FIC: Interlude (SanaYuki, Denouverse, R)
Title: Interlude
Author: Ociwen
Wordcount: 4900
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all, except the genderswitch verse.
Summary: Yukimura doesn't get it sometimes.
Author's Notes: Written ages ago, because I felt like it. The cleverest readers will get all the varied myu (and Denouverse) references.
This is a one-shot fic related to Dénoument, We'll Always Have Kanagawa, Accidentally All Right, Push/Pull, Maybe Definitely and Big Brother. The fics can be read separately, but they make more sense together.
And since I spent my birthday coding this, please leave a comment if you enjoy.
Class ends early. Four people showed up, one of whom was the prof. The other two were asleep. Sanada spends the train ride thinking about whether or not he should go to school tomorrow. It's almost winter break, anyway.
Yukimura emails him. ill be home for supper!!!
Sanada stops at the grocery store across from the station. It's a little hole in the wall, run by an obasaan who can't be more than four feet stooped over. She's deaf as a doornail and tells Sanada for the fifteenth time that the war took her hearing. She places the mandarins in one bag, and the tofu in another. Sanada nods his head at her. She grins back with her single tooth.
Home is a twenty-minute walk from the station. The streets are narrow, and strung up with telephone lines instead of fairy lights. More garbage rolls around the ground than people walk past. The low-rise buildings have roofs that sag and creak in the cold. Sanada shivers. He walks a little faster. Winter cuts through his jeans. If there was anything other than skinny jeans for women in the stores, he'd buy himself a pair of long underwear for underneath.
Sanada climbs the stairwell. It smells like piss. Some of the idol-wannabees who live on the top floor must have come home plastered last night. Sanada frowns. He watches his steps.
He unlocks the door. The machine flashes. Mother called this afternoon. She wants to know if he and Yukimura want to come for dinner on Sunday. Sanada starts the pot of water. He puts the fish from last night in-they didn't finish it all. He opens a jar of kimchi. It stinks. So he adds that into the pot, too. He stirs the pot around with a chopstick. Fish is Yukimura's favourite.
The clock reads half-past five. It'll be another hour or two.
Sanada spreads his homework on the low table. It tips to the one corner. Yukimura found it beside a dumpster. Sanada leans on it, and his papers fly across the room. He frowns. He picks up a textbook from the pile on the floor. The pages are curling from the damp. He flips to chapter four. Water drips from the bathtub. He can hear it through the wall. He reaches out for something furry to pet. The apartment seems empty without one.
He shivers. He pulls the futon inside off the porch, and curls up in it. His toes are still cold. The pot boils. Steam condenses on the windows. The apartment starts to smell like food. Sanada's stomach growls.
He checks his cellphone. No new emails. Yukimura should be on the train home by now. The draft plays with the hairs at the back of Sanada's neck. He crawls deeper into the futon. His fingertips are icy on his pen.
At seven, he dumps the tofu and onions into the pot. He starts the rice cooker with two cups. Renji emails. Beef is on sale at the grocery store near his place. He still lives at home with his parents. Kirihara won't be finished high school for another three months.
Sanada surfs internet auctions on his phone for antique vases. He taps his pen on the notebook. His stomach growls louder. The water starts to drip from the kitchen faucet, too. He looks down. His cellphone reads half-past eight. The rice cooker has been on warm for a while.
He tries Yukimura's number. Sanada frowns at the pulse tone. He scowls at the voice mail. Yukimura never checks that. The pot bubbles, so Sanada turns it down. The tofu is disintegrating. He snacks on a chocolate bar-it's almost that time of the month anyway. He pops on his iPod, and he emails Renji. Sanada scrubs the toilet seat. Yukimura's aim is off in the mornings. He's no sniper.
Renji calls. "Do you know where I could buy jars of pickles?"
"Pickles?"
"Not Japanese ones." Renji pauses. "A big jar of American-style pickles. Like the ones at McDonald's."
Sanada clenches his jaw. "Tell Akaya to keep his dick in his pants." He hangs up. He stirs the pot. The onions are stringy and unrecognizable. Then he feels bad, and emails Renji. Sorry.
pms, Sanada adds. He cringes.
At nine-thirty, he tries Yukimura again. There's still no answer. Sanada unplugs the rice cooker. He turns off the stove. He sits on the floor with the futon up to his armpits and eats by himself. The cold is deeper after dark. His hands shake. Kimchi stains the futon. Sanada whispers, "Tarundoru."
There isn't enough hot water for a bath. Sanada stands under the lukewarm shower until the first freezing spurts start. He cranks the water off. Cold droplets splash his toes. He jumps out of the tub and into his pajamas. He pulls on three pairs of socks. He unrolls the futon mattress from the cupboard, and puts the cover down. It's after ten. He yawns. He fishes Yukimura's ugly blue sweater from the closet. It's big on Yukimura. Sanada buttons it up-it fits him fine. Then he pulls the electric heater up to nearly the edge of the futon, and shuts off the light. He lays in the dark. His cellphone sits on the table. It doesn't buzz. It doesn't light up. There is a bowl of stew in the fridge wrapped in Clingfilm.
Sanada curls into himself under the futon cover. His teeth chatter. His nipples are stiff. With a huff, he gets out, turns on the light, pulls out the spare blanket, and drapes it over the end of the futon. He tucks it under and double-checks the heater. It glows red on high and hums.
He checks his phone, too. Eleven-thirty. He crawls back under the covers. Where are you? he thinks. He stares at the doorway. Acrid kimchi from dinner crawls up his throat. He reaches under his yukata. His thighs are hot, but he's not in the mood. Sanada sighs.
The doorway opens with a crash. Light from the corridor floods the apartment. Yukimura stumbles inside. He curses under his breath. He shuffles and trips over something and curses again.
Sanada can smell the cigarettes on him. He scowls.
Yukimura rummages in the darkness. Clothes rustle, and then the futon is pulled back. Sanada shivers at the sudden cold. Yukimura's feet dig into his calves. They're icy. Sanada hisses.
"Sorry," Yukimura mumbles. His breath is thick with beer. He reaches for Sanada's side. Sanada elbows him hard.
He curls onto his own side of the futon. Yukimura doesn't seem to notice. He's already snoring.
***
His first class isn't until ten, but he's up at the first crack of light under the curtains. Sanada rolls out of bed. He runs to the toilet, then gets his slippers from cupboard by the door. The lump of Yukimura doesn't move. Dark hair peeks out from under the futon cover. Sanada sighs. His breath puffs in the air.
He starts the rice cooker, and emails Renji. Sanada sits on a cushion on the floor, sipping tea. He organizes his notes for class. He eats a bowl of rice. Then he eats a slice of bread with azuki paste.
