The Fall of Cicero - 1
Title: The Fall of Cicero
Author(s):
Atobe provided by: Tari thinkwell
Jirou provided by: Belle digital_tenshi
Part: 1 of ?
Pairing(s): AtoJi
Rating: PG-13 (Warning: Eventual NC-17)
Warning: Yaoi, AU
Disclaimer: We own nothing.
Summary: In a far off feudal land there is a little less than one year left till Atobe’s eighteenth birthday, by which a marriage and consummation is expected to occur. But what about the best friend that he leaves behind?
It was sweltering hot, a kind of hot that left the sleepy-eyed lad watching the stable hands from his bed on a bale of hay, feeling languid and ready to drop off to dream land. Which, normally he would have already been nestled sweetly in the arms of the sandman, but that was Atobe's stallion being dressed. He was sure of it.
Jirou had slipped away from his own home hours before in hunt of the perfect place to sleep the day away without the annoying interruption of his tutors and mother. Such a haven had been found amongst the walls of his childhood friend's stable, where the crisp scent of hay and horses mingled together with far more earthly smells, leaving his nose somewhat offended, but who would think to look for him here? No one, not his mother and not the watchdog of a teacher she'd dragged in to teach him ballroom dancing in preparation of the coming debut of one of her protégés. She insisted that he escort the youngest on the night of her coming out, however. The golden haired, amber-eyed lad absently watching the stallion prancing before the lad fastening the saddle in place, really didn't want to.
He always felt so stifled at those events, forced to stay awake when he would have much preferred finding a corner to sleep in. That is, unless someone especially exciting was present, but the only one who met that level of prestige within his mind was Atobe. And Atobe usually ended up surrounded by hoards of giggling females vying for his attention, which really didn't sit well with Jirou at all. Although, he had no idea why.
Atobe was smart and handsome, rich as Midas and just as popular as the Queen herself. So it stood to reason that he'd be the center of everyone's attention, right?
The air was dead when Atobe walked out of his manor, the heat pressing against his clean tunic, causing light perspiration. He wiped his forehead gently, his thoughts only on the riding trip ahead of him. He couldn’t wait to feel the light wind caress his cheeks. Walking down the dirt path to the stable, he cocked his head, deciding offhandedly that the stable was much too far from the house. Though logically, if the stable was moved closer to the house, he supposed that the smell might be too unbearable.
He sighed again; the heat must have been getting to him if his brilliant mind was producing such faulty logic. Turning towards the sun, he averted his eyes temporarily from its bright glare. Coming from a particulary liberal noble family, he was given the authority to do whatever he wanted, provided that he followed certain provisions. One of his parent’s most recent stipulations and arguably the one that grated on his nerves the most was that he pick a wife before his eighteenth birthday. His eighteenth birthday was quite a ways off, a little under a year, yet he still shuddered in revulsion every time any single member of his adoring female fanclub pressed a little too close. It wasn’t that Keigo hated the attention, quite the contrary. However, he felt a wave of discomfort course through his body every time those large lumps of womanly flesh contacted his body.
Exhaling slowly, he stepped into the stable, pleased to see that the horse was already saddled and ready to go. He had a little over year to get used to it, no reason why he couldn’t; after all he was the great Atobe Keigo.
Sleep-kissed eyes, hazy with languid laziness and a refusal to stay open much longer, suddenly widened when the boy Jirou had been thinking about stepped into the stable. His stomach did it's usual funny little dance of tingles and butterfly wings, before the next second found a petite, golden-haired boy scrambling off his bed of hay and diving toward the handsome figure's back.
"Atobe!" he exclaimed on a hushed whisper, knowing better than to squeal as loudly as he normally would around the sensitive stallion whose head swung toward his master the minute he stepped through the doors. Lean arms, toned and finely muscled, secured Atobe's waist from behind, clinging tediously.
"Are you going riding or hunting? Well, I guess you're riding either way, no matter what you're doing it for, but still it's always wonderful when you do." Innocent babble, Jirou's trademark, slid free of his mouth. He never stopped to actually think about what he was saying when such excitement zipped along inside him, a blessing since everyone and their mother knew from experience that he never lied, and if he did, he'd be caught at it easily.
The impact of the other boy on Keigo’s back almost sent him sprawling, but he held firm, back ramrod straight as warm arms wrapped around him from behind. He turned to regard the other boy through crystalline eyes. “Jirou?” he questioned, surprise creeping into his voice. His gaze was level as he watched his long time friend, secretly pleased at the other’s presence. “What are you doing here?”
It came out a little harsher than Keigo intended, the natural intonations of his voice lending itself to slightly irritated fluctuations, especially after being reminded of his parents just earlier about his duty to the Atobe family. In truth, though he would never say it, Atobe enjoyed Jirou’s surprise visits, his bubble personality more tolerable to the blue haired noble than most.
Jirou flushed, fighting against the urge to duck his head and hide it against the broad back in front of him. Uh oh, Atobe was mad, wasn't he? Maybe he shouldn't have come after all, however. Jirou wasn't going to let that harsh tone get to him. No, he wasn't. "Mother was torturing me again, but this time with dance lessons instead of history or mathematics. So, I thought I'd sneak off and take a nap, only she knows all my napping spots at our house." Which explained why Jirou had invaded his best friend's stable.
He grinned, keeping his hold on Atobe's waist, and then tilted his head back to share the slow curling of his lips. "She's determined to force me to escort Lady Arlington's daughter to the ball." A fate worse than death since the young lady had a habit of continuously talking, hardly taking a breath in-between spewing all the latest gossip. Which wasn't exactly constructive to Jirou falling asleep and staying that way, especially when she all but screeched in his ear like a banshee.
Nodding sympathetically, Atobe frowned in distaste. Women were mostly all the same, annoying and full of chatter- especially Lady Arlington’s daughter. If Keigo had a pence for every single time she opened her mouth to gossip about others, he’d be at least three times as he was rich now. He shook his head; last he could recall Jirou could dance perfectly well. Keigo had no objections to his dancing. He shifted slightly, attempting to indicate that the other boy should let go so that he could get to his stallion. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the other boy’s touch. In fact he found it downright soothing most of the time. With the other boy clinging like a limpet, it didn’t take long for the proud noble to give in. “Ride with me,” he commented, glancing down at Jirou, meeting a headful of tawny locks.
The stallion neighed impatiently and stamped its feet. “Mm.” Muttered Keigo and not waiting for the other boy’s reply lifted him up and carried him in his arms over to the horse before plopping him on the saddle. Hopping up and swinging his leg over the side of the steed, he steadied himself by gripping the horse’s luxurious white mane. The dappled gray animal bucked slightly and Atobe instinctively reached back and grabbed onto Jirou’s hands, wrapping them around his own waist. “Hold on tight,” he ordered, squeezing his knees inward gently guiding the horse forward out of the stable.
As soon as they left the stable and had settled into a steady trot, Atobe turned his head slightly and replied to Jirou’s earlier statement. “Just say no.”
Atobe's confidence and willingness to take charge when he was after something, was one of the many qualities Jirou admired the most about him. Hustled from ground to stallion, he didn't mutter a single objection, even when his arms were once again guided toward the waist he'd been so reluctant to let go of. "Tried," Jirou mumbled with a slight wrinkling of nose, showing his displeasure with the outcome of the confrontation between mother and son.
