White Room Unveiled (Classroom Of The Elite Fan-fiction)

Chapter 8: Bittersweet Roses

May 1st, 4:31 p.m., in Ayanokouji's dorm room.

"Is it...true...? That, you know, you're..."

"Mm."

Questions were stacked in her brain. Her lips were parting, then it closed. It parted again, then it closed, and again, and again, and again. So many words she wanted to pull out, but nothing would come out. Nothing. She had difficulty voicing out the words stuck in her throat. But still, there's one concern that would outweigh anything else...

"W—what are you...gonna d—"

"Nothing."

"Huh?! But—yes it's kinda, kinda hard, but, but, you can do something right? I mean y—"

"Nope."

"!"

He can't be serious right?! If he won't do anything then...no....

I felt Kei's despair growing exponentially. "What would happen to him?" or something similar is probably what she's thinking. But no, I won't do anything. I felt something, a different feeling. I felt...satisfied: satisfied that I, the one who never lost despite how impassive my motivation was, I was satisfied, that I will be...buried. And so is that man.

But first...

"You were useful, it's quite regretful that our relationship was cut short," I said those words to her with a flat tone. I wasn't able to fully learn the depths of love, but I can't really do much about it.

"Y—you're joking right?!" she yelled, her eyes were watery.

"No."

I'm certain that I'm not lying.

With a single word, she froze. Her hiding tears revealed themselves as she wore an expression difficult to understand.

Ayanokouji began to move. But for some reason, there's something bothering him.

As he was about to walk past her, he felt the soft and dainty fingers mildly touching his uninjured palm before proceeding to grip his wrist.

Ayanokouji stopped moving. He stood there, perfectly still. He can hear the frail pules and the distressed breathing of Karuizawa. They stayed in such a pose for moments, moments longer, and even more. It was creating such suspense in this bittersweet atmosphere of a bittersweet scene.

Minute amounts of air can be heard breathed in towards her lips and through her chest; she was struggling to utter a single word, perhaps even a letter.

She wanted to get closer to him. She wanted more contact. She wanted him. But there was something, some invisible barrier separating them.

This barrier then shattered as she latched onto his back. He felt the delicate curves and softness that was pressed onto him. The sweet, dulcet fragrance found its way deep into his heightened senses. The vibrations of the formerly still air that was caused by the frail pules and heavy breathing. He felt all of it. All of it.

Her hands slowly crawled up towards his taut chest. Her mildly parted lips glided over his nape. "Why..." she muttered weakly. She couldn't understand, couldn't take such cruelty. She was reminded of the sweetest words she heard in her entire life—"I Love Karuizawa Kei."

Was it all...

a lie...?

Silence filled the room. It felt eternal. They were in such a pose for who knows how long. And then...

She felt it, something, something flowing along the lineations and contours of her soft skin. It traveled sweetly, it traveled bitterly. They were...tears.

She hugged him tighter as she noticed his tears. It was unbelievable: never in a million years would she think that he could cry. What cracked in his heart, the bothering feeling he had since earlier, shattered as she uttered words full of emotion:

I love you

He flinched, he quivered: warmth overrode the coldness of his heart. It rushed forth to every speck of his being. He discovered something completely new. The feelings were there, but he couldn't understand. He couldn't. But still, he submitted to this new propellant, driving him forward.

His firm hands found their way to the soft touch of hers that was wrapped around him. At first, the grip was so light. Soon, it became heavy but not painful. 

For most of his life, he lived as an empty vessel without a soul, urges were non-existent—no fear, no pity; doesn't care, doesn't mourn; never hates, never loves. However, something changed. He felt it—love.

He started moving, rotating: he wanted to face her, the one who made him like this. She noticed his intentions and loosened her embrace. They faced each other, their proximity was close, too close. He wrapped his left arm around her waist and towards the upper back. She felt the firmness of him as his arms slowly glided over her clothing, it was soothing. She buried her tearful face against his taut chest, to which he responded by gently caressing her hair with his fingers.

He motioned their bodies towards the nearest wall. She looked up, flustered, yet still in tears. Their faces were attracted to one another, steadily, the gap between their lips was shortening. He felt her breathing close to him; she too, felt his breathing close to her. She raised her heels, and then...they kissed.

The kiss was so deep, so passionate. It was full of emotion, it was full of love. Their lips parted, but only for a moment—they felt the luscious friction on their skins as they were in contact and brushed one another; they felt the elation as their restless fingers traversed in areas; they traded breaths as they sucked each other's air. They wanted more of the other; they submitted to their desires. 

Their restless bodies pushed against each other. They kissed amorously, tongues intertwined. Soon, moans of erotic pleasure reverberated within the room. 

Author's Note:

Kyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!