Words Will Never Hurt Me

Disclaimer: Neither Gakuen Heaven nor any of the delicious bishies therein are mine, nor do I make any profit from writing this fic. I just like to play with them. ^_^

*EDIT: Now Beta'd by the lovely Mamacita! Thanks so much luv!

Summary: When harsh words are spoken, is it too late to take them back? Sometimes what you say changes everything. Pairings: (M/M) Shinomiya/Iwai (Koji/Takuto) Warnings: Shounen-ai, angst, lemons in later chapters

Words Will Never Hurt Me: Chapt. 1: What I Say

“K-Koji.” Iwai could only sigh, protesting weakly and pressing his meager weight against the door as the elder man tried to push his way into the room, a cafeteria tray balanced precariously each arm. “I can eat on my own…”

“I know, but I enjoy eating with you.” The archer pressed his weight a bit more persistently against the door barring his entry, catching his friend’s honey colored gaze with an intense silvery-blue one of his own.

Iwai’s gaze fell towards the floor as if it could hide the sudden blush that had crept over his pale features at the other’s words. Shinomiya enjoyed eating…with him? Had it not been Iwai, the thought would have seemed silly. Why else should the Dorm Leader insist on eating almost every meal with him? But the artist was nothing if not adept at turning what would otherwise be a compliment into something else entirely. Shinomiya was only looking after him. He was the Dorm Leader, after all, and it was his duty to look after the students here. Still, a small part of the artist dared to hope that it might be more than that.

Shinomiya must have felt Iwai’s stunned silence meant his consent, because he simply pushed his way past the smaller man and into the tiny nook that passed as Iwai’s kitchen, placing each tray carefully on the small table. He gave his artist friend a knowing half-smile as he passed, only making the timid artist blush further as he brushed ash-blonde hair behind one ear in nervous agitation. It was a reaction Shinomiya always seemed to elicit from him, and Iwai didn’t have to look to know the other was giving him that look, the one that made Iwai feel as if Shinomiya could almost read his thoughts. That idea only made his pale cheeks flush brighter as he fumbled to close the door behind him, following the archer almost numbly into the cramped kitchen area.

Iwai watched idly as Shinomiya set out their dinner, noting that his friend had brought him all of his favorites, right down to the strawberry-topped cake he so fancied. The gesture brought a rare smile to those pale lips; it seemed the archer was always taking care of him. It had been that way ever since he’d first met Shinomiya. It was strange to stop and think about how long it had really been. Iwai had only just arrived at Bell Liberty and it was perhaps his fifth or sixth day there. He had been sitting at his window, surrounded by the numerous boxes he had yet to find the energy to unpack and staring out over the expanse of water that separated him and this island from the rest of the world. It was a beautiful view, the lights of the mainland twinkling like small stars as twilight descended. The artist in him had longed to paint it, but his sketchpad had remained blank, resting still on his lap. He had been about to give up and head towards his bed early when a knock came at his door. He still didn’t know why he had even bothered to answer it, but to this day, he was grateful that he had.

Some might say he was being overly dramatic, but Iwai believed that opening his door that day had changed his life. Shinomiya had brought him out, pushing him to socialize more and join in school activities. The dark-haired archer had even pushed him to start the art club, which he was now president. Iwai owed his friend so much. He had even found his muse again, and after they had spent the first of many dinners together, Iwai had painted that stunning view. It was still his favorite subject.


And so had begun their daily ritual. Shinomiya, bearing whatever meal the time of day warranted, would search Iwai out and insist on sharing said meal together. Iwai would protest, going on about how unnecessary it all was, all the while trying not to die of sheer embarrassment. The argument would last no longer than perhaps ten minutes or so and always ended the same, with both sitting around Iwai’s small, round table, chatting amicably, having forgotten the earlier argument completely. At least, until the next meal.

Though why this daily ritual continued was something of a curiosity to the artist. It had begun simply out of concern on Shinomiya’s part, he was sure. The other took his responsibility as Dorm Leader very seriously, and with that, the safety and well being of all the students at Bell Liberty. Perhaps it was simply because Iwai had no one else to worry over him. But Iwai really didn’t need Shinomiya to be so concerned over him anymore. He could understand why it had been necessary in the beginning, but he was no longer skipping meals or hiding away in his room, so then why?