"She refused to listen to reason, and then insisted my dancing skills weren't up to par, and perhaps I needed to hone them. So she called in a tutor. Which, I guess he's okay and all, but I really don't want some strange man leading me around a dance floor since I should be leading, right? I mean, a girl doesn't lead when she's dancing with her partner, because it's the male's place to, isn't it? So what can I learn about leading my date during a dance if my tutor throws me into the led one's spot?" He wasn't touching on the creepy-crawly feeling that jingled his spine when he thought about it all.
Actually, now that he thought about it, Jirou just didn't like to dance with anyone, especially girls and strange men. There was just something about all those squishy curves pressed close to him that made him cringe.
Keigo frowned. He didn’t like the sound of this tutor. The image of Jirou dancing with someone else- especially another man, thoroughly revolted him. “Tell your mother that ore-sama will teach you how to dance. She shouldn’t have any objections.” Throwing a backward glance, he added, “It’s not like your ‘escort’ knows how to dance. The only thing that she knows how to move is her mouth.” He snorted in disgust.
Turning back around, he maneuvered the horse through the Atobe house gardens, taking note of the foliage that lined the path. This time next year, riding through these gardens, it was preordained that he would no longer be riding with Jirou, but rather a blushing tittering female, who, in all likelihood was probably an exact replica of Miss Arlington. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat.
Jirou's habitual squeal of excitement over hearing such a declaration died in his throat. There was something about the light in those eyes when they looked on him, the set of Atobe's jaw and thinning of his lips. He liked to fancy that he knew his best friend well enough to know when something was wrong, and it did feel eerily like something was bugging his companion. Only, Atobe didn't like talking about such annoyances, preferring to keep them to himself since he could very well handle anything and everything on his own.
Conflicted between verbally prodding and resting his cheek against the back in front of him, Jirou settled on doing both. "Is.. I mean, you'd tell me if something were wrong, wouldn't you?" he asked, hoping to give the other boy an easy opening to vent if there was a rant worthy problem weighing on his mind.
“It’s nothing.” The reply was quick and curt, and Keigo regretted it the instant it came out of his mouth. Shaking his head, he repeated softly, “It’s nothing.” Damn all these rules and provisions. He didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want to find a wife. He didn’t want to think about this any longer. Never let it be known that Keigo Atobe shied from his duty. What had to be done, had to be done, and Atobe knew this most of all.
He had wondered sometimes, privately, how it would be different if he wasn’t born as Atobe Keigo. He had wondered how his thoughts would be different, how his life would be different. Usually, dismissing them as useless thoughts, these thoughts had been popping up a little more frequently, especially as the girls grew bolder with each passing day. Keigo reveled in the feeling of power, and in this particular scenario, he didn’t feel like he had any. He refused to let this ruin his day, and furthermore, he refused to let this ruin Jirou’s day. He gave a small smile, and repeated one last time, “It’s nothing.”
Turning his head to face the sun, he caught it face on in a defiant glare, commenting lightly, “It’s a good day for riding.”
Jirou shied away from the first curt denial, burying his face against Atobe's back to hide the spark of trepidation filling amber eyes. "It's nice and warm. Not as chilly as yesterday, and he's being good today. Normally he tries to throw me off before you can climb on, but you said it's nothing three times in a row, Keigo. Are you really sure it's nothing? Because if it were something, and I could help, I would." Pale cheeks flamed bright red, mortification and the certainty that sharp words would follow his insistent prodding, marring his skin with heated color.
Jirou didn't like to meddle and pry, especially in Atobe's life, but sometimes it was necessary or he'd never know what was going on outside the whisper of rumors that filled his ears at the society gigs his mother dragged him to. And that kind of information wasn't the kind he wanted to know. In fact, the last time he listened to the squawking of one particular lady, he'd been regaled with every detail of the way Keigo kissed.
He still didn't like thinking about it. Insisted mentally that it was none of his business and buddies, even best friends, had no right thinking about such things, and even less right to listen to them when some twittering bird just had to gush out all the gory details.
The stallion stopped with gentlest of touches. A slight turn of the head allowed blue eyes to regard the tawny haired boy with close scrutiny. “Drop it, Jirou.” Keigo kept his voice completely flat, all but glaring at the other boy. “It’s nothing.” The soothing ride was rapidly dissolving into a massive headache. Squeezing gently as a gesture for the horse to start moving again, Keigo lapsed into silence as the steed rode on, his blue eyes taking in all the sights and sounds, the loose hands of Jirou around his waist a silent sign of companionship and comfort. He didn’t want nor need words right now. There was nothing to discuss. Atobe had a role to fulfill and fulfill it he must.
The sun warmed Keigo’s hands as he held the reins loosely with one hand, the other hand resting his lap occasionally darting upwards to brush back his bangs. The path was well traveled and the horse’s shoes fit perfectly into the small ruts that had been created in the dirt road from years of use. It was Keigo’s favorite route, passing by many of his favorite scenes and trees, some of the most grand of the Atobe family vegetation. The flowers bloomed merrily on the trees swaying gently in the wind. Keigo let a smile grace his face as he finally let go of his concerns and responsibilities and fell into a relaxing pace, leaning back almost instinctively into Jirou’s embrace.
Jirou's arms tightened about his companion, trembling as they constricted. He never liked hearing that tone directed at him. Mostly, he thought, because he hated making Atobe mad. Of all the masks Atobe wore over time, from coldly furious to arrogantly accepting, the one of displeasure hurt the most. Yet, Jirou really didn't want to let it go. Something inside told him that whatever was setting Keigo on edge was bad. Very bad. Or bad enough that it rankled, causing Atobe's mask of superiority to slip..
He peeked out from his hiding spot against Atobe's back, took in the sight of the limbs swaying in the breeze, and then softly whispered, "I'm sorry. I just wanted to help." He pretended to be enthralled by the beauty of the flowers while the embarrassing confession slipped free of his lips.
Atobe’s composure slipped slightly. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, he exhaled slowly, feeling the wind pass across his lips. The horse shied slightly and Atobe forcefully guided him back onto the road. He didn’t respond. The soft tremors that passed through his companion’s body struck a chord inside him. He refused to respond.
“Why don’t we just take the time and enjoy the lovely scenery?” he murmured softly, his tone of voice making it more of a statement than a question. The unspoken words of ‘while I can still do it with you’ hung in the air, trapped inside Keigo’s mouth. There was something special about these rides through the garden that Keigo wanted to keep private, personal between Jirou and himself. They had been doing it ever since Keigo learned how to ride and the two young boys would ride playfully through the shrubbery with reckless abandon, heedless of the path, lost in a time which was not their own.
Things were different now. Today in particular, Keigo kept his eyes focused on the path ahead, distinctively marked out. There’d be no deviations from the path today.
"Okay," he answered, voice no more than a melodious feathering of sound on the breeze that mingled with the rhythmic thud of hooves over ground. He fell silent, struggled with the heavy feeling of doom settling over his heart, and then decided today of all days he wouldn't let anything stand in the way of making Atobe smile.
Jirou wasn't the type to let something bad ruin a perfectly beautiful day, especially one he was spending with his most favorite person in the world. Atobe had held that position for as long as he could remember, acting much like the sun within his atmosphere. The elder boy radiated confidence, pride and strength, tinged with the arrogance that was prominent amongst titled lords, but Jirou preferred to think such a mantle was uniquely Atobe's and so he did. No amount of pointing out the flaw in his thinking would ever change that.
"You know," he forced out a smile, boisterous and bright. "My mother envies your gardens. She can't seem to find a gardener as skilled as yours, and bemoans the fact that her beds never bloom quite so well." If he couldn't find out what was bothering Atobe, perhaps he could distract him by drawing his attention to something else. Something like the gardens all the Atobe family took pride in.