There's a pile of clothes from Yukimura. Sanada picks them up between his thumb and index. He coughs on the smell of smoke. The lump stirs.
"You're awake," Sanada says.
Yukimura grunts. He stuffs his face into the pillow and moans. Then he moans again. He staggers to the toilet. Sanada can hear the sound of him pissing. He frowns. "I just cleaned the toilet," he says. Yukimura isn't listening. Sanada can hear the sound of retching, too. He frowns deeper.
Yukimura is huddled over the toilet seat. He's stark naked, but every tiny hair on his body stands up. He lifts his head a little to Sanada. Then he's back down in the bowl. Sanada sprays the air with freshener. He sighs.
Yukimura doesn't thank him when Sanada drapes the blanket over his back. "Don't drink so much," he says. "You're under-age anyway."
Yukimura wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Bags hang under his eyes. Damp hair streaks his face, along with slime trails at the sides of his mouth. He winces. "There were senpais with us last night," he says. His voice scratches Sanada's ears. "The managers…bought rounds for everyone."
"Tarundoru!"
Yukimura cringes. He clutches his forehead. "Sorry…"
Sanada hands him a bowl of rice and a pair of boxers. "Put some clothes on."
Yukimura shuffles back to the main room. Sanada scowls.
"And have a shower! You stink!"
Yukimura shuffles into the bathroom instead.
***
Idiot, Sanada thinks. Fool! He glares. He purses his lips. He clutches his Lacoste bag tight to his chest. An OL across the carriage gives him a dirty look. Sanada blinks. Then he realizes he's scowling. He ducks his head down. His cheeks burn.
Five people show up for economics. Sanada looks for Marui, but he's not there. Half-way through class, his phone vibrates in his pocket. Sanada pulls it out. He holds the charms in his fist to stop the jingling. The prof doesn't look up.
Not coming to class.
Sanada frowns.
Marui does come to the university cafeteria for lunch. They meet in the drinks line. Marui's tray is loaded with the curry special, three white bread buns, and four apple jellies. Sanada has the fried chicken, and kelp and vegetable soup. "Did you get the notes from this morning?" Marui asks.
Sanada looks at him. Marui smiles.
"If you'd showed up, you could have your own," Sanada says.
"You're not gonna share?"
Sanada sits down. He scowls. He pulls his notebook from his bag, and rips the pages at the perforations.
"Thanks pal," Marui says.
On the way home, Sanada stops at the Familymart in the main station between his line change. He buys a small box of laundry soap, and a box of Meiji chocolate almonds. He emails Yukimura about supper. Yukimura responds before Sanada has closed his phone.
whatever u feel like. promise ill be home 2nite.
Sanada thinks about it on the train. He feels like Italian. The little shop has cans of clams. The obasaan places the can in a plastic bag, and smiles with her lone tooth. Sanada tells her to have a good night, too.
The apartment is frigid, but his insides are hot. Sanada checks the heater. It's still on. The curtains are closed. Sanada shifts his eyes. His nipples are hard and tight against his bra. Yukimura won't be home for a little while yet. Sanada slides a hand down his jeans. His pussy is wet. He closes his eyes, leans against the kitchen counter. He rubs his clit a little. It feels good, but…
Renji said something about vibrators a couple months ago. Sanada removes his hand from his pants. He sighs. He checks his cellphone. Yukimura won't be on the train yet. He pulls on the ugly sweater heaped on the floor. It smells like Yukimura: sweat and laundry soap and like his favourite spicy shampoo, too.
thinking of you. im wet…(.ω.)
When he presses send, his face flushes. Sanada waits for a response. He fries up the clams. He boils the water and dumps the spaghetti noodles in. His phone is silent.
Yukimura comes home in a mood. He dumps his bag in the foyer. His pants track mud across the floor. He's wearing his baggy grey tracksuit. His face is a shade of green, and he looks homeless. He shakes his umbrella out. Water splatters the walls. Sanada yells.
Yukimura glares. He stomps into the bathroom. Sanada frowns. He can hear Yukimura take a shit. Sanada sprays the Lysol around the apartment. He looks at the heater, and hopes they don't explode.
Yukimura sits at the table. He pulls an ashtray from the plastic shelf. He pulls a pack from his pocket. Sanada fries the spaghetti with the clams, and soy sauce. He sniffs the air. The smell of cigarettes is overpowering supper.
"Did you take your pills?" Sanada asks.
Yukimura snaps, "Don't nag me!" He stomps off to the bathroom. The cupboard over the sink slams. The cigarette sits in the ashtray. Smoke coils in the air. Sanada stubs it out. Yukimura lights a second one as Sanada passes him a plate of food.
Sanada kneels down on the floor next to him. His thighs start to ache before he's had two bites. He twists around, and sits cross-legged. Yukimura alternates between his smoke and his supper. Sanada turns the other way. He coughs. Yukimura takes another drag.
"That's disgusting!" Sanada says.
Yukimura purses his lips. He blows through his nose instead. Sanada drops his chopsticks. He grabs the pack. He cranks open the window, and he chucks the pack down. It lands on the balcony on the floor below.
"Hey!" Yukimura says. "Those were mine!"
"It's disgusting," Sanada says. He slurps up a mouth of pasta. Yukimura just narrows his eyes. They eat in silence. After, Yukimura leans back. He downs his glass of hot tea like a pint. He lets out a belch.
Sanada picks up the plates. "What is your problem?" he snaps. The dishes clatter in the sink.
"My coach…told me that I need to…" Yukimura shakes his head. He reaches into his jacket pocket. The smokes are probably soggy by now.
"That…I should break up with you."
Sanada's ears ring. His throat closes up.
Yukimura closes his eyes. He takes a deep, shuddered breath. He coughs a little. "The…he said that sports stars have to be careful. Girlfriends can damage reputations. Fans get…nasty." He lifts his head. He stands up, and looks at Sanada.
Sanada's body feels cold all over. His voice cracks. "Being a tennis pro is…" His eyes sting. "What you want to do."
He runs into the bathroom and locks the door. Sanada slumps to the floor. He starts to cry. Yukimura knocks on the other side. He says Sanada's name. He asks if Sanada is okay. Sanada chokes on mucus. He cries harder. He stuffs his face in Yukimura's sweater. It doesn't muffle anything. He hugs it tight to his body. Sanada balls his fists in the sleeves. He stands up. He turns on the shower as hot as it will go before the faucet sticks. He reaches for Yukimura's bottle of shampoo. Sanada closes his eyes. He breathes in the smell. Bubbles burst at his feet.
He walks into the main room in nothing but an old towel. His nipples stiffen at the cold. He hisses at the frozen floor under his feet. Sanada jumps onto the tatami, but it isn't much warmer. Yukimura looks up. He's sitting under the futon cover in a t-shirt. He sets the plant book down. His eyes are pink.
