(no subject)
Title: The Fall of Cicero
Author(s):
Atobe provided by: thinkwell
Jirou provided by: digital_tenshi
Part: 2 of ?
Pairing(s): AtoJi
Rating: PG-13 (Warning: Eventual NC-17)
Warning: Yaoi, AU
Disclaimer: We own nothing.
Beta: The lurvely Kryschu~ silver4ngel
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?
Previous Parts: 1
“I will take care of it, Lady Akutagawa. I assure you, there is no one better than I.” Atobe bowed slightly to the older lady. Her luxurious brown hair was tied up in a neat, prim bun. Soft gray eyes glanced affectionately at Keigo; she had watched him grow up beside her precious little boy. Wrinkles that she had desperately tried to stave away were sneaking onto her beautiful face. He lifted her hand to his lips in a gentle gesture of courtesy. “With my help, I am sure that Jirou will shine as bright as I.” He gave the Lady Akutagawa another dashing smile, causing her to laugh and place a warm hand on his shoulder.
“I am sure you will teach him well, Keigo.” She was used to his self-assured attitude and antics by now, an amused smile gracing her face. “After all, you are the best.” She laughed again, earrings jangling with each movement. Her plain dress hugged her body conservatively. She had aged well and despite her overprotective tendencies over her son, Keigo would have to admit that she was probably one of the most tolerable of the nobles.
“Naturally.” Atobe unleashed another dazzling smile. Sliding to Lady Akutagawa’s side with a suave move, Keigo announced grandly, “Leave it to me. I will get it done better than it would if done by anyone else.” He gave his hair a flippant flick with his wrist, causing the edges of the woman’s eyes to crinkle with laughter once more.
She lifted a slim hand and placed it on Keigo’s shoulders, regarding him carefully. “You’ll make a fine husband. A great son-in-law.” She sighed wistfully, gesturing around her with sweeping hand. The ballroom was grand, with mahogany tiles decorating the floors, a brightly lit chandelier shone from above- a thousand pieces of prismatic light illuminating the room. A slight stage was elevated in the corner to allow the orchestras to play; two wide expansive doors swallowed one of the walls.
“It’s all yours to teach with, Prince Atobe.” The title was drawled out of Lady Akutagawa’s mouth, teasing the boy gently with the common nickname granted to him by his fanclub. This caused a light grimace to flit across the blue haired boy’s face.
“JIROU!” she turned around and hollered, “Your new teacher’s here!” Returning to Atobe she gave a helpless smile, “This boy’s got two left feet, so best of luck Keigo. You’ll need it.”
"I do not," Jirou grumpily replied from behind an array of potted plants that filled the corners of the ballroom. The blossoms added a spark of brilliance to the otherwise stately room, leaving a trace of whimsy where before none had been. The shuffle of stalks being ruffled, pushed and opened, heralded his sleepy arrival. Jirou tumbled out of his napping spot, golden hair tousled and amber eyes dazed with tiredness.
"Got one left and one right. It's virtually impossible to have two left feet, unless you're born with a birth defect, and I wasn't. Therefore, I can't have two left feet, Momma." A yawn or two later, he stood beside Atobe, struggling against the temptation to plop his head on his best friend's shoulder and go back to sleep.
Lady Akutagawa gave her son her patented look of displeasure, and then turned beseeching eyes on Atobe as if to say, 'You see, I was right,'. "I'll leave you two, now." She replied politely, preferring not to scold her son in front of their guest. "Jirou, you listen to your teacher and pay attention. The day of the ball is arriving soon, and I want you to shine on the dance floor." With that, she retreated from the room, skirts swaying around her ankles as she walked.
Atobe smirked at his friend. “Listen to your teacher, Akutagawa-kun,” he murmured huskily, his tone light and teasing. Crystal blue eyes refocused on Jirou, a warm hand lifting up to embrace the boy around his middle in a light grasp. “These dances are about confidence. Strength and power are the rule. You want to prove your dominance, revel in your strength and power. You are in control of the dance.” He pulled Jirou close to him and began to move, leading every step.
The pair glided across the ballroom floor, with Atobe demonstrating the proper grip, his strong arms wrapped around his best friend. The light hit the chandelier, causing bright sparkles to soar across the room as the couple moved, dancing to an unheard tune. The blue haired boy glanced down into honeyed eyes. “She is your world, she is all that you see,” he murmured, pushing back a small lock of hair that had fallen into his friend’s thick lashes. “She is your everything.” The pair continued to dance, with Keigo glancing down at Jirou, isolating him from the rest of the world and unlocking a small smile.
With one last flourish, Keigo bowed slightly, signaling the end of the dance. He lifted Jirou’s hand up to his lips and kissed it softly. “It’s your turn, my protégé.” His arms fell to his side, as he stood there, waiting for the shorter boy to take the lead.
Atobe was right about one thing, Jirou thought. He, in that moment, was everything to the golden-haired teenager who couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from the confident lord leading him around the dance floor. Absently, he mimicked the words titillating his ears, "My everything," Words that faded, chased away by the blush that dusted his cheeks, leaving behind a wake of confusing warmth.
When a soft kiss brushed over his hand, Jirou's brain screeched to a halt, thought process hanging in mid-gear. Somehow, it rewound the scene, replaying it over and over again until he thought his ears were emitting puffs of smoke. The silence was unnerving, a deafening roar that followed his seeming verbal repetition of his teacher's instructions. Then, when Jirou was sure his senses couldn't handle another repeat of the vision being tossed around in his mind's eye, he cleared his throat. "Okay," an easy grin settled over his lips. "I can do it. You'll see, Atobe."
A wide smirk settling onto his features, Atobe jutted out his chin and held out his hand. It was time that they began their dance. How well Jirou had absorbed Keigo’s instructions would be evident now. Keigo knew that Jirou wasn’t a bad dancer; his mother did over exaggerate a bit with the comment about two left feet. The only problem with the shorter boy’s dancing was that he was unused to leading. The small practice dances that the two boys had amused themselves with when they were younger always had Keigo taking the lead while Jirou followed. In Atobe’s mind there was simply no other alternative, no other way of doing it. He remembered the pushing together of small hands, the slight giggling as the two boys playfully waltzed across the infinite ballroom. Their small feet had allowed them to move a mere few inches with each waltz, the journey across the vast expanse lasting hours at a time.
Now it was time for a reversal of their roles as Atobe faux curtsied in an attempt to imitate the Lady that Jirou would be dancing with. “Remember, she is your everything. Support her and allow her to fly. Be confident and show your strength and power.”
He looked up and asked, his blue eyes probing into Jirou’s soft ones. “Shall we dance?”
"We shall," Jirou replied, not at all ashamed to be seen dancing with his best friend. They'd spent many an hour within the same room playing, as little boys were prone to do. Jirou wasn't exactly sure how he always got thrown into the role of a lady when they indulged in those games of 'Let's pretend', or when they horse-played around, mimicking their elders; whom they had watched from afar during a spectacular ball. It had always been inevitable; he had always followed where Atobe led. But back then, he'd been content to do so. It was finally his turn to lead now, and perhaps it was about time.
Jirou carefully tucked Atobe's hand close to his chest as he pulled the blue-haired boy closer, free hand falling to settle gracefully on the curve of the hip awaiting it. His smile never faltered, and amber eyes warmed by his self-assurance didn't waver from startling blue. Step by step, he led Atobe into the waltz, mimicking the dance his mother had been shoving down his throat since he'd come of age. It was different than dancing with a girl, but soon enough his steps showed his growing confidence and the sureness with which they came. And while they gracefully glided over the floor, moving in time to a song only Jirou could hear playing through his mind, his voice slipped into the air. The softly hummed melody he shared with his partner came easily, remembered from a time when two sleep-tousled boys sat at the very top of a staircase, peering down at the glamorous scene below. A scene they had both wished to be a part of, despite their age.
Keigo let himself fall slightly into Jirou’s grasp as he wandered into the unfamiliar territory of being a follower in a dance. It had started simple enough, with Keigo going through the motions of following. However, it didn’t take long for Atobe’s arms to start twitching lightly, the small spark of rebellion revealing itself. Despite Jirou’s gentle touch he chafed under the lack of control and he attempted to pull away, accidentally catching the shorter boy’s legs in the process.
The falling bodies became a quick blur as limbs entangled rather painfully, resulting in the two boys finding themselves in a heap on the smooth, waxed floor. Turning around, he pulled away from Jirou, entire body stiffening. “That was good enough,” he murmured, shaking his head, unused to falling. “You shouldn’t have any problems.” He shook the tremors from his body and forced a smile. It wasn’t Jirou’s fault.
Jirou lay stunned, tawny gaze staring blindly at the ceiling. How had that happened? He was doing so well, and then he messed up so badly? Not only that, what was happening to him? The fall hadn't hurt him beyond the blow that left him a little winded when he slammed into the floor, his smaller form cushioning Atobe's when he toppled down as well. No, the fall hadn't hurt, but the body pressed so close to his seconds before vanishing, left him drowning helplessly in a riot of sensations he couldn't decipher.
"But I," he spoke without being truly aware of his words, his mind still occupied with his attempts to throw pieces of the puzzle into their appropriate slots. "Messed up horribly, Keigo." After all, he couldn’t possibly be a good dancer if his partner's final twirl left him in an ungraceful heap of limbs on the floor.