Atobe gave a wry smile at this. It was true. The Atobe family paid an ungodly fortune to their gardener, and it was completely on a beauty basis. If it was deemed beautiful, the gardener got paid a lot. If not, the gardener was fired. It was remarkable how beautiful their gardens turned out. He was glad that Jirou had not pressed the matter. He wasn’t even sure himself whether or not he had a proper answer for it yet. The pair passed by a plum tree, the purple fruits ripe and full.
Reaching out, Atobe felt his fingers clench around the smooth skin of a delicate plum before he gave a small tug, causing the plum to snap off from the tender twig and fall into his waiting palm. Pulling it back, he wiped it on his tunic before bringing it up to his nose and giving it a tentative sniff. The aroma was sweet and he took an eager bite, his clean teeth sinking through the soft skin and reaching the tender meat underneath. He chewed thoughtfully as he rode gulping down the bits of the juicy fruit from his first bite. After swallowing, he held out the bitten fruit as a small offering. “It’s good.” He reassured with a light grin toying with the edges of his face, crinkling his eyes bright blue eyes into a tender smile.
Jirou shifted, gaze drawn by the plum that dangled before him almost like forbidden fruit. He fancied the snake that offered the apple to Eve must have been as handsome as Atobe and surely not a snake at all, but some enthrallingly, beautiful fallen angel sent to tempt the poor woman. He laughed, delighted with the two comparisons, and then lifted up far enough to sink his teeth into the plump fruit.
He couldn't do anything about the juice that dribbled over the curve of his lip, or the noisy little moan of appreciation he gave, because it was true. The plum was good, lush and ripe, not overly sweet as some were, and he knew if he took that offering from Atobe, he'd never give it back. The thought of sharing was all well and good, but something that delicious begged consuming swiftly and then lavish praise. A happening that would be rude, so it was best not to tempt himself by actually laying hands on it.
A second later he pulled away, the bite of fruit securely concealed in the confines of his mouth. Jirou chewed and chewed, finally swallowing when he'd savored the flavor long enough. "You're right," he said as tongue slid out to slick across his bottom lip to gather the few drops of juice there. "It is good."
Keigo’s mouth suddenly went dry, watching Jirou eat the luscious fruit in front of him. He gave a light smirk, pulling back his hand. “I take it that you enjoy it.” Again, more of a statement than a question. Lifting up the bitten fruit to his lips, he lapped gently at the beads of juice that had gathered and took another bite of the succulent fruit, which held bursting flavor and a sweet lingering aftertaste that wasn’t there after the first bite.
Licking his lips, he pressed the half-eaten fruit into Jirou’s palm, “Eat the rest.” Turning around, he nudged the horse gently forward. The calming effect of the other boy’s presence was beginning to have noticeable signs. His lips were more inclined to curve upward, his eyes were more inclined to laugh. Having Jirou’s arms around his waist made Keigo feel powerful. He felt something stirring within him as he felt the other boy pressed against his back as the horse trotted, causing them to bump together ever so slightly, meshing their bodies together.
Blue hair flew magnificently through the air when Atobe Keigo tossed his head ever so slightly to point out the scampering of little squirrels in the upper canopy of the acorn trees. The garden was like a whole new world. A secret world that belonged to these two childish friends alone.
Jirou hesitated with his fingers curled around the half-eaten fruit. Amber eyes were drawn to his friend's lips, watching as the other's tongue slid across, wiping away the moisture left behind after Atobe took a bite. He felt really weird, almost bewitched by the sight, and that was preposterous he told himself with a mental shake to clear the fog starting to cloud his brain.
There wasn't anything unusual about what he saw. Nothing at all. So why was it that he couldn't seem to drag his gaze away? Not when Atobe took the time to point out the adorable sight of scampering squirrels in the trees, the way the leaves whistled when the breeze blew especially strong, and even how the sun seemed to dance through the canopy in a game of hide-and-seek? He felt almost drugged, cushioned from reality when the plum made its way to his mouth again.
Jirou managed to take a bite, and then leant forward to snake his hand up, positioning what was left of it within easy reach of the boy guiding the horse along the path. "I," he mumbled after swallowing, somehow forcing the words through a throat that suddenly didn't want to cooperate with him. "saved the last bite for you, Keigo."
His lips touching the other boy’s fingers in the slightest gesture of a kiss, Keigo took the proffered fruit, drawing the sweet fruit into his mouth and nibbling away at the juice before carefully spitting out the pit to the side, the small seed easily lost within the verdant plant life. The midday sun smiled kindly down on the two boys and Keigo found himself filled with a feeling of warmth and contentment. He had completely forgotten about his parent’s demand for marriage. Lost within the vibrant rays of the sun, the comforting hugs of the wind, the light hold of Jirou’s arms around his waist, the beautiful scenery, Keigo let himself go.
He waited expectantly for Jirou’s inevitable chatter with bright eyes and a small smile. Glancing around the garden he noted that this truly was their garden, the garden that they grew up in. The trees that they climbed up and over, the grassy hills that they rolled playfully down. Keigo didn’t have many friends growing up due to his haughty nature, but he was surprised, but delighted nonetheless, that he was able to hold fast and true to Jirou, his oldest and closest friend. They lived through their occasional spats and Keigo’s exaggerated, arrogant antics. In the overly dramatic life of nobility, where people were prone to backstab each other for fun, it was something that Keigo treasured.
Suddenly the day seemed overly warm and the air stifling. His throat constricted, and Jirou swore he couldn't breathe. His lungs refused to work. He was going to suffocate to death, wasn't he? And all because the fleeting touch of lips over skin left him reeling, nearly as if he'd been leveled with a good right hook, only without the pain.
"I've," he swallowed, throat working down the knot that formed there so he could actually babble out a spiral of rushed words. "Missed these rides. You've been so busy lately, and I didn't want to intrude. Thought you're parents would blow their stacks if someone distracted you from your studies, but I really did think about it. But then I figured you'd get blasted if I talked you into coming out when you were supposed to be focusing on important things." God, he was acting like such an idiot, going on and on. Yet, he couldn't seem to stop. Because if he did, then Atobe might notice the way his pulse was soaring, or spot the dazed look on his face, and Jirou didn't want that.
He couldn't explain away the sudden nauseous feeling, or hide the way his skin was overly warm and flushing. Maybe he was sick, and hadn't known it that morning? No matter, whatever it was, he couldn't let his companion notice since it would probably put an end to their time together.
“Oh?” Keigo made a mental note of that, mentally chastising himself for keeping himself so secluded. It was true that his parents had been giving his studies an extra push, they were growing rather old, and Keigo was coming of age rather soon. But that wasn’t much of an excuse. Jirou’s gentle voice wrapped around Atobe like a blanket and he glanced around comforted by the soft chatters that flooded his ears from behind.
Loosening the reins, he let the horse trot gently, the warm summer sky expanding outwards above him. A gentle twist of the waist and he was half turned around, leaning onto the horse and watching his friend lazily. He smiled. “Not a problem.” The long awaited reply was courteous, a product of years of refinement, one that was hard to drop even between such close friends.
Jirou was actually confused for a minute. Wide amber eyes remained locked on the boy whose lips twisted into such a gentle smile, ears choosing to ignore the words being spoken, while he reveled in the warmth Keigo's smile always brought into being. It never failed to make the world seem to recede, leaving the tawny-haired boy feeling as if nothing existed save for the two of them. He had often wondered in private musings, if Keigo ever felt like that, and if he'd think it weird if a confession was made admitting to such a fanciful thought.