Sanada climbs under the futon. Yukimura throws his t-shirt across the room. Sanada grabs Yukimura hard. His skin is warm and shoulders are broad. Sanada digs his nails into Yukimura's back when Yukimura slides a hand between his legs.
Don't leave me, Sanada wants to say. He squeezes his eyes shut, but he cries anyway. He digs his nails in deeper. Yukimura doesn't say a word.
***
There is an email on his cellphone when Sanada wakes up. He curls into himself under the covers. He smells Yukimura's pillow. He rolls into the indent Yukimura's body made. Sanada thinks about yesterday, and his insides twist. There is a new bruise on his breast.
early meeting
Sanada peaks through the curtains. The sky is murky. He gets dressed. The ugly sweater is gone, so he pulls another from the closet out. Heaped at the bottom, underneath damp tennis shorts, is the lime hoodie with the engrish words on the back. Sanada crawls into it. He hugs it to his chest. It fits wrong. But it smells right.
Instead of going to campus, he meets Jackal at Starbucks. Jackal orders the holiday special, venti, with an extra two shots, and the muffin. Sanada stirs his grande tea. He watches Jackal eat. His stomach complains.
Jackal offers a bite. Sanada shakes his head. He scowls at the table. The baristas play a mix of Edith Piaf and Enrique. Rain slithers down the windows and blurs the lights of Shibuya.
"Sanada?" Jackal asks. "You guys…fighting? Is he still not cleaning the toilet?"
"It's fine," Sanada mutters.
Jackal leans back on the banquette. He licks his finger and wipes the crumbs from his plate. He sighs. "You sure…?"
"It's fine!" Sanada says. He glares. Jackal says okay.
"When do you leave?" Sanada asks.
"Next Friday." A smile breaks across Jackal's face. He unfastens his barrette, and tucks his hair back in. "I need to buy a couple new bras before I go still."
Sanada shifts in his seat. He swirls his tea around the paper cup.
"It's been a couple years since I've seen my grandparents and my cousins." Jackal leans over the table. "And my cousins say they have some friends who…" He winks. "You know. Might be interested."
Sanada grunts. "Marui?"
Jackal rolls his eyes. He sighs. He sips from his coffee. He drums his nails on the table. This week, they're deep blue. "He wants to head out to the club in Chiba before I go. I said fine. It'll shut him up for a while."
Sanada stares out the window. A Loft truck passes by, then a stream of people huddled under their umbrellas. Jackal says his name. Sanada blinks.
"You sure you're okay?" Jackal asks. He touches Sanada's arm. His brow furrows. "Yukimura's sweater?"
Sanada crosses his arms. "Maybe."
***
He goes to the underground arcade with Jackal. Jackal tries on a dozen bras. Sanada stands in the corner. He looks around. The saleswoman asks if he needs anything. Sanada glares.
"Can you grab me the next size smaller?" Jackal shouts. A bra flies over the top of the changing room. Sanada catches it. "I want my tits to look really, really big."
Sanada gets the size smaller. He threads it under the door. Jackal says thanks. Sanada goes back to standing in the corner. He looks around. There's a rack of robin blue bras with beige lace next to him. Sanada swallows. The saleswoman says they have more sizes in the back.
Jackal swings his bag down the street. "Lunch?" he asks. Sanada stuffs his bag into the Lacoste tote. Under his scarf, he nods.
***
Jackal buys a bag of beans for his mother at the supermarket. Sanada buys a package of Chinese stir-fry, then an extra package of beef. They rush back to the train station under Jackal's polka-dot umbrella. On the platform, Jackal says bye. He steps onto his train. "If I don't see you before I leave, have a good Christmas!" Jackal waves. The doors start to close. "It'll be fine. He loves y-"
Sanada gets onto his train in the other direction. The bags sit between his feet. The floor of the carriage is wet. He thinks about emailing Yukimura that he's coming home now. But he doesn't. Sanada leans back in the seat and sighs.
The little shop on the street is boarded up. Sanada stops. He lifts the edge of his umbrella. His heart sinks a little.
The stairs of the apartment building are slippery. The stairwell has a leak. It drip-drops on Sanada's head. He shivers. Inside the apartment it isn't any warmer. Sanada hangs his coat in the closet. He peels off the sweater, and his shirt, then his bra too. The fine hairs on his breasts stand up stiff. He hisses. He has to do the new bra up on the widest hooks. He looks in the mirror of the bathroom. Sanada frowns. The material is thinner than he thought. He can see his nipples dark through the cups.
He pulls his shirt back on, and Yukimura's ugly hoodie too. His phone beeps. Marui sent an email five minutes ago. didnt get to class. can I get ur notes??? thnx!!
Sanada deletes the message.
The door swings open. Yukimura drops his stuff in the foyer. "Good, you're home," he says. In the same breath, he says, "My coach is coming for dinner."
Sanada sniffles.
Yukimura shakes his head. He presses his hands to Sanada's face. They're wet and cold. But his mouth is warm. He kisses Sanada again. His tongue slides over Sanada's lips, then his teeth, too. Yukimura sighs. He pulls Sanada's head down to his chest. Sanada listens to his heartbeat. He sniffles another sob.
"I told my old coach to fuck himself."
Sanada looks up. Yukimura starts to smile. His teeth flash.
"So my new coach is coming over."
"New coach?"
"Yeah, in twenty minutes. I fired the old one this morning."
Sanada stares at the apartment. Yukimura left towels heaped on the floor. There's a pile of rank laundry. The main room can hardly fit a double futon, let alone three people. The tiny folding table is peeling-and missing a leg. Books are stacked three feet high. And there's a box of tampons that exploded in the kitchen. Not to mention the dishes piled in the sink.
Yukimura announces he's going to the bathroom.
Sanada stares at his back. His jaw drops. If he wasn't so upset, he'd smack Yukimura across the head. Instead, he starts to stuff the clothes into the closet. He sprays Lysol around the room, and starts the frying pan. Then he switches the pan with the kettle. The pan sizzles on the counter. Burnt plastic stinks. Sanada swears. There's an eight-inch round burn on the Formica. And Yukimura is in the shower, singing.
"Lazy ass!" Sanada hisses. He sprays more Lysol. The heater starts to spark. Sanada cranks open the window. He hopes this new coach has hot blood.
Yukimura wanders out of the bathroom. Steam creeps out with him. He smiles at Sanada. "I even folded up my towel," he says.
Sanada snorts. He shoves the other musty towels into Yukimura's chest. "Good. Now fold these too."
Yukimura looks at the towels. "And put them…?"