Keigo slid on an easy mask of indifference, his eyes masking the slight pain he felt at Jirou’s self-critical attitude. No. It was his entire fault. “You will be fine Jirou,” he responded evenly. “With practice, you will be fine.” He stepped back, towards the wide doors. His stomach knotted uncomfortably as he gazed into the face of his longtime friend. It was true, Jirou had led well and the blame of the fall was clear. “There is no need to practice anymore.” His final words were soft and the words echoed hollowly in the room.
Turning around, Keigo fled from the room, his footsteps resounding as he rushed angrily through the mansion. “I’ll be back in three days for another lesson. Practice.”
---
Three days later found both boys within the confines of the ballroom once again, one almost terrifying in his haughty silence and the other fairly bouncing on his feet. The last practice session had been a disaster from Jirou's point of view. He knew he messed up back then, and had spent every waking moment practicing for today. He'd gone so far as to harass every servant within the house to dance with him, conning with pleading amber eyes and a well-used twist of pouting lips.
Even his mother had been tortured with cries of, "Dance with me, Momma! Please, I need to practice so Atobe will be proud of me." And despite her usual grumpy tartness, she had. Thus, the three days flew by for Jirou, filled with naps and waltzes, leaving him with a feeling of accomplishment when he broke the silence with a cry of, "Atobe, you came!" and flew across the distance to pounce his best friend with a hug that bespoke of forgotten falls and dismissed failures. Jirou never was one to angst over failures when he could just work harder to achieve perfection.
“Naturally. I said I would, didn’t I?” The last three days for Atobe had been tiring and he was looking forward to seeing his friend again after being exposed to tittering girl after tittering girl and forced to spend hours in their company in a desperate attempt to find one that matched. Coming home from his friend’s house the last lesson, the memories of the failed attempt at dancing had been wiped away when his mother had immediately grilled him on when he was going to pick a suitable wife before promptly locking him in the house. Atobe had long since accepted this routine, dully sitting through the endless processions of girls that never seemed to quite make it in the eyes of Lady Atobe. Sometimes, Atobe wondered why his mother even bothered. She wasn’t going to find anyone that matched his perfection. He was surprised that his mother had even allowed him out today, musing that it was only out of sheer respect for Lady Akutagawa and a fondness for Jirou that she had.
Watching Jirou sternly, Atobe shifted slightly. “Have you been practicing?” he questioned, using a hand to brush through his hair.
Jirou nodded, reluctantly putting an end to the spontaneous, but expected hug. "Yes, I did. You said to practice, so I practiced. I practiced with Weatherbea, Mrs. Hanson, and Momma." He shifted from foot to foot, barely containing his excitement. He really wanted to show off his newly acquired ability to waltz without sending his partner to the floor in a heap at his feet.
"Can we dance now?" he asked, hopeful eyes seeking Atobe's through the veil of golden curls knocked askew by his hyper antics.
A stern glance was Atobe’s response. “Of course.” He held up his arms in the leading posture before remembering that he would be playing to role of the follower and harshly dropped his arms to his side, waiting for Jirou’s move. Loosening his collar, he tagged on a quick quip. “That’s a large amount of people.” Long legs quivered slightly in place, muscles already tightening, going through the steps of rigor mortis without death.
Now, during the past three days, Jirou had thought a lot about what mistakes he could have possibly that last time he'd danced with Atobe. And he came to the conclusion that it definitely had to do with the differences in their height. How could he lead someone safely around the floor if he had to crane his neck to keep eye contact with them? He couldn't, and thusly, Jirou beamed a bright smile at his teacher. "Okay. I'll be right back."
He didn't bother answering Atobe's last words, instead the bubbly blonde-haired teen raced out of the ballroom, returning some moments later with a captured maid who stood about as tall as himself. "Melissa said she'd dance with me." He announced, pleased with his reasoning. He presented the harried girl to Atobe, waiting for his approval of the chosen partner.
Temporary twinges of shock registered in Keigo’s mind. Jirou was not going to be dancing with him. A slight twisted feeling began to grow in Keigo's gut, as if someone was slowly grinding his intestines, curling and uncurling them over and over again. He swallowed a slight lump that had grown in his throat. The girl was quite beautiful. Long brown locks framed a heart shaped face and wide innocent eyes looked around in confusion. "It should be fine." Atobe finally murmured out, expelling the air from his dry mouth. He moved quickly out of the way to lean against one of the far walls and gestured for them to begin. His eyes watched the couple, laced with guarded jealousy, his blue eyes boring into the pair. The molten liquid danced and swiveled within cold irises, weaving a tale of anger and growing annoyance.
Atobe Keigo was not one to deal with why he was jealous. But rather, that he was and that he didn't like this situation at all. His stony expression was conflicted as he waited impatiently for the pair to begin. They started, a clean, beautiful start. Atobe ground his teeth in annoyance. As far as he was concerned, the sooner that this dance was over, the better. Tapping his feet impatiently, he crossed his arms, glancing at them critically, ready to tear them apart at the slightest misstep. The seconds flew in Keigo’s mind, as he slowly counted his breaths, focusing on the movement of air through parted lips and attempting to rein in his uncontrollable anger. Her grip was a little too loose, her dress a little skewed, her foot a little off center. It wouldn’t be long now.
Moments later, Jirou drew the waltz to an end, careful with his footing so as not to send the maid, who flashed him a winning smile, stumbling. He half turned, allowing his arm to loop around her waist to steady himself in the swiftness of his motion. "See!" he beamed a smile toward his teacher. "I did it, and we didn't fall like last time." Now, he thought surely Atobe would praise his expertise and his mother would find no fault with his skill. Not that he wanted to spend time dancing at some stupid ball, but Jirou did hate to be found lacking when he knew he was just as good, if not better, than other people when it came to the things he undertook doing.
However, a low growl spun out of Atobe’s throat as he watched the pair spin across the ballroom floor. Frowning in distaste, he glared malevolently at the couple as they struck their final pose. “All wrong.” He spat, disgusted. “I’ve seen legless monkeys dance better than that.” His stomach felt like someone had just shoved it into a blender and repeatedly smashed it with a hammer. He marched forward, all but ripping the pair apart and forcing the girl against his body.
He cascaded across the floor, dancing wildly with the girl clinging to him, barely able to hold on. He hissed in distaste. How dare this broad dance with a noble with such horrible dancing skills. He felt a shudder of revulsion coarse through his body as the passionate rondo in his heart died. He spun, throwing her up in the air before catching her and roughly setting her down.
Turning around, he whirled furiously on Jirou. “That was pathetic.” He snarled, reaching out and pulling Jirou against him. “Power! Force! Control!” He took Jirou’s hand in his, pausing briefly to marvel at the warmth before gliding with him across the ballroom floor, their feet lightly swirling across the varnished wood. He looked down at Jirou, blue eyes intensely memorizing the curve of his friends delicate features, his fury cooling as he held his childhood friend.
Stunned, Jirou watched wide-eyed as his best friend snapped, temper flaring and harsh words tumbling from those elegant lips. It wasn't the first time Atobe had done this, and probably wouldn't be the last. However, it was the first time Atobe left one of his favorite servants dissolved into tears. But even that couldn't seem to break through the haze he found himself in when they swirled around the dance floor, two bodies so close together, so close and moving as one.
Deep inside, a nasty little feeling blossomed, finally loosening his tongue when Atobe left the maid behind, battling her tears. She'd the done the best she could, considering she hadn't ever been taught to dance before, and found it very unfair of the young lord to heartlessly ridicule their efforts. A thought Jirou was inclined to agree with, because he really couldn't say what was resting on the tip of his tongue when those passionate eyes met his own and commanding hands pulled him into a dance.
"That may have been pathetic," he mumbled softly, tawny eyes sparking with newly discovered jealousy popping out of nowhere. "But you're cruel, and mean. And," he stressed the last, stiffly moving to extradite himself from Atobe’s hands and leaving the funniest feeling in control of his stomach. "Right now, I don't like you very much!" A declaration Jirou realized was a heck of a whopping lie the minute the words tumbled off his tongue. That discovery left pale cheeks blooming a brilliant red he hoped Atobe blamed on his very seldom-seen rising temper.
Surprised, Atobe gave no resistance as the blond boy tore away from his grasp. His eyes dilated slightly and a small gasp slipped from parted lips. The brief moment of shock was soon replaced with anger, blue eyes freezing over with ice, teeth revealed in an unappealing snarl. “What do you think you’re doing?” The words began to rip out of Keigo’s mouth angrily; an uncontrollable animal released from its cage.
He leaned forward, his voice guttural and harsh, the anger filling his mind and red blinding his eyes. “I come over here because you need a favor and this is how you return it? You ungrateful little brat. Forget it. Learn how to dance on your own.” He jabbed a finger at the crumpled girl. “I’m sure SHE’LL teach you wonderfully. Go dance with her some more. Go dance! GO! GO! ore-sama has better things to do with his time.” Stalking over to the wall, Atobe took a swift punch at it, bruising his knuckles and sending sharp spikes of pain up his arm. Letting out a ragged gasp, he let the limb fall limply to his side and stalked out of the room for the second time, holding his proud head high, angrily muttering curses under his breath.
Jirou trembled beneath the onslaught of Atobe's temper. It was a sight he rarely saw fully unleashed since the other preferred showing a haughty visage to the world at large. So when his brutal words lashed at him, the golden-haired teen knew he'd gone too far. Yet, there was Melissa, still hovering as if afraid to move. Could he really go chasing after his best friend and leave her there to deal with the effects of having Atobe's disapproval turned on her?