He'd probably find it disgusting, which was why Jirou always stifled the urge to let that startling confession tumble off his tongue. Again, he gulped, an effort made to finally kill the persistent knot that just wouldn't leave the structure of his throat, and then hesitantly asked, "It's a good day for a nap, isn't it, Keigo?" a hopeful light filled his eyes, giving him the look of a child waiting with bated breath for a spectacular surprise to be given to him.
A laugh tore out of Keigo’s mouth at this statement. The rich baritone filled the air, making merry as it soared on the wind. “You think everyday is a good day for a nap Jirou.” He commented, a wide smirk on his face. The other boy never failed to bring a smile on his face, he righted himself, regaining control of the horse’s reins. In the small time that Keigo had spent lazing about the horse had already gone well off the established path and was now walking through a secluded part of the forest. The trees flew gently around the two boys as Keigo held, his breath trapped in his mouth.
The view blew him away, the hidden beauty outside the path, the small intermingling of the trees, supporting each other with their thick branches, the raggedy weeds that decorated the floor sparsely adding a nice decorative touch. The flowers that smiled in full bloom as they passed. He stopped the horse in a slight clearing with a small tug and hopped off. Upon landing safely upon the ground he held out his hand in an offering to help his friend down.
"That's because," Jirou playfully replied as his hand snaked down to curl around Atobe's. "Everyday is perfect for napping." He wasn't exactly elegant or graceful in dismounting, practically tumbling off when Atobe's stallion started pawing at the ground, but Jirou did manage not to stumble into his friend. That horse really didn't seem to like anyone but Atobe, but Jirou was determined that someday he'd make friends with it.
Jirou steadied himself, took a look around, and then softly exclaimed, "It's so pretty!" Which, sounded like something a girl would say, but it was. The flowers spread across the ground like a rainbow colored blanket, decorating it with splashes of brilliant hues. He hardly noticed the weeds that crept sneakily through them. Instead, bright amber eyes looked on in owe while his lips tugged into an excited smile.
“Oh is it now?” Keigo rolled his eyes. “It’s a wonder how you pass any of your lessons if you spend all your time napping.” Then again, he wasn’t one to talk, preferring to spend his days lounging about and instead letting the candle wax drip at night. Smilingly lightly at his friend antics, Keigo couldn’t help but think it cute the way that his friend was lightly flitting around, wide eyes amazed at the different flowers that dotted the small field. The ring of trees that surrounded this small clearing stood staunch and strong and Keigo sauntered over to their shade, closing his eyes against the cool breeze that stroked his face.
He sank against the rough bark, sliding down to rest at the base of the tree, leaning back and letting himself relax against the sturdy plant. He was surprisingly tired and the embrace of the shadows was soothing. Opening his eyes slightly, he watched through dim eyes the sight of his horse grazing slightly on the edge of the clearing and his best friend looking in amazement at the beauty that surrounded him.
Jirou's excited examination of his surroundings stopped about the time a small pout made plump lips tremble with feigned sadness. "I don't," he began, hesitating only long enough to pluck a few flowers. One for his mother, one for Lady Atobe and one for the person who would least expect it. "Sleep all the time." Only almost all the time, and even if he did, Jirou always managed to miraculously stay on top of his studies. Either he was very gifted, possessing a photographic memory, or the threat of his father's browbeating kept him in top form, no matter how much he slept.
His playful pouting faded when he straightened, gaze drawn to the boy languidly lazing against the strength of a tree. He couldn't help but admire the picture Atobe made sitting there like that, and the boy who watched on in wonderment was pretty sure sooner or later a fairy would happen along and steal the other away. However, if they stole Keigo away, they'd have to take him too. And to insure this, he would play the part of anchor.
It was such a grand idea, that a moment later found Jirou sinking down beside his friend. He made himself comfortable there on the ground, flashed Atobe a grin and wink, before his head found the other's lap. "You're a better pillow than the ground," he explained before a protest could be made.
Keigo smirked. “Of course.” He murmured nonchalantly, “I’m the best at everything.” He ran his fingers through the soft curls that adorned Jirou’s head. The soft hair parted easily under his fingers. The blue haired noble would never cease to be amazed at the silkiness of the hair under his fingers. “Your parents expecting you back any time soon?” he asked, leaving his hand tangled in the smooth locks, gaze lost in watching the horse graze slowly.
Relaxing beneath the tree, the soft head in his lap suddenly filled him with a sense of melancholy as his responsibilities slowly trickled back in through his defenses. Soon, his parents would start the courtship process. He supposed, slightly amused, that really there wasn’t anything wrong with it. It wasn’t like his heart was stolen away by anyone yet, so really he had nothing to lose. It’s just- he felt sad that his childhood was disappearing, his freedom. He looked down casually at his friend that was carelessly sprawled in his lap. This boy here, holds my childhood, he thought, meeting Jirou’s gaze before glancing away. But he had grown up and really- there wasn’t any loss. No loss at all. His heart lurched unexpectedly in his chest. “No loss at all.” He murmured softly, closing his eyes and drifting off into a restless, forced sleep.
Jirou frowned. He watched as Atobe drifted off to sleep, staving off the enticing call that tugged at his senses with a force of will that surprised him each time he managed to do it. He didn't make a habit of fighting off sleep, preferring to embrace it wholeheartedly, but there was something in those eyes that tugged at his heart. Something sad and lost, hinting at a problem Atobe refused to voice. Probably, he mused in silence, because whatever it was could easily be handled by the boy whose hair his fingers found their way to.
Idly, Jirou caught a lock of gossamer softness, threaded the blue silk between his fingers. He allowed the indulgence, knowing that Atobe was asleep and wouldn't know that he was playing with his hair. A thoughtful expression crept across sleepy features while he petted and stroked those strands, almost enthralled with the sensation that left his skin tingling with warmth.
He didn't always like being left in the dark. Oh, sure. He admired Atobe's strength, was awed by his ability to deal with everything on his own without asking for help, but sometimes Jirou wished he'd share the load. Especially when it put a barely discernable light of melancholy in eyes that should never hold anything but confidence. He sighed. The sound was disturbed by a yawn, creeping out of nowhere it blanketed Jirou in a wave of weariness hard to ignore. Yet, ignore it he did, just long enough to release those tresses and fetch one of the flowers he'd picked a few moments before.
"These also look better on you." he murmured sleepily, carefully tucking the wildflower above his snoozing friend's ear. Gentle fingers secured the purple blossom, nestling it safely there. Unaware of the upheaval to come, he drifted, golden lashes lowering to fan across his cheeks as sleep finally claimed him.
And there the two boys lay, the two friends, children on the verge of becoming adults. Running desperately away from a world that would catch up to them much too fast.
A/N: Hey all! Thanks for reading! We’d much appreciate it if you left a small comment if you enjoyed it. And we do have a small question to pose for all of you. We’re interested in expanding this into a small private RP (if you think your writing style would mesh well with ours), is anyone interested in playing other members from Hyoutei in this far off land? (Hyoutei only please!)
Of course, this small RP won’t really detract from this main story that is our focus, but rather something to set down more definites and histories about the world, etc. Email feudal.hyoutei@gmail.com with whatever character you want and a small writing sample. Thanks so much for your interest and thanks again for reading! We hope you enjoyed it and look forward to finishing this story.