"On top of the washer. Make sure the door is closed. I'll wash them later." Sanada runs between the main room and the hob. He throws the tennis bags onto the porch. He stuffs the books into the closet. He shuts the door, and everything bursts out. Books smash onto the floor. Yukimura pushes Sanada.
Sanada's chin starts to tremble. Yukimura piles the books up. He opens the closet. "I'll get them," he says.
The buzzer sounds. Sanada sucks in a breath. He's still in the ugly lime sweater, and a pair of Yukimura's flannel pajama pants.
There's a loud thump. Then two more. The door shakes.
Sanada opens the door. One of the idol wannabees from upstairs is in the corridor. There's a cigarette dangling from his lips, and his pants hang down halfway to his knees. His hair is dyed. It stands up straight. Sanada thinks he looks ridiculous. He frowns. The guy flicks ash onto the floor.
"Upstairs," Sanada says. "Apartment ten."
"Oh!" Yukimura squeezes past Sanada. "Akutsu. Come in."
***
Sanada doesn't get it.
Akutsu smokes like a chimney. He smokes while he talks. He smokes while he eats. The only time he's not smoking is when he's coughing wet gobs that he wipes on his pants. He swears worse than a Yankee. And he's so tall that he has to duck in the apartment.
(Though, to be fair, it makes Sanada feel short for once)
Sanada pours the tea. The cups slosh on the table. He purses his lips, but he doesn't bow his head. Akutsu doesn't say thanks, either. He slams the beer onto the floor. Sanada looks at Yukimura. Yukimura opens two cans. He passes one to Akutsu, and says, "To winning."
"To kicking some fucking pansy ass," Akutsu says.
Sanada just sips his tea. The rice cooker sputters in the kitchen. The stir-fry cooks on the hob. The place doesn't smell quite so much like Lotus Garden Lysol now.
Sanada looks at Akutsu between smokes. Akutsu stares back at him. He glares at Sanada, straight in the eye. Sanada thinks that he's the first person to do that. He crosses his arms over his chest.
"Do I know you?" Sanada asks.
Akutsu says he doubts it.
"You played tennis," Sanada says. "Yamabuki."
Akutsu snorts. It turns into a cough. He slaps his chest to hork up a wad. Then he narrows his eyes. Sanada sits up straighter. Yukimura nurses his Asahi.
"I remember you," Akutsu says. "I thought you had a dick. When'd you grow the tits?"
Yukimura chokes on his beer. Sanada can't breathe. He makes little noises in the back of his throat. Yukimura speaks for him. Akutsu just shrugs and says whatever, he doesn't care what the hell Yukimura fucks around with in his spare time so long as he fucking wins on the court.
Yukimura pats Sanada on the arm. "Akutsu has the same sort of winning attitude as me." He offers a thin smile. Akutsu blows smoke across the room.
"Whatever," he says.
The rice cooker beeps.
Akutsu isn't the coach Sanada imagined. He thinks that he's probably not the girlfriend Akutsu imagined, either.
Akutsu's phone goes off. The music sounds like American trance. He slams his phone on the table. The dishes clink. The bowls slide to the far edge. Sanada dives for them. He gathers them up, and stacks them in the sink. He takes away the empty cans, too.
"Stupid bitch," Akutsu says.
Sanada glares. Yukimura blinks.
"Fucking mother wants to know where I am," Akutsu says. He coughs.
"It's nice that she cares," Yukimura says.
Akutsu rolls his eyes. He stubs another smoke into the ashtray. Sanada leans on the kitchen counter. He looks out the window. It's raining again. He frowns. Yukimura's equipment will get mouldy if it's out too long.
When Akutsu leaves, he nods from the doorway. He grunts that the stir-fry it's better than the shit his mother makes. Sanada's face feels warm. He mutters "Thanks". Sanada closes the door. The apartment is quiet, except for the drip in the bathroom. He opens the balcony door. It catches halfway on the track. Cold rain blasts into Sanada's face. He hisses.
Yukimura spreads his equipment out in the bathroom. He sets his wristbands behind the toilet to dry out.
"Do you really think he'll help you win?" Sanada asks.
Yukimura runs his thumb across Sanada's cheek. He smiles. Sanada shivers. His eyelashes are fluttering. So is his heart. "I wouldn't give you up for anything."
"You didn't answer the question," Sanada says.
Yukimura laughs. The fluorescent light from the bulb reflects in his pupils. He slides his hands down to Sanada's hips. Then he jerks their bodies together, hard. Sanada squeaks. His face turns red.
"I'll be in the finals in New York," Yukimura says. He pulls at Sanada's sweater. Sanada raises his arms over his head. Yukimura throws it across the kitchen. "Isn't that mine?"
Sanada rubs his face in Yukimura's neck. "That's ambitious…" Yukimura's skin is hot. His hair tickles Sanada's face. Yukimura wriggles his hands up under Sanada's shirt. He fumbles with the bra clasp. Sanada sighs. He moans. Yukimura pulls his shirt off instead.
He blinks.
Sanada's nipples stiffen to the point of pain. He looks down. The bra seems more translucent than ever.
"God," Yukimura whispers. He squeezes Sanada's breasts. He twists Sanada's nipples. He yanks at Sanada's jeans, and fucks him against the wall. Sanada's breasts bounce. His legs shake. His cunt burns. Yukimura's eyes roll back. He groans Sanada's name over and over. When he comes, he groans Sanada's name between his breasts.
Sanada slithers to the floor. Yukimura digs his hand into the back of Sanada's thigh. He pulls him closer.
Yukimura's breathing ghosts across the rise of Sanada's chest. He kisses Sanada's neck. "I've been waiting all my life for this," he says.
***
On Monday, Sanada gets an email on the train. home late. training hard with coach. hope you like it. It's signed with a beating, fuchsia heart.
Sanada buys a six-pack of eggs from the seedy Sunkus across from the station. He buys a box of chocolate almonds, too. His cunt aches a little as he walks. So does his belly. He thanks the cashier, and pulls his earmuffs down.
The stairs of the apartment are icy in spots. Sanada holds the railing tight with one mitten. He holds the plastic bag in the other. The stair well is dim, and the sun has nearly set over the tops of the low apartment blocks to the west. Sanada opens the door. He says, "I'm home" into the silence. There is a little note tucked onto the window sill by the door. Sanada glances at it. He'll read it later. He wiggles. It's about time to change tampons.
Sanada goes to the bathroom. He blinks. There is something small and tabby curled up on the toilet seat cover. He picks her up and drapes her over his shoulder. She wakes up with a meaty yawn. Then she mews.
His throat catches.
***
He calls her Nekochan number two. She kneads the end of the futon, and curls up where Yukimura likes to stick his feet. He frowns a little, and sticks his feet onto Sanada's side instead. His toenails are too long. His toes are icy on Sanada's leg. Sanada curls closer to him.