"He," Jirou tried for a sheepish smile, gravitating towards her to pet her arm comfortingly. "Really didn't... Okay, he probably meant it, but Atobe isn't always so mean." This was about all the comfort he could give before he started for the doors of the ballroom, hotfooting it to find his friend before he left the grounds altogether.
By that time, Keigo had already stomped past the gate, and was currently making his way through the dense brush that separated the Atobe household from the Akutagawa one. The path was well worn with age and repeated use, but it had been awhile since Atobe had taken this particular route. The route was one of the rarer ones that the two boys had found in their many escapades in their early teenage years and Atobe used it now in slight hopes that Jirou had forgotten about it. He wasn’t too keen on seeing the other boy currently, the curling feeling in his gut a reminder too clear of the mixed emotions that had surged forth. Turning his head to the side, he spat, the spittle landing cleanly on the dirt beside him. He paused for a moment to grind it into the dust with the heel of his boot before turning around to make sure that he wasn’t being followed.
The many paths that were spawned between the two noble families had been forged around a small lake. Affectionately calling it “the pool”, the two boys had spent many a casual sunny day splashing around in its cold waters and enjoying the refreshing feel of cool drops on soft skin. However, Keigo made no motion to glance at the lake, lifting his boot up from the slightly wet splotch to continue marching onward towards his house, where inevitably, giggling airheads awaited him. He supposed that they weren’t quite that bad if you tuned out their obnoxious high-pitched squealing.
"Keigo!" Jirou's voice came dancing over the air, high-pitched and strong. He took another breath as he darted down the pathway he was sure his best friend was using to return home. When his lungs were full, and his heart pounded wildly from exhilaration, he screamed, "KEIGO!!" The startling blast of sound mingled with the ruffling of wings as birds took flight, frightened out of their nests.
He wasn't sure how far ahead of him the other was, and was saved the necessity of having to worry about it when he rounded the bend and spotted the familiar figure stalking toward home. Jirou gathered his flagging energy and gave a last boost to pumping legs, increasing his speed enough to take a running dive toward the back his gaze zeroed in on.
The calm, measured footsteps of Keigo’s stately walk were disrupted by the sudden rapid shift in weight. The two boys lurched forward as Jirou’s lighter frame collapsed against Atobe’s taller back. “Is there something you want?” Atobe muttered coolly, averting his gaze from the other boy. He righted himself uncomfortably and shook Jirou off, brushing his tunic, which had been knocked slightly askew. Bright purple eyes flew towards the lake that they had been so tenderly avoiding, in a desperate attempt to dodge the haunting hazel eyes that he could never resist.
Keigo didn’t like it when Jirou was upset. Though he never vocalized it, it disturbed him greatly whenever the normally bouncy boy was unhappy or upset. Akutagawa Jirou had been one of the few constants in his life; a stabilizing force in the rocky life of a feudal prince and Atobe Keigo did not like it when something changed without his express permission.
Righting himself, Jirou scrambled into a sitting position. His gaze sought out the elegant visage of his friend, pleading with a soft look while husky words tumbled off his tongue. "I'm sorry." He dropped his head to hide the sadness creeping into his eyes and voice. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry. If I made a mistake, I'll do better next time, I promise! I'll work really hard, until you're proud of me."
The one thing Jirou couldn't stand more than anything else in the world was being found lacking in Atobe's eyes. Especially when his failures riled the ferocious beast that was his temper.
Shrugging, Keigo found his voice drifting over the lake. “See to it that it gets done.” Reining in the tension in his voice, the words came out as a dissolving monotone. The sun glistened against the silver sheen of the lake, inviting and lovely. They had played in this lake as children, splashing for hours at a time, swimming and playfully shoving each other in its cold waters. Dunks and gentle memories invaded Atobe’s thoughts as he regarded the calm waters, the small swells of water pulling at but refusing to break the surface.
Sometimes, it seemed to Keigo, that while he aged, everything in this garden remained just as he remembered them. The lake. The trees. Jirou.
He turned around and managed to give the other boy a small smirk. “Not everyone can be as wonderful and graceful as ore-sama, so I suppose I’ll have to forgive you.”
Turning slightly, he proved the contrary of his words when he tripped over a small stone and fell splashing into the lake. He re-emerged seconds later, tossing his hair back and sputtering, sending droplets of water through the air to return to the smooth surface of the lake. The water was cool and slightly chilly, causing small tremors to jolt through Keigo’s drenched form.
Jirou's mouth had fallen slightly open, just far enough to emit an occasional noise of agreement, because there wasn't anyone else in the world quite like Atobe. Agreeing with his best friend's opinion was easy enough when he shared the same sentiment. However, somewhere between Atobe's last words and his somewhat ungraceful tumble into the water, those words got lost, vanishing somewhere amidst the soft hiccup of a giggle blossoming into full fledged laughter like a rose unfurling beneath the harsh brightness of the sun to bask in its radiance.
He wrapped his arms tightly around his waist, trying to hold the merry sound inside as if he were nothing more than a worn teddy bear whose stuffing had started falling out after a particularly trying session with a two year old. Jirou soon discovered that no matter how hard he tried, or how much he wished it, it couldn't be done. So there amidst the beauty of their childhood stomping grounds, he slumped forward, buried his face against his knees as he drew them upward, giving in to the inevitable.
“Oy! What are you laughing at?” scowled Atobe, mock glaring at the laughing boy, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips. The warm bubbly sound soothed him, starting from his ears and expanding through the rest of his body, the bright sound reverberating throughout his soul. He could hear this laughter for days on end, the sweetness of the sound, giving strength of some sort to the young lord. With this laughter by his side, Keigo Atobe could conquer the world. The tight feeling in his gut had faded, a distant memory of a ghostly painful touch of the green-eyed monster.
Growling, he leapt up, shooting forth from the glassy mirrored surface, only to latch onto the giggling boy, before darting back into the serene waters, smashing through the surface with a loud crash. Droplets flew everywhere as the two boys flew into the water, destroying the calm serenity and overturning the gentle layer of security that the pond had begun to build.
The two boys emerged, seconds later, Atobe still clutching Jirou close, small violent waves breaking against his tunic. As the ripples dissipated slowly around them, Keigo took one look at the soggy, wet Jirou and began to smile. His friend looked like a drowned rat, albeit a very cute drowned rat, but a drowned rat all the same. Quickly breaking his gaze, he pushed back from the other boy and turned around, smirking at his best friend. Pushing forward, he doused him completely with a wave of water, breaking the recently calmed waters for the third time that day, the playful splashing and destruction of the normalcy a callback to his childhood days.
"Hey!" Jirou protested when his mouth wasn't full of water, and his brain wasn't stalled dead in its tracks by the feel of his best friend's body pressed close to his. Slowly, the warmth of Atobe's form faded as distance separated them, closed only by the wave of water surging his way, aided, of course, by the urging of the other's hands.
Somewhere between being dragged from his spot on the ground to the cool, inviting waters, his process of thought had died a timely death, leaving him only able to discern what was happening with other senses, especially that of sight and touch. The vision of his best friend soaked clean through, tunic clinging to his every muscle and limb it covered, did very odd things to the golden-haired teen whose eyes reflected his confusion. So, he could be forgiven for taking so long to comprehend he was under attack. Yet, when it registered Jirou had to admit he wasn't one to back down from a challenge. And that wave of water that doused golden locks further, clung to the thickness of silken lashes, and dribbled down his cheeks, could most definitely be considered exactly that.
A slow, mischievous smile grew, spreading across lips touched by a joyful cry of promised retribution. Jirou cupped his hands beneath the silvered surface of the lake, and then gave a mighty shove toward the disheveled elegance of Atobe's face.
What was good for the goose was good for the gander, after all. Plus if Atobe could do it, so could Jirou, and he could probably do it better. However, the bubbling imp, whose laughter flittered throughout the clearing, knew better than to voice such a thought.
A thought that most certainly would not have gone unnoticed by the normally composed boy, who was now stomping all over his self-created image through quick ducks and rapid splashes. Romping regally through the waters, or as regally as he could, the blue-haired teen dove and resurfaced, playfully attempting to dodge the quick splashes that the tawny-haired boy shot in his general direction. Layer upon layer of purebred arrogance and composure slowly slid off with each resounding crash of water.
It wasn’t long until the weighty tunic began to grow heavy on his back, having absorbed bucket loads of water, the scratchy fabric irritating Keigo’s sensitive back with each twist and turn. Growling in annoyance, the noble shrugged off the offending piece of clothing and threw it against the shore, revealing a broad sun-kissed chest. Years of archery and swordplay were evident in the powerful muscles that strained and stretched as Keigo dove back into the water. The cool liquid was refreshing against the warm skin and it brought a light flush of unfamiliar pink to the noble’s cheeks.
Kicking roughly through the waters, the breeches soon followed the fate of the tunic, as the equally scratchy and heavy piece of clothing soon joined its counterpart on the lakeshore, flying out of the water and arching through the air, showering the surface with small droplets and leaving Keigo clothed in nothing but flannel underpants. Giving Jirou a self-satisfied smirk, Keigo attacked, taking full advantage of his enhanced speed, splashing the younger boy before tackling him, running his fingers up Jirou’s tunic, tickling the smooth skin that slowly revealed itself.
