[borotra]
RECONCILIATION
by cluelesschase
The defeat had been humiliating. More specifically, his defeat had been humiliating. Angrily curling his fingers between the strings of his tennis racket so tightly that the synthetic gut pressed into his slim fingers, they cut thin, angry lines that reflected exactly what he felt but didn't seem able to express. The muttered sympathies from his teammates, consolations and vows to do better the next time rolled through his blank mind like so many unspoken reprimands that he knew was his imagination, because there was no way that his teammates would blame him: they were all far too generous in that respect, he reflected bitterly.
The first half of the coach journey back to St. Rudolph was gloomily silent, each member replaying their own matches in their head, and then, inevitably, his own match, which had clinched the victory for Seigaku, and more importantly, the defeat for St. Rudolph. It was less silent in the second half; Yuuta and Atsushi were already discussing tactics to improve on, learning from their experience of having played against other strong players. He, on the other hand, stayed in his corner, brooding as he stared determinedly out of the window. He did not want to be part of a merry group. He needed this time to be angry at their defeat, angry with his own match and his humiliation, and, most of all, angry and lost and confused about Yuuta.
--
Yawning as the brisk chilly morning hit him, Yuuta ran a hand through his short hair, shivered slightly, and broke into a gentle jog around the courts. He felt disappointed, of course, that he had lost yesterday's loss, but he was not one to hold grudges for long. His good nature helped to strip it out of him, just like that slight breeze seemed to whip through his body. Experimentally, he rolled his shoulders; they didn't hurt. His mind replayed back to what he had overheard between Mizuki-san and his older brother as he started running properly, extending his legs, pushing and falling into a rocking rhythm that his body recognised, leaving his mind free to contemplate. Yuuta wasn't a person who though a lot. That wasn't to say that he was dumb, only that he didn't like to over-complicate things. However, he rolled his shoulders again, uneasily. Again, they didn't hurt.
Had it been true? Had Mizuki-san taught him a tennis move that might possibly destroy his shoulders? Aniki had seemed certain, and... as much rivalry as there was between them, Yuuta knew that Aniki cared about him. Not to mention that he was a genius at tennis. He had beaten Mizuki-san pretty badly. So if it had been true... then what about his shoulders? Falling into place behind Kaneda, the boy rolled his shoulders for the last time - still no pain - and put it out of his mind for now. He could ask Mizuki-san directly later.
However, as the boy slowed down into a light jog before starting his stretches, he noticed that Mizuki-san wasn't here. That was definitely odd; Mizuki-san was usually the first one up, even though he hated mornings, silently glaring at everyone who dared to be cheerful and snapping out orders. As Akazawa-buchou walked over to tell Yuuta that they would start drills in a few minutes, the captain added with a light frown, "Have you seen Mizuki, Yuuta?" The boy shook his head with a confused look -even buchou didn't know where Mizuki-san was?
Chewing his lower lip slightly even as he jogged over to start drills, Yuuta remembered his sempai's despondency after their defeat yesterday. They looked at things different, Mizuki and Yuuta; Mizuki analysed every moment of the past, picking at the details until the whole memory of it fell apart, like soggy food whilst Yuuta took the broader aspects of the past and took them into the future. He knew now that he should be careful of his shoulders, and that he shouldn't use the Twist Spin Shot, which meant that he had to develop a new shot. Something better. This was the reason he was here right now, at training; Yuuta strived to be better, and with every stroke he made as the automatic tennis ball launcher fired five-second rounds at him, he carved wider his path and dream to be outstrip his brother.
The extensive training, followed by a quick clean-up and a hastily ploughed-through breakfast before dashing off to his first lesson, drove Mizuki out of Yuuta's mind as he concentrated wholeheartedly on what he was doing. It was only halfway through his first lesson of the day, Japanese History, that Yuuta started daydreaming. He scribbled random names of tennis moves over his textbook in pencil, seeing if any of those he had heard during the tournament would inspire him for a new shot. Inevitably, thinking of tennis led him to thinking about Mizuki-san. The older boy had Maths first thing today, he knew. He'd have to corner Mizuki-san at lunchtime.
Sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria, Yuuta was soon engaged in a debate with Nomura-san, and Yanagisawa over whether the club's beginners should be pushed harder. Yuuta's usual enthusiasm for discussing their tennis club's future was only half-hearted though, as he kept an eye out for that all-elusive Mizuki-san. Their manager did usually sit with them; the regulars got on well as a group and spent quite a lot of time with each other, even outside of training. The familiar mop of messily-styled hair wasn't in the room however, which, Yuuta consoled himself, meant that Mizuki-san wasn't avoiding them at lunch at least. Five minutes before the end of lunch, in wandered Mizuki, looking far paler and unhealthier than usual, although he surely must have had a lie-in due to his lack of appearance at morning training.
Fighting his way over to the other boy, who had quickly picked up some food and was perched on the end of the nearest table with a seat free, Yuuta plonked down on the seat next to Mizuki-san, watching the older boy practically drink down his food; Mizuki's form tutor was notorious for hating late-comers to registration. "Mizuki-san, are you okay? You weren't-" the boy started tentatively, cut off the by the shrill bell which signalled five minutes to registration.
Resuming his sentence, Yuuta was cut off a second time as Mizuki demolished his rice, scooped the last few grained into his mouth, and patted Yuuta on the shoulder. "I'll talk to you later, mm, Yuuta-kun? I have to go to registration, and so do you." He left without another word, depositing his dirty tray before bee-lining for the exit. Yuuta rose and left more slowly. So Mizuki had been avoiding them. He now had some more food for thought, it appeared.
