nothings and somethings
Title: nothings and somethings
Pairings: Massu x Shige; Shige x Koyama
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1800+
Note: Written quickly this morning because I woke up and decided that I had to write something since it's been months, even if it killed me in the process. This is what resulted.
Summary: Nothing happens when Shige kisses Koyama.
nothings and somethings
Nothing happens when he kisses Koyama.
He supposes, with the months, the years between them, that he expected even a little something. A spark, maybe, or a shudder down his spine. Electric tingles, stomach flutterings, the signs romantic tales abuse and thrive on.
Instead, there's nothing. Nothing new, nothing exciting, nothing that he'd imagined should come with the man he loves. Just a gentle press of lips, chapped against smooth, five o'clock shadow against cheek. Koyama's eyes are squeezed shut and mouth fallen open, just so. He makes such a pretty picture, he always has, and Shige thinks kissed-Koyama would be closer to beautiful than anything else.
Shige pulls back to admire the view, only to take in Koyama's shuttered expression instead.
So maybe it's not nothing. Now that he's looking, he can see that everything about this is off, wrong even. Koyama's frozen, stiff and awkward, and he's looking everywhere but at Shige. His bony fingers are entangled in Shige's shirt, arms taut, and Shige reads the stay away in Koyama's clenched fists. In determination, or perhaps desperation, Shige presses closer and kisses him again. Koyama lets him, but that's all he does.
So maybe it's the exact opposite.
“Shige,” Koyama murmurs, voice quiet and meek, and Shige exhales.
He lets himself out minutes later; the door latches with a grating sound that feels final.
Still, as he ambles down the pavement toward the subway, kicking gravel and cursing his impulses, he wonders why he expected fireworks in the first place.
“Do you want to get drunk?”
Shige's gaze snaps to Massu, who looks back silently, expression carefully blank. Still, Shige can see the warm concern in Massu's eyes, something Massu has never been able to fully hide.
Massu chews on a fish ball thoughtfully, and Shige looks back at his barely-touched ramen. Ramen. Koyama loves ramen. God, he's an idiot. “Would it help?” Massu asks, chopsticks tapping Shige's fingers gently.
“Oh, gross,” Shige mutters, and Massu grins as he wipes his knuckles on a napkin. He snorts. “I thought alcohol shouldn't be the answer to life's problems,” he quips, quoting an adage Massu wholly believes and has spouted for years. “If anything, I'd have thought you'd offer to swim with me. Get rid of access stress and whatnot.”
Massu rolls his eyes, “If I thought you wouldn't drown yourself, then yes, I probably would've suggested that. Aren't I considerate?”
Shige pretends to have to think about it, and Massu steals his egg in retaliation. “You are,” Shige says, and Massu smiles.
They don't get drunk that night, but neither do they talk about anything important. Massu talks to him about his mother's garden and Shige discusses the recent elections. They hum and they haw as they poke at their ramens (or as Massu inhales his), and in a way, Shige's grateful for the way Massu remains himself. He doesn't push for the reason Shige's really called him out, never bothers with the questions any other person wouldn't hesitate to ask. Instead, he's a willing ear, there just in case Shige wants to talk. Just in case, expecting nothing in return. Massu's always been an amazing friend that way.
Shige finally brings it up right before they part, as they're waiting for taxis to take them home.
“I kissed Koyama the other day.”
Massu's eyes snap to his. “Ah,” he says.
“Yeah,” Shige sighs. “I don't know why I thought it was a good idea.”
Massu sidles up to Shige, shoulders brushing as they stand side by side on the pavement. He lays a hand on Shige's forearm loosely; it's as close to a comforting gesture as Shige's going to get from Massu, especially in public.
“I guess I just wanted to see what would happen if I did,” Shige says, and Massu squeezes gently.
“And what happened?” Massu asks softly, and Shige knows he's not really expecting an answer.
Shige bites his lip. “Nothing,” he says, “he clearly didn't want it so I left. We haven't talked since.” Shige pauses, swallowing as he admits the one thing he's most afraid of. “I'm not quite sure if we're still friends,” he says quickly.
After a few moments, Massu hums, pursing his lips briefly. “It may take a while, but I don't think Koyama's going to give up your friendship because of one kiss.” Massu glances sideways, eyes catching his for a split-second, “or even because you don't love each other the same way.”
Shige lets out a harsh laugh. He's a little surprised, but not upset, that Massu's caught on so quickly. “I can only hope.”
“It'll take work though,” Massu continues, voice subdued, almost as if he's unaware that he's doing so. “Sometimes things work out. Most times they don't,” he says. Like he knows. He shakes his head briefly, squeezing once more before he lets his hand fall. “But if it helps, I really do think you two are going to be okay somehow. You're both way too stubborn to settle for anything less.”