"Now it's home," Sanada says.
Author: Ociwen
Wordcount: 4900
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all, except the genderswitch verse.
Summary: Yukimura doesn't get it sometimes.
Author's Notes: Written ages ago, because I felt like it. The cleverest readers will get all the varied myu (and Denouverse) references.
This is a one-shot fic related to Dénoument, We'll Always Have Kanagawa, Accidentally All Right, Push/Pull, Maybe Definitely and Big Brother. The fics can be read separately, but they make more sense together.
And since I spent my birthday coding this, please leave a comment if you enjoy.
Class ends early. Four people showed up, one of whom was the prof. The other two were asleep. Sanada spends the train ride thinking about whether or not he should go to school tomorrow. It's almost winter break, anyway.
Yukimura emails him. ill be home for supper!!!
Sanada stops at the grocery store across from the station. It's a little hole in the wall, run by an obasaan who can't be more than four feet stooped over. She's deaf as a doornail and tells Sanada for the fifteenth time that the war took her hearing. She places the mandarins in one bag, and the tofu in another. Sanada nods his head at her. She grins back with her single tooth.
Home is a twenty-minute walk from the station. The streets are narrow, and strung up with telephone lines instead of fairy lights. More garbage rolls around the ground than people walk past. The low-rise buildings have roofs that sag and creak in the cold. Sanada shivers. He walks a little faster. Winter cuts through his jeans. If there was anything other than skinny jeans for women in the stores, he'd buy himself a pair of long underwear for underneath.
Sanada climbs the stairwell. It smells like piss. Some of the idol-wannabees who live on the top floor must have come home plastered last night. Sanada frowns. He watches his steps.
He unlocks the door. The machine flashes. Mother called this afternoon. She wants to know if he and Yukimura want to come for dinner on Sunday. Sanada starts the pot of water. He puts the fish from last night in-they didn't finish it all. He opens a jar of kimchi. It stinks. So he adds that into the pot, too. He stirs the pot around with a chopstick. Fish is Yukimura's favourite.
The clock reads half-past five. It'll be another hour or two.
Sanada spreads his homework on the low table. It tips to the one corner. Yukimura found it beside a dumpster. Sanada leans on it, and his papers fly across the room. He frowns. He picks up a textbook from the pile on the floor. The pages are curling from the damp. He flips to chapter four. Water drips from the bathtub. He can hear it through the wall. He reaches out for something furry to pet. The apartment seems empty without one.
He shivers. He pulls the futon inside off the porch, and curls up in it. His toes are still cold. The pot boils. Steam condenses on the windows. The apartment starts to smell like food. Sanada's stomach growls.
He checks his cellphone. No new emails. Yukimura should be on the train home by now. The draft plays with the hairs at the back of Sanada's neck. He crawls deeper into the futon. His fingertips are icy on his pen.
At seven, he dumps the tofu and onions into the pot. He starts the rice cooker with two cups. Renji emails. Beef is on sale at the grocery store near his place. He still lives at home with his parents. Kirihara won't be finished high school for another three months.
Sanada surfs internet auctions on his phone for antique vases. He taps his pen on the notebook. His stomach growls louder. The water starts to drip from the kitchen faucet, too. He looks down. His cellphone reads half-past eight. The rice cooker has been on warm for a while.
He tries Yukimura's number. Sanada frowns at the pulse tone. He scowls at the voice mail. Yukimura never checks that. The pot bubbles, so Sanada turns it down. The tofu is disintegrating. He snacks on a chocolate bar-it's almost that time of the month anyway. He pops on his iPod, and he emails Renji. Sanada scrubs the toilet seat. Yukimura's aim is off in the mornings. He's no sniper.
Renji calls. "Do you know where I could buy jars of pickles?"
"Pickles?"
"Not Japanese ones." Renji pauses. "A big jar of American-style pickles. Like the ones at McDonald's."
Sanada clenches his jaw. "Tell Akaya to keep his dick in his pants." He hangs up. He stirs the pot. The onions are stringy and unrecognizable. Then he feels bad, and emails Renji. Sorry.
pms, Sanada adds. He cringes.
At nine-thirty, he tries Yukimura again. There's still no answer. Sanada unplugs the rice cooker. He turns off the stove. He sits on the floor with the futon up to his armpits and eats by himself. The cold is deeper after dark. His hands shake. Kimchi stains the futon. Sanada whispers, "Tarundoru."
There isn't enough hot water for a bath. Sanada stands under the lukewarm shower until the first freezing spurts start. He cranks the water off. Cold droplets splash his toes. He jumps out of the tub and into his pajamas. He pulls on three pairs of socks. He unrolls the futon mattress from the cupboard, and puts the cover down. It's after ten. He yawns. He fishes Yukimura's ugly blue sweater from the closet. It's big on Yukimura. Sanada buttons it up-it fits him fine. Then he pulls the electric heater up to nearly the edge of the futon, and shuts off the light. He lays in the dark. His cellphone sits on the table. It doesn't buzz. It doesn't light up. There is a bowl of stew in the fridge wrapped in Clingfilm.
Sanada curls into himself under the futon cover. His teeth chatter. His nipples are stiff. With a huff, he gets out, turns on the light, pulls out the spare blanket, and drapes it over the end of the futon. He tucks it under and double-checks the heater. It glows red on high and hums.
He checks his phone, too. Eleven-thirty. He crawls back under the covers. Where are you? he thinks. He stares at the doorway. Acrid kimchi from dinner crawls up his throat. He reaches under his yukata. His thighs are hot, but he's not in the mood. Sanada sighs.
The doorway opens with a crash. Light from the corridor floods the apartment. Yukimura stumbles inside. He curses under his breath. He shuffles and trips over something and curses again.
Sanada can smell the cigarettes on him. He scowls.
Yukimura rummages in the darkness. Clothes rustle, and then the futon is pulled back. Sanada shivers at the sudden cold. Yukimura's feet dig into his calves. They're icy. Sanada hisses.
"Sorry," Yukimura mumbles. His breath is thick with beer. He reaches for Sanada's side. Sanada elbows him hard.
He curls onto his own side of the futon. Yukimura doesn't seem to notice. He's already snoring.
***
His first class isn't until ten, but he's up at the first crack of light under the curtains. Sanada rolls out of bed. He runs to the toilet, then gets his slippers from cupboard by the door. The lump of Yukimura doesn't move. Dark hair peeks out from under the futon cover. Sanada sighs. His breath puffs in the air.
He starts the rice cooker, and emails Renji. Sanada sits on a cushion on the floor, sipping tea. He organizes his notes for class. He eats a bowl of rice. Then he eats a slice of bread with azuki paste.
There's a pile of clothes from Yukimura. Sanada picks them up between his thumb and index. He coughs on the smell of smoke. The lump stirs.