Author(s):
Atobe provided by: Tari thinkwell
Jirou provided by: Belle digital_tenshi
Part: 1 of ?
Pairing(s): AtoJi
Rating: PG-13 (Warning: Eventual NC-17)
Warning: Yaoi, AU
Disclaimer: We own nothing.
Summary: In a far off feudal land there is a little less than one year left till Atobe’s eighteenth birthday, by which a marriage and consummation is expected to occur. But what about the best friend that he leaves behind?
It was sweltering hot, a kind of hot that left the sleepy-eyed lad watching the stable hands from his bed on a bale of hay, feeling languid and ready to drop off to dream land. Which, normally he would have already been nestled sweetly in the arms of the sandman, but that was Atobe's stallion being dressed. He was sure of it.
Jirou had slipped away from his own home hours before in hunt of the perfect place to sleep the day away without the annoying interruption of his tutors and mother. Such a haven had been found amongst the walls of his childhood friend's stable, where the crisp scent of hay and horses mingled together with far more earthly smells, leaving his nose somewhat offended, but who would think to look for him here? No one, not his mother and not the watchdog of a teacher she'd dragged in to teach him ballroom dancing in preparation of the coming debut of one of her protégés. She insisted that he escort the youngest on the night of her coming out, however. The golden haired, amber-eyed lad absently watching the stallion prancing before the lad fastening the saddle in place, really didn't want to.
He always felt so stifled at those events, forced to stay awake when he would have much preferred finding a corner to sleep in. That is, unless someone especially exciting was present, but the only one who met that level of prestige within his mind was Atobe. And Atobe usually ended up surrounded by hoards of giggling females vying for his attention, which really didn't sit well with Jirou at all. Although, he had no idea why.
Atobe was smart and handsome, rich as Midas and just as popular as the Queen herself. So it stood to reason that he'd be the center of everyone's attention, right?
The air was dead when Atobe walked out of his manor, the heat pressing against his clean tunic, causing light perspiration. He wiped his forehead gently, his thoughts only on the riding trip ahead of him. He couldn’t wait to feel the light wind caress his cheeks. Walking down the dirt path to the stable, he cocked his head, deciding offhandedly that the stable was much too far from the house. Though logically, if the stable was moved closer to the house, he supposed that the smell might be too unbearable.
He sighed again; the heat must have been getting to him if his brilliant mind was producing such faulty logic. Turning towards the sun, he averted his eyes temporarily from its bright glare. Coming from a particulary liberal noble family, he was given the authority to do whatever he wanted, provided that he followed certain provisions. One of his parent’s most recent stipulations and arguably the one that grated on his nerves the most was that he pick a wife before his eighteenth birthday. His eighteenth birthday was quite a ways off, a little under a year, yet he still shuddered in revulsion every time any single member of his adoring female fanclub pressed a little too close. It wasn’t that Keigo hated the attention, quite the contrary. However, he felt a wave of discomfort course through his body every time those large lumps of womanly flesh contacted his body.
Exhaling slowly, he stepped into the stable, pleased to see that the horse was already saddled and ready to go. He had a little over year to get used to it, no reason why he couldn’t; after all he was the great Atobe Keigo.
Sleep-kissed eyes, hazy with languid laziness and a refusal to stay open much longer, suddenly widened when the boy Jirou had been thinking about stepped into the stable. His stomach did it's usual funny little dance of tingles and butterfly wings, before the next second found a petite, golden-haired boy scrambling off his bed of hay and diving toward the handsome figure's back.
"Atobe!" he exclaimed on a hushed whisper, knowing better than to squeal as loudly as he normally would around the sensitive stallion whose head swung toward his master the minute he stepped through the doors. Lean arms, toned and finely muscled, secured Atobe's waist from behind, clinging tediously.
"Are you going riding or hunting? Well, I guess you're riding either way, no matter what you're doing it for, but still it's always wonderful when you do." Innocent babble, Jirou's trademark, slid free of his mouth. He never stopped to actually think about what he was saying when such excitement zipped along inside him, a blessing since everyone and their mother knew from experience that he never lied, and if he did, he'd be caught at it easily.
The impact of the other boy on Keigo’s back almost sent him sprawling, but he held firm, back ramrod straight as warm arms wrapped around him from behind. He turned to regard the other boy through crystalline eyes. “Jirou?” he questioned, surprise creeping into his voice. His gaze was level as he watched his long time friend, secretly pleased at the other’s presence. “What are you doing here?”
It came out a little harsher than Keigo intended, the natural intonations of his voice lending itself to slightly irritated fluctuations, especially after being reminded of his parents just earlier about his duty to the Atobe family. In truth, though he would never say it, Atobe enjoyed Jirou’s surprise visits, his bubble personality more tolerable to the blue haired noble than most.
Jirou flushed, fighting against the urge to duck his head and hide it against the broad back in front of him. Uh oh, Atobe was mad, wasn't he? Maybe he shouldn't have come after all, however. Jirou wasn't going to let that harsh tone get to him. No, he wasn't. "Mother was torturing me again, but this time with dance lessons instead of history or mathematics. So, I thought I'd sneak off and take a nap, only she knows all my napping spots at our house." Which explained why Jirou had invaded his best friend's stable.
He grinned, keeping his hold on Atobe's waist, and then tilted his head back to share the slow curling of his lips. "She's determined to force me to escort Lady Arlington's daughter to the ball." A fate worse than death since the young lady had a habit of continuously talking, hardly taking a breath in-between spewing all the latest gossip. Which wasn't exactly constructive to Jirou falling asleep and staying that way, especially when she all but screeched in his ear like a banshee.
Nodding sympathetically, Atobe frowned in distaste. Women were mostly all the same, annoying and full of chatter- especially Lady Arlington’s daughter. If Keigo had a pence for every single time she opened her mouth to gossip about others, he’d be at least three times as he was rich now. He shook his head; last he could recall Jirou could dance perfectly well. Keigo had no objections to his dancing. He shifted slightly, attempting to indicate that the other boy should let go so that he could get to his stallion. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the other boy’s touch. In fact he found it downright soothing most of the time. With the other boy clinging like a limpet, it didn’t take long for the proud noble to give in. “Ride with me,” he commented, glancing down at Jirou, meeting a headful of tawny locks.
The stallion neighed impatiently and stamped its feet. “Mm.” Muttered Keigo and not waiting for the other boy’s reply lifted him up and carried him in his arms over to the horse before plopping him on the saddle. Hopping up and swinging his leg over the side of the steed, he steadied himself by gripping the horse’s luxurious white mane. The dappled gray animal bucked slightly and Atobe instinctively reached back and grabbed onto Jirou’s hands, wrapping them around his own waist. “Hold on tight,” he ordered, squeezing his knees inward gently guiding the horse forward out of the stable.
As soon as they left the stable and had settled into a steady trot, Atobe turned his head slightly and replied to Jirou’s earlier statement. “Just say no.”
Atobe's confidence and willingness to take charge when he was after something, was one of the many qualities Jirou admired the most about him. Hustled from ground to stallion, he didn't mutter a single objection, even when his arms were once again guided toward the waist he'd been so reluctant to let go of. "Tried," Jirou mumbled with a slight wrinkling of nose, showing his displeasure with the outcome of the confrontation between mother and son.