Shige tucks the encouragement into the pockets of his brain, flashing a small smile in gratitude. “Since when did you get so cynical?” he teases.
Massu glances at him, eyes cool even though he knows Shige's just joking. “Why does everyone think I'm eternally young and stupid? I have lived life, you know.”
Shige blinks. “I know,” he says honestly.
Massu shrugs noncommittally, and then waves at something behind him. Shige startles, and then relaxes as a taxi pulls up beside them. Massu gestures toward the car. “As an awesome friend, I'm going to have to insist that you go first. You live further away, and-”
“And I'm the one who's heartbroken,” Shige jokes. The corner of Massu's mouth quirks.
“Yes, that,” he says, lips curving into a smile. “Now go home.”
A week later, Koyama calls.
At first, they say nothing, merely breathing heavily on the line. Shige's thinking of the least obvious way to hang up when Koyama clicks his tongue.
He cracks.
“I don't want this to come between us,” Koyama says, voice needy yet dull, like he's reciting a pre-written speech. “Our friendship,” he clarifies quickly, making a soft noise in the back of his throat that Shige nearly misses.
“Me neither,” Shige replies, almost wincing at the relieved exhalation that results.
“Great,” Koyama breathes. A pause, and then, “So did you hear about the new album?”
Shige sits back as Koyama begins to ramble. The rambling is almost familiar, only barely tainted by the new awkwardness between them. They both do their best to ignore it.
And they ignore it the next time Shige calls. The first, second, and third time they meet for drinks. Days, weeks later, they ignore it. Until it almost feels normal again.
Until Shige wakes up one day and doesn't feel a ball of nerves twist in the pit of his stomach at the thought of a later dinner date with Koyama.
That's when he realizes that maybe, just as Massu had said, things will be okay after all.
“You're right,” Shige says, one late night in his apartment. Massu's nearly falling asleep in his armchair and Shige's half-tempted to throw a comforter over him.
Massu blinks sleepily in response. “Hm?”
Shige sits down on the couch beside him and hands him a pillow. Massu buries his face in it gratefully. “You're right,” he repeats, thinking about Koyama; about the past couple of weeks; about the careful reparation of their friendship as well as, hopefully, his heart. “We're going to be okay somehow.”
A hand reaches out to grab Shige's, and Shige gapes at the way their fingers intertwine. “Of course we will be,” Massu says into cloth, but his words still make Shige stare.
Massu sits up a little then as he wakes fully, taking in Shige's shocked expression. He swallows audibly, and Shige's eyes trace the slight bobbing of Massu's adam's apple. Massu looks down at their entangled fingers, and then carefully takes Shige's hand fully into his.
They stay silent for a couple minutes, and then Massu chuckles slowly, pulling his hand away and placing it in his lap. “I guess I just wanted to see what would happen,” Massu says in response to Shige's unasked question, eyes bright as they fix upon Shige's. “But I can wait. No pressure,” he adds with a little smile.
He looks like he's not expecting anything, like every other time he and Shige have ever talked about something important, and it's this that makes Shige shakes his head. “Okay,” he says, and then he lays his hand upon Massu's, palm grazing against warm knuckles. “No pressure,” Shige agrees, and his throat tightens as Massu turns his hand over underneath Shige's.
Months later, Shige smiles when he tells Massu he can stop waiting.
(At first, nothing happens when he kisses Massu. Massu's stone solid underneath him, completely still as Shige's mouth presses carefully against Massu's. But this time, Shige has no illusions with the lack of reciprocity. Shige's stomach churns at the possibility that he's made another stupid, horrible decision yet again. This wouldn't be the first time, after all. He begins to pull away when Massu's fingers strain upwards, clenching into Shige's biceps. Shige's breath catches and Massu's eyes are dark and amazed as he pulls Shige closer.
So maybe it's not nothing. Maybe it's the exact opposite.
Shige feels Massu's lips move beneath his, as if he's mouthing out words, or mapping Shige's skin. He breathes through his nose as Massu rocks upward and slants his mouth, hands skimming up his arms to tangle loosely around the nape of his neck. Shige's muscles tremble as they attempt to hold him up over Massu's body, or maybe they're just trembling to tremble.
He's not sure what he feels, really, but it's certainly something.)
AN: Yeah, I know. It's rough around the edges and needs expanding/betaing. But I also know it's been months since I've last written, which is just not on. Either way, after all that time, I'm sorry that this is all I can offer T_T. Please forgive me. My fic brain has been completely inoperable after Heartmates, sadly. Here's to hoping my fic brain decides to work again sometime in the near future.