The manager's absence at after-school training was only even more pronounced than that of that morning's. Mizuki never missed practice. Even if he was on the verge of snuggling into his (presumably warm, comfortable and purple) deathbed, he still came to practice, whining pitifully, wrapped up in a huge coat and hugging his cup of hot chocolate and making demands from the benches. Akazawa-buchou aimed a questioning look at Yuuta; the rest of the regulars followed suit, but he only shook his head. He was the one closest to Mizuki-san, but he didn't know either. "He's probably still upset about yesterday," the boy offered. "Aniki did thrash him pretty bad." That last comment was said with conflicting tones. Yuuta was, of course, disgruntled that St. Rudolph hadn't gotten through, but he was also proud of his brother, although Syuusuke wouldn't be able to drag that out of him with five of oneesan's pies. ...Maybe ten though.
However, the thing about living in a boarding school was that it was hard to escape your friends on campus. Padding softly down to Mizuki's room after training, Yuuta listened for a moment, but heard nothing. A light knock on the door and a called "Mizuki-san?" preceded Yuuta just turning the doorknob. Sure enough, it was locked, and Mizuki never locked his door when he was inside, which was something only a few people knew: Mizuki-san was slightly claustrophobic. So his sempai wasn't in, but he hadn't gone to practice, and it was highly unlikely that he'd gone off-campus.
Yuuta faced the locked door for a long moment, uncertain of what to do now. There wasn't anywhere in particular that he thought Mizuki-san would be, and yet he wanted to find him. "Yuuta-kun?" The familiar voice rang out behind him in the corridor, and the boy started; the carpeted corridors of the accommodation usually kept footsteps pretty quiet. "Are you fainting against my door?"
Turning with a smile on his face, Yuuta noticed the peculiar expression across the older boy's face, and also that Mizuki-san was holding a racket and tube of tennis balls; his face shone with a sheen of sweat and his hair was apparently just plain messy as opposed to styled messily. And yet he wasn't wearing his regular's uniform, but a plain pair of tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm really quite busy tonight," Mizuki said apologetically, although his tone was stilted. Unlocking and opening the door, the older boy gave a rueful half-smile. "Why don't you come round some other time if you need help with homework, mmm?" The door shut gently in Yuuta's face, before he had even the chance to express himself.
Something was definitely wrong. Even if Mizuki-san was busy, he let Yuuta sprawl over his bed and ask him questions about his homework. Perhaps it was something to do with him; not quite consciously, Yuuta tested his shoulders. They felt as well as normal, although tired after practice, and he had taken care not to use his Twist Spin Shot. Suddenly, the boy felt like knocking harder on Mizuki-san's door and demanding an explanation, but the closed door in his face was all the explanation that he needed. Mizuki had shut the door on him, both literally and figuratively.
--
The following week was a range of somewhat depressing practices. Mizuki consistently failed to turn up to every one of the practices, and their captain was somewhat stuck without Mizuki's brilliant mind for tweaking their training regime to adapt to and improve upon what they had learnt at the tournament. Moreover, Kaneda had whispered to Yuuta that there was a rumour going around about him, and every time a beginner or two stared at him, Yuuta's shoulders started to itch, even though he wasn't a superstitious person, nor did he think that anything was indeed wrong with his shoulders. From what aniki had said, his shoulders would just one day snap apart from the burden placed upon them, but that 'one day' hadn't happened yet, and since he wasn't using the shot any longer, that 'one day' would never happen; therefore, his shoulders were safe, surely?
Not only this, but every time Yuuta turned up outside Mizuki's room after practice, he wasn't in; he knew this from the lack of noise inside the room, and sometimes saw the older boy return from what was evidently his own practices. Mizuki had spoken a grand total of about eleven words to him this entire week, which was ridiculous. Yuuta had finally even resorted to calling him on his mobile, but Mizuki never answered, and his texts hadn't been returned either.
As Akazawa-buchou approached him after Monday training with the rest of the regulars close behind him, Yuuta glanced up from his change of shoes, startled. "Don't worry, Yuuta-kun. You're not in trouble," Atsushi grinned at him. Yuuta smiled wonkily; he already knew what this was about.
"You need to find him," Akazawa-buchou said shortly. There wasn't really much debate about who 'him' was. "Either he's part of this tennis club or not. There are plenty of people wanting that regulars spot he has, and we need to know whether we're going to adjust our own training." The captain made a face, and added, "Sorry, Yuuta. We can't revolve around Mizuki, you know." There was a small part of him which squeaked, 'Why me?' in protest at having to confront Mizuki-san with being kicked out of the club, but the rest of him knew perfectly well why.
With a sigh, the boy straightened, and lobbed his training shoes haphazardly into his training bag. "I know," he responded quietly. "I'll let you know at morning training tomorrow."
Determinedly slinging his bag over his shoulder, Yuuta took his time getting back to his own room, finishing a half-written Japanese exercise so as to give Mizuki-san some time to get back to his own room after his own training, before walking over to the other boy's room. Knocking on his sempai's door even though he usually just barged in and made himself at home, Yuuta waited. There was a long pause, far too long to be normal, then that memorably musical voice said softly, "Yes?"