"She refused to listen to reason, and then insisted my dancing skills weren't up to par, and perhaps I needed to hone them. So she called in a tutor. Which, I guess he's okay and all, but I really don't want some strange man leading me around a dance floor since I should be leading, right? I mean, a girl doesn't lead when she's dancing with her partner, because it's the male's place to, isn't it? So what can I learn about leading my date during a dance if my tutor throws me into the led one's spot?" He wasn't touching on the creepy-crawly feeling that jingled his spine when he thought about it all.
Actually, now that he thought about it, Jirou just didn't like to dance with anyone, especially girls and strange men. There was just something about all those squishy curves pressed close to him that made him cringe.
Keigo frowned. He didn’t like the sound of this tutor. The image of Jirou dancing with someone else- especially another man, thoroughly revolted him. “Tell your mother that ore-sama will teach you how to dance. She shouldn’t have any objections.” Throwing a backward glance, he added, “It’s not like your ‘escort’ knows how to dance. The only thing that she knows how to move is her mouth.” He snorted in disgust.
Turning back around, he maneuvered the horse through the Atobe house gardens, taking note of the foliage that lined the path. This time next year, riding through these gardens, it was preordained that he would no longer be riding with Jirou, but rather a blushing tittering female, who, in all likelihood was probably an exact replica of Miss Arlington. He felt bile rise in the back of his throat.
Jirou's habitual squeal of excitement over hearing such a declaration died in his throat. There was something about the light in those eyes when they looked on him, the set of Atobe's jaw and thinning of his lips. He liked to fancy that he knew his best friend well enough to know when something was wrong, and it did feel eerily like something was bugging his companion. Only, Atobe didn't like talking about such annoyances, preferring to keep them to himself since he could very well handle anything and everything on his own.
Conflicted between verbally prodding and resting his cheek against the back in front of him, Jirou settled on doing both. "Is.. I mean, you'd tell me if something were wrong, wouldn't you?" he asked, hoping to give the other boy an easy opening to vent if there was a rant worthy problem weighing on his mind.
“It’s nothing.” The reply was quick and curt, and Keigo regretted it the instant it came out of his mouth. Shaking his head, he repeated softly, “It’s nothing.” Damn all these rules and provisions. He didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want to find a wife. He didn’t want to think about this any longer. Never let it be known that Keigo Atobe shied from his duty. What had to be done, had to be done, and Atobe knew this most of all.
He had wondered sometimes, privately, how it would be different if he wasn’t born as Atobe Keigo. He had wondered how his thoughts would be different, how his life would be different. Usually, dismissing them as useless thoughts, these thoughts had been popping up a little more frequently, especially as the girls grew bolder with each passing day. Keigo reveled in the feeling of power, and in this particular scenario, he didn’t feel like he had any. He refused to let this ruin his day, and furthermore, he refused to let this ruin Jirou’s day. He gave a small smile, and repeated one last time, “It’s nothing.”
Turning his head to face the sun, he caught it face on in a defiant glare, commenting lightly, “It’s a good day for riding.”
Jirou shied away from the first curt denial, burying his face against Atobe's back to hide the spark of trepidation filling amber eyes. "It's nice and warm. Not as chilly as yesterday, and he's being good today. Normally he tries to throw me off before you can climb on, but you said it's nothing three times in a row, Keigo. Are you really sure it's nothing? Because if it were something, and I could help, I would." Pale cheeks flamed bright red, mortification and the certainty that sharp words would follow his insistent prodding, marring his skin with heated color.
Jirou didn't like to meddle and pry, especially in Atobe's life, but sometimes it was necessary or he'd never know what was going on outside the whisper of rumors that filled his ears at the society gigs his mother dragged him to. And that kind of information wasn't the kind he wanted to know. In fact, the last time he listened to the squawking of one particular lady, he'd been regaled with every detail of the way Keigo kissed.
He still didn't like thinking about it. Insisted mentally that it was none of his business and buddies, even best friends, had no right thinking about such things, and even less right to listen to them when some twittering bird just had to gush out all the gory details.
The stallion stopped with gentlest of touches. A slight turn of the head allowed blue eyes to regard the tawny haired boy with close scrutiny. “Drop it, Jirou.” Keigo kept his voice completely flat, all but glaring at the other boy. “It’s nothing.” The soothing ride was rapidly dissolving into a massive headache. Squeezing gently as a gesture for the horse to start moving again, Keigo lapsed into silence as the steed rode on, his blue eyes taking in all the sights and sounds, the loose hands of Jirou around his waist a silent sign of companionship and comfort. He didn’t want nor need words right now. There was nothing to discuss. Atobe had a role to fulfill and fulfill it he must.
The sun warmed Keigo’s hands as he held the reins loosely with one hand, the other hand resting his lap occasionally darting upwards to brush back his bangs. The path was well traveled and the horse’s shoes fit perfectly into the small ruts that had been created in the dirt road from years of use. It was Keigo’s favorite route, passing by many of his favorite scenes and trees, some of the most grand of the Atobe family vegetation. The flowers bloomed merrily on the trees swaying gently in the wind. Keigo let a smile grace his face as he finally let go of his concerns and responsibilities and fell into a relaxing pace, leaning back almost instinctively into Jirou’s embrace.
Jirou's arms tightened about his companion, trembling as they constricted. He never liked hearing that tone directed at him. Mostly, he thought, because he hated making Atobe mad. Of all the masks Atobe wore over time, from coldly furious to arrogantly accepting, the one of displeasure hurt the most. Yet, Jirou really didn't want to let it go. Something inside told him that whatever was setting Keigo on edge was bad. Very bad. Or bad enough that it rankled, causing Atobe's mask of superiority to slip..
He peeked out from his hiding spot against Atobe's back, took in the sight of the limbs swaying in the breeze, and then softly whispered, "I'm sorry. I just wanted to help." He pretended to be enthralled by the beauty of the flowers while the embarrassing confession slipped free of his lips.
Atobe’s composure slipped slightly. Sucking in a sharp breath of air, he exhaled slowly, feeling the wind pass across his lips. The horse shied slightly and Atobe forcefully guided him back onto the road. He didn’t respond. The soft tremors that passed through his companion’s body struck a chord inside him. He refused to respond.
“Why don’t we just take the time and enjoy the lovely scenery?” he murmured softly, his tone of voice making it more of a statement than a question. The unspoken words of ‘while I can still do it with you’ hung in the air, trapped inside Keigo’s mouth. There was something special about these rides through the garden that Keigo wanted to keep private, personal between Jirou and himself. They had been doing it ever since Keigo learned how to ride and the two young boys would ride playfully through the shrubbery with reckless abandon, heedless of the path, lost in a time which was not their own.
Things were different now. Today in particular, Keigo kept his eyes focused on the path ahead, distinctively marked out. There’d be no deviations from the path today.
"Okay," he answered, voice no more than a melodious feathering of sound on the breeze that mingled with the rhythmic thud of hooves over ground. He fell silent, struggled with the heavy feeling of doom settling over his heart, and then decided today of all days he wouldn't let anything stand in the way of making Atobe smile.
Jirou wasn't the type to let something bad ruin a perfectly beautiful day, especially one he was spending with his most favorite person in the world. Atobe had held that position for as long as he could remember, acting much like the sun within his atmosphere. The elder boy radiated confidence, pride and strength, tinged with the arrogance that was prominent amongst titled lords, but Jirou preferred to think such a mantle was uniquely Atobe's and so he did. No amount of pointing out the flaw in his thinking would ever change that.
"You know," he forced out a smile, boisterous and bright. "My mother envies your gardens. She can't seem to find a gardener as skilled as yours, and bemoans the fact that her beds never bloom quite so well." If he couldn't find out what was bothering Atobe, perhaps he could distract him by drawing his attention to something else. Something like the gardens all the Atobe family took pride in.
