the countryside
Title: The Countryside
Pairing: Tegoshi x Shige
Rating: PG
Word Count: 700+
Notes: For liberrie
Summary: AU. Tegoshi and Shige live in the countryside.
The Countryside
They sit under the apple tree in the edge of the orchard, the knotted tree with peeling bark and trunk tilted to its side. Tegoshi laughs bright-eyed and wide-mouthed as he climbs up up up; calloused feet catch on gnarls and he pushes himself with ease onto a sturdy branch. He drops wormy apples on Shige’s shoulder (never on his head; Shige’s brain is too precious and even Tegoshi knows not to mess with it). So he aims apples at Shige’s shoulder, belly, toes.
Beneath the protruding branch, Shige leans back with a sigh and flops against the trunk, flicking ants off the root in front of him and whining loudly when each apple makes contact.
Shige puts up with Tegoshi because everyone does. Tegoshi is just one of those guys who is always around and is always loved. Rumor has it that even his first day alive, when his mother screamed exhausted and Tegoshi came into the world, his mother cried while he smiled a beautiful, toothless grin. Tegoshi has a natural ability to charm the pants off of everyone he encounters, old ladies in their yards and young girls in his class, men in the fields and boys on the soccer field. Shige doubts anyone could find him anything but charming, even if they tried (Shige certainly had at first, but Tegoshi is persistent and Shige knew from the get go that he had no chance).
The old ladies around town like to gossip about him, after he walks past their houses with a smile and a cheery hello. Tegoshi should have been born a city boy, they say. He has a complexion most of the town girls envy, a gait that has boys giggling behind his back. His lithe and fragile frame is barely covered by scraps of cloth and hastily patched clothes, but his golden smile often neatly masks his shabby appearance.
Tegoshi should have been born a city boy, but instead he was born to the youngest, poorest widow in town. Tegoshi should have been pampered, given rich things of fine quality, but instead he is left to scrounge around for food and necessities like dogs on the street. It makes Shige sick, to see Tegoshi eat so little and smile so happily, so Shige always ends up giving Tegoshi half his bento (the whole thing sometimes, if Tegoshi pouts).
Sometimes the orchard owner invites Tegoshi to his house and asks him to do favors. Shige doesn’t know what Tegoshi does at the orchard owner’s house, but after every time, Tegoshi always has a little extra money to buy Shige a sugar candy. Tegoshi has never talked much after those days and Shige has never asked, only sucked on his candy extra hard in silence.
No one knows why Tegoshi and Shige are friends, and if Shige were honest, he doesn’t really know why either. Tegoshi latched on to Shige since the moment they could walk, the moment they both found that apple tree that fateful childhood day. It baffles everyone who knows them and sees them together. Tegoshi is a beautiful boy with skin of silk and wide awake eyes, a cheery storyteller with a smile that rivets everyone around him.
Shige is anything but. Shige doesn’t have a very toned body and he is an absolute horror in the fields. Years of toiling outside and his father groans at the fact that Shige still can’t bundle rice correctly. He can’t split wood for his life and sometimes, Tegoshi has to wake up early to help Shige make them look like actual logs. Shige stumbles and grimaces often, and his snores rattle his house when he sleeps.
The one thing Shige has going for him is his quick mind. A brilliant mind, the town all acknowledges. Shige was the first to memorize his multiplication tables in their one room schoolhouse, the first to learn the alphabet and write his name. Academically, Shige is out of the town’s league, and everyone knows it. Shige should go to college, the town ladies gossip. He should go to the city and make a name for their little village.
But instead he sits with his four books and he recites them from memory, pages worn and bent from constant perusal. He sits by the apple tree that Tegoshi has started to call their own, and Shige sits and he sits and he sits.
Both of them don’t belong in this countryside, with the cows and the rice fields and the nonfuture.
But there they are. Tegoshi who sits on the branch and picks rotten apples with care, and Shige who lays flat on his stomach with book in hand, idly scratching mosquito bites on his calf.
AN: And now, to work. I can’t believe I wrote Tegoshi.