Pairings: Massu x Shige; Shige x Koyama
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1800+
Note: Written quickly this morning because I woke up and decided that I had to write something since it's been months, even if it killed me in the process. This is what resulted.
Summary: Nothing happens when Shige kisses Koyama.
nothings and somethings
Nothing happens when he kisses Koyama.
He supposes, with the months, the years between them, that he expected even a little something. A spark, maybe, or a shudder down his spine. Electric tingles, stomach flutterings, the signs romantic tales abuse and thrive on.
Instead, there's nothing. Nothing new, nothing exciting, nothing that he'd imagined should come with the man he loves. Just a gentle press of lips, chapped against smooth, five o'clock shadow against cheek. Koyama's eyes are squeezed shut and mouth fallen open, just so. He makes such a pretty picture, he always has, and Shige thinks kissed-Koyama would be closer to beautiful than anything else.
Shige pulls back to admire the view, only to take in Koyama's shuttered expression instead.
So maybe it's not nothing. Now that he's looking, he can see that everything about this is off, wrong even. Koyama's frozen, stiff and awkward, and he's looking everywhere but at Shige. His bony fingers are entangled in Shige's shirt, arms taut, and Shige reads the stay away in Koyama's clenched fists. In determination, or perhaps desperation, Shige presses closer and kisses him again. Koyama lets him, but that's all he does.
So maybe it's the exact opposite.
“Shige,” Koyama murmurs, voice quiet and meek, and Shige exhales.
He lets himself out minutes later; the door latches with a grating sound that feels final.
Still, as he ambles down the pavement toward the subway, kicking gravel and cursing his impulses, he wonders why he expected fireworks in the first place.
“Do you want to get drunk?”
Shige's gaze snaps to Massu, who looks back silently, expression carefully blank. Still, Shige can see the warm concern in Massu's eyes, something Massu has never been able to fully hide.
Massu chews on a fish ball thoughtfully, and Shige looks back at his barely-touched ramen. Ramen. Koyama loves ramen. God, he's an idiot. “Would it help?” Massu asks, chopsticks tapping Shige's fingers gently.
“Oh, gross,” Shige mutters, and Massu grins as he wipes his knuckles on a napkin. He snorts. “I thought alcohol shouldn't be the answer to life's problems,” he quips, quoting an adage Massu wholly believes and has spouted for years. “If anything, I'd have thought you'd offer to swim with me. Get rid of access stress and whatnot.”
Massu rolls his eyes, “If I thought you wouldn't drown yourself, then yes, I probably would've suggested that. Aren't I considerate?”
Shige pretends to have to think about it, and Massu steals his egg in retaliation. “You are,” Shige says, and Massu smiles.
They don't get drunk that night, but neither do they talk about anything important. Massu talks to him about his mother's garden and Shige discusses the recent elections. They hum and they haw as they poke at their ramens (or as Massu inhales his), and in a way, Shige's grateful for the way Massu remains himself. He doesn't push for the reason Shige's really called him out, never bothers with the questions any other person wouldn't hesitate to ask. Instead, he's a willing ear, there just in case Shige wants to talk. Just in case, expecting nothing in return. Massu's always been an amazing friend that way.
Shige finally brings it up right before they part, as they're waiting for taxis to take them home.
“I kissed Koyama the other day.”
Massu's eyes snap to his. “Ah,” he says.
“Yeah,” Shige sighs. “I don't know why I thought it was a good idea.”
Massu sidles up to Shige, shoulders brushing as they stand side by side on the pavement. He lays a hand on Shige's forearm loosely; it's as close to a comforting gesture as Shige's going to get from Massu, especially in public.
“I guess I just wanted to see what would happen if I did,” Shige says, and Massu squeezes gently.
“And what happened?” Massu asks softly, and Shige knows he's not really expecting an answer.
Shige bites his lip. “Nothing,” he says, “he clearly didn't want it so I left. We haven't talked since.” Shige pauses, swallowing as he admits the one thing he's most afraid of. “I'm not quite sure if we're still friends,” he says quickly.
After a few moments, Massu hums, pursing his lips briefly. “It may take a while, but I don't think Koyama's going to give up your friendship because of one kiss.” Massu glances sideways, eyes catching his for a split-second, “or even because you don't love each other the same way.”
Shige lets out a harsh laugh. He's a little surprised, but not upset, that Massu's caught on so quickly. “I can only hope.”
“It'll take work though,” Massu continues, voice subdued, almost as if he's unaware that he's doing so. “Sometimes things work out. Most times they don't,” he says. Like he knows. He shakes his head briefly, squeezing once more before he lets his hand fall. “But if it helps, I really do think you two are going to be okay somehow. You're both way too stubborn to settle for anything less.”