Yuuta swallowed, preparing himself for another rejection as soon as Mizuki heard who it was; he had been rejected in this fashion all week, but it was like a small part of his heart was shredded each time the lie 'I'm busy, Yuuta-kun' sounded from the other side of the door. "It's Yuuta," he said in a voice which was almost as soft as Mizuki's.
A short pause, wherein an invisible hand gripped Yuuta's heart and set it calmly against a grater, ready to erode him down. "I'm bu-"
"MIZUKI-SAN!" The yell burst from Yuuta more loudly than he had expected, although to be honest, he hadn't expected to shout at all. Doors down the corridor popped open, and the boy flushed angrily, staring woodenly at the door in front of him. It suddenly popped open, and Yuuta almost jumped, so unexpected was that action.
Mizuki's tousled head appeared in the small gap that the older boy had allowed to be opened as he obviously tried to school his face into being as serene as the surface of a lake on a calm day, and yet failed, a muscle twitching. "Yes?" Yuuta didn't wait for anything else; this time, he took action. Jamming his wry body to the door, Yuuta shoved his way in, before slamming the door behind him, making Mizuki flinch.
"What do you mean, 'yes'?!" demanded Yuuta hotly. His pulse was racing probably far too much for his own good; he visibly saw Mizuki think exactly the same thing and almost reached to measure his pulse, but then remembered exactly why his heart was pounding so fast: he was angry, and it was with Mizuki-san, and he hated being angry with Mizuki-san. "You're avoiding practices, and avoiding the team, and you want to know what I want?" Mizuki didn't answer, and only clutched the towel that he had previously been using to wipe down his sweat more tightly.
Yuuta pushed on, even though he could see that the older boy was gaunt, tired, probably pushing himself too hard. As well as having far too many things to say to his sempai, Yuuta was afraid that as soon as he stopped, he wouldn't be able to find the sheer nerve it took him to talk to Mizuki like this. "Buchou is about to kick you off the team," he snapped, "because all you can do after our loss is mope about it. The club needs you, but it doesn't revolve around you, you know. Even if you're hurting, you've got to carry on helping everyone else train, and if you can't do that, then you don't belong in our club, because the St. Rudolph tennis team cares about each other." A curl of contempt weaved its way into Yuuta's little speech at the end, as he turned from facing Mizuki-san, to staring at the back of his chair, quite unable to face Mizuki-san's blank face anymore.
The boy also wondered what Mizuki would do. Would he really quit? Life this past week had been hard without the older boy around to help, tease and order him around; he couldn't quite imagine a tennis club without Mizuki, even though he knew that all the third-years would be leaving at the end of this school year. "Don't leave, Mizuki-san," he blurted out desperately, only succeeding in making himself blush more ferociously.
There was a sound beside him, and Yuuta glanced around to see that Mizuki had sat down heavily on the purple-sheeted bed, the towel hanging limply from his long fingers. "Yuuta... I didn't think you would have wanted me to go back." A twisted smile had appeared on Mizuki's face, which was an ironic description, because the smile did not symbolise anything happy at all. Yuuta's throat seemed to make a sound of protest at this by itself. The smile on Mizuki's face only grew more twisted, as he continued whilst staring at his hands, "I thought that... the tennis club might be better off without me... I didn't do very with you, did I?" The question came out as a whisper, undertones of begging that Yuuta didn't know could exist.
"You did fine with me," the Second Year tried to come off as confident, but his boyish voice cracked halfway through, the last couple of words coming out huskily. They both knew that Yuuta was just saying the standard thing expected to make Mizuki feel better. The boy cleared his throat and tried again. "You taught me a great shot, and it really worked. Nothing bad has happened to my shoulders, so everything's fine." This time, he did manage to inject assurance into his voice, but he wondered whether he was trying to convince himself of this. Automatically, as he now did every time he thought of his shoulders, he tensed them, rolled them once backwards and once forwards, and relaxed. "They're fine," he reiterated softly.
Mizuki shook his head, a slight disagreement. He stood up, facing the other direction. "I suppose I'll be there tomorrow morning," he murmured, and Yuuta knew that it was a dismissal. Getting up, he almost patted Mizuki-san on the back... but didn't at the last moment, only brushing lightly against the other boy as he squeezed out of the room.
--
Starting his first laps around the courts, Yuuta almost tripped over Yanagisawa's leg as he kept his eyes off the courts, checking to see if Mizuki-san was going to keep his promise. As he apologised profusely, Atsushi eyed him with an expression that clearly explained that he knew exactly what Yuuta was doing. This was strange: there was nothing Yuuta could have exactly pinpointed about his expression, but he understood it perfectly anyway. On his third lap of the courts, Mizuki turned up - Yuuta almost didn't notice him at first, because he wasn't wearing the regulars jacket, but the plain club uniform.
As he next passed Akazawa-buchou, Yuuta tipped his head in the direction of Mizuki, who was running alone, his hair fluffy and bouncing with every jogged step. The captain's eyes slid over; his lips tightened, but he said nothing. He didn't give the other boy punishment, as any other member would have got if they had missed training, but ducked his head, and carried on. When drills started, buchou merely walked up to Mizuki and started discussing new drills as if nothing had happened. The look of pure confusion on Mizuki's face and his first stammered words told everyone there that this was clearly not what he had expected. Perhaps Mizuki-san had thought that everyone would hate him, Yuuta thought wryly as he practiced serves against Kaneda. Even he, the one with the most right to be angry at Mizuki-san, was not, but that was because Mizuki had not yet explained everything.