“Admit your defeat at the hands of ore-sama,” he ordered.
This, too, was a snippet of the past, forgotten memories resurfacing. Back then it had been next to nothing; the shameless discarding of clothes and then that plunge into icy depths. The first few minutes was a spiral towards the unknown, an unimaginable dance of liquid and limbs, until one or the other burst free of their moon-silvered prison to crow of triumph and glory.
Standing there, stunned by the absent discarding of tunic and the unveiling of sleek muscles, hardened and toned by life, Jirou had to admit this was nothing like then. Oh sure, the principle was still the same. They were still both boys, and had nothing to be ashamed of, or anything to hide. Yet, he couldn't remember the breath hitching in his throat, almost choking in the way it lodged and refused to go any further. He was also quite certain that his stomach hadn't done that nosedive straight to his toes when diamond droplets of shimmering water clung to soft skin, dripping and trailing a path over Atobe's torso that the golden-haired boy suddenly longed to traverse firsthand.
It wasn't until merciless fingers, gentle in their assault, trekked over his stomach and sides that Jirou was knocked head over heels out of the spell he'd fallen under. Blushing furiously, he wiggled and squirmed while fighting against the bubble of giggles that gushed out of his mouth. "Admit defeat?" he gasped when his breath once again belonged to him and wasn't being stolen by the forbidden images that his friend's disrobing had wrenched from the depths of the darkest corners of his mind. Jirou never admitted defeat, not until the very last moment and the game was over. And Atobe knew this, so he was fairly sure the adamant “Never!” that he all but screeched didn’t surprise his friend.
He used his arms, hands and legs to wrestle free of his captor, wading backwards until water rippled between them like a catwalk of a mirror just waiting to be crossed. Jirou was just as waterlogged as Atobe had been, weighed down by the water sinking into the fibers of his clothes, and he knew that the excess weight would be his ultimate downfall if he didn't shed it. The fact that Atobe had an advantage over him didn't sit well with the curly-haired teen who shucked his tunic swiftly, tugging it up his torso and over his head without a second thought. In that moment the visions that had teased the outer edges of his consciousness faded to black, leaving him with but one goal- he was going to win this time. His tunic joined Atobe's, haphazardly tossed ashore to await the arrival of the breeches he squirmed out of just as quickly.
And amidst the chaos, Atobe froze. Time seemed to slow as the soaked fabric slid across Jirou’s skin, revealing bit by bit the smooth supple treasure underneath. Droplets hung against the lightly tanned surface, hugging it, and giving the tawny-haired boy an ethereal sheen. Crystalline eyes raked unconsciously over the supple body as the water caressed Jirou lovingly. It was true. Everything had stayed the same, the pond, the trees, Jirou- but this… Atobe couldn’t quite remember the last time Jirou’s body had looked so- appealing? No. A quick splash of water shook him from his brief reverie.
Growling in response, Keigo, splashed back ruthlessly, “Think you can beat me? I’ll have to remind you who I am then.” He smirked, pushing forward, splashing furiously with his legs, kicking at the waters, sending stream after stream of water over the shorter boy. Falling back into the familiar tune of splashing and playing, the brief flash of insanity and ethereal beauty fading into the recesses of his memory. He launched himself and tackled the other boy, wresting him and trapping him with strong arms from behind, running his hands down now exposed sides, the dancing fingers gently probing and taunting the smooth skin.
As the two boys rolled around in the water, twisting and turning, each trying to get the better of the other, Keigo’s drenched undergarments slid wetly around, clinging uncomfortably to his skin, a second skin of annoyance as the two boys wrested for control in the water. Temporarily separating from his best friend, he kicked backwards, sending a wave of water flying towards the shorter boy, all the while sliding off the irritating article and letting it fall to the lake’s depths, intermingling with the profundal waters.
His body, almost perfectly streamlined now, darted through the waters, a silver streak of a knife slicing through the cool surface. Shifting his mode of attack, Keigo moved in, making quick short assaults, skirmishing briefly with Jirou’s skin with supple fingers. A nip there, a brush there, and then he was gone, the ghostly touch, almost nothing more than a gentle swell breaking upon warm skin.
He surfaced briefly to send a teasing remark at the other boy. “It appears that Ore-sama is victorious again, hm? It would be an convenient time to give up, wouldn’t you say?”
Atobe was cheating, or so some small part of Jirou's mind asserted when he treaded water, frozen in one place. It wasn't that he didn't have enough gumption to slice gracefully through the water and counter attack. Oh no, he did. However, something new and totally unexplainable slithered through his body after each teasing touch, every ghostly glide of fingers over lightly tanned skin. It was hot, burning in its intensity, so far out of his realm of experiences thus far that Jirou couldn't even begin to fathom the enormity of it when his loins tightened and desire sparked along every nerve he possessed.
There was his best friend, frolicking among the water that laved over his body as lovingly as a mistress's hands, mischievously taunting with words meant to incite his competitiveness, and all he could do was stare dumbly. His eyes darkened as they widened, shock and newly born longing lurking in their depths when he helplessly struggled against a new desire. His valiant effort died a heinous death against the power of his longing and curious eyes roamed freely when it did. Jirou's gaze wandered over sleek muscles tenderly kissed by nature, noting the crystal diamonds that glinted within the light, tiny sparkles that winked at him, daring him to give into the foreign and scandalous desire to slick his tongue over that flesh and clean it away.
This was insane! He was surely losing his mind to think such things, to want them so badly that he ached with yearning, and the only excuse he could come up with was he must have swallowed too much water when Atobe had dragged him into the water. He tried for several moments to delude himself into believing that some sneaky siren had cast a spell over their childhood playground, dared to assure himself that this fanciful imagining was true, and then dredged forth a smile so innocent that it hid the cunning beneath.
"Appearances," he finally forced the confident retort past his lips, muscles coiled in preparation of a counterattack. "Are often deceiving, ore-sama." Having pointed this out, the playful imp kicked and twisted, diving through the water toward his target of finely hewn muscle and sinew. Determined hands reached for Atobe's sides, zeroing in on sensitive ribs well remembered from many a childish romp within the lake. His first touch was feather light, as water slicked finger tips waltzed their way over each dip and curve, but that soon changed becoming a whimsical dance, fleeting and quicksilver in a quest to wrench free Atobe's laughter- a treasure he horded as selfishly as the smile Jirou all but adored.
Once upon a time, Jirou would have shed his own undergarments without thought, but once upon a time he hadn't been set on hiding his reaction to the boy whose waist his arms suddenly dropped to encircle. Dropping down, he allowed his weight to act as his anchor, pulling both he and his companion beneath the water.
The instant that the soft fingers touched his chest, Atobe’s breath caught in his mouth and the world froze once again. The sliding fingers against his ribs sent shivers of pleasant sensations to pool at the base of his cock, stirring it to life before the chilling waters of the lake killed it. A slow bubbling resistance began to grow in Atobe’s gut, threatening to spill, a waterfall pushing against his iron will. This touch, so sinfully wrong, was addicting, and as Jirou’s arms sneaked around to encircle his torso, he bit back a hiss of pleasure, the touch sending another jolt of blood to Atobe’s re-budding erection before the water’s cold fingers enveloped it, soothing it back to sleep.
Keigo struggled to break free from Jirou’s iron grip, pushing and sliding against the other boy, attempting to wriggle out of the vise-like clamp. He swam upwards desperately, the sun glimmering against the bottom of the water’s surface, a small bright goal. Reaching out with long arms he tried in vain to grasp the brilliant object, trying to escape from the ensuing battle between Jirou’s warm touch and the cool touch of the lake waters.
Water tore through the air as Atobe finally succeeding in reaching his goal, the boys breaking through the surface and flying partially out of the water, an effulgent image of two shining boys, glimmering with droplets, preserved in a single moment, a tribute to masculine beauty. And then it was over; the two boys crashed back down into the lake, shattering the brief moment of perfection as easily as they shattered the serenity of the lake.
Falling back into the lake, Atobe slid through Jirou’s arms until they were face to face. The feeling of Jirou’s warm hands sliding up his torso thoroughly trounced the frosty kiss of the lake water and Keigo found his fully hard erection digging into Jirou’s thigh as the two boys fell back from the pinnacle of their flight. Glancing forward, he found himself caught in Jirou’s eyes. The tawny orbs full of warmth and life. They called out to him, the rivulets of water streaming down the sides of Jirou’s face and pooling in Keigo’s hands that had suddenly found themselves cupping the other boy’s heart-shaped face.
The image of Jirou, his pert nose, soft full lips and sweet eyes looking tenderly back at Keigo, completely stole his breath away. When had his best friend gone… and gotten so damned beautiful? Feeling the last shred of his sanity slipping through his mind, he gently stroked Jirou’s cheek with his thumb, kicking absently at the water, his powerful legs keeping them afloat, their arms encircling each other, shielding them from the world. Atobe Keigo leaned forward, and crushed their lips together, thrusting his tongue into that sweet, moist cavern.
A/N: Hey all! Second chapter done guys!! We’d much appreciate it if you left a small comment if you enjoyed it. We still have the same 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), if anyone is interested please be sure to email a small writing sample and whatever character you want to feudal.hyoutei@gmail.com. (We had nooooobody last time ;.;)
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. -waves banner at two chapters done-
Author(s):
Atobe provided by: thinkwell
Jirou provided by: digital_tenshi
Part: 2 of ?
