#i specifically went to find some bar soap and a plate for my bathroom and i found both!!

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Skin Ch. 5 - Infusion (Sousuke/Kouhai Fanfic)

Fandom: Notice Me Senpai Rating: Mature Summary: Sousuke and Hinata have always been inseparable - as two halves to a whole, they have shared everything - from the grief at their mother’s disappearance to the face that belongs to them both. But the two of them are starved for attention and when their elite school opens its gates to the first female student in its history, the two of them are drawn in by her girlish charm. Now piqued against each other, Sousuke is left tormented and grappling with promises he can no longer keep, while Hinata’s virtuous facade is slipping, to reveal an increasingly warped mind. Notes: So this was the most difficult chapter I’ve had to write yet for this fic, and it’s such a relief to have it out of the way. The sixth chapter is more or less finished, I just need to revise it a little, so it should be ready by the time this chapter drops from the queue. But as always, enjoy this installment and if, like me, you prefer AO3 for reading, the story is also available there.

| Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five |

By the time Sousuke reached the halfway point between the school and the compound, he turned the corner and almost waltzed right into his flustered cousin, whose hurried, mildly anxious stride matched his own. Soujiro's eyes, when they clamped on Sousuke's pallid face, widened in surprise, but he quickly readjusted himself and turned around so the two boys walked side-by-side in silence.

Soujiro had clearly just returned from the gallery; he was dressed in his brown, leather jacket complete with a cream-coloured turtle-neck, which combined, gave him the aura of an effortlessly chic modern artist. He must have dropped his tool bag of ink-stained brushes back home and then left immediately to find Sousuke. His silence and wild eyes seemed to imply that he was a man far too stunned by his own senseless panic to feel meaningfully relieved. If anything, he appeared to feel shame.

"I was polishing the archery equipment," Sousuke murmured, remorsefully. He hadn't wanted his extended family to worry on his behalf about Hinata or more specifically, what Hinata might do. That was his job.

The accident of Sousuke's birth was out of a loveless marriage, wherein no child was ever meant to thrive, so fate had rushed out two, dark-haired baby boys as opposed to one and burdened them with each other. Their duties went beyond what was expected of ordinary siblings. They were partnered to play a myriad of roles - brother, friend, father, carer, puppet and puppeteer. Sousuke had influenced Hinata from the womb - had indirectly crept into Hinata's brain, perceiving the things that Hinata could not and sharing these observations with him. Hinata had done the same. And somewhere down the line, both of them had failed in their destiny-encrusted duties. Sousuke had walked hand-in-hand with Hinata along a divided plain, in which he traversed a frigid, emotionless existence while his brother's became marred by temptation. If Sousuke had searched hard enough, he would have been able to spot the twisted brambles underfoot, the lifeless sky and the decaying foliage of Hinata's strange, sinister world. Instead, Sousuke focused on what was in front of him. It was like a target. He had invested all of his focus into it, and moved forward with a narrow perspective.

Sousuke habitually regarded himself and Hinata as the same person split in two; two individuals borne of one identity and sharing a single world view. He had been wrong, and now others were suffering for his own failure. Maybe if he had loved Hinata better - if he had shown it to him just once - this wouldn't have happened. Or maybe his brother's jealousy was due to the fact that, for the first time in Hinata's life, he wasn't prepared to share this girl with anyone - especially not the person who had the gall to take his face and call it his own. Sousuke would forfeit his own life if it meant that Hinata could live a better life, but this was no longer at the forefront of Sousuke's mind. He would have forfeited his own life and Hinata's too if it meant that Kouhai-chan could be happy.

He swallowed and turned to look at Soujiro. He wanted to convey what he had witnessed in the café without words, but it was difficult. Sousuke had always been in awe of Kyouya-sensei; always felt deep down that he would become an adult just like him. If Kyouya wanted to jeopardize his job for a teenage girl, then that was his decision, and Sousuke was too emotionally drained to start playing god with other people's lives. The girl was clearly consenting; she had made her decision. Still, jealousy clawed at his innards like gnashing teeth and it urged him to speak to someone. That person would ordinarily be Hinata.

