyon fanfiction! Every little bit I find I treasure. Good luck! ♥

Eeeeee that was gorgeous. Thank you for sharing! ♥♥♥

Oh~ I was so absurdly happy when I saw this on my flist, since I'm deprived of fics for this pairing. And it turned to be a very good one, indeed~ I really like your writing style, some of the descriptions are truly gorgeous. The second-person perspective threw me off a little at first, but it really was worth it to continue with reading ♥

One thing I can point out is that the second paragraph seemed a little off to me, but I have no idea why, sadly. ._. I don't know, it seemed to be slightly different from the rest.

Thank you for your comment ♥♥♥ I totally agree with you about the second paragraph now that I go back to read it. It does sound really weird with the rest of the fic. ._.

Oh man, I haven't thought about Itsuki and Kyon for ages. I'm so excited for the next season. HURRY UP KYOANI. The stories are good but not as good as listening to Ono Daisuke. XD

This was like sex. Oh wait, it was. Hehe, awesome fic. Normally, I hate 2nd-person, but you actually made it fit REALLY well. And I do agree, while the novels are made of more win than anything, Ono Daisuke makes Koizumi extra sexy. And so does Sugita Tomokazu for Kyon. <3

nnngh, this is beautiful~ the secondperson is amazing & your writing is lovely. <3

That was beautiful. One of the best I have read.
I am totally going to stalk you for more stories now, I hope you know.
"trying to hold on so he can't see you drowning." That was..wonderful. Lovely. Grand. Beautiful.
If I could favorite this, I completely would. Or maybe I can? Ill look.

Hallow! Belated comment is belated. I got this rec'd at me, so I read it, and lsfjlkdsjljdslkdskl. It just. fdskljfldskjdslkds. Yes.

Outside of incomprehensible keyboardmashing, I adored it ♥. It all felt very... claustrophobic, but in a rather delicious way~ if that makes any sense at all. If I wanted to quote bits I liked most I'd end up quoting half the fic, haha. I like how you managed to put across so much in 1, 500 words, while I read it quite quickly (and then read it again, slower), it felt like more, somehow. Though I've been trying to write fic of the two of them myself and it's exploded into about 8, 000 words and porn is happening and god am I ever going to finish AND thinking of which, I love that it was utterly hot while not being explicit, you know? Tantalising, aghnghhn. I was glad for that last paragraph ♥.



Oh, oh, oh. It's so good that I'm struggling for coherency! Poor Itsuki, with his trying, and wanting, and Haruhi being in the way, and Kyon stuck in the middle, and flkdsfjsldkfj.


Edited at 2010-07-15 08:33 pm (UTC)

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