Pairing(s): AtoJi
Rating: PG-13 (Warning: Eventual NC-17)
Warning: Yaoi, AU
Disclaimer: We own nothing.
Beta: The lurvely Kryschu~ silver4ngel
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?
Previous Parts: 1
“I will take care of it, Lady Akutagawa. I assure you, there is no one better than I.” Atobe bowed slightly to the older lady. Her luxurious brown hair was tied up in a neat, prim bun. Soft gray eyes glanced affectionately at Keigo; she had watched him grow up beside her precious little boy. Wrinkles that she had desperately tried to stave away were sneaking onto her beautiful face. He lifted her hand to his lips in a gentle gesture of courtesy. “With my help, I am sure that Jirou will shine as bright as I.” He gave the Lady Akutagawa another dashing smile, causing her to laugh and place a warm hand on his shoulder.
“I am sure you will teach him well, Keigo.” She was used to his self-assured attitude and antics by now, an amused smile gracing her face. “After all, you are the best.” She laughed again, earrings jangling with each movement. Her plain dress hugged her body conservatively. She had aged well and despite her overprotective tendencies over her son, Keigo would have to admit that she was probably one of the most tolerable of the nobles.
“Naturally.” Atobe unleashed another dazzling smile. Sliding to Lady Akutagawa’s side with a suave move, Keigo announced grandly, “Leave it to me. I will get it done better than it would if done by anyone else.” He gave his hair a flippant flick with his wrist, causing the edges of the woman’s eyes to crinkle with laughter once more.
She lifted a slim hand and placed it on Keigo’s shoulders, regarding him carefully. “You’ll make a fine husband. A great son-in-law.” She sighed wistfully, gesturing around her with sweeping hand. The ballroom was grand, with mahogany tiles decorating the floors, a brightly lit chandelier shone from above- a thousand pieces of prismatic light illuminating the room. A slight stage was elevated in the corner to allow the orchestras to play; two wide expansive doors swallowed one of the walls.
“It’s all yours to teach with, Prince Atobe.” The title was drawled out of Lady Akutagawa’s mouth, teasing the boy gently with the common nickname granted to him by his fanclub. This caused a light grimace to flit across the blue haired boy’s face.
“JIROU!” she turned around and hollered, “Your new teacher’s here!” Returning to Atobe she gave a helpless smile, “This boy’s got two left feet, so best of luck Keigo. You’ll need it.”
"I do not," Jirou grumpily replied from behind an array of potted plants that filled the corners of the ballroom. The blossoms added a spark of brilliance to the otherwise stately room, leaving a trace of whimsy where before none had been. The shuffle of stalks being ruffled, pushed and opened, heralded his sleepy arrival. Jirou tumbled out of his napping spot, golden hair tousled and amber eyes dazed with tiredness.
"Got one left and one right. It's virtually impossible to have two left feet, unless you're born with a birth defect, and I wasn't. Therefore, I can't have two left feet, Momma." A yawn or two later, he stood beside Atobe, struggling against the temptation to plop his head on his best friend's shoulder and go back to sleep.
Lady Akutagawa gave her son her patented look of displeasure, and then turned beseeching eyes on Atobe as if to say, 'You see, I was right,'. "I'll leave you two, now." She replied politely, preferring not to scold her son in front of their guest. "Jirou, you listen to your teacher and pay attention. The day of the ball is arriving soon, and I want you to shine on the dance floor." With that, she retreated from the room, skirts swaying around her ankles as she walked.
Atobe smirked at his friend. “Listen to your teacher, Akutagawa-kun,” he murmured huskily, his tone light and teasing. Crystal blue eyes refocused on Jirou, a warm hand lifting up to embrace the boy around his middle in a light grasp. “These dances are about confidence. Strength and power are the rule. You want to prove your dominance, revel in your strength and power. You are in control of the dance.” He pulled Jirou close to him and began to move, leading every step.
The pair glided across the ballroom floor, with Atobe demonstrating the proper grip, his strong arms wrapped around his best friend. The light hit the chandelier, causing bright sparkles to soar across the room as the couple moved, dancing to an unheard tune. The blue haired boy glanced down into honeyed eyes. “She is your world, she is all that you see,” he murmured, pushing back a small lock of hair that had fallen into his friend’s thick lashes. “She is your everything.” The pair continued to dance, with Keigo glancing down at Jirou, isolating him from the rest of the world and unlocking a small smile.
With one last flourish, Keigo bowed slightly, signaling the end of the dance. He lifted Jirou’s hand up to his lips and kissed it softly. “It’s your turn, my protégé.” His arms fell to his side, as he stood there, waiting for the shorter boy to take the lead.
Atobe was right about one thing, Jirou thought. He, in that moment, was everything to the golden-haired teenager who couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from the confident lord leading him around the dance floor. Absently, he mimicked the words titillating his ears, "My everything," Words that faded, chased away by the blush that dusted his cheeks, leaving behind a wake of confusing warmth.
When a soft kiss brushed over his hand, Jirou's brain screeched to a halt, thought process hanging in mid-gear. Somehow, it rewound the scene, replaying it over and over again until he thought his ears were emitting puffs of smoke. The silence was unnerving, a deafening roar that followed his seeming verbal repetition of his teacher's instructions. Then, when Jirou was sure his senses couldn't handle another repeat of the vision being tossed around in his mind's eye, he cleared his throat. "Okay," an easy grin settled over his lips. "I can do it. You'll see, Atobe."
A wide smirk settling onto his features, Atobe jutted out his chin and held out his hand. It was time that they began their dance. How well Jirou had absorbed Keigo’s instructions would be evident now. Keigo knew that Jirou wasn’t a bad dancer; his mother did over exaggerate a bit with the comment about two left feet. The only problem with the shorter boy’s dancing was that he was unused to leading. The small practice dances that the two boys had amused themselves with when they were younger always had Keigo taking the lead while Jirou followed. In Atobe’s mind there was simply no other alternative, no other way of doing it. He remembered the pushing together of small hands, the slight giggling as the two boys playfully waltzed across the infinite ballroom. Their small feet had allowed them to move a mere few inches with each waltz, the journey across the vast expanse lasting hours at a time.
Now it was time for a reversal of their roles as Atobe faux curtsied in an attempt to imitate the Lady that Jirou would be dancing with. “Remember, she is your everything. Support her and allow her to fly. Be confident and show your strength and power.”
He looked up and asked, his blue eyes probing into Jirou’s soft ones. “Shall we dance?”
"We shall," Jirou replied, not at all ashamed to be seen dancing with his best friend. They'd spent many an hour within the same room playing, as little boys were prone to do. Jirou wasn't exactly sure how he always got thrown into the role of a lady when they indulged in those games of 'Let's pretend', or when they horse-played around, mimicking their elders; whom they had watched from afar during a spectacular ball. It had always been inevitable; he had always followed where Atobe led. But back then, he'd been content to do so. It was finally his turn to lead now, and perhaps it was about time.
Jirou carefully tucked Atobe's hand close to his chest as he pulled the blue-haired boy closer, free hand falling to settle gracefully on the curve of the hip awaiting it. His smile never faltered, and amber eyes warmed by his self-assurance didn't waver from startling blue. Step by step, he led Atobe into the waltz, mimicking the dance his mother had been shoving down his throat since he'd come of age. It was different than dancing with a girl, but soon enough his steps showed his growing confidence and the sureness with which they came. And while they gracefully glided over the floor, moving in time to a song only Jirou could hear playing through his mind, his voice slipped into the air. The softly hummed melody he shared with his partner came easily, remembered from a time when two sleep-tousled boys sat at the very top of a staircase, peering down at the glamorous scene below. A scene they had both wished to be a part of, despite their age.
Keigo let himself fall slightly into Jirou’s grasp as he wandered into the unfamiliar territory of being a follower in a dance. It had started simple enough, with Keigo going through the motions of following. However, it didn’t take long for Atobe’s arms to start twitching lightly, the small spark of rebellion revealing itself. Despite Jirou’s gentle touch he chafed under the lack of control and he attempted to pull away, accidentally catching the shorter boy’s legs in the process.
The falling bodies became a quick blur as limbs entangled rather painfully, resulting in the two boys finding themselves in a heap on the smooth, waxed floor. Turning around, he pulled away from Jirou, entire body stiffening. “That was good enough,” he murmured, shaking his head, unused to falling. “You shouldn’t have any problems.” He shook the tremors from his body and forced a smile. It wasn’t Jirou’s fault.
Jirou lay stunned, tawny gaze staring blindly at the ceiling. How had that happened? He was doing so well, and then he messed up so badly? Not only that, what was happening to him? The fall hadn't hurt him beyond the blow that left him a little winded when he slammed into the floor, his smaller form cushioning Atobe's when he toppled down as well. No, the fall hadn't hurt, but the body pressed so close to his seconds before vanishing, left him drowning helplessly in a riot of sensations he couldn't decipher.
"But I," he spoke without being truly aware of his words, his mind still occupied with his attempts to throw pieces of the puzzle into their appropriate slots. "Messed up horribly, Keigo." After all, he couldn’t possibly be a good dancer if his partner's final twirl left him in an ungraceful heap of limbs on the floor.