The Third Year held up a hand, "A moment please," and turned away from Akazawa-buchou. Yuuta saw Mizuki's face slowly change and moulded itself into the mask of cool indifference he usually wore when observing people he deemed beneath him. His next words to careful and precise with no stammering, and the ease with which he found words suggested to Yuuta that, contrary to everyone else's view that Mizuki had abandoned the club, Mizuki had analysed everyone's behaviour in the tournament and had plans for their moves to improve. Yuuta found himself smiling as he and Kaneda switched positions. Kaneda raised an eyebrow, as if to ask him why he was grinning so broadly, but then shook his head, as if he already knew. Yuuta looked suspiciously at the younger boy for a moment: did everyone know how the dynamics between himself and Mizuki-san worked?
Even watching Mizuki practice against Yanagisawa revealed something new to Yuuta. Mizuki prided himself in being able to anticipate his opponents without much effort. Today however, there was none of that smugness, but cold calculation instead. His hits were a little harder than before; his aim a little more precise. Yuuta knew that during his week of absence, Mizuki had worked out his rage at himself through tennis, beating every imaginary opponent to a pulp - or had he lost every time to make him so ruthless?
The atmosphere in the changing room was more lively than it had been for a while; the group accepted Mizuki back into the fold, although with perhaps a higher awareness of his exact shrewdness, and Mizuki just kept quiet those uncomfortable feelings he had started to confess to Yuuta last night. As Yuuta packed his things next to the older boy, he looked up, and met Mizuki's eyes squarely, firmly, and knew what he was going to say. He wasn't particularly happy about it, but he knew that this would sort things out quicker, and ease off the tension between them. "Mizuki-san," he said quietly, trying not to let them be overheard. Kaneda, for his part, seemed to know exactly what Yuuta was doing, and distracted everyone else. Yuuta didn't know how he knew, but he was thankful all the same. "Mizuki-san, I don't know why you did it," and they both knew what 'it' meant, "but I want to start over again with you. All over again."
Mizuki glanced up briefly from zipping up his tennis bag, and didn't say anything, and a short nod of his head indicated both acknowledgement and agreement.
--
Starting over again was a headache, Yuuta decided. It was, he also firmly asserted, the right thing to do, but Mizuki was being formal towards him, and awkwardness hung densely between them like a spider's web heavy with dew. The rest of the members acted like nothing had happened, and for glimpses at a time, they would see the old Mizuki, who made snide remarks, overly intimate comments, laughed at everything and everyone, and revelled in it. There were other reasons as to why starting over was a pain in the backside though. They were about a month on from 'the episode', as Yuuta had heard it reverently whispered between beginners, usually out of Mizuki's hearing, and thankfully nothing spectacularly drastic had changed, except for the presents.
And that was the problem: the presents. Staring at the large and probably ridiculously fattening cake perched quite happily on his desk, which was dripping with cream and slices of strawberries, Yuuta sighed. This was the third such cake which had magically appeared in front of his door this month, and other things too, including a neat stack of Mizuki-san's last year's notes on the Japanese invasion of China, about a mile of grip tape, and, of all things, a massive purple cushion.
Dipping a finger into an artistically curved swirl of cream, Yuuta admitted to himself that the cake was indeed very, very nice, and as of such, had probably cost quite a bit. On the other hand, he felt somewhat cheated, like Mizuki was trying to bribe him into doing something, and what was worse was that he didn't know what he was being bribed into doing. He did sink rather gratefully into his chair, now cum great purple cushion, though. The cushion was very soft. The notes were wonderfully helpful, Mizuki's handwriting being obsessively neat and about as unlike his own as one could get, and since he hadn't needed to re-grip his racket yet, he couldn't tell how wonderful the grip tape was, but the grip tape was probably quite wonderful too.
Yuuta sighed, and put his head in his heads. He didn't need to deal with this. The team was already joking with Yuuta, shooting knowing looks at him which he returned with a blush, or a glare, or usually both, but no cutting remarks, because he had a vague feeling that the jokes they were telling were most likely true. Two soft knocks on the door indicated that Mizuki was here, because... because... Yueta groaned softly. He knew that it was Mizuki, because he could recognise his sempai's knock. That was something he did not need to examine himself for. He was also quite afraid of what he might uncover if he dug too deeply for answers.
"Come in," the boy called, pushing all things to do with feelings and such out of his mind, right to the point when he caught sight of the big fat cake again. Oh dear.
Mizuki eased the door open. "Do you like the cake?" he asked, obviously hoping that Yuuta did, even though there was only the dab of cream missing from the original baked masterpiece.
"Oh yeah," Yuuta flicked a quick glance at it, then gave in and took a strawberry slice. "You want some?" The question was redundant though, because Yuuta knew what the answer was going to be. He knew, because he had tried to offer some to Mizuki every time the other boy had bought him one, and Mizuki had always declined the same way.
"No thanks," the boy smiled shyly, eyes lighting up just that little bit more as he spotted his gift of a cushion poking up from behind Yuuta when he leaned forward to ruffle Yuuta's hair. "It's for you." That last sentence always made Yuuta feel a bit jittery, his throat tightening up even as he wanted to insist at the same time.
Yuuta cleared his throat, "Erm... Mizuki-san? This... This must have cost a lot. You shouldn't... you know. You shouldn't do so much stuff for me," he finished quickly, shifting slightly in his seat, comfortable as it was.