Atobe gave a wry smile at this. It was true. The Atobe family paid an ungodly fortune to their gardener, and it was completely on a beauty basis. If it was deemed beautiful, the gardener got paid a lot. If not, the gardener was fired. It was remarkable how beautiful their gardens turned out. He was glad that Jirou had not pressed the matter. He wasn’t even sure himself whether or not he had a proper answer for it yet. The pair passed by a plum tree, the purple fruits ripe and full.
Reaching out, Atobe felt his fingers clench around the smooth skin of a delicate plum before he gave a small tug, causing the plum to snap off from the tender twig and fall into his waiting palm. Pulling it back, he wiped it on his tunic before bringing it up to his nose and giving it a tentative sniff. The aroma was sweet and he took an eager bite, his clean teeth sinking through the soft skin and reaching the tender meat underneath. He chewed thoughtfully as he rode gulping down the bits of the juicy fruit from his first bite. After swallowing, he held out the bitten fruit as a small offering. “It’s good.” He reassured with a light grin toying with the edges of his face, crinkling his eyes bright blue eyes into a tender smile.
Jirou shifted, gaze drawn by the plum that dangled before him almost like forbidden fruit. He fancied the snake that offered the apple to Eve must have been as handsome as Atobe and surely not a snake at all, but some enthrallingly, beautiful fallen angel sent to tempt the poor woman. He laughed, delighted with the two comparisons, and then lifted up far enough to sink his teeth into the plump fruit.
He couldn't do anything about the juice that dribbled over the curve of his lip, or the noisy little moan of appreciation he gave, because it was true. The plum was good, lush and ripe, not overly sweet as some were, and he knew if he took that offering from Atobe, he'd never give it back. The thought of sharing was all well and good, but something that delicious begged consuming swiftly and then lavish praise. A happening that would be rude, so it was best not to tempt himself by actually laying hands on it.
A second later he pulled away, the bite of fruit securely concealed in the confines of his mouth. Jirou chewed and chewed, finally swallowing when he'd savored the flavor long enough. "You're right," he said as tongue slid out to slick across his bottom lip to gather the few drops of juice there. "It is good."
Keigo’s mouth suddenly went dry, watching Jirou eat the luscious fruit in front of him. He gave a light smirk, pulling back his hand. “I take it that you enjoy it.” Again, more of a statement than a question. Lifting up the bitten fruit to his lips, he lapped gently at the beads of juice that had gathered and took another bite of the succulent fruit, which held bursting flavor and a sweet lingering aftertaste that wasn’t there after the first bite.
Licking his lips, he pressed the half-eaten fruit into Jirou’s palm, “Eat the rest.” Turning around, he nudged the horse gently forward. The calming effect of the other boy’s presence was beginning to have noticeable signs. His lips were more inclined to curve upward, his eyes were more inclined to laugh. Having Jirou’s arms around his waist made Keigo feel powerful. He felt something stirring within him as he felt the other boy pressed against his back as the horse trotted, causing them to bump together ever so slightly, meshing their bodies together.
Blue hair flew magnificently through the air when Atobe Keigo tossed his head ever so slightly to point out the scampering of little squirrels in the upper canopy of the acorn trees. The garden was like a whole new world. A secret world that belonged to these two childish friends alone.
Jirou hesitated with his fingers curled around the half-eaten fruit. Amber eyes were drawn to his friend's lips, watching as the other's tongue slid across, wiping away the moisture left behind after Atobe took a bite. He felt really weird, almost bewitched by the sight, and that was preposterous he told himself with a mental shake to clear the fog starting to cloud his brain.
There wasn't anything unusual about what he saw. Nothing at all. So why was it that he couldn't seem to drag his gaze away? Not when Atobe took the time to point out the adorable sight of scampering squirrels in the trees, the way the leaves whistled when the breeze blew especially strong, and even how the sun seemed to dance through the canopy in a game of hide-and-seek? He felt almost drugged, cushioned from reality when the plum made its way to his mouth again.
Jirou managed to take a bite, and then leant forward to snake his hand up, positioning what was left of it within easy reach of the boy guiding the horse along the path. "I," he mumbled after swallowing, somehow forcing the words through a throat that suddenly didn't want to cooperate with him. "saved the last bite for you, Keigo."
His lips touching the other boy’s fingers in the slightest gesture of a kiss, Keigo took the proffered fruit, drawing the sweet fruit into his mouth and nibbling away at the juice before carefully spitting out the pit to the side, the small seed easily lost within the verdant plant life. The midday sun smiled kindly down on the two boys and Keigo found himself filled with a feeling of warmth and contentment. He had completely forgotten about his parent’s demand for marriage. Lost within the vibrant rays of the sun, the comforting hugs of the wind, the light hold of Jirou’s arms around his waist, the beautiful scenery, Keigo let himself go.
He waited expectantly for Jirou’s inevitable chatter with bright eyes and a small smile. Glancing around the garden he noted that this truly was their garden, the garden that they grew up in. The trees that they climbed up and over, the grassy hills that they rolled playfully down. Keigo didn’t have many friends growing up due to his haughty nature, but he was surprised, but delighted nonetheless, that he was able to hold fast and true to Jirou, his oldest and closest friend. They lived through their occasional spats and Keigo’s exaggerated, arrogant antics. In the overly dramatic life of nobility, where people were prone to backstab each other for fun, it was something that Keigo treasured.
Suddenly the day seemed overly warm and the air stifling. His throat constricted, and Jirou swore he couldn't breathe. His lungs refused to work. He was going to suffocate to death, wasn't he? And all because the fleeting touch of lips over skin left him reeling, nearly as if he'd been leveled with a good right hook, only without the pain.
"I've," he swallowed, throat working down the knot that formed there so he could actually babble out a spiral of rushed words. "Missed these rides. You've been so busy lately, and I didn't want to intrude. Thought you're parents would blow their stacks if someone distracted you from your studies, but I really did think about it. But then I figured you'd get blasted if I talked you into coming out when you were supposed to be focusing on important things." God, he was acting like such an idiot, going on and on. Yet, he couldn't seem to stop. Because if he did, then Atobe might notice the way his pulse was soaring, or spot the dazed look on his face, and Jirou didn't want that.
He couldn't explain away the sudden nauseous feeling, or hide the way his skin was overly warm and flushing. Maybe he was sick, and hadn't known it that morning? No matter, whatever it was, he couldn't let his companion notice since it would probably put an end to their time together.
“Oh?” Keigo made a mental note of that, mentally chastising himself for keeping himself so secluded. It was true that his parents had been giving his studies an extra push, they were growing rather old, and Keigo was coming of age rather soon. But that wasn’t much of an excuse. Jirou’s gentle voice wrapped around Atobe like a blanket and he glanced around comforted by the soft chatters that flooded his ears from behind.
Loosening the reins, he let the horse trot gently, the warm summer sky expanding outwards above him. A gentle twist of the waist and he was half turned around, leaning onto the horse and watching his friend lazily. He smiled. “Not a problem.” The long awaited reply was courteous, a product of years of refinement, one that was hard to drop even between such close friends.
Jirou was actually confused for a minute. Wide amber eyes remained locked on the boy whose lips twisted into such a gentle smile, ears choosing to ignore the words being spoken, while he reveled in the warmth Keigo's smile always brought into being. It never failed to make the world seem to recede, leaving the tawny-haired boy feeling as if nothing existed save for the two of them. He had often wondered in private musings, if Keigo ever felt like that, and if he'd think it weird if a confession was made admitting to such a fanciful thought.