Keigo slid on an easy mask of indifference, his eyes masking the slight pain he felt at Jirou’s self-critical attitude. No. It was his entire fault. “You will be fine Jirou,” he responded evenly. “With practice, you will be fine.” He stepped back, towards the wide doors. His stomach knotted uncomfortably as he gazed into the face of his longtime friend. It was true, Jirou had led well and the blame of the fall was clear. “There is no need to practice anymore.” His final words were soft and the words echoed hollowly in the room.
Turning around, Keigo fled from the room, his footsteps resounding as he rushed angrily through the mansion. “I’ll be back in three days for another lesson. Practice.”
---
Three days later found both boys within the confines of the ballroom once again, one almost terrifying in his haughty silence and the other fairly bouncing on his feet. The last practice session had been a disaster from Jirou's point of view. He knew he messed up back then, and had spent every waking moment practicing for today. He'd gone so far as to harass every servant within the house to dance with him, conning with pleading amber eyes and a well-used twist of pouting lips.
Even his mother had been tortured with cries of, "Dance with me, Momma! Please, I need to practice so Atobe will be proud of me." And despite her usual grumpy tartness, she had. Thus, the three days flew by for Jirou, filled with naps and waltzes, leaving him with a feeling of accomplishment when he broke the silence with a cry of, "Atobe, you came!" and flew across the distance to pounce his best friend with a hug that bespoke of forgotten falls and dismissed failures. Jirou never was one to angst over failures when he could just work harder to achieve perfection.
“Naturally. I said I would, didn’t I?” The last three days for Atobe had been tiring and he was looking forward to seeing his friend again after being exposed to tittering girl after tittering girl and forced to spend hours in their company in a desperate attempt to find one that matched. Coming home from his friend’s house the last lesson, the memories of the failed attempt at dancing had been wiped away when his mother had immediately grilled him on when he was going to pick a suitable wife before promptly locking him in the house. Atobe had long since accepted this routine, dully sitting through the endless processions of girls that never seemed to quite make it in the eyes of Lady Atobe. Sometimes, Atobe wondered why his mother even bothered. She wasn’t going to find anyone that matched his perfection. He was surprised that his mother had even allowed him out today, musing that it was only out of sheer respect for Lady Akutagawa and a fondness for Jirou that she had.
Watching Jirou sternly, Atobe shifted slightly. “Have you been practicing?” he questioned, using a hand to brush through his hair.
Jirou nodded, reluctantly putting an end to the spontaneous, but expected hug. "Yes, I did. You said to practice, so I practiced. I practiced with Weatherbea, Mrs. Hanson, and Momma." He shifted from foot to foot, barely containing his excitement. He really wanted to show off his newly acquired ability to waltz without sending his partner to the floor in a heap at his feet.
"Can we dance now?" he asked, hopeful eyes seeking Atobe's through the veil of golden curls knocked askew by his hyper antics.
A stern glance was Atobe’s response. “Of course.” He held up his arms in the leading posture before remembering that he would be playing to role of the follower and harshly dropped his arms to his side, waiting for Jirou’s move. Loosening his collar, he tagged on a quick quip. “That’s a large amount of people.” Long legs quivered slightly in place, muscles already tightening, going through the steps of rigor mortis without death.
Now, during the past three days, Jirou had thought a lot about what mistakes he could have possibly that last time he'd danced with Atobe. And he came to the conclusion that it definitely had to do with the differences in their height. How could he lead someone safely around the floor if he had to crane his neck to keep eye contact with them? He couldn't, and thusly, Jirou beamed a bright smile at his teacher. "Okay. I'll be right back."
He didn't bother answering Atobe's last words, instead the bubbly blonde-haired teen raced out of the ballroom, returning some moments later with a captured maid who stood about as tall as himself. "Melissa said she'd dance with me." He announced, pleased with his reasoning. He presented the harried girl to Atobe, waiting for his approval of the chosen partner.
Temporary twinges of shock registered in Keigo’s mind. Jirou was not going to be dancing with him. A slight twisted feeling began to grow in Keigo's gut, as if someone was slowly grinding his intestines, curling and uncurling them over and over again. He swallowed a slight lump that had grown in his throat. The girl was quite beautiful. Long brown locks framed a heart shaped face and wide innocent eyes looked around in confusion. "It should be fine." Atobe finally murmured out, expelling the air from his dry mouth. He moved quickly out of the way to lean against one of the far walls and gestured for them to begin. His eyes watched the couple, laced with guarded jealousy, his blue eyes boring into the pair. The molten liquid danced and swiveled within cold irises, weaving a tale of anger and growing annoyance.
Atobe Keigo was not one to deal with why he was jealous. But rather, that he was and that he didn't like this situation at all. His stony expression was conflicted as he waited impatiently for the pair to begin. They started, a clean, beautiful start. Atobe ground his teeth in annoyance. As far as he was concerned, the sooner that this dance was over, the better. Tapping his feet impatiently, he crossed his arms, glancing at them critically, ready to tear them apart at the slightest misstep. The seconds flew in Keigo’s mind, as he slowly counted his breaths, focusing on the movement of air through parted lips and attempting to rein in his uncontrollable anger. Her grip was a little too loose, her dress a little skewed, her foot a little off center. It wouldn’t be long now.
Moments later, Jirou drew the waltz to an end, careful with his footing so as not to send the maid, who flashed him a winning smile, stumbling. He half turned, allowing his arm to loop around her waist to steady himself in the swiftness of his motion. "See!" he beamed a smile toward his teacher. "I did it, and we didn't fall like last time." Now, he thought surely Atobe would praise his expertise and his mother would find no fault with his skill. Not that he wanted to spend time dancing at some stupid ball, but Jirou did hate to be found lacking when he knew he was just as good, if not better, than other people when it came to the things he undertook doing.
However, a low growl spun out of Atobe’s throat as he watched the pair spin across the ballroom floor. Frowning in distaste, he glared malevolently at the couple as they struck their final pose. “All wrong.” He spat, disgusted. “I’ve seen legless monkeys dance better than that.” His stomach felt like someone had just shoved it into a blender and repeatedly smashed it with a hammer. He marched forward, all but ripping the pair apart and forcing the girl against his body.
He cascaded across the floor, dancing wildly with the girl clinging to him, barely able to hold on. He hissed in distaste. How dare this broad dance with a noble with such horrible dancing skills. He felt a shudder of revulsion coarse through his body as the passionate rondo in his heart died. He spun, throwing her up in the air before catching her and roughly setting her down.
Turning around, he whirled furiously on Jirou. “That was pathetic.” He snarled, reaching out and pulling Jirou against him. “Power! Force! Control!” He took Jirou’s hand in his, pausing briefly to marvel at the warmth before gliding with him across the ballroom floor, their feet lightly swirling across the varnished wood. He looked down at Jirou, blue eyes intensely memorizing the curve of his friends delicate features, his fury cooling as he held his childhood friend.
Stunned, Jirou watched wide-eyed as his best friend snapped, temper flaring and harsh words tumbling from those elegant lips. It wasn't the first time Atobe had done this, and probably wouldn't be the last. However, it was the first time Atobe left one of his favorite servants dissolved into tears. But even that couldn't seem to break through the haze he found himself in when they swirled around the dance floor, two bodies so close together, so close and moving as one.
Deep inside, a nasty little feeling blossomed, finally loosening his tongue when Atobe left the maid behind, battling her tears. She'd the done the best she could, considering she hadn't ever been taught to dance before, and found it very unfair of the young lord to heartlessly ridicule their efforts. A thought Jirou was inclined to agree with, because he really couldn't say what was resting on the tip of his tongue when those passionate eyes met his own and commanding hands pulled him into a dance.
"That may have been pathetic," he mumbled softly, tawny eyes sparking with newly discovered jealousy popping out of nowhere. "But you're cruel, and mean. And," he stressed the last, stiffly moving to extradite himself from Atobe’s hands and leaving the funniest feeling in control of his stomach. "Right now, I don't like you very much!" A declaration Jirou realized was a heck of a whopping lie the minute the words tumbled off his tongue. That discovery left pale cheeks blooming a brilliant red he hoped Atobe blamed on his very seldom-seen rising temper.
Surprised, Atobe gave no resistance as the blond boy tore away from his grasp. His eyes dilated slightly and a small gasp slipped from parted lips. The brief moment of shock was soon replaced with anger, blue eyes freezing over with ice, teeth revealed in an unappealing snarl. “What do you think you’re doing?” The words began to rip out of Keigo’s mouth angrily; an uncontrollable animal released from its cage.
He leaned forward, his voice guttural and harsh, the anger filling his mind and red blinding his eyes. “I come over here because you need a favor and this is how you return it? You ungrateful little brat. Forget it. Learn how to dance on your own.” He jabbed a finger at the crumpled girl. “I’m sure SHE’LL teach you wonderfully. Go dance with her some more. Go dance! GO! GO! ore-sama has better things to do with his time.” Stalking over to the wall, Atobe took a swift punch at it, bruising his knuckles and sending sharp spikes of pain up his arm. Letting out a ragged gasp, he let the limb fall limply to his side and stalked out of the room for the second time, holding his proud head high, angrily muttering curses under his breath.
Jirou trembled beneath the onslaught of Atobe's temper. It was a sight he rarely saw fully unleashed since the other preferred showing a haughty visage to the world at large. So when his brutal words lashed at him, the golden-haired teen knew he'd gone too far. Yet, there was Melissa, still hovering as if afraid to move. Could he really go chasing after his best friend and leave her there to deal with the effects of having Atobe's disapproval turned on her?