The change was immediate; Mizuki's face closed down as if there'd been a power-cut. "Oh. Right. Okay." The boy edged out of the room with a few mumbled farewells, obviously misunderstanding what Yuuta really meant. Yuuta bit his lip as the older boy closed the door behind him, wanting to call him back and explain, but he knew that he wasn't eloquent enough to sooth Mizuki's feelings. Mizuki-san had always been the one to do that for him.
As Yuuta had expected and dreaded, after he asked Mizuki to stop, there came no more cakes, no notes of advice, no other random things that had caught Mizuki's eye in the street as suitable for Yuuta. In fact, he withdrew almost completely, like 'the episode' all over again. The worse thing about this time was that Mizuki was gradually opening up to the other members much more by now, and it was Yuuta feeling like the outsider this time.
Sitting down next to Kaneda in the changing rooms, Yuuta felt an elbow jab him in the ribs. "Mizuki-san is really smart," Kaneda started, as Yuuta started at him in slight confusion, "and you have a great instinct on the court, but you're both a little dumb at times." Yuuta blinked this time, as Kaneda blushed slightly for having to say this. "You've gotta explain to him. He doesn't get feelings, and you don't get people." Yuuta still felt a little lost. "Just go talk to him," Kaneda shrugged, "How do you expect to get anything sorted out if you don't actually sit down and sort it out together?" The boy stood up and left with Atsushi and Yanagisawa, who both looked like they knew what had just transpired. Yuuta rubbed his temples. This was all so unnecessarily complicated! And his teammates were so much better suited to this than him... but no. Of course not; this was between himself and Mizuki-san.
Knocking at the older boy's door, Fuji Yuuta was starting to think that every other conversation he had with this particular sempai turned into a confrontation. Mizuki's eyes stared blankly at him as he opened the door, and suddenly Yuuta realised exactly what Kaneda had been saying. Mizuki just didn't get it at all, and he suddenly felt himself channelling the frustration that all his teammates must have felt watching the two flounder in their relationship. "What is wrong with you, Mizuki-san?" Those first words were not the first words he intended to say, nor were they the second words, third nor, indeed, last. Yuuta sighed, and held up his hands to stop the other boy saying anything. "I am trying really hard," he spoke measuredly, thinking about each word before it came out. He didn't want this to blow up in his face because of a wrong word, which was what had happened last time. "Really hard," Yuuta repeated, "to, you know, mend our relationship here. I thought we had something good. I'm willing to try all over again, Mizuki-san, so why aren't you?!" The last clause tumbled out of his mouth accompanied by evident aggravation.
Mizuki started, quite dumbfounded at him. "I..." The boy shook his head, as if trying to string together a coherent thought, "I am trying," he struggled with the words, or perhaps it was the emotions that inevitably came with the words. "I'm trying too, but... but you like me doing things for you, I don't know how to make you happy," the guilt cut at his words, making them sound forced, and Yuuta realised with a belated epiphany that Mizuki wasn't trying to bribe his way back into Yuuta's good graces at all, but rather trying to please Yuuta the only way he knew how. "I..." A pause again, "I'll think of something," Mizuki promised eventually, the look of confusion still moulded across his features.
--
Over the next few days, Yuuta felt increasingly light-headed. Mizuki-san was being awkward again, but it was a whole new level of awkward this time. He was almost bi-polar, patting Yuuta on the head or grinning broadly at him at one point in the day, but nodding respectfully and holding doors open politely for him in the next. There were random touches, when Mizuki was in one of his 'good' moods, whereby Yuuta found himself on the end of a lot of hugs and random petting, which Yuuta was greatly disturbed by... and yet, reassured.
It was like the old Mizuki again, and he realised that his body had missed being spoiled rotten by Mizuki. They was also spending a lot of time in each other's rooms now, doing homework together comfortably in silence, although Yuuta would look up once or twice to see the older boy looking at him oddly, but whenever this happened, Mizuki would smile one of his smiles, and duck his head back to his work. There was another thing: Mizuki-san's smiles. They were like the old ones, which impudently wrought much damage on Yuuta's heart, even when he was being distant.
It had taken a while, but Yuuta had eventually realise that Mizuki's sudden change of moods were due to his fear of being pushed away again. As Kaneda had said, Mizuki was terrible at understanding feelings, and in being so, was particularly bad in recognising his own and Yuuta's feelings, even though they were probably the second-worst kept secret within the tennis club, the worst kept secret being buchou and Kaneda. Yuuta had also grouchily realised that everyone else had realised this before him.
As Mizuki leaned on the side of Yuuta's bed, his curls peeking over the edge of the bed and lightly brushing Yuuta's leg as he sprawled over his casually-made bed, Yuuta wondered what Mizuki-san would do if he ran his hair through those soft-looking curls. The older boy was always the one doing the petting, and Yuuta was renowned for being particularly out of his depth with intimacy like that. Shifting his weight as he peered at the clock, Mizuki murmured something about having to go, and rose catlike from his position on the rug, packing his bag efficiently. Yuuta stood too, to see his sempai out, and knew... that it was okay. It was going to be okay. When Mizuki turned to say 'good night', Yuuta grabbed Mizuki's loose tie and leant in suddenly, planting a sloppy, boyish kiss on Mizuki's pouty lips. "It's okay," he said; no words were used to explain what he was talking about, because they were above needing the words. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay."