Shige tucks the encouragement into the pockets of his brain, flashing a small smile in gratitude. “Since when did you get so cynical?” he teases.
Massu glances at him, eyes cool even though he knows Shige's just joking. “Why does everyone think I'm eternally young and stupid? I have lived life, you know.”
Shige blinks. “I know,” he says honestly.
Massu shrugs noncommittally, and then waves at something behind him. Shige startles, and then relaxes as a taxi pulls up beside them. Massu gestures toward the car. “As an awesome friend, I'm going to have to insist that you go first. You live further away, and-”
“And I'm the one who's heartbroken,” Shige jokes. The corner of Massu's mouth quirks.
“Yes, that,” he says, lips curving into a smile. “Now go home.”
A week later, Koyama calls.
At first, they say nothing, merely breathing heavily on the line. Shige's thinking of the least obvious way to hang up when Koyama clicks his tongue.
He cracks.
“I don't want this to come between us,” Koyama says, voice needy yet dull, like he's reciting a pre-written speech. “Our friendship,” he clarifies quickly, making a soft noise in the back of his throat that Shige nearly misses.
“Me neither,” Shige replies, almost wincing at the relieved exhalation that results.
“Great,” Koyama breathes. A pause, and then, “So did you hear about the new album?”
Shige sits back as Koyama begins to ramble. The rambling is almost familiar, only barely tainted by the new awkwardness between them. They both do their best to ignore it.
And they ignore it the next time Shige calls. The first, second, and third time they meet for drinks. Days, weeks later, they ignore it. Until it almost feels normal again.
Until Shige wakes up one day and doesn't feel a ball of nerves twist in the pit of his stomach at the thought of a later dinner date with Koyama.
That's when he realizes that maybe, just as Massu had said, things will be okay after all.
“You're right,” Shige says, one late night in his apartment. Massu's nearly falling asleep in his armchair and Shige's half-tempted to throw a comforter over him.
Massu blinks sleepily in response. “Hm?”
Shige sits down on the couch beside him and hands him a pillow. Massu buries his face in it gratefully. “You're right,” he repeats, thinking about Koyama; about the past couple of weeks; about the careful reparation of their friendship as well as, hopefully, his heart. “We're going to be okay somehow.”
A hand reaches out to grab Shige's, and Shige gapes at the way their fingers intertwine. “Of course we will be,” Massu says into cloth, but his words still make Shige stare.
Massu sits up a little then as he wakes fully, taking in Shige's shocked expression. He swallows audibly, and Shige's eyes trace the slight bobbing of Massu's adam's apple. Massu looks down at their entangled fingers, and then carefully takes Shige's hand fully into his.
They stay silent for a couple minutes, and then Massu chuckles slowly, pulling his hand away and placing it in his lap. “I guess I just wanted to see what would happen,” Massu says in response to Shige's unasked question, eyes bright as they fix upon Shige's. “But I can wait. No pressure,” he adds with a little smile.
He looks like he's not expecting anything, like every other time he and Shige have ever talked about something important, and it's this that makes Shige shakes his head. “Okay,” he says, and then he lays his hand upon Massu's, palm grazing against warm knuckles. “No pressure,” Shige agrees, and his throat tightens as Massu turns his hand over underneath Shige's.
Months later, Shige smiles when he tells Massu he can stop waiting.
(At first, nothing happens when he kisses Massu. Massu's stone solid underneath him, completely still as Shige's mouth presses carefully against Massu's. But this time, Shige has no illusions with the lack of reciprocity. Shige's stomach churns at the possibility that he's made another stupid, horrible decision yet again. This wouldn't be the first time, after all. He begins to pull away when Massu's fingers strain upwards, clenching into Shige's biceps. Shige's breath catches and Massu's eyes are dark and amazed as he pulls Shige closer.
So maybe it's not nothing. Maybe it's the exact opposite.
Shige feels Massu's lips move beneath his, as if he's mouthing out words, or mapping Shige's skin. He breathes through his nose as Massu rocks upward and slants his mouth, hands skimming up his arms to tangle loosely around the nape of his neck. Shige's muscles tremble as they attempt to hold him up over Massu's body, or maybe they're just trembling to tremble.
He's not sure what he feels, really, but it's certainly something.)
AN: Yeah, I know. It's rough around the edges and needs expanding/betaing. But I also know it's been months since I've last written, which is just not on. Either way, after all that time, I'm sorry that this is all I can offer T_T. Please forgive me. My fic brain has been completely inoperable after Heartmates, sadly. Here's to hoping my fic brain decides to work again sometime in the near future.