"He," Jirou tried for a sheepish smile, gravitating towards her to pet her arm comfortingly. "Really didn't... Okay, he probably meant it, but Atobe isn't always so mean." This was about all the comfort he could give before he started for the doors of the ballroom, hotfooting it to find his friend before he left the grounds altogether.
By that time, Keigo had already stomped past the gate, and was currently making his way through the dense brush that separated the Atobe household from the Akutagawa one. The path was well worn with age and repeated use, but it had been awhile since Atobe had taken this particular route. The route was one of the rarer ones that the two boys had found in their many escapades in their early teenage years and Atobe used it now in slight hopes that Jirou had forgotten about it. He wasn’t too keen on seeing the other boy currently, the curling feeling in his gut a reminder too clear of the mixed emotions that had surged forth. Turning his head to the side, he spat, the spittle landing cleanly on the dirt beside him. He paused for a moment to grind it into the dust with the heel of his boot before turning around to make sure that he wasn’t being followed.
The many paths that were spawned between the two noble families had been forged around a small lake. Affectionately calling it “the pool”, the two boys had spent many a casual sunny day splashing around in its cold waters and enjoying the refreshing feel of cool drops on soft skin. However, Keigo made no motion to glance at the lake, lifting his boot up from the slightly wet splotch to continue marching onward towards his house, where inevitably, giggling airheads awaited him. He supposed that they weren’t quite that bad if you tuned out their obnoxious high-pitched squealing.
"Keigo!" Jirou's voice came dancing over the air, high-pitched and strong. He took another breath as he darted down the pathway he was sure his best friend was using to return home. When his lungs were full, and his heart pounded wildly from exhilaration, he screamed, "KEIGO!!" The startling blast of sound mingled with the ruffling of wings as birds took flight, frightened out of their nests.
He wasn't sure how far ahead of him the other was, and was saved the necessity of having to worry about it when he rounded the bend and spotted the familiar figure stalking toward home. Jirou gathered his flagging energy and gave a last boost to pumping legs, increasing his speed enough to take a running dive toward the back his gaze zeroed in on.
The calm, measured footsteps of Keigo’s stately walk were disrupted by the sudden rapid shift in weight. The two boys lurched forward as Jirou’s lighter frame collapsed against Atobe’s taller back. “Is there something you want?” Atobe muttered coolly, averting his gaze from the other boy. He righted himself uncomfortably and shook Jirou off, brushing his tunic, which had been knocked slightly askew. Bright purple eyes flew towards the lake that they had been so tenderly avoiding, in a desperate attempt to dodge the haunting hazel eyes that he could never resist.
Keigo didn’t like it when Jirou was upset. Though he never vocalized it, it disturbed him greatly whenever the normally bouncy boy was unhappy or upset. Akutagawa Jirou had been one of the few constants in his life; a stabilizing force in the rocky life of a feudal prince and Atobe Keigo did not like it when something changed without his express permission.
Righting himself, Jirou scrambled into a sitting position. His gaze sought out the elegant visage of his friend, pleading with a soft look while husky words tumbled off his tongue. "I'm sorry." He dropped his head to hide the sadness creeping into his eyes and voice. "Whatever I did, I'm sorry. If I made a mistake, I'll do better next time, I promise! I'll work really hard, until you're proud of me."
The one thing Jirou couldn't stand more than anything else in the world was being found lacking in Atobe's eyes. Especially when his failures riled the ferocious beast that was his temper.
Shrugging, Keigo found his voice drifting over the lake. “See to it that it gets done.” Reining in the tension in his voice, the words came out as a dissolving monotone. The sun glistened against the silver sheen of the lake, inviting and lovely. They had played in this lake as children, splashing for hours at a time, swimming and playfully shoving each other in its cold waters. Dunks and gentle memories invaded Atobe’s thoughts as he regarded the calm waters, the small swells of water pulling at but refusing to break the surface.
Sometimes, it seemed to Keigo, that while he aged, everything in this garden remained just as he remembered them. The lake. The trees. Jirou.
He turned around and managed to give the other boy a small smirk. “Not everyone can be as wonderful and graceful as ore-sama, so I suppose I’ll have to forgive you.”
Turning slightly, he proved the contrary of his words when he tripped over a small stone and fell splashing into the lake. He re-emerged seconds later, tossing his hair back and sputtering, sending droplets of water through the air to return to the smooth surface of the lake. The water was cool and slightly chilly, causing small tremors to jolt through Keigo’s drenched form.
Jirou's mouth had fallen slightly open, just far enough to emit an occasional noise of agreement, because there wasn't anyone else in the world quite like Atobe. Agreeing with his best friend's opinion was easy enough when he shared the same sentiment. However, somewhere between Atobe's last words and his somewhat ungraceful tumble into the water, those words got lost, vanishing somewhere amidst the soft hiccup of a giggle blossoming into full fledged laughter like a rose unfurling beneath the harsh brightness of the sun to bask in its radiance.
He wrapped his arms tightly around his waist, trying to hold the merry sound inside as if he were nothing more than a worn teddy bear whose stuffing had started falling out after a particularly trying session with a two year old. Jirou soon discovered that no matter how hard he tried, or how much he wished it, it couldn't be done. So there amidst the beauty of their childhood stomping grounds, he slumped forward, buried his face against his knees as he drew them upward, giving in to the inevitable.
“Oy! What are you laughing at?” scowled Atobe, mock glaring at the laughing boy, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips. The warm bubbly sound soothed him, starting from his ears and expanding through the rest of his body, the bright sound reverberating throughout his soul. He could hear this laughter for days on end, the sweetness of the sound, giving strength of some sort to the young lord. With this laughter by his side, Keigo Atobe could conquer the world. The tight feeling in his gut had faded, a distant memory of a ghostly painful touch of the green-eyed monster.
Growling, he leapt up, shooting forth from the glassy mirrored surface, only to latch onto the giggling boy, before darting back into the serene waters, smashing through the surface with a loud crash. Droplets flew everywhere as the two boys flew into the water, destroying the calm serenity and overturning the gentle layer of security that the pond had begun to build.
The two boys emerged, seconds later, Atobe still clutching Jirou close, small violent waves breaking against his tunic. As the ripples dissipated slowly around them, Keigo took one look at the soggy, wet Jirou and began to smile. His friend looked like a drowned rat, albeit a very cute drowned rat, but a drowned rat all the same. Quickly breaking his gaze, he pushed back from the other boy and turned around, smirking at his best friend. Pushing forward, he doused him completely with a wave of water, breaking the recently calmed waters for the third time that day, the playful splashing and destruction of the normalcy a callback to his childhood days.
"Hey!" Jirou protested when his mouth wasn't full of water, and his brain wasn't stalled dead in its tracks by the feel of his best friend's body pressed close to his. Slowly, the warmth of Atobe's form faded as distance separated them, closed only by the wave of water surging his way, aided, of course, by the urging of the other's hands.
Somewhere between being dragged from his spot on the ground to the cool, inviting waters, his process of thought had died a timely death, leaving him only able to discern what was happening with other senses, especially that of sight and touch. The vision of his best friend soaked clean through, tunic clinging to his every muscle and limb it covered, did very odd things to the golden-haired teen whose eyes reflected his confusion. So, he could be forgiven for taking so long to comprehend he was under attack. Yet, when it registered Jirou had to admit he wasn't one to back down from a challenge. And that wave of water that doused golden locks further, clung to the thickness of silken lashes, and dribbled down his cheeks, could most definitely be considered exactly that.
A slow, mischievous smile grew, spreading across lips touched by a joyful cry of promised retribution. Jirou cupped his hands beneath the silvered surface of the lake, and then gave a mighty shove toward the disheveled elegance of Atobe's face.
What was good for the goose was good for the gander, after all. Plus if Atobe could do it, so could Jirou, and he could probably do it better. However, the bubbling imp, whose laughter flittered throughout the clearing, knew better than to voice such a thought.
A thought that most certainly would not have gone unnoticed by the normally composed boy, who was now stomping all over his self-created image through quick ducks and rapid splashes. Romping regally through the waters, or as regally as he could, the blue-haired teen dove and resurfaced, playfully attempting to dodge the quick splashes that the tawny-haired boy shot in his general direction. Layer upon layer of purebred arrogance and composure slowly slid off with each resounding crash of water.
It wasn’t long until the weighty tunic began to grow heavy on his back, having absorbed bucket loads of water, the scratchy fabric irritating Keigo’s sensitive back with each twist and turn. Growling in annoyance, the noble shrugged off the offending piece of clothing and threw it against the shore, revealing a broad sun-kissed chest. Years of archery and swordplay were evident in the powerful muscles that strained and stretched as Keigo dove back into the water. The cool liquid was refreshing against the warm skin and it brought a light flush of unfamiliar pink to the noble’s cheeks.
Kicking roughly through the waters, the breeches soon followed the fate of the tunic, as the equally scratchy and heavy piece of clothing soon joined its counterpart on the lakeshore, flying out of the water and arching through the air, showering the surface with small droplets and leaving Keigo clothed in nothing but flannel underpants. Giving Jirou a self-satisfied smirk, Keigo attacked, taking full advantage of his enhanced speed, splashing the younger boy before tackling him, running his fingers up Jirou’s tunic, tickling the smooth skin that slowly revealed itself.