"You're awake," Sanada says.
Yukimura grunts. He stuffs his face into the pillow and moans. Then he moans again. He staggers to the toilet. Sanada can hear the sound of him pissing. He frowns. "I just cleaned the toilet," he says. Yukimura isn't listening. Sanada can hear the sound of retching, too. He frowns deeper.
Yukimura is huddled over the toilet seat. He's stark naked, but every tiny hair on his body stands up. He lifts his head a little to Sanada. Then he's back down in the bowl. Sanada sprays the air with freshener. He sighs.
Yukimura doesn't thank him when Sanada drapes the blanket over his back. "Don't drink so much," he says. "You're under-age anyway."
Yukimura wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Bags hang under his eyes. Damp hair streaks his face, along with slime trails at the sides of his mouth. He winces. "There were senpais with us last night," he says. His voice scratches Sanada's ears. "The managers…bought rounds for everyone."
"Tarundoru!"
Yukimura cringes. He clutches his forehead. "Sorry…"
Sanada hands him a bowl of rice and a pair of boxers. "Put some clothes on."
Yukimura shuffles back to the main room. Sanada scowls.
"And have a shower! You stink!"
Yukimura shuffles into the bathroom instead.
***
Idiot, Sanada thinks. Fool! He glares. He purses his lips. He clutches his Lacoste bag tight to his chest. An OL across the carriage gives him a dirty look. Sanada blinks. Then he realizes he's scowling. He ducks his head down. His cheeks burn.
Five people show up for economics. Sanada looks for Marui, but he's not there. Half-way through class, his phone vibrates in his pocket. Sanada pulls it out. He holds the charms in his fist to stop the jingling. The prof doesn't look up.
Not coming to class.
Sanada frowns.
Marui does come to the university cafeteria for lunch. They meet in the drinks line. Marui's tray is loaded with the curry special, three white bread buns, and four apple jellies. Sanada has the fried chicken, and kelp and vegetable soup. "Did you get the notes from this morning?" Marui asks.
Sanada looks at him. Marui smiles.
"If you'd showed up, you could have your own," Sanada says.
"You're not gonna share?"
Sanada sits down. He scowls. He pulls his notebook from his bag, and rips the pages at the perforations.
"Thanks pal," Marui says.
On the way home, Sanada stops at the Familymart in the main station between his line change. He buys a small box of laundry soap, and a box of Meiji chocolate almonds. He emails Yukimura about supper. Yukimura responds before Sanada has closed his phone.
whatever u feel like. promise ill be home 2nite.
Sanada thinks about it on the train. He feels like Italian. The little shop has cans of clams. The obasaan places the can in a plastic bag, and smiles with her lone tooth. Sanada tells her to have a good night, too.
The apartment is frigid, but his insides are hot. Sanada checks the heater. It's still on. The curtains are closed. Sanada shifts his eyes. His nipples are hard and tight against his bra. Yukimura won't be home for a little while yet. Sanada slides a hand down his jeans. His pussy is wet. He closes his eyes, leans against the kitchen counter. He rubs his clit a little. It feels good, but…
Renji said something about vibrators a couple months ago. Sanada removes his hand from his pants. He sighs. He checks his cellphone. Yukimura won't be on the train yet. He pulls on the ugly sweater heaped on the floor. It smells like Yukimura: sweat and laundry soap and like his favourite spicy shampoo, too.
thinking of you. im wet…(.ω.)
When he presses send, his face flushes. Sanada waits for a response. He fries up the clams. He boils the water and dumps the spaghetti noodles in. His phone is silent.
Yukimura comes home in a mood. He dumps his bag in the foyer. His pants track mud across the floor. He's wearing his baggy grey tracksuit. His face is a shade of green, and he looks homeless. He shakes his umbrella out. Water splatters the walls. Sanada yells.
Yukimura glares. He stomps into the bathroom. Sanada frowns. He can hear Yukimura take a shit. Sanada sprays the Lysol around the apartment. He looks at the heater, and hopes they don't explode.
Yukimura sits at the table. He pulls an ashtray from the plastic shelf. He pulls a pack from his pocket. Sanada fries the spaghetti with the clams, and soy sauce. He sniffs the air. The smell of cigarettes is overpowering supper.
"Did you take your pills?" Sanada asks.
Yukimura snaps, "Don't nag me!" He stomps off to the bathroom. The cupboard over the sink slams. The cigarette sits in the ashtray. Smoke coils in the air. Sanada stubs it out. Yukimura lights a second one as Sanada passes him a plate of food.
Sanada kneels down on the floor next to him. His thighs start to ache before he's had two bites. He twists around, and sits cross-legged. Yukimura alternates between his smoke and his supper. Sanada turns the other way. He coughs. Yukimura takes another drag.
"That's disgusting!" Sanada says.
Yukimura purses his lips. He blows through his nose instead. Sanada drops his chopsticks. He grabs the pack. He cranks open the window, and he chucks the pack down. It lands on the balcony on the floor below.
"Hey!" Yukimura says. "Those were mine!"
"It's disgusting," Sanada says. He slurps up a mouth of pasta. Yukimura just narrows his eyes. They eat in silence. After, Yukimura leans back. He downs his glass of hot tea like a pint. He lets out a belch.
Sanada picks up the plates. "What is your problem?" he snaps. The dishes clatter in the sink.
"My coach…told me that I need to…" Yukimura shakes his head. He reaches into his jacket pocket. The smokes are probably soggy by now.
"That…I should break up with you."
Sanada's ears ring. His throat closes up.
Yukimura closes his eyes. He takes a deep, shuddered breath. He coughs a little. "The…he said that sports stars have to be careful. Girlfriends can damage reputations. Fans get…nasty." He lifts his head. He stands up, and looks at Sanada.
Sanada's body feels cold all over. His voice cracks. "Being a tennis pro is…" His eyes sting. "What you want to do."
He runs into the bathroom and locks the door. Sanada slumps to the floor. He starts to cry. Yukimura knocks on the other side. He says Sanada's name. He asks if Sanada is okay. Sanada chokes on mucus. He cries harder. He stuffs his face in Yukimura's sweater. It doesn't muffle anything. He hugs it tight to his body. Sanada balls his fists in the sleeves. He stands up. He turns on the shower as hot as it will go before the faucet sticks. He reaches for Yukimura's bottle of shampoo. Sanada closes his eyes. He breathes in the smell. Bubbles burst at his feet.
He walks into the main room in nothing but an old towel. His nipples stiffen at the cold. He hisses at the frozen floor under his feet. Sanada jumps onto the tatami, but it isn't much warmer. Yukimura looks up. He's sitting under the futon cover in a t-shirt. He sets the plant book down. His eyes are pink.