Mizuki stared at him for a long while; a curl flicked over one eye and his shoulders bent over in the same position as Yuuta had tugged him into. The only change were his eyes, which grew wider, and Yuuta could have sworn that he noticed a slight gleam in the eyes which might have come from tears... but he had no time to wonder properly, because Mizuki had dropped his bag onto the floor and pulled Yuuta into a tight hug, his arms curling around Yuuta's waist as if he would never let go. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he choked. Yuuta had flung his hands out as he had been pulled, and landed on Mizuki's chest; his fingers crushed the soft shirt the older boy was holding. "I'm so sorry," Mizuki babbled, more than just a little lost, and yet understanding everything at the same time.
"It's okay, Mizuki-san," Yuuta whispered.
by cluelesschase
The defeat had been humiliating. More specifically, his defeat had been humiliating. Angrily curling his fingers between the strings of his tennis racket so tightly that the synthetic gut pressed into his slim fingers, they cut thin, angry lines that reflected exactly what he felt but didn't seem able to express. The muttered sympathies from his teammates, consolations and vows to do better the next time rolled through his blank mind like so many unspoken reprimands that he knew was his imagination, because there was no way that his teammates would blame him: they were all far too generous in that respect, he reflected bitterly.
The first half of the coach journey back to St. Rudolph was gloomily silent, each member replaying their own matches in their head, and then, inevitably, his own match, which had clinched the victory for Seigaku, and more importantly, the defeat for St. Rudolph. It was less silent in the second half; Yuuta and Atsushi were already discussing tactics to improve on, learning from their experience of having played against other strong players. He, on the other hand, stayed in his corner, brooding as he stared determinedly out of the window. He did not want to be part of a merry group. He needed this time to be angry at their defeat, angry with his own match and his humiliation, and, most of all, angry and lost and confused about Yuuta.
--
Yawning as the brisk chilly morning hit him, Yuuta ran a hand through his short hair, shivered slightly, and broke into a gentle jog around the courts. He felt disappointed, of course, that he had lost yesterday's loss, but he was not one to hold grudges for long. His good nature helped to strip it out of him, just like that slight breeze seemed to whip through his body. Experimentally, he rolled his shoulders; they didn't hurt. His mind replayed back to what he had overheard between Mizuki-san and his older brother as he started running properly, extending his legs, pushing and falling into a rocking rhythm that his body recognised, leaving his mind free to contemplate. Yuuta wasn't a person who though a lot. That wasn't to say that he was dumb, only that he didn't like to over-complicate things. However, he rolled his shoulders again, uneasily. Again, they didn't hurt.
Had it been true? Had Mizuki-san taught him a tennis move that might possibly destroy his shoulders? Aniki had seemed certain, and... as much rivalry as there was between them, Yuuta knew that Aniki cared about him. Not to mention that he was a genius at tennis. He had beaten Mizuki-san pretty badly. So if it had been true... then what about his shoulders? Falling into place behind Kaneda, the boy rolled his shoulders for the last time - still no pain - and put it out of his mind for now. He could ask Mizuki-san directly later.
However, as the boy slowed down into a light jog before starting his stretches, he noticed that Mizuki-san wasn't here. That was definitely odd; Mizuki-san was usually the first one up, even though he hated mornings, silently glaring at everyone who dared to be cheerful and snapping out orders. As Akazawa-buchou walked over to tell Yuuta that they would start drills in a few minutes, the captain added with a light frown, "Have you seen Mizuki, Yuuta?" The boy shook his head with a confused look -even buchou didn't know where Mizuki-san was?
Chewing his lower lip slightly even as he jogged over to start drills, Yuuta remembered his sempai's despondency after their defeat yesterday. They looked at things different, Mizuki and Yuuta; Mizuki analysed every moment of the past, picking at the details until the whole memory of it fell apart, like soggy food whilst Yuuta took the broader aspects of the past and took them into the future. He knew now that he should be careful of his shoulders, and that he shouldn't use the Twist Spin Shot, which meant that he had to develop a new shot. Something better. This was the reason he was here right now, at training; Yuuta strived to be better, and with every stroke he made as the automatic tennis ball launcher fired five-second rounds at him, he carved wider his path and dream to be outstrip his brother.
The extensive training, followed by a quick clean-up and a hastily ploughed-through breakfast before dashing off to his first lesson, drove Mizuki out of Yuuta's mind as he concentrated wholeheartedly on what he was doing. It was only halfway through his first lesson of the day, Japanese History, that Yuuta started daydreaming. He scribbled random names of tennis moves over his textbook in pencil, seeing if any of those he had heard during the tournament would inspire him for a new shot. Inevitably, thinking of tennis led him to thinking about Mizuki-san. The older boy had Maths first thing today, he knew. He'd have to corner Mizuki-san at lunchtime.
Sitting at their usual table in the cafeteria, Yuuta was soon engaged in a debate with Nomura-san, and Yanagisawa over whether the club's beginners should be pushed harder. Yuuta's usual enthusiasm for discussing their tennis club's future was only half-hearted though, as he kept an eye out for that all-elusive Mizuki-san. Their manager did usually sit with them; the regulars got on well as a group and spent quite a lot of time with each other, even outside of training. The familiar mop of messily-styled hair wasn't in the room however, which, Yuuta consoled himself, meant that Mizuki-san wasn't avoiding them at lunch at least. Five minutes before the end of lunch, in wandered Mizuki, looking far paler and unhealthier than usual, although he surely must have had a lie-in due to his lack of appearance at morning training.