He'd probably find it disgusting, which was why Jirou always stifled the urge to let that startling confession tumble off his tongue. Again, he gulped, an effort made to finally kill the persistent knot that just wouldn't leave the structure of his throat, and then hesitantly asked, "It's a good day for a nap, isn't it, Keigo?" a hopeful light filled his eyes, giving him the look of a child waiting with bated breath for a spectacular surprise to be given to him.
A laugh tore out of Keigo’s mouth at this statement. The rich baritone filled the air, making merry as it soared on the wind. “You think everyday is a good day for a nap Jirou.” He commented, a wide smirk on his face. The other boy never failed to bring a smile on his face, he righted himself, regaining control of the horse’s reins. In the small time that Keigo had spent lazing about the horse had already gone well off the established path and was now walking through a secluded part of the forest. The trees flew gently around the two boys as Keigo held, his breath trapped in his mouth.
The view blew him away, the hidden beauty outside the path, the small intermingling of the trees, supporting each other with their thick branches, the raggedy weeds that decorated the floor sparsely adding a nice decorative touch. The flowers that smiled in full bloom as they passed. He stopped the horse in a slight clearing with a small tug and hopped off. Upon landing safely upon the ground he held out his hand in an offering to help his friend down.
"That's because," Jirou playfully replied as his hand snaked down to curl around Atobe's. "Everyday is perfect for napping." He wasn't exactly elegant or graceful in dismounting, practically tumbling off when Atobe's stallion started pawing at the ground, but Jirou did manage not to stumble into his friend. That horse really didn't seem to like anyone but Atobe, but Jirou was determined that someday he'd make friends with it.
Jirou steadied himself, took a look around, and then softly exclaimed, "It's so pretty!" Which, sounded like something a girl would say, but it was. The flowers spread across the ground like a rainbow colored blanket, decorating it with splashes of brilliant hues. He hardly noticed the weeds that crept sneakily through them. Instead, bright amber eyes looked on in owe while his lips tugged into an excited smile.
“Oh is it now?” Keigo rolled his eyes. “It’s a wonder how you pass any of your lessons if you spend all your time napping.” Then again, he wasn’t one to talk, preferring to spend his days lounging about and instead letting the candle wax drip at night. Smilingly lightly at his friend antics, Keigo couldn’t help but think it cute the way that his friend was lightly flitting around, wide eyes amazed at the different flowers that dotted the small field. The ring of trees that surrounded this small clearing stood staunch and strong and Keigo sauntered over to their shade, closing his eyes against the cool breeze that stroked his face.
He sank against the rough bark, sliding down to rest at the base of the tree, leaning back and letting himself relax against the sturdy plant. He was surprisingly tired and the embrace of the shadows was soothing. Opening his eyes slightly, he watched through dim eyes the sight of his horse grazing slightly on the edge of the clearing and his best friend looking in amazement at the beauty that surrounded him.
Jirou's excited examination of his surroundings stopped about the time a small pout made plump lips tremble with feigned sadness. "I don't," he began, hesitating only long enough to pluck a few flowers. One for his mother, one for Lady Atobe and one for the person who would least expect it. "Sleep all the time." Only almost all the time, and even if he did, Jirou always managed to miraculously stay on top of his studies. Either he was very gifted, possessing a photographic memory, or the threat of his father's browbeating kept him in top form, no matter how much he slept.
His playful pouting faded when he straightened, gaze drawn to the boy languidly lazing against the strength of a tree. He couldn't help but admire the picture Atobe made sitting there like that, and the boy who watched on in wonderment was pretty sure sooner or later a fairy would happen along and steal the other away. However, if they stole Keigo away, they'd have to take him too. And to insure this, he would play the part of anchor.
It was such a grand idea, that a moment later found Jirou sinking down beside his friend. He made himself comfortable there on the ground, flashed Atobe a grin and wink, before his head found the other's lap. "You're a better pillow than the ground," he explained before a protest could be made.
Keigo smirked. “Of course.” He murmured nonchalantly, “I’m the best at everything.” He ran his fingers through the soft curls that adorned Jirou’s head. The soft hair parted easily under his fingers. The blue haired noble would never cease to be amazed at the silkiness of the hair under his fingers. “Your parents expecting you back any time soon?” he asked, leaving his hand tangled in the smooth locks, gaze lost in watching the horse graze slowly.
Relaxing beneath the tree, the soft head in his lap suddenly filled him with a sense of melancholy as his responsibilities slowly trickled back in through his defenses. Soon, his parents would start the courtship process. He supposed, slightly amused, that really there wasn’t anything wrong with it. It wasn’t like his heart was stolen away by anyone yet, so really he had nothing to lose. It’s just- he felt sad that his childhood was disappearing, his freedom. He looked down casually at his friend that was carelessly sprawled in his lap. This boy here, holds my childhood, he thought, meeting Jirou’s gaze before glancing away. But he had grown up and really- there wasn’t any loss. No loss at all. His heart lurched unexpectedly in his chest. “No loss at all.” He murmured softly, closing his eyes and drifting off into a restless, forced sleep.
Jirou frowned. He watched as Atobe drifted off to sleep, staving off the enticing call that tugged at his senses with a force of will that surprised him each time he managed to do it. He didn't make a habit of fighting off sleep, preferring to embrace it wholeheartedly, but there was something in those eyes that tugged at his heart. Something sad and lost, hinting at a problem Atobe refused to voice. Probably, he mused in silence, because whatever it was could easily be handled by the boy whose hair his fingers found their way to.
Idly, Jirou caught a lock of gossamer softness, threaded the blue silk between his fingers. He allowed the indulgence, knowing that Atobe was asleep and wouldn't know that he was playing with his hair. A thoughtful expression crept across sleepy features while he petted and stroked those strands, almost enthralled with the sensation that left his skin tingling with warmth.
He didn't always like being left in the dark. Oh, sure. He admired Atobe's strength, was awed by his ability to deal with everything on his own without asking for help, but sometimes Jirou wished he'd share the load. Especially when it put a barely discernable light of melancholy in eyes that should never hold anything but confidence. He sighed. The sound was disturbed by a yawn, creeping out of nowhere it blanketed Jirou in a wave of weariness hard to ignore. Yet, ignore it he did, just long enough to release those tresses and fetch one of the flowers he'd picked a few moments before.
"These also look better on you." he murmured sleepily, carefully tucking the wildflower above his snoozing friend's ear. Gentle fingers secured the purple blossom, nestling it safely there. Unaware of the upheaval to come, he drifted, golden lashes lowering to fan across his cheeks as sleep finally claimed him.
And there the two boys lay, the two friends, children on the verge of becoming adults. Running desperately away from a world that would catch up to them much too fast.
A/N: Hey all! Thanks for reading! We’d much appreciate it if you left a small comment if you enjoyed it. And we do have a small question to pose for all of you. We’re interested in expanding this into a small private RP (if you think your writing style would mesh well with ours), is anyone interested in playing other members from Hyoutei in this far off land? (Hyoutei only please!)
Of course, this small RP won’t really detract from this main story that is our focus, but rather something to set down more definites and histories about the world, etc. Email feudal.hyoutei@gmail.com with whatever character you want and a small writing sample. Thanks so much for your interest and thanks again for reading! We hope you enjoyed it and look forward to finishing this story.