Evening had fallen by the time the two boys arrived back in the compound. The vibrant, orange clouds of dusk had become dark, haggard shapes in the sky, obscuring a tiny, round moon. The anxiety of Sousuke's extended family was palpable as he entered the house, although they all made significant attempts to mask it. Sousuke was on the verge of turning eighteen after all, and they didn't want to appear domineering. His independence only made things worse, though.

The news of Hinata's indiscretion had been received badly by Soujiro's mother in particular, who now suspected their father of harboring a psychopath while the chivalrous son suffered. It was her nature to treat the daily goings-on of the compound as if it were a real life soap opera, and she was anxiously awaiting the matter to come to a head in a chaotic and climactic finale. Much to Sousuke's surprise, he was the only person who seemed to regard Hinata's actions as out-of-character.

Lying on their stomachs on the tatami mats, Sousuke and Soujiro began working on their homework, but their minds were fitful and sporadically, they would turn to the other to halfheartedly converse about something insignificant. Both hearts ached with the need to lay out all the cards on the table and have a meaningful conversation, but for some reason neither could communicate. Sousuke didn't consider the fact that the issue might be himself.

Suddenly determined, he stood up. "I'm going to go across and collect the rest of my things," he said. He only had necessities with him at the house. Soujiro's father had grabbed what he could while Sousuke's father roared in indignation just centimeters away from his ear. Both were children of the compound - brothers - and they knew how gossip spread like wildfire above the tatami mats in every home there.

Soujiro nodded eagerly. "I'll come with you."

Thankfully, Sousuke's father was nowhere to be seen when the two boys pried open the door and entered the house. The house was as silent as a tomb. It made Sousuke feel sick to his stomach.

"Hinata must be around somewhere," Soujiro whispered.

The two stealthily made their way to the bedroom that Sousuke and Hinata had shared, hesitating momentarily before entering. Neither boy was particularly scared of Hinata; but the eventual encounter between the three of them loomed overhead in the form of a juicy, ominous cloud ready to burst and pelt them all. Not one of them would leave unscathed; it was going to be awkward and emotional and Sousuke dreaded it. He hadn’t seen his brother since he was beaten by his father. He was still ashamed at how fast he had crumbled.

Miraculously, the room was empty, but Sousuke was as rigid as he would have been with Hinata inside of it. Everything was in a disarray; empty bottles lined the wall in order of height, clothes lay crumpled on the ground and dirty plates were stacked high, threatening to topple. With some trepidation, Sousuke reached out and picked up his brother’s favourite sweater from where it lay haphazardly on the ground. He clutched the violet material in his hands and began to walk around, tramping foil packets underfoot as he went. Half of the clothes left inside Sousuke’s cupboard had been cut up with scissors, and the cadaverous remains lay in a heap by the wardrobe door. A handful of his books were splayed open on the desk and when he picked them up, he noticed that the pages had been sliced into ribbons.

Without speaking, Soujiro carried the dirty plates and mugs out of the room, leaving Sousuke to pack in peace. The sound of water running and plates clattering carried from the kitchen throughout the house. Sousuke grimaced at his wardrobe and began to sift through it to see what he could salvage.

Sousuke was distracted, however. The door had been left unlocked and yet no one had come to greet them when they entered. He had a suspicion that Hinata was hiding somewhere, crouched in a corner with his eyes clamped shut, praying for them to leave. The sick feeling in his stomach hadn’t diminished either. Sousuke was suddenly filled with longing to see his brother, and turned away from the wardrobe, intent on seeking him out.

He walked past Soujiro, who was elbow deep in washing up, and gave him a half-smile. “Have you seen Hinata?” he asked. His voice that left his mouth was strained and high-pitched.

Soujiro shook his head. “I haven’t seen anyone. It’s a bit weird, don’t you think? The house wouldn’t be open if there was no one here.”

Sousuke checked his father’s bedroom first, but no one was there. This was not surprising. Sousuke’s father had been absent from the compound more frequently as of late, and spent most of his time out in bars with his buddies. Sousuke didn’t want to know what these evening outings entailed. Then he headed to the spare room. Again, the lights were off and the room was empty. Hinata was nowhere to be found.

Baffled, Sousuke shut the door firmly behind him. Something was really wrong. In his peripheral vision, he saw the bathroom door was wide open and the light from it was illuminating the corridor. He ambled over and reached in to turn the light off, but that’s when he stopped, because he had finally found his brother.