“Takuto.”

Iwai’s brow was furrowed in thought, as it so often was lately, especially around Shinomiya. It seemed a near constant inner debate, trying to decide just what the other meant to him, or more importantly, what he meant to the archer. He knew they were friends, at least, on his better days, and friends certainly ate together on occasion. Yet, Shinomiya certainly didn’t take meals this often with his other friends. Did that make Iwai a more special friend then say, Kaoru? Perhaps that was it; they were best friends. Iwai could certainly consider Shinomiya as such. But the question still seemed to trouble him, as a splinter might, and somehow ‘best friend’ just failed to satisfy him. The way Shinomiya fussed over him…it was like the way Kazuki fussed over Keita, or Omi over Kaoru…

“Takuto.”

Iwai started, flushing brightly as he caught Shinomiya’s gaze. The archer was looking at him, one brow raised in question, a light smirk playing on those perfectly bowed lips. The artist could feel Shinomiya’s eyes lingering on those lips and blushed anew, his golden eyes looking away in shame, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. And truthfully, Iwai felt as if he had. The way those silvery-blue eyes were staring at him from across the table, shining with an amused, knowing light, had Iwai almost swearing the other could read his thoughts.

“Sorry…Koji…” He answered, sinking a little further into his chair as if he could somehow escape his friend’s appraising stares.

Shinomiya just laughed that almost non-laugh he had. To those who didn’t know him, they’d have thought it a mere exhalation flavored with a slight cough. But Iwai knew it for what it was, and it brought a shy smile to his lips, some of his embarrassed tension lifting. He loved when Shinomiya laughed.

“Come, your food will get cold.”

The rest of the meal passed in companionable silence, until they both stood once again at Iwai’s door, this time with Iwai protesting the other’s leaving rather than his coming. Soon enough though, Iwai stood alone in his now empty room, that small let down he always felt after Shinomiya left beginning to pull at him. He sighed heavily, the room seeming so suddenly stark in its silent emptiness, and dragged himself the small distance to his terrace to draw the sliding door closed. His vision lingered over the inky black expanse of water that separated him from the rest of the world as he stood there, but he didn’t feel isolation as his eyes swept over the horizon. Perhaps he would paint it again…He felt the corner of his mouth twitch upwards just a little, a smile wanting to bud there and couldn’t help but laugh a little at himself.

As he pulled the sliding glass door closed, some of his loneliness lifting, Iwai looked about his room, noting the objects of his mild amusement. A myriad of paintings of that same horizon greeted him. They hung from his walls and sat in stacks leaning against them, and an unfinished piece still sat on his easel, awaiting completion. Shinomiya often teased him about it, but they both knew its significance, though Iwai was sure it held more meaning for him. To Shinomiya, it marked the beginning of their friendship, and it did so for Iwai as well, but it held so much more than simply that. For Iwai, being surrounded by those paintings was like being surrounded with Shinomiya’s presence.

The artist shook his head at that, letting a light laugh bubble forth from his lips. Shinomiya always accused him of having such overly romantic, poetic thoughts, and at the moment, he could hardly deny it. Really, to be surrounded by someone simply because of a painting? He was turning into some kind of lovesick young girl. Wait...love? Iwai’s pale cheeks brightened, and his golden eyes flicked about the room guilty, though no one was there to catch him. Did he love Shinomiya?

Iwai sat down heavily in one of his kitchen chairs, his thin frame slouched; the idea seeming to physically weigh on him. He knew he cared for the archer, that went without question, but love? Just what did it mean to love someone? The corners of his mouth fell into a decided pout, his expression both confused and troubled. What did he really know about love? He’d certainly never been in it. What did couples do? Well, there were enough of them about the campus to make that aspect easy. Couples spent time together. As if it were a new idea, Iwai realized that he and Shinomiya spent a great deal of time together, a glimmer of something akin to shock spread over his features. It quickly faded though in light of his next realization. Couples did more than simply spend time together. The couples he saw shared their feelings with one another, and were always talking amongst themselves. Again, that glimmer of mild shock spread out over Iwai’s body, apparent in the widening of his honey-colored eyes and the slight tightening of his posture. He shared his feelings with no one else and, as far as he knew, Shinomiya was the same.