Pairing: Tegoshi x Shige
Rating: PG
Word Count: 700+
Notes: For liberrie
Summary: AU. Tegoshi and Shige live in the countryside.
The Countryside
They sit under the apple tree in the edge of the orchard, the knotted tree with peeling bark and trunk tilted to its side. Tegoshi laughs bright-eyed and wide-mouthed as he climbs up up up; calloused feet catch on gnarls and he pushes himself with ease onto a sturdy branch. He drops wormy apples on Shige’s shoulder (never on his head; Shige’s brain is too precious and even Tegoshi knows not to mess with it). So he aims apples at Shige’s shoulder, belly, toes.
Beneath the protruding branch, Shige leans back with a sigh and flops against the trunk, flicking ants off the root in front of him and whining loudly when each apple makes contact.
Shige puts up with Tegoshi because everyone does. Tegoshi is just one of those guys who is always around and is always loved. Rumor has it that even his first day alive, when his mother screamed exhausted and Tegoshi came into the world, his mother cried while he smiled a beautiful, toothless grin. Tegoshi has a natural ability to charm the pants off of everyone he encounters, old ladies in their yards and young girls in his class, men in the fields and boys on the soccer field. Shige doubts anyone could find him anything but charming, even if they tried (Shige certainly had at first, but Tegoshi is persistent and Shige knew from the get go that he had no chance).
The old ladies around town like to gossip about him, after he walks past their houses with a smile and a cheery hello. Tegoshi should have been born a city boy, they say. He has a complexion most of the town girls envy, a gait that has boys giggling behind his back. His lithe and fragile frame is barely covered by scraps of cloth and hastily patched clothes, but his golden smile often neatly masks his shabby appearance.
Tegoshi should have been born a city boy, but instead he was born to the youngest, poorest widow in town. Tegoshi should have been pampered, given rich things of fine quality, but instead he is left to scrounge around for food and necessities like dogs on the street. It makes Shige sick, to see Tegoshi eat so little and smile so happily, so Shige always ends up giving Tegoshi half his bento (the whole thing sometimes, if Tegoshi pouts).
Sometimes the orchard owner invites Tegoshi to his house and asks him to do favors. Shige doesn’t know what Tegoshi does at the orchard owner’s house, but after every time, Tegoshi always has a little extra money to buy Shige a sugar candy. Tegoshi has never talked much after those days and Shige has never asked, only sucked on his candy extra hard in silence.
No one knows why Tegoshi and Shige are friends, and if Shige were honest, he doesn’t really know why either. Tegoshi latched on to Shige since the moment they could walk, the moment they both found that apple tree that fateful childhood day. It baffles everyone who knows them and sees them together. Tegoshi is a beautiful boy with skin of silk and wide awake eyes, a cheery storyteller with a smile that rivets everyone around him.
Shige is anything but. Shige doesn’t have a very toned body and he is an absolute horror in the fields. Years of toiling outside and his father groans at the fact that Shige still can’t bundle rice correctly. He can’t split wood for his life and sometimes, Tegoshi has to wake up early to help Shige make them look like actual logs. Shige stumbles and grimaces often, and his snores rattle his house when he sleeps.
The one thing Shige has going for him is his quick mind. A brilliant mind, the town all acknowledges. Shige was the first to memorize his multiplication tables in their one room schoolhouse, the first to learn the alphabet and write his name. Academically, Shige is out of the town’s league, and everyone knows it. Shige should go to college, the town ladies gossip. He should go to the city and make a name for their little village.
But instead he sits with his four books and he recites them from memory, pages worn and bent from constant perusal. He sits by the apple tree that Tegoshi has started to call their own, and Shige sits and he sits and he sits.
Both of them don’t belong in this countryside, with the cows and the rice fields and the nonfuture.
But there they are. Tegoshi who sits on the branch and picks rotten apples with care, and Shige who lays flat on his stomach with book in hand, idly scratching mosquito bites on his calf.
AN: And now, to work. I can’t believe I wrote Tegoshi.