Hinata was partially submerged in the bath and fully clothed with the sleeves of his hakama rolled up to his elbows. A broken razor lay on the rug, bent completely out of shape and with its blade torn out. Said blade was now resting on the side of the tub and scarlet blood was rising from Hinata’s wrists, spiraling to the surface in clouds. Sousuke was oddly fascinated by the beauty of the scene. With Hinata’s form at the center of it, it reminded him of the first time he saw tea leaves infuse hot water in a glass teapot, slowly discolouring the water to a pretty shade of amber. Except the bathwater was turning a diluted shade of pink around Hinata and when Sousuke finally came to, he felt nothing but abject horror.

“Soujiro!” he roared. “Call an ambulance! Now!”

Sousuke closed the gap in seconds and hauled his brother out of the bath from behind. The weight in his arms seemed to be comprised of Hinata’s dark indigo hakama and little else. He clutched at the sodden material in his hands, suddenly fearful that his brother was shrinking and fading away right before his eyes. Affectionately, he brushed the damp raven hair out of his eyes and bit back the hysterical sobs that were rising from his throat. Once he had placed Hinata’s head on his lap, he finally began inspecting his brother’s wrists. Among the flesh and blood, he could see glimpses of bone where the razor had dug deep.

Soujiro peered into the room clutching his cell phone and turned ashen when he saw the splatters of blood reflecting light on the white tiles around the two boys. He was so stunned that he didn’t make a noise, and felt his blood run cold with dread. Sousuke was crouched over his brother in the middle of the room, while Hinata lay lifelessly on the floor resting his head on his younger brother’s knees. With shaking hands, Soujiro began typing numbers into his cell while Sousuke frantically searched for something to use as a tourniquet.

From his position on Sousuke’s lap, Hinata began to stir. Their eyes met as Soujiro dashed out of the room to retrieve strips of fabric from what had once been Sousuke’s clothing. A stiff smile appeared on Hinata’s face before he passed out.

Sousuke began to avoid the girl at the café after that. He knew that he adored her and never once blamed her for what had happened that night, even though her appearance at the school was undoubtedly the catalyst for Hinata’s break-down, but she reminded him so succinctly of how he had almost lost the other half to his whole that the mere sight of her had become almost synonymous with it and thus unbearable. If that was what unrequited love had done to Hinata, then Sousuke certainly didn’t want to be the person who swarmed in and took her from him.

Only a handful of people knew about Hinata’s suicide attempt; the majority were faculty members, so he moved through the next week in a silent stupor beneath Soujiro’s wing, unable to convey to his classmates why exactly he couldn’t communicate with them like a normal human being. The grief at almost losing Hinata and trauma of the bloody scene was seeping in slowly but surely and on more than one occasion, Sousuke blacked out completely, staring dead-eyed into space, unmoving and unthinking. He had taken to sitting up on the rooftop with his knees tucked under his chin and staring at the sky, now drained of all its colour as November tumbled in, fruitlessly trying to prise some kind of spiritual epiphany from it. One of Soujiro's classmates, Ren, had even taken to slumbering beside him; often too lethargic to question Sousuke's gloomy presence. The boys were passing acquaintances but a friendship was beginning to emerge through the few toneless conversations that they had. It was one of the few comforts Sousuke could take from that period in his life.

It was a vicious circle. Sometimes the girl would dance in the eye of his mind, all lit up in flames like a rising phoenix, with her sanguine gaze beckoning him back to her side. This was the girl he had seen before Hinata's obsession spurred into motion, and she was quickly becoming his own now that his brother's absence had lead to her restoration. Despite his attempts to avoid her, news of her hi-jinks in the café spread like wildfire amongst the boys. She had refereed a spontaneous soccer match after closing hours one evening to settle the feud between Wakatoshi and Ryuu, standing in the middle of the sports field with a whistle poised between her lips. She was throwing parties and pulling pranks left, right and center. She had somehow managed to lure just under thirty students into the café over Halloween to help her decorate in time for Viktor-sensei's return despite never having met him. He ached to be beside her; to communicate with her harmlessly and jovially as the other students were able to. He hated that this revival in her spirits had to come at the cost of Hinata's suicide attempt; loved her all the better when he realized she had emerged all the stronger for it. She was not weak, he realized. If anything, the situation with Hinata had exhausted her into indifference. Now she had been revived, the gap between attraction and love had been bridged and he found himself entirely consumed by her. But this always reminded him of Hinata's pathetic, sodden figure sprawled on the bathroom tiles with the blood seeping from his wrists and flung him even further into despair. And then there was Kyouya, whom Sousuke felt nothing but deep repulsion for with every sighting or interaction. So the cycle of his thoughts continued to torment him with the presentation of those three figures. Sousuke struggled to find comfort in his own head and was constantly battling fiercely with his neurosis.

