[fanfic] knobs on your back
Title: knobs on your back
Fandom: Daiya no Ace
Pairing: Kominato Ryousuke/Kominato Haruichi
Warnings: incest
Summary: The vulnerability they exposed.
When they were young, the knobs of Haruichi’s spine jutted out from the nape of his neck, sloping curves along the white of his skin. They made their mother panic, cooking more dinner nightly and packing her younger son’s bentos close to bursting. Ryousuke ran his fingers over them soothingly whenever Haruichi was upset, crying huddled in the shadows of the back of their house because the neighborhood children did not like the vulnerability that the knobs revealed.
“I’m your big brother,” Ryousuke said. “I’ll watch over you, remember.”
[=]
“Your brother’s coming to Seidou in the spring,” his mother said. “Did you know?”
“No,” Ryousuke said.
“Didn’t we tell you?”
“No,” he said again. His face did not change but he shifted his weight off his right foot onto his left, the dormitory communal landline phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear. “But I could have guessed.”
“He’s very excited about it,” his mother said. There was some kind of commotion in the background. Ryousuke checked his watch, the one with a gold plating and black leather straps, the one his father gave him for his sixteenth birthday. Seven-o-nine. Twenty-one minutes before the game went on, and if he didn’t get himself a good seat in front of the screen, he would be forever looking over shoulders and misshapen heads. He heard a voice murmur something unintelligible, but he could recognize the sound of his brother speaking. “Would you like to talk to your brother? I was hoping you’d be able to tell him what to expect, what to pack, you know…”
“Just tell him to bring whatever I brought for my first year,” Ryousuke interrupted, quickly adding, “Mother.” There was a silence on the other end. “Look, I can’t really talk right now. I’m sorry.” His mother said something on the other line, with the receiver covered. Then, after Ryousuke checked his watch again - seven-eleven - she spoke again, quieter.
“I just wanted you to speak to your brother. You know how he is. He wouldn’t have decided to go so far if you weren’t there.”
“It’s up to Haruichi whether or not he can survive here, not me.”
“I know, I know. And I’m not very concerned about that. After all, if you can do so well, I’m sure your brother…”
“Please don’t compare me to him,” Ryousuke said. “You know I don’t like it.”
[=]
He ran into Haruichi once coming out of the baths. His brother jumped slightly when he opened the door. “Oh. Hello, brother.”
“The floors are a little wet, so it’s slippery,” Ryousuke said.
“Oh. Thank you for the warning.”
Despite himself, despite having all the intention to keep walking out and going to his room to dry his hair in peace, Ryousuke turned around. Haruichi’s hair was a little longer, his shoulders a little wider than Ryousuke remembered. “Your back looks different.”
Haruichi turned too, framed by the doorway. His eyes were a little wide, and Ryousuke had looked upon his brother’s face for long enough to know where to look beyond that fringe. “Oh. Yeah, well...mom’s been worried about it for the longest time you know. She used to say she was scared that a stray ball would come and shatter my spine. Do you remember?” He laughed, but weakly, anxiously - gauging for a response.
“Take care of yourself,” Ryousuke said, leaving the baths.
[=]
“Brother,” Haruichi whispered into the dark. The dormitory hall lights went out after two in the morning, when all were expected to be sound asleep, dreaming dreams of hitting homers and nightmares of scrubbing mud out of cleats. “Brother…”
“Your hair’s so long,” Ryousuke said, bringing a hand up, palm against Haruichi’s forehead, brushing up his brother’s bangs to see his eyes. “If you’d cut it shorter, they’d stop calling you a sissy.”
“No one calls me that anymore,” Haruichi said, gazing up at his brother, his eyes clear even in the dark. “But if you want me to cut it, I’ll cut it.”
“I don’t really want you to. Do whatever you want.”
“Can I really?” He pulled closer to Ryousuke, and Ryousuke recognized his shirt as something he brought Haruichi the year before he moved out of the house for high school. His mother called him during his first year to tell him that his younger brother was distraught being the only child in the house and had taken to wearing Ryousuke’s clothes that he’d left behind to bed every night. “Can I really do what I want?”
“Sure.”
Haruichi’s lips were thin and chapped. He kept his mouth closed tightly and kissed fresh with inexperience and did not make up for it with enthusiasm. He trembled like a frightened child, bringing to mind thoughts of grass stains and tear-stained sleeves. Ryousuke pulled away.
“You said,” Haruichi faltered, breaking the silence when it was clear Ryousuke was not going to speak. “You said I could do whatever I wanted.”
“So I did,” Ryousuke said. “So open your mouth.”
When he ran a hand up Haruichi’s back, he could not feel the knobs of his brother’s spine. But if he pressed up against skin with a firm but relenting pressure, he could feel them again under his fingers.