“Admit your defeat at the hands of ore-sama,” he ordered.
This, too, was a snippet of the past, forgotten memories resurfacing. Back then it had been next to nothing; the shameless discarding of clothes and then that plunge into icy depths. The first few minutes was a spiral towards the unknown, an unimaginable dance of liquid and limbs, until one or the other burst free of their moon-silvered prison to crow of triumph and glory.
Standing there, stunned by the absent discarding of tunic and the unveiling of sleek muscles, hardened and toned by life, Jirou had to admit this was nothing like then. Oh sure, the principle was still the same. They were still both boys, and had nothing to be ashamed of, or anything to hide. Yet, he couldn't remember the breath hitching in his throat, almost choking in the way it lodged and refused to go any further. He was also quite certain that his stomach hadn't done that nosedive straight to his toes when diamond droplets of shimmering water clung to soft skin, dripping and trailing a path over Atobe's torso that the golden-haired boy suddenly longed to traverse firsthand.
It wasn't until merciless fingers, gentle in their assault, trekked over his stomach and sides that Jirou was knocked head over heels out of the spell he'd fallen under. Blushing furiously, he wiggled and squirmed while fighting against the bubble of giggles that gushed out of his mouth. "Admit defeat?" he gasped when his breath once again belonged to him and wasn't being stolen by the forbidden images that his friend's disrobing had wrenched from the depths of the darkest corners of his mind. Jirou never admitted defeat, not until the very last moment and the game was over. And Atobe knew this, so he was fairly sure the adamant “Never!” that he all but screeched didn’t surprise his friend.
He used his arms, hands and legs to wrestle free of his captor, wading backwards until water rippled between them like a catwalk of a mirror just waiting to be crossed. Jirou was just as waterlogged as Atobe had been, weighed down by the water sinking into the fibers of his clothes, and he knew that the excess weight would be his ultimate downfall if he didn't shed it. The fact that Atobe had an advantage over him didn't sit well with the curly-haired teen who shucked his tunic swiftly, tugging it up his torso and over his head without a second thought. In that moment the visions that had teased the outer edges of his consciousness faded to black, leaving him with but one goal- he was going to win this time. His tunic joined Atobe's, haphazardly tossed ashore to await the arrival of the breeches he squirmed out of just as quickly.
And amidst the chaos, Atobe froze. Time seemed to slow as the soaked fabric slid across Jirou’s skin, revealing bit by bit the smooth supple treasure underneath. Droplets hung against the lightly tanned surface, hugging it, and giving the tawny-haired boy an ethereal sheen. Crystalline eyes raked unconsciously over the supple body as the water caressed Jirou lovingly. It was true. Everything had stayed the same, the pond, the trees, Jirou- but this… Atobe couldn’t quite remember the last time Jirou’s body had looked so- appealing? No. A quick splash of water shook him from his brief reverie.
Growling in response, Keigo, splashed back ruthlessly, “Think you can beat me? I’ll have to remind you who I am then.” He smirked, pushing forward, splashing furiously with his legs, kicking at the waters, sending stream after stream of water over the shorter boy. Falling back into the familiar tune of splashing and playing, the brief flash of insanity and ethereal beauty fading into the recesses of his memory. He launched himself and tackled the other boy, wresting him and trapping him with strong arms from behind, running his hands down now exposed sides, the dancing fingers gently probing and taunting the smooth skin.
As the two boys rolled around in the water, twisting and turning, each trying to get the better of the other, Keigo’s drenched undergarments slid wetly around, clinging uncomfortably to his skin, a second skin of annoyance as the two boys wrested for control in the water. Temporarily separating from his best friend, he kicked backwards, sending a wave of water flying towards the shorter boy, all the while sliding off the irritating article and letting it fall to the lake’s depths, intermingling with the profundal waters.
His body, almost perfectly streamlined now, darted through the waters, a silver streak of a knife slicing through the cool surface. Shifting his mode of attack, Keigo moved in, making quick short assaults, skirmishing briefly with Jirou’s skin with supple fingers. A nip there, a brush there, and then he was gone, the ghostly touch, almost nothing more than a gentle swell breaking upon warm skin.
He surfaced briefly to send a teasing remark at the other boy. “It appears that Ore-sama is victorious again, hm? It would be an convenient time to give up, wouldn’t you say?”
Atobe was cheating, or so some small part of Jirou's mind asserted when he treaded water, frozen in one place. It wasn't that he didn't have enough gumption to slice gracefully through the water and counter attack. Oh no, he did. However, something new and totally unexplainable slithered through his body after each teasing touch, every ghostly glide of fingers over lightly tanned skin. It was hot, burning in its intensity, so far out of his realm of experiences thus far that Jirou couldn't even begin to fathom the enormity of it when his loins tightened and desire sparked along every nerve he possessed.
There was his best friend, frolicking among the water that laved over his body as lovingly as a mistress's hands, mischievously taunting with words meant to incite his competitiveness, and all he could do was stare dumbly. His eyes darkened as they widened, shock and newly born longing lurking in their depths when he helplessly struggled against a new desire. His valiant effort died a heinous death against the power of his longing and curious eyes roamed freely when it did. Jirou's gaze wandered over sleek muscles tenderly kissed by nature, noting the crystal diamonds that glinted within the light, tiny sparkles that winked at him, daring him to give into the foreign and scandalous desire to slick his tongue over that flesh and clean it away.
This was insane! He was surely losing his mind to think such things, to want them so badly that he ached with yearning, and the only excuse he could come up with was he must have swallowed too much water when Atobe had dragged him into the water. He tried for several moments to delude himself into believing that some sneaky siren had cast a spell over their childhood playground, dared to assure himself that this fanciful imagining was true, and then dredged forth a smile so innocent that it hid the cunning beneath.
"Appearances," he finally forced the confident retort past his lips, muscles coiled in preparation of a counterattack. "Are often deceiving, ore-sama." Having pointed this out, the playful imp kicked and twisted, diving through the water toward his target of finely hewn muscle and sinew. Determined hands reached for Atobe's sides, zeroing in on sensitive ribs well remembered from many a childish romp within the lake. His first touch was feather light, as water slicked finger tips waltzed their way over each dip and curve, but that soon changed becoming a whimsical dance, fleeting and quicksilver in a quest to wrench free Atobe's laughter- a treasure he horded as selfishly as the smile Jirou all but adored.
Once upon a time, Jirou would have shed his own undergarments without thought, but once upon a time he hadn't been set on hiding his reaction to the boy whose waist his arms suddenly dropped to encircle. Dropping down, he allowed his weight to act as his anchor, pulling both he and his companion beneath the water.
The instant that the soft fingers touched his chest, Atobe’s breath caught in his mouth and the world froze once again. The sliding fingers against his ribs sent shivers of pleasant sensations to pool at the base of his cock, stirring it to life before the chilling waters of the lake killed it. A slow bubbling resistance began to grow in Atobe’s gut, threatening to spill, a waterfall pushing against his iron will. This touch, so sinfully wrong, was addicting, and as Jirou’s arms sneaked around to encircle his torso, he bit back a hiss of pleasure, the touch sending another jolt of blood to Atobe’s re-budding erection before the water’s cold fingers enveloped it, soothing it back to sleep.
Keigo struggled to break free from Jirou’s iron grip, pushing and sliding against the other boy, attempting to wriggle out of the vise-like clamp. He swam upwards desperately, the sun glimmering against the bottom of the water’s surface, a small bright goal. Reaching out with long arms he tried in vain to grasp the brilliant object, trying to escape from the ensuing battle between Jirou’s warm touch and the cool touch of the lake waters.
Water tore through the air as Atobe finally succeeding in reaching his goal, the boys breaking through the surface and flying partially out of the water, an effulgent image of two shining boys, glimmering with droplets, preserved in a single moment, a tribute to masculine beauty. And then it was over; the two boys crashed back down into the lake, shattering the brief moment of perfection as easily as they shattered the serenity of the lake.
Falling back into the lake, Atobe slid through Jirou’s arms until they were face to face. The feeling of Jirou’s warm hands sliding up his torso thoroughly trounced the frosty kiss of the lake water and Keigo found his fully hard erection digging into Jirou’s thigh as the two boys fell back from the pinnacle of their flight. Glancing forward, he found himself caught in Jirou’s eyes. The tawny orbs full of warmth and life. They called out to him, the rivulets of water streaming down the sides of Jirou’s face and pooling in Keigo’s hands that had suddenly found themselves cupping the other boy’s heart-shaped face.
The image of Jirou, his pert nose, soft full lips and sweet eyes looking tenderly back at Keigo, completely stole his breath away. When had his best friend gone… and gotten so damned beautiful? Feeling the last shred of his sanity slipping through his mind, he gently stroked Jirou’s cheek with his thumb, kicking absently at the water, his powerful legs keeping them afloat, their arms encircling each other, shielding them from the world. Atobe Keigo leaned forward, and crushed their lips together, thrusting his tongue into that sweet, moist cavern.
A/N: Hey all! Second chapter done guys!! We’d much appreciate it if you left a small comment if you enjoyed it. We still have the same 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), if anyone is interested please be sure to email a small writing sample and whatever character you want to feudal.hyoutei@gmail.com. (We had nooooobody last time ;.;)
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. -waves banner at two chapters done-