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Hiyori’s words are like waves, dancing on this chest.
Every sound that leaves those pink-frowning lips is like a drop in the ocean – every little curve, every peeking of his tongue when he drags his syllables, shakes that ocean to the very core. An earthquake in the sea. And the waves crash, crash, try to crash, never finding a shore to die on. It’s a perpetual tumultuous state Jun can’t get out from. Hiyori’s words are like the waves, kissed by the sun, and he’s at the bottom of the sea, crushed by the pressure.
Hiyori himself is a little like a wave, impetuous and unpredictable. Yet, perfectly predictable as long as the direction of the wind is known. Hiyori is a fake enigma, but it shakes him all the same. Hiyori is the sun-kissed child, and he’s at the bottom of the sea. Not drowning. But close to it.
"When I’ll have become the most successful idol of our generation… no, when I’ll be rightfully recognized as the most successful idol…"
Hiyori’s words shake and pull on the string of his heart, playing with his feelings, scattering them around. Jun feels himself sinking, pulled down to the very bottom of the sea. All that leaves his lips is a grunt that Hiyori would call distasteful, as he turns the page of his book without having truly read the content of said page at all. It’s nothing but black ink on a blank page and the kanji seem to move on the paper when he tries to focus on them and read. Hiyori’s back is turned and he’s not looking at him, but his words, his words are enough to make the sea shift again. Every clicking of his tongue as he speaks to himself. Jun would drink it, open his mouth and let that sweet-poisonous honey drip past his lips, but the sea would get in too, and he’d drown.
Jun likes making up fancy metaphors for himself, and himself only, and run around his own thoughts in circles, hours after hours and hours and hours. Everything to avoid admitting that he might have fallen for such an idiot, for the blessed and spoiled man-child, and his words shake that quiet ocean nothing had been able to move before that stupid noble opened his mouth to introduce himself.
Walking in circles and circles and circles…
Ah, he’s lost track of his page-scrolling again now.
"Jun-kun?"
Hiyori’s words are waves, and they close above his head whenever he speaks directly to him. Whether it’s his name – his nickname – or whatever stupid appellation – it drags him down. Down to the bottom of the sea. Jun can only grunt in response, unable to speak his mind, choosing not to speak his mind. The eternal doubt behind is own reason sends his mind racing again, and his chest crashes in waves, smaller and bigger ones that chase the wind to an unknown shore.
(Again and again and again and again…)
"Jun-kun, I said?"
"What is it now, Ohii-san?"
Hiyori smiles of his sun-kissed smile; his pretty features relax in the process. Jun looks down to his book.
"I just wanted to make sure you were listening. It’s so hard to have actual conversations with you, it seems as though you’re never hearing what I say, you know? You’re so quiet, what a shame… Almost one! I don’t mind that you let me speak, but…"
Jun has no experience of being kissed by the sun, only burned by it. Hiyori’s light is searing-hot, and even hotter on Jun’s frozen skin; it’s painful for him to be close to his light. And the waves move on his chest – crashing, crashing, never finding a shore.
Jun can block out Hiyori’s words, but the waves don’t stop moving. It’s too much.
Not that he feels them moving, from the bottom of the sea. Not at all.