She tried desperately to get through to him. His absence from school for three weeks had still gone unexplained, although gossip had made its rounds from the archery club into the classrooms and thus Sousuke's vague injury had become subject to sympathetic nods and pep talks from anyone who could get close to him. Nobody pressured him into returning to the archery club and accepted his unwillingness to communicate as him contemplating his future now that a potentially debilitating injury was threatening to change its course. The worst part was, nobody asked him what exactly the injury had been, and thus the imparting of information turned to rumor. The girl crept ever closer, and he dodged her every time.

One afternoon he failed, however. Idling between classes, he found himself caught in the circle again and resisted the urge to slam his head into one of the lockers that lined the corridor. More than anything, Sousuke wanted to sleep like the dead, dreamlessly and for a very long time. Some nights, he was so dogged by the recurring thoughts, he would sit up all night, haplessly chasing the feelings Hinata must have felt as he climbed into the bathtub in a desperate attempt to understand. Other nights he was so exhausted that he managed to catch a glimmer of sleep, but he would find himself back in the underwater world where Hinata's macabre tea ceremony played out on repeat.

She approached him tenuously, making little noise in her uniform indoor shoes. Instinctively, he narrowed his eyes in her direction and she paused, uncertainly beside him, her eyes frantic with concern.

"Sousuke-senpai," she began, but he interrupted her before she could continue.

"You're going to be late for class if you don't hurry," he said harshly, turning away.

His stride was superior to hers due to his height, and she had to trot to keep up with him while he vainly attempted to shake her off. "Where's Hinata-senpai?" the girl blurted out breathlessly.

Sousuke froze. He understood that this was a conversation the two of them needed to have, but he couldn't find the right words. The faculty members had spent the last few days shooting down rumors and addressing Hinata's absence by alluding to a workshop in the mountains where Hinata was mastering his art. Being right on the back of Sousuke's absence however, many students refused to believe it. Sousuke knew that their lifestyle was out-modish and cultish. Students were not hard-pressed to believe that something strange was happening at the compound where the boy's lived.

"In the mountains," Sousuke responded, carefully and vaguely.

He made a conscious effort to look into her eyes as she said it and he balked at the sight of them, flaming with determination. Something stirred inside Sousuke; her eyes were filled with such passion beneath her chestnut bangs that desire began to mount and he had to turn away from her.

"Are you lying to me?" she asked him.

He glared at the corridor ahead of him. He had balled his hand up into a fist to stop himself from trembling. In silence, she took it and opened it up, pressing his palm between her own two dainty hands and peering up at him imploringly.

Something passed between them; something that drove the platonic nature of their acquaintance into new, virgin territories. It was tinged with their mutual attraction and it made Sousuke deeply embarrassed. Embarrassed to be at the receiving end of the look that she gave him and embarrassed to return it. He couldn't help it though. The air was heaving around him. He was thrown completely off guard and swept away by it.

"He's in the hospital," he said quietly. "Psychiatric ward. I found him-"

His voice broke off suddenly. It seemed like everyone else had vanished off the face of the earth. The compound and the rest of the outside world faded into nothing. Hinata became a mere concept. He was only aware that she was there in front of him, shyly stroking the back of his hand with her trembling fingertips. Their palms met and she held them together, her lips quivering involuntarily. Her attempt at comforting him had become something far more intimate than either of them had envisioned. It was distressing to her that such a scene would play out with the boy who shared her tormentor's face.

"He tried to kill himself," he said monotonously. He had to restrain himself somehow. Either he was going to cry or kiss her there and then.