Other signs revealed themselves as Iwai sat there at his kitchen table, his mind playing back the various conversations and meals until Iwai was forced to come to only one conclusion. The way Shinomiya always protected him, the way the archer would smile at him, and the gentle reassuring touches Shinomiya would occasionally give out; it could only mean one thing. He loved Shinomiya, had for as long as he could rightly remember. How had this happened? He could only shake his ash-blonde head, stunned that he hadn’t realized it sooner. Why else should his mind always wander to his friend?

Iwai stood, running a delicate hand over his face and brushing thin fingers back through his fine hair. Though the confession seemed to lift a weight from him, that small splinter coming at least part way from his consciousness, he felt almost exhausted with the mental exercise. It was late anyway, the slight orange glow of the sun’s setting rays having long died. Shinomiya would scold him had he known Iwai was still awake. He was always saying Iwai never got enough sleep.

Yawning, Iwai hefted himself from his chair and headed for his bed, unbuttoning his cream dress-shirt along the way. Fingering the last button, he flopped back onto his bed, expecting to encounter its plush softness. Instead, he got a sharp jab to his shoulder.

“Ow...what?” Iwai’s brow furrowed as he sat up to retrieve the offending mystery object, one hand rubbing his shoulder, which was sure to bruise. He pulled the object out from behind him, brining it into his line of sight to find that it was…Shinomiya’s textbook. Shinomiya would need it in the morning. Maybe he could manage to get it to him before the dark-haired archer went to class? But no...Shinomiya had early morning practice tomorrow and Iwai wouldn’t even be awake when he left. Sighing resolutely, Iwai re-buttoned his shirt over his pale skin and stood. He’d just have to take it to him now.

Hurrying out of his small dorm room with the textbook clutched almost possessively to his chest, Iwai went in search of his friend. He scanned the hall, found nothing and continued on down the stairs that led to the common area, but there was no one there. Iwai began to grow worried, his eyes flicked over the empty couches and down the adjoining hallways with a bit more urgency than before. He hoped Shinomiya hadn’t gone straight to bed after their meal. He really didn’t know how long ago that had been, having lost track of time during his musings. The last thing he wanted was to wake the other when he had such an early morning practice. It occurred to Iwai briefly that he could always leave the book outside his friend’s door, but somehow, he was unwilling to part with the book unless he could give it to Shinomiya personally. Had he not been so preoccupied with finding his friend, Iwai might have considered the relevance of that, but as it was, it passed without second thought.

He was about to give up, as he stood there in the middle of the lamp-lit common area and nervously fingering the edges of the navy blue textbook, when he heard muffled voices coming from further down the hall. Hoping to find the owner of said textbook, Iwai hurried down the hallway only to stop short when he saw a shadowed pair outlined by the yellow light streaming from the open door behind them. He recognized the figures immediately. The closer, taller one was the object of his search, Shinomiya, and Iwai would have gone over without hesitation save for the second person. Nakajima. No one else’s glasses gleamed he way his did. It made Iwai shiver slightly everytime he saw it. But still, Shinomiya did need his book…

Iwai took a few steps closer, intent on making his presence known when he caught a bit of stray conversation and whatever words he had been about to speak died in his throat.

“Really, Shinomiya-san, one would think you have feelings for that morose little artist the way you fawn over him.” Nakajima’s voice was smooth, taunting. But that wasn’t what had Iwai trembling where he stood.

“Iwai is a student here, and as with all students here, it is my responsibility to ensure his well being. As for how much time I spend doing so, you should understand that Iwai-san’s needs warrant such.”

Neither man seemed to notice Iwai as he fled up the stairs towards his room, nor the slamming of a door that followed seconds after.

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I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my very first fanfic! There will be more to follow soon.

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