Fighting his way over to the other boy, who had quickly picked up some food and was perched on the end of the nearest table with a seat free, Yuuta plonked down on the seat next to Mizuki-san, watching the older boy practically drink down his food; Mizuki's form tutor was notorious for hating late-comers to registration. "Mizuki-san, are you okay? You weren't-" the boy started tentatively, cut off the by the shrill bell which signalled five minutes to registration.
Resuming his sentence, Yuuta was cut off a second time as Mizuki demolished his rice, scooped the last few grained into his mouth, and patted Yuuta on the shoulder. "I'll talk to you later, mm, Yuuta-kun? I have to go to registration, and so do you." He left without another word, depositing his dirty tray before bee-lining for the exit. Yuuta rose and left more slowly. So Mizuki had been avoiding them. He now had some more food for thought, it appeared.
The manager's absence at after-school training was only even more pronounced than that of that morning's. Mizuki never missed practice. Even if he was on the verge of snuggling into his (presumably warm, comfortable and purple) deathbed, he still came to practice, whining pitifully, wrapped up in a huge coat and hugging his cup of hot chocolate and making demands from the benches. Akazawa-buchou aimed a questioning look at Yuuta; the rest of the regulars followed suit, but he only shook his head. He was the one closest to Mizuki-san, but he didn't know either. "He's probably still upset about yesterday," the boy offered. "Aniki did thrash him pretty bad." That last comment was said with conflicting tones. Yuuta was, of course, disgruntled that St. Rudolph hadn't gotten through, but he was also proud of his brother, although Syuusuke wouldn't be able to drag that out of him with five of oneesan's pies. ...Maybe ten though.
However, the thing about living in a boarding school was that it was hard to escape your friends on campus. Padding softly down to Mizuki's room after training, Yuuta listened for a moment, but heard nothing. A light knock on the door and a called "Mizuki-san?" preceded Yuuta just turning the doorknob. Sure enough, it was locked, and Mizuki never locked his door when he was inside, which was something only a few people knew: Mizuki-san was slightly claustrophobic. So his sempai wasn't in, but he hadn't gone to practice, and it was highly unlikely that he'd gone off-campus.
Yuuta faced the locked door for a long moment, uncertain of what to do now. There wasn't anywhere in particular that he thought Mizuki-san would be, and yet he wanted to find him. "Yuuta-kun?" The familiar voice rang out behind him in the corridor, and the boy started; the carpeted corridors of the accommodation usually kept footsteps pretty quiet. "Are you fainting against my door?"
Turning with a smile on his face, Yuuta noticed the peculiar expression across the older boy's face, and also that Mizuki-san was holding a racket and tube of tennis balls; his face shone with a sheen of sweat and his hair was apparently just plain messy as opposed to styled messily. And yet he wasn't wearing his regular's uniform, but a plain pair of tracksuit bottoms and a t-shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm really quite busy tonight," Mizuki said apologetically, although his tone was stilted. Unlocking and opening the door, the older boy gave a rueful half-smile. "Why don't you come round some other time if you need help with homework, mmm?" The door shut gently in Yuuta's face, before he had even the chance to express himself.
Something was definitely wrong. Even if Mizuki-san was busy, he let Yuuta sprawl over his bed and ask him questions about his homework. Perhaps it was something to do with him; not quite consciously, Yuuta tested his shoulders. They felt as well as normal, although tired after practice, and he had taken care not to use his Twist Spin Shot. Suddenly, the boy felt like knocking harder on Mizuki-san's door and demanding an explanation, but the closed door in his face was all the explanation that he needed. Mizuki had shut the door on him, both literally and figuratively.
--
The following week was a range of somewhat depressing practices. Mizuki consistently failed to turn up to every one of the practices, and their captain was somewhat stuck without Mizuki's brilliant mind for tweaking their training regime to adapt to and improve upon what they had learnt at the tournament. Moreover, Kaneda had whispered to Yuuta that there was a rumour going around about him, and every time a beginner or two stared at him, Yuuta's shoulders started to itch, even though he wasn't a superstitious person, nor did he think that anything was indeed wrong with his shoulders. From what aniki had said, his shoulders would just one day snap apart from the burden placed upon them, but that 'one day' hadn't happened yet, and since he wasn't using the shot any longer, that 'one day' would never happen; therefore, his shoulders were safe, surely?
Not only this, but every time Yuuta turned up outside Mizuki's room after practice, he wasn't in; he knew this from the lack of noise inside the room, and sometimes saw the older boy return from what was evidently his own practices. Mizuki had spoken a grand total of about eleven words to him this entire week, which was ridiculous. Yuuta had finally even resorted to calling him on his mobile, but Mizuki never answered, and his texts hadn't been returned either.
As Akazawa-buchou approached him after Monday training with the rest of the regulars close behind him, Yuuta glanced up from his change of shoes, startled. "Don't worry, Yuuta-kun. You're not in trouble," Atsushi grinned at him. Yuuta smiled wonkily; he already knew what this was about.
"You need to find him," Akazawa-buchou said shortly. There wasn't really much debate about who 'him' was. "Either he's part of this tennis club or not. There are plenty of people wanting that regulars spot he has, and we need to know whether we're going to adjust our own training." The captain made a face, and added, "Sorry, Yuuta. We can't revolve around Mizuki, you know." There was a small part of him which squeaked, 'Why me?' in protest at having to confront Mizuki-san with being kicked out of the club, but the rest of him knew perfectly well why.