She became lachrymose, searching his face desperately for some indication that he was cruelly lying to her. This was her worst fear. Hinata, who had been so sweet, so warm to her in the beginning before he had taken that sinister turn, had tried to commit suicide. Innately, she knew this already. Timidly as a cat, she pressed herself into him, wrapping her arms around his lean body and enveloping herself in his scent. She could hear his heart beating in her ear, and she held onto it dearly, closing her eyes and focusing on that gentle throb.

Eventually, he wrapped his own arms around her too, and the seconds dragged by, laden with their unvoiced emotion. In his grief, it seemed to Sousuke as if they were sharing the guilt, pressing their bodies against each other so that it would be distributed more fairly; so that Sousuke wouldn't have to carry the burden alone anymore.

The two of them parted knowing that they would probably never embrace again. She remained tearful as she walked off, heading to the café so that she could cry in peace. Sousuke hesitated, and then went to class.

Still dazed from the events of that afternoon and with the image of Hinata drugged into submission at the hospital hanging over him, Sousuke had little desire to watch his peers at the archery club. So that evening, he grabbed his shoes from his locker with the rest of the go-home club and made to leave. Before he could get out of his indoor shoes, however, someone placed their hand on his shoulder gently and when he turned to acknowledge them, his insides seemed to shrivel up in repulsion.

“Can I speak to you, Sousuke-kun?” Kyouya-sensei asked, gently.

His face betrayed no emotion so Sousuke nodded dumbly, struck by the realization that he might be confronted for embracing Kouhai-chan in the corridor earlier. This was illogical at best, but Sousuke still felt like he was in deep trouble for some reason, having been summoned by his love rival to the faculty room.

“I’m sorry about Hinata-kun,” Kyouya-sensei began when they were seated. His voice trailed off. He peered into the dregs of coffee in its takeaway cup with melancholy eyes as if he was reading his own fortune and avoided Sousuke’s gaze altogether. His shoulders were slumped and he bore the countenance of a man pummeled by guilt. “I’m sure it has been very tough on your entire family, but you especially. As Hinata’s home-room teacher I’d like to apologize to you personally for not noticing Hinata’s feelings earlier.”

The room was empty, with the rest of the teachers remaining in their individual classrooms or darting off to supervise after school activities, so Kyouya’s confession was strangely intimate, and Sousuke stared open-mouthed at the older man as he admitted to his own imagined failure with awe that was tinged with disgust. It was like confession in a church, with Kyouya bearing himself to allow Sousuke to pass judgement. He couldn’t shake the image of Kyouya stood between the girl’s splayed legs, however, arduously nibbling her slender neck. It emerged within him, crawling on spindly, inhuman legs, like an insect, and even though Kyouya was trying to topple walls with his declaration, Sousuke was quickly building them back up again in jealous haste.

“Haruka-sensei has offered to counsel you if you feel the need to speak to someone. He’s not an expert by any means, but his door is open to you throughout the day if you ever want to go there. Even if you just want to lie down or get away for a few moments, he won’t turn you away.”

"I'm fine, thank you," Sousuke said emotionlessly.

Kyouya was unsurprised, and nodded solemnly with his dark eyes still averted.

"Please don't feel guilty," Sousuke continued, suddenly ashamed at his own jealous rage, "none of us expected it."

This was where Kyouya glanced up and contemplatively began searching Sousuke's face. "Thank you," he spoke meaningfully, "but this isn't about me. This is about you and your brother." He hesitated slightly. "We are all here for you, Sousuke-kun. Your presence at this school is a source of immense pride for us, but you are far more than just a national champion in our eyes. Remember that. We don't bite. And we're not going to cajole you into doing anything; we won't tell you how to feel. But we understand that this has been a somewhat tumultuous year with your injury and now this; senior year can be stressful at the best of times even without having to experience something as traumatic as this last month."

Kyouya-sensei stood up, signalling the end of the conversation. He flung the takeaway cup into the garbage and glanced down at his student one last time.

"Haruka's offer still stands," he said, with a fond smile.

Sousuke sat there bewildered. His newfound hatred for Kyouya was mingled with admiration and it only served to frustrate him further. The teacher slipped out of the faculty room in the direction of the third year café without turning back and all Sousuke could do was stare forlornly at the mound of lesson plans on the desk. How could one person be so conflicted, he wondered to himself. Why couldn't anything just be simple?