Axels and Heartstrings

Losing Control

A/N- mature content, as there will be for the rest of the story.  Read at your own risk.

Chapter Fifteen

"Yuzu, could you go fetch your soulmate please?" Saya's voice was exasperated as she poked her head into his bedroom.

Startled, Yuzuru's eyes lifted from the notebook he had been struggling to focus on for the past few hours, his mind still trying to process the events of the day.  After his argument with Hana, if you could call it that, he found himself incapable of concentrating on anything besides her.

"Huh?" His brows furrowed. "She's not home?"

Saya smirked, "She is, but she somehow managed to fall asleep on top of the laundry machine."

"What?!"

"Apparently she is too sick of you to come to actual bed." Saya rolled her eyes.  "And I'm sick of you too, so stop being a jerk and just go get her."

Yuzuru watched as his sister walked away without another word.  It took a moment for his mind to catch up, but eventually he set his notebook down beside where he had been laying.

He grumbled.

He was sick of himself too.

In a bout of frustration, he kicked his legs like a little kid throwing a tantrum.  He then scooped up a pillow, one that had served as a feeble barrier between himself and his pent-up desires for months now.

He screamed into that pillow.

He had never been more frustrated.

He did not know how he wound up in this situation, but he was beginning to realize that there was no way out of it.  And, perhaps even more frightening, he wasn't sure he wanted a way out anymore.

He hurled the pillow across the room. It collided with his desk, sending his black book bag tumbling to the floor—the very same book bag he had persuaded Hana to bring to the TCC not long ago. 

He didn't care that it had fallen.  It lay there on the ground, empty, just as it had been the day Hana had brought it to the TCC.  In truth, it had only ever served as a flimsy excuse to lure her there, a place he knew she would love.

He thought back to that day and how it had resulted with them both shoved inside a cramped janitor's closet, him panting harder than he did after cardio. Before the janitor had barged in, he was mere seconds away from pressing her against the wall, confessing how adorable he found her excitement for the ice, and then demonstrating with his lips just how much her attention affected him.

He grabbed the other damn pillow, the other part of his pillow divider, and threw that one onto the floor as well.

Fuck it.

Standing up, he made his way out of the bedroom and down the dark hallway and towards the laundry room. 

He couldn't fathom how she had ended up in such an awkward position, but there she was, sprawled atop the washing machine with her phone still clutched in her hands and her head drooped forward in slumber.

He would have found her situation amusing if he didn't feel so incredibly bad about it. He knew all too well that it was his fault she found herself in this uncomfortable position, balancing precariously on the edge of a laundry appliance just to avoid him.

He had no doubt he was the worst soulmate in the world.

His hands tenderly grasped her shoulders.

"Hana," he spoke.