With a sigh, the boy straightened, and lobbed his training shoes haphazardly into his training bag. "I know," he responded quietly. "I'll let you know at morning training tomorrow."
Determinedly slinging his bag over his shoulder, Yuuta took his time getting back to his own room, finishing a half-written Japanese exercise so as to give Mizuki-san some time to get back to his own room after his own training, before walking over to the other boy's room. Knocking on his sempai's door even though he usually just barged in and made himself at home, Yuuta waited. There was a long pause, far too long to be normal, then that memorably musical voice said softly, "Yes?"
Yuuta swallowed, preparing himself for another rejection as soon as Mizuki heard who it was; he had been rejected in this fashion all week, but it was like a small part of his heart was shredded each time the lie 'I'm busy, Yuuta-kun' sounded from the other side of the door. "It's Yuuta," he said in a voice which was almost as soft as Mizuki's.
A short pause, wherein an invisible hand gripped Yuuta's heart and set it calmly against a grater, ready to erode him down. "I'm bu-"
"MIZUKI-SAN!" The yell burst from Yuuta more loudly than he had expected, although to be honest, he hadn't expected to shout at all. Doors down the corridor popped open, and the boy flushed angrily, staring woodenly at the door in front of him. It suddenly popped open, and Yuuta almost jumped, so unexpected was that action.
Mizuki's tousled head appeared in the small gap that the older boy had allowed to be opened as he obviously tried to school his face into being as serene as the surface of a lake on a calm day, and yet failed, a muscle twitching. "Yes?" Yuuta didn't wait for anything else; this time, he took action. Jamming his wry body to the door, Yuuta shoved his way in, before slamming the door behind him, making Mizuki flinch.
"What do you mean, 'yes'?!" demanded Yuuta hotly. His pulse was racing probably far too much for his own good; he visibly saw Mizuki think exactly the same thing and almost reached to measure his pulse, but then remembered exactly why his heart was pounding so fast: he was angry, and it was with Mizuki-san, and he hated being angry with Mizuki-san. "You're avoiding practices, and avoiding the team, and you want to know what I want?" Mizuki didn't answer, and only clutched the towel that he had previously been using to wipe down his sweat more tightly.
Yuuta pushed on, even though he could see that the older boy was gaunt, tired, probably pushing himself too hard. As well as having far too many things to say to his sempai, Yuuta was afraid that as soon as he stopped, he wouldn't be able to find the sheer nerve it took him to talk to Mizuki like this. "Buchou is about to kick you off the team," he snapped, "because all you can do after our loss is mope about it. The club needs you, but it doesn't revolve around you, you know. Even if you're hurting, you've got to carry on helping everyone else train, and if you can't do that, then you don't belong in our club, because the St. Rudolph tennis team cares about each other." A curl of contempt weaved its way into Yuuta's little speech at the end, as he turned from facing Mizuki-san, to staring at the back of his chair, quite unable to face Mizuki-san's blank face anymore.
The boy also wondered what Mizuki would do. Would he really quit? Life this past week had been hard without the older boy around to help, tease and order him around; he couldn't quite imagine a tennis club without Mizuki, even though he knew that all the third-years would be leaving at the end of this school year. "Don't leave, Mizuki-san," he blurted out desperately, only succeeding in making himself blush more ferociously.
There was a sound beside him, and Yuuta glanced around to see that Mizuki had sat down heavily on the purple-sheeted bed, the towel hanging limply from his long fingers. "Yuuta... I didn't think you would have wanted me to go back." A twisted smile had appeared on Mizuki's face, which was an ironic description, because the smile did not symbolise anything happy at all. Yuuta's throat seemed to make a sound of protest at this by itself. The smile on Mizuki's face only grew more twisted, as he continued whilst staring at his hands, "I thought that... the tennis club might be better off without me... I didn't do very with you, did I?" The question came out as a whisper, undertones of begging that Yuuta didn't know could exist.
"You did fine with me," the Second Year tried to come off as confident, but his boyish voice cracked halfway through, the last couple of words coming out huskily. They both knew that Yuuta was just saying the standard thing expected to make Mizuki feel better. The boy cleared his throat and tried again. "You taught me a great shot, and it really worked. Nothing bad has happened to my shoulders, so everything's fine." This time, he did manage to inject assurance into his voice, but he wondered whether he was trying to convince himself of this. Automatically, as he now did every time he thought of his shoulders, he tensed them, rolled them once backwards and once forwards, and relaxed. "They're fine," he reiterated softly.
Mizuki shook his head, a slight disagreement. He stood up, facing the other direction. "I suppose I'll be there tomorrow morning," he murmured, and Yuuta knew that it was a dismissal. Getting up, he almost patted Mizuki-san on the back... but didn't at the last moment, only brushing lightly against the other boy as he squeezed out of the room.
--
Starting his first laps around the courts, Yuuta almost tripped over Yanagisawa's leg as he kept his eyes off the courts, checking to see if Mizuki-san was going to keep his promise. As he apologised profusely, Atsushi eyed him with an expression that clearly explained that he knew exactly what Yuuta was doing. This was strange: there was nothing Yuuta could have exactly pinpointed about his expression, but he understood it perfectly anyway. On his third lap