ROMANTIC SEASON ♫

© Saveage & Dana (#444797)

Summary: Shounen-ai. Naoya is Hibiya High School's most popular student and playboy, but he's tired of all the attention he's getting from crazy girls! What's the poor guy to do? ...Get a boyfriend, of course!

Author's Note: This idea was given to be by my friend "Dana." She will occasionally be writing chapters, though she says that won't be often. Whatever. In any case, this story is by Dana and me, and we hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: The concept of the original plot is © "Dana." The title is from the song "Romantic Season" by the Japanese rock band New Sodmy. I don't own it & neither the story nor the authors have any affiliation with the band, its management/label or related logos/characters/trademarks – other than the fact that Saveage is a big fan. ♥

×○×○

Prelude to Madness ♪

"Mm..."

"Ooh – Naoya-san...!"

"Oh, did that feel good? Let's do it again..."

"N-Naoya—please—don't!—Stop—"

"NAOYA-SAMA!"

"Shit!"

Naoya froze in horror, listening carefully for more voices from outside the janitor's closet.

"Naoya-sama, are you in there?"

He cursed again and pulled his shirt from the girl's grasp, trying to be still and silent. Unfortunately, that was very difficult, considering his current...situation. He bit a nearby mop's damp tendrils to keep from crying out again, though his heavy breathing through his nose was loud enough as a moan. "Stop—" he gasped, pushing the girl away and groaning as he did.

"Oh, come on," purred the girl. Her name was Yuriko or Yukari or something like that. She ran her fingers down the stripe of chest she had bared from between the buttons of his shirt. "We locked the door. Besides... it's a little exciting, isn't it?" Naoya imagined her eyes were alight and pretty lips curled up deviously, in a way he imagined he would look under normal circumstances.

"You don't understand—!" he hissed, slapping her hand away. "Those girls – they'll kill you AND me if they find us in here." He fumbled around for his belt, trying to snake it through the belt loops around his slim hips, but the task seemed impossible in the dark.

"What—?"

"Naoya-sama, we know you're in there!" The girl pounded on the door, along with several other girls, it seemed. "Why are you in the janitor's closet?"

"I-I'll be right out—!" he called nervously, struggling with the buttons of his white shirt.

"Why? Naoya-sama, are you in trouble?" The voices were much higher pitched, on the verge of worry.

"Oh, no! No, of course not! I'm just, uhh—"

"LEAVE US ALONE, KIDS!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Naoya demanded, trying to keep his voice low. "Do you not value you life?" He picked his jacket up from the floor, hoping there wasn't janitor scum all over it.

"Was that a girl's voice?"

"I think so...!"

"That skank! What's she doing in a closet with Naoya-sama?"

"We're coming in!" they all shouted, and – Naoya didn't know how – opened the door.

Their sharp nails were like talons as they sunk into his arms and pulled him out of the closet and flung him into the hallway. "Naoya-sama, are you all right? Are you hurt?" The hands were immediately soft, gentle palms searching him for bruises or scratches or internal bleeding.

"I'm fine, I'm fine—" he managed to gasp, shooing them off. Thankfully, they moved to a respectful distance. He looked down at their large, surgically enhanced, watery eyes, concern and adoration so clear in their shimmering depths. Their pretty lips were in perfect heart shapes as they waited for his next gospel.

They were so damn cute; how could he stay mad at them?

"I'm really all right!" he exclaimed, taking the nearest ones into a big, tight embrace. They all squealed in joyful fright, inhaling his masculine scent of warm laundry, smoke, and his cologne, reveling in the feeling of his lithe, but athletic, body pressed against theirs. The moment seemed to stretch an eternity, yet it wasn't nearly long enough. "I'm so glad I have all of you looking out for me," he said solemnly, with a pained sigh. "Where would I be without you all?"

Not nearly in bed so often, that was for sure.

None of them could respond; they had either melted into the floor tiles or were too busy staring in shocked silence at the woman who had stumbled out of the closet, and was huddled near the floor on her knees, wondering what the hell was going on.

"Naoya-sama," demanded one of the girls, who Naoya knew as Hai-chan, as it was her favorite word when he was concerned. Yes, Naoya, I'll do anything! Yes, Naoya, take me! Yes, Naoya, I love you still! "What was Hayasaka-sensei doing with you in the closet?" She pointed at Yuriko-or-Yukari Hayasaka's, otherwise known as the science teacher's, frightened form. Naoya did not notice, but all the girls noted with hatred her smeared lipstick and how her skirt was crooked. The teacher, noticing the stares, tucked her lips in her mouth and straightened her clothes.

"I'm not sure—what does it look like, Hai-chan?" Naoya replied, lifting his hands behind his hand and grinning boyishly at her, tilting his head.

"I—I'm not sure!" she replied defiantly. "But I know that as a teacher she definitely shouldn't be so close to you! And she should definitely not be in closets with anyone!"

"Well then," Naoya said with a shrug. He then turned and began walking down the hall, to the courtyard door. His class was just beyond the concrete oasis that separated the first ears from the second and third years. As a second-year, he was in the bigger, older building, and he knew by this time he'd have to take the short route – through the courtyard – rather than go all the way around the school buildings – to his class, 3-B, in order to not be late. He definitely couldn't afford to be tardy. It was only the third week of school, but he was already notorious among the teachers for truancy and lateness. Not to mention he had made a habit of hooking-up with some girls before classes started, and that usually took a while, if he was feeling particularly frisky.

One would realize after spending five minutes with him that he usually was.

Naoya left the girls with the atmosphere of having settled something, though no one knew exactly what he had settled; it was only until he had disappeared outside that they realized he had gotten off the hook and escaped their punishment. Again.

"How can you be made at that face?" one of the girls sighed.

"Or that body?" another groaned.

"Hey, stop drooling!" Hai-chan snapped. "We still have to deal with this whore-teacher of ours!" She was the ringleader of the group, and the founder of the Love Naoya Forever!! Club. She was their representative in all matters that required direct communication with Naoya, since she was the only official member (t-shirt, membership card, equal obsession) that had actual contact with him. She'd actually lost her virginity to him at the end of their first year, and had been completely heartbroken when he didn't plan on marrying her. That was when they had made a vow with Naoya that he would suffer punishment whenever he was found being frisky with a girl. Unfortunately, he had ways of weaseling out of their punishment.

"Now, Hayasaka-sensei, be quiet and cooperative and maybe we'll just mess you up a little. Otherwise, you'll be reported to the school, too," Hai-chan smirked. With a snap of her fingers, a few girls behind Hai-chan dragged her into the closet and locked the door.

"Aww man," sighed Naoya, slowing down to a walk when he reached the shaded outdoor halls of the second-year portion of the upperclassmen building. "That was close; I really have to find better hiding places..."

"Better hiding places for what?" asked a voice from behind him.

"Shit!" shouted Naoya, getting ready to bolt, until he felt a firm hand clamp over his bony shoulder.

"It's just me."

"Oh, thank God!" exclaimed Naoya, leaning, relieved, on his friend Shusuke's shoulder. "I thought it was one of my fan club members."

If anyone else had said that, one would assume they were either A) just joking, or B) extremely conceited. But for Naoya, only B was true – he was far from joking. More than half of the girls in their grade at Hibiya High School had joined the "Love Naoya-sama Forever!!" club that had been formed by Aki (it was the exclamation points that really scared Naoya), and they were serious about their 'passion.' Shimizu Naoya was clearly the most adored boy in school, and with good reason. With his natural chestnut-brown hair, clear pale skin, bright brown eyes, boyish smile that could turn sexy in an instant, and lithe, 5'11" figure, he was breathtakingly gorgeous. Girls said he was "mature" and "sexy," unlike the other guys who were just "hot."

They also stalked him, hence the club.

"No, they're beating up Hayasaka-sensei!" Shusuke shouted in reply. "You have no conscience – you have to go back and help her. She can lose her job, or worse!"

"Right!" Naoya snorted, turning a corner sharply and walking slightly ahead of Shusuke, signaling to him that the conversation was definitely not going anywhere. "Just because you have a crush on her doesn't mean I gotta help her. Besides, I know what they can do, and I value my life! It was her own damn fault for succumbing to my irresistible charm." He smirked, and then continued to look annoyed. "Anyway, she'll be fine," he concluded flippantly. He grabbed the cool metal banister of the stairs leading to his class and used it to pull himself onto the third step. His longs legs handled the distance with ease.

"Yeah, once she gets out of traction..." Shusuke mumbled, rubbing his forehead. "You really should think about the consequences of your actions before you do stupid shit like this! And I don't like her!"

"That's not my style!" Naoya shouted from the top of the steps. "And yes you do!" Then disappeared inside.

×○×○

First period was Naoya's least favorite class of the day. For one, it was business English, a class his parents had made him take along with his normal English class. He also only possessed one tone for speaking, and sounded extremely boring, almost like a lullaby. Half of the class fell asleep the first five minutes of one of his long, boring lectures.

Usually, Naoya was one of the sleepers. Not today. Today, his mission was to come up with a way to get his crazy fan club off his back, and was forming a list. The only options he had down were things he had already mentally crossed out:

1) Fake death (...Too much trouble)

2) Sleep with all of them (All the girls he slept with ended up hating and ignoring him... but then they'd start an anti-fan-club)

3) Become ugly (HELL NO!)

4) Move (He liked his house though)

"This is harder than I thought," Naoya mumbled to himself, tapping his pencil on his notebook paper. In the background, Tanaka-sensei droned on about willingness to pay and efficient rationing. Occasionally he would cough, take a sip from the water glass on his desk, and clear his throat, as if there was something stuck in it. But then he continued with the lesson and his inflection – the lack, thereof – was still missing.

"Shh," the boy beside him, Kyohei, replied.

"Yeah, right, like you're actually doing work," Naoya hissed back with a sneer. He glanced at Kyohei, only to realize he was trying to sleep. He rolled his eyes.

5) Act gay

That was a good one! But would anyone believe him? He was flocked constantly by girls, many of whom he liked to make out with. He couldn't help that their lips were so distracting, with their multicolored and multi-flavored glosses, shining in the sun. They didn't even have to be pretty – it was just their lips that he liked.

He bit his own lips in thought, trying to expand on the idea of acting gay. He knew some of the more flamboyant guys had limp wrists and a very odd way of walking, and spoke in girly, drawn-out, nasal tones. But Naoya knew he couldn't pull it off. He walked with confident poise or the easy trot of a guy who knew he was the hottest thing to grace the halls; limp wrists might affect his guitar playing, and his voice was too deep and urbanely masculine that it would be impossible to change it enough to fool anyone.

"You're already a fruit," Kyohei mumbled, lifting his head from his arms that had been supporting his head on his desk, and looking owlishly at him. He blew some stray strands of raven hair from his face. "Just get people to start calling you Naoya-chan and you're all set."

Naoya flipped him off, making sure his hand was hidden behind the guy in front of him, a guy whose name was Kaoru, but everyone called Kaori, because he always had a peculiar smell about him. It was not a foul odor, but it was very obvious. Naoya always thought it smelled like citrus or burning incense.

"Sure I do." Naoya looked back at Kyohei to see him sit up in his seat and stretch so far back in his seat that the girls behind them complained. It was a soft, crooning whine – not too much, since Kyohei was also pretty hot, with his lucid, pale skin, glimmering moonstone-blue eyes and long black hair. He looked like a visual-kei star. (In actuality, he was the bassist and sometimes-vocalist of a band he had with his friends, who were in college by now.) He was also the epitome of pretty boy. Naoya wondered what kind of ignorant hypocrite Kyohei had to be in order to say Naoya was gay, when Kyohei was clearly the flamer.

"Oh really?" Naoya asked monotonously.

"You want to get those girls off your back. Personally, I think you'd be better of with choice four. But if you're frantic enough to even consider the options you have now, but not desperate enough to go through with the first four, then that leaves you with choice five, doesn't it?"

Naoya nodded.

"So I guess that means I'll have to help you."

"...What do you mean?" Naoya asked slowly, arching a perfectly formed brow.

Kyohei sighed as if it pained him to tolerate such idiocy. "Are you deaf? I said, I'll help you if you want to act gay."

"You're gay?" asked the other boy, puzzled.

"Astute observation, Sherlock," Kyohei said tersely, folding his arms.

"...You don't have hidden feelings for me that you're going to use to take advantage of me... do you?"

Normally (not that he had conversations like these on a consistent basis), such a question would have made Kyohei roll his eyes some more and just forget the whole thing. But Naoya sounded like he was going to succumb to the plan. Plus, he was pretty hot, and Kyohei could always use some blackmail material. He decided to endure the stupidity for a bit longer.

"Of course!" he cried. "Who doesn't love you, honey bunny?" Kyohei flung his arms around him then kissed him in the corner of his mouth, and, just as he predicted, Naoya didn't even flinch.