Sanada climbs under the futon. Yukimura throws his t-shirt across the room. Sanada grabs Yukimura hard. His skin is warm and shoulders are broad. Sanada digs his nails into Yukimura's back when Yukimura slides a hand between his legs.
Don't leave me, Sanada wants to say. He squeezes his eyes shut, but he cries anyway. He digs his nails in deeper. Yukimura doesn't say a word.
***
There is an email on his cellphone when Sanada wakes up. He curls into himself under the covers. He smells Yukimura's pillow. He rolls into the indent Yukimura's body made. Sanada thinks about yesterday, and his insides twist. There is a new bruise on his breast.
early meeting
Sanada peaks through the curtains. The sky is murky. He gets dressed. The ugly sweater is gone, so he pulls another from the closet out. Heaped at the bottom, underneath damp tennis shorts, is the lime hoodie with the engrish words on the back. Sanada crawls into it. He hugs it to his chest. It fits wrong. But it smells right.
Instead of going to campus, he meets Jackal at Starbucks. Jackal orders the holiday special, venti, with an extra two shots, and the muffin. Sanada stirs his grande tea. He watches Jackal eat. His stomach complains.
Jackal offers a bite. Sanada shakes his head. He scowls at the table. The baristas play a mix of Edith Piaf and Enrique. Rain slithers down the windows and blurs the lights of Shibuya.
"Sanada?" Jackal asks. "You guys…fighting? Is he still not cleaning the toilet?"
"It's fine," Sanada mutters.
Jackal leans back on the banquette. He licks his finger and wipes the crumbs from his plate. He sighs. "You sure…?"
"It's fine!" Sanada says. He glares. Jackal says okay.
"When do you leave?" Sanada asks.
"Next Friday." A smile breaks across Jackal's face. He unfastens his barrette, and tucks his hair back in. "I need to buy a couple new bras before I go still."
Sanada shifts in his seat. He swirls his tea around the paper cup.
"It's been a couple years since I've seen my grandparents and my cousins." Jackal leans over the table. "And my cousins say they have some friends who…" He winks. "You know. Might be interested."
Sanada grunts. "Marui?"
Jackal rolls his eyes. He sighs. He sips from his coffee. He drums his nails on the table. This week, they're deep blue. "He wants to head out to the club in Chiba before I go. I said fine. It'll shut him up for a while."
Sanada stares out the window. A Loft truck passes by, then a stream of people huddled under their umbrellas. Jackal says his name. Sanada blinks.
"You sure you're okay?" Jackal asks. He touches Sanada's arm. His brow furrows. "Yukimura's sweater?"
Sanada crosses his arms. "Maybe."
***
He goes to the underground arcade with Jackal. Jackal tries on a dozen bras. Sanada stands in the corner. He looks around. The saleswoman asks if he needs anything. Sanada glares.
"Can you grab me the next size smaller?" Jackal shouts. A bra flies over the top of the changing room. Sanada catches it. "I want my tits to look really, really big."
Sanada gets the size smaller. He threads it under the door. Jackal says thanks. Sanada goes back to standing in the corner. He looks around. There's a rack of robin blue bras with beige lace next to him. Sanada swallows. The saleswoman says they have more sizes in the back.
Jackal swings his bag down the street. "Lunch?" he asks. Sanada stuffs his bag into the Lacoste tote. Under his scarf, he nods.
***
Jackal buys a bag of beans for his mother at the supermarket. Sanada buys a package of Chinese stir-fry, then an extra package of beef. They rush back to the train station under Jackal's polka-dot umbrella. On the platform, Jackal says bye. He steps onto his train. "If I don't see you before I leave, have a good Christmas!" Jackal waves. The doors start to close. "It'll be fine. He loves y-"
Sanada gets onto his train in the other direction. The bags sit between his feet. The floor of the carriage is wet. He thinks about emailing Yukimura that he's coming home now. But he doesn't. Sanada leans back in the seat and sighs.
The little shop on the street is boarded up. Sanada stops. He lifts the edge of his umbrella. His heart sinks a little.
The stairs of the apartment building are slippery. The stairwell has a leak. It drip-drops on Sanada's head. He shivers. Inside the apartment it isn't any warmer. Sanada hangs his coat in the closet. He peels off the sweater, and his shirt, then his bra too. The fine hairs on his breasts stand up stiff. He hisses. He has to do the new bra up on the widest hooks. He looks in the mirror of the bathroom. Sanada frowns. The material is thinner than he thought. He can see his nipples dark through the cups.
He pulls his shirt back on, and Yukimura's ugly hoodie too. His phone beeps. Marui sent an email five minutes ago. didnt get to class. can I get ur notes??? thnx!!
Sanada deletes the message.
The door swings open. Yukimura drops his stuff in the foyer. "Good, you're home," he says. In the same breath, he says, "My coach is coming for dinner."
Sanada sniffles.
Yukimura shakes his head. He presses his hands to Sanada's face. They're wet and cold. But his mouth is warm. He kisses Sanada again. His tongue slides over Sanada's lips, then his teeth, too. Yukimura sighs. He pulls Sanada's head down to his chest. Sanada listens to his heartbeat. He sniffles another sob.
"I told my old coach to fuck himself."
Sanada looks up. Yukimura starts to smile. His teeth flash.
"So my new coach is coming over."
"New coach?"
"Yeah, in twenty minutes. I fired the old one this morning."
Sanada stares at the apartment. Yukimura left towels heaped on the floor. There's a pile of rank laundry. The main room can hardly fit a double futon, let alone three people. The tiny folding table is peeling-and missing a leg. Books are stacked three feet high. And there's a box of tampons that exploded in the kitchen. Not to mention the dishes piled in the sink.
Yukimura announces he's going to the bathroom.
Sanada stares at his back. His jaw drops. If he wasn't so upset, he'd smack Yukimura across the head. Instead, he starts to stuff the clothes into the closet. He sprays Lysol around the room, and starts the frying pan. Then he switches the pan with the kettle. The pan sizzles on the counter. Burnt plastic stinks. Sanada swears. There's an eight-inch round burn on the Formica. And Yukimura is in the shower, singing.
"Lazy ass!" Sanada hisses. He sprays more Lysol. The heater starts to spark. Sanada cranks open the window. He hopes this new coach has hot blood.
Yukimura wanders out of the bathroom. Steam creeps out with him. He smiles at Sanada. "I even folded up my towel," he says.
Sanada snorts. He shoves the other musty towels into Yukimura's chest. "Good. Now fold these too."
Yukimura looks at the towels. "And put them…?"
"On top of the washer. Make sure the door is closed. I'll wash them later." Sanada runs between the main room and the hob. He throws the tennis bags onto the porch. He stuffs the books into the closet. He shuts the door, and everything bursts out. Books smash onto the floor. Yukimura pushes Sanada.