Fandom: Daiya no Ace
Pairing: Kominato Ryousuke/Kominato Haruichi
Warnings: incest
Summary: The vulnerability they exposed.
When they were young, the knobs of Haruichi’s spine jutted out from the nape of his neck, sloping curves along the white of his skin. They made their mother panic, cooking more dinner nightly and packing her younger son’s bentos close to bursting. Ryousuke ran his fingers over them soothingly whenever Haruichi was upset, crying huddled in the shadows of the back of their house because the neighborhood children did not like the vulnerability that the knobs revealed.
“I’m your big brother,” Ryousuke said. “I’ll watch over you, remember.”
[=]
“Your brother’s coming to Seidou in the spring,” his mother said. “Did you know?”
“No,” Ryousuke said.
“Didn’t we tell you?”
“No,” he said again. His face did not change but he shifted his weight off his right foot onto his left, the dormitory communal landline phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear. “But I could have guessed.”
“He’s very excited about it,” his mother said. There was some kind of commotion in the background. Ryousuke checked his watch, the one with a gold plating and black leather straps, the one his father gave him for his sixteenth birthday. Seven-o-nine. Twenty-one minutes before the game went on, and if he didn’t get himself a good seat in front of the screen, he would be forever looking over shoulders and misshapen heads. He heard a voice murmur something unintelligible, but he could recognize the sound of his brother speaking. “Would you like to talk to your brother? I was hoping you’d be able to tell him what to expect, what to pack, you know…”
“Just tell him to bring whatever I brought for my first year,” Ryousuke interrupted, quickly adding, “Mother.” There was a silence on the other end. “Look, I can’t really talk right now. I’m sorry.” His mother said something on the other line, with the receiver covered. Then, after Ryousuke checked his watch again - seven-eleven - she spoke again, quieter.
“I just wanted you to speak to your brother. You know how he is. He wouldn’t have decided to go so far if you weren’t there.”
“It’s up to Haruichi whether or not he can survive here, not me.”
“I know, I know. And I’m not very concerned about that. After all, if you can do so well, I’m sure your brother…”
“Please don’t compare me to him,” Ryousuke said. “You know I don’t like it.”
[=]
He ran into Haruichi once coming out of the baths. His brother jumped slightly when he opened the door. “Oh. Hello, brother.”
“The floors are a little wet, so it’s slippery,” Ryousuke said.
“Oh. Thank you for the warning.”
Despite himself, despite having all the intention to keep walking out and going to his room to dry his hair in peace, Ryousuke turned around. Haruichi’s hair was a little longer, his shoulders a little wider than Ryousuke remembered. “Your back looks different.”
Haruichi turned too, framed by the doorway. His eyes were a little wide, and Ryousuke had looked upon his brother’s face for long enough to know where to look beyond that fringe. “Oh. Yeah, well...mom’s been worried about it for the longest time you know. She used to say she was scared that a stray ball would come and shatter my spine. Do you remember?” He laughed, but weakly, anxiously - gauging for a response.
“Take care of yourself,” Ryousuke said, leaving the baths.
[=]
“Brother,” Haruichi whispered into the dark. The dormitory hall lights went out after two in the morning, when all were expected to be sound asleep, dreaming dreams of hitting homers and nightmares of scrubbing mud out of cleats. “Brother…”
“Your hair’s so long,” Ryousuke said, bringing a hand up, palm against Haruichi’s forehead, brushing up his brother’s bangs to see his eyes. “If you’d cut it shorter, they’d stop calling you a sissy.”
“No one calls me that anymore,” Haruichi said, gazing up at his brother, his eyes clear even in the dark. “But if you want me to cut it, I’ll cut it.”
“I don’t really want you to. Do whatever you want.”
“Can I really?” He pulled closer to Ryousuke, and Ryousuke recognized his shirt as something he brought Haruichi the year before he moved out of the house for high school. His mother called him during his first year to tell him that his younger brother was distraught being the only child in the house and had taken to wearing Ryousuke’s clothes that he’d left behind to bed every night. “Can I really do what I want?”
“Sure.”
Haruichi’s lips were thin and chapped. He kept his mouth closed tightly and kissed fresh with inexperience and did not make up for it with enthusiasm. He trembled like a frightened child, bringing to mind thoughts of grass stains and tear-stained sleeves. Ryousuke pulled away.
“You said,” Haruichi faltered, breaking the silence when it was clear Ryousuke was not going to speak. “You said I could do whatever I wanted.”
“So I did,” Ryousuke said. “So open your mouth.”
When he ran a hand up Haruichi’s back, he could not feel the knobs of his brother’s spine. But if he pressed up against skin with a firm but relenting pressure, he could feel them again under his fingers.