Sanada's chin starts to tremble. Yukimura piles the books up. He opens the closet. "I'll get them," he says.
The buzzer sounds. Sanada sucks in a breath. He's still in the ugly lime sweater, and a pair of Yukimura's flannel pajama pants.
There's a loud thump. Then two more. The door shakes.
Sanada opens the door. One of the idol wannabees from upstairs is in the corridor. There's a cigarette dangling from his lips, and his pants hang down halfway to his knees. His hair is dyed. It stands up straight. Sanada thinks he looks ridiculous. He frowns. The guy flicks ash onto the floor.
"Upstairs," Sanada says. "Apartment ten."
"Oh!" Yukimura squeezes past Sanada. "Akutsu. Come in."
***
Sanada doesn't get it.
Akutsu smokes like a chimney. He smokes while he talks. He smokes while he eats. The only time he's not smoking is when he's coughing wet gobs that he wipes on his pants. He swears worse than a Yankee. And he's so tall that he has to duck in the apartment.
(Though, to be fair, it makes Sanada feel short for once)
Sanada pours the tea. The cups slosh on the table. He purses his lips, but he doesn't bow his head. Akutsu doesn't say thanks, either. He slams the beer onto the floor. Sanada looks at Yukimura. Yukimura opens two cans. He passes one to Akutsu, and says, "To winning."
"To kicking some fucking pansy ass," Akutsu says.
Sanada just sips his tea. The rice cooker sputters in the kitchen. The stir-fry cooks on the hob. The place doesn't smell quite so much like Lotus Garden Lysol now.
Sanada looks at Akutsu between smokes. Akutsu stares back at him. He glares at Sanada, straight in the eye. Sanada thinks that he's the first person to do that. He crosses his arms over his chest.
"Do I know you?" Sanada asks.
Akutsu says he doubts it.
"You played tennis," Sanada says. "Yamabuki."
Akutsu snorts. It turns into a cough. He slaps his chest to hork up a wad. Then he narrows his eyes. Sanada sits up straighter. Yukimura nurses his Asahi.
"I remember you," Akutsu says. "I thought you had a dick. When'd you grow the tits?"
Yukimura chokes on his beer. Sanada can't breathe. He makes little noises in the back of his throat. Yukimura speaks for him. Akutsu just shrugs and says whatever, he doesn't care what the hell Yukimura fucks around with in his spare time so long as he fucking wins on the court.
Yukimura pats Sanada on the arm. "Akutsu has the same sort of winning attitude as me." He offers a thin smile. Akutsu blows smoke across the room.
"Whatever," he says.
The rice cooker beeps.
Akutsu isn't the coach Sanada imagined. He thinks that he's probably not the girlfriend Akutsu imagined, either.
Akutsu's phone goes off. The music sounds like American trance. He slams his phone on the table. The dishes clink. The bowls slide to the far edge. Sanada dives for them. He gathers them up, and stacks them in the sink. He takes away the empty cans, too.
"Stupid bitch," Akutsu says.
Sanada glares. Yukimura blinks.
"Fucking mother wants to know where I am," Akutsu says. He coughs.
"It's nice that she cares," Yukimura says.
Akutsu rolls his eyes. He stubs another smoke into the ashtray. Sanada leans on the kitchen counter. He looks out the window. It's raining again. He frowns. Yukimura's equipment will get mouldy if it's out too long.
When Akutsu leaves, he nods from the doorway. He grunts that the stir-fry it's better than the shit his mother makes. Sanada's face feels warm. He mutters "Thanks". Sanada closes the door. The apartment is quiet, except for the drip in the bathroom. He opens the balcony door. It catches halfway on the track. Cold rain blasts into Sanada's face. He hisses.
Yukimura spreads his equipment out in the bathroom. He sets his wristbands behind the toilet to dry out.
"Do you really think he'll help you win?" Sanada asks.
Yukimura runs his thumb across Sanada's cheek. He smiles. Sanada shivers. His eyelashes are fluttering. So is his heart. "I wouldn't give you up for anything."
"You didn't answer the question," Sanada says.
Yukimura laughs. The fluorescent light from the bulb reflects in his pupils. He slides his hands down to Sanada's hips. Then he jerks their bodies together, hard. Sanada squeaks. His face turns red.
"I'll be in the finals in New York," Yukimura says. He pulls at Sanada's sweater. Sanada raises his arms over his head. Yukimura throws it across the kitchen. "Isn't that mine?"
Sanada rubs his face in Yukimura's neck. "That's ambitious…" Yukimura's skin is hot. His hair tickles Sanada's face. Yukimura wriggles his hands up under Sanada's shirt. He fumbles with the bra clasp. Sanada sighs. He moans. Yukimura pulls his shirt off instead.
He blinks.
Sanada's nipples stiffen to the point of pain. He looks down. The bra seems more translucent than ever.
"God," Yukimura whispers. He squeezes Sanada's breasts. He twists Sanada's nipples. He yanks at Sanada's jeans, and fucks him against the wall. Sanada's breasts bounce. His legs shake. His cunt burns. Yukimura's eyes roll back. He groans Sanada's name over and over. When he comes, he groans Sanada's name between his breasts.
Sanada slithers to the floor. Yukimura digs his hand into the back of Sanada's thigh. He pulls him closer.
Yukimura's breathing ghosts across the rise of Sanada's chest. He kisses Sanada's neck. "I've been waiting all my life for this," he says.
***
On Monday, Sanada gets an email on the train. home late. training hard with coach. hope you like it. It's signed with a beating, fuchsia heart.
Sanada buys a six-pack of eggs from the seedy Sunkus across from the station. He buys a box of chocolate almonds, too. His cunt aches a little as he walks. So does his belly. He thanks the cashier, and pulls his earmuffs down.
The stairs of the apartment are icy in spots. Sanada holds the railing tight with one mitten. He holds the plastic bag in the other. The stair well is dim, and the sun has nearly set over the tops of the low apartment blocks to the west. Sanada opens the door. He says, "I'm home" into the silence. There is a little note tucked onto the window sill by the door. Sanada glances at it. He'll read it later. He wiggles. It's about time to change tampons.
Sanada goes to the bathroom. He blinks. There is something small and tabby curled up on the toilet seat cover. He picks her up and drapes her over his shoulder. She wakes up with a meaty yawn. Then she mews.
His throat catches.
***
He calls her Nekochan number two. She kneads the end of the futon, and curls up where Yukimura likes to stick his feet. He frowns a little, and sticks his feet onto Sanada's side instead. His toenails are too long. His toes are icy on Sanada's leg. Sanada curls closer to him.
"Now it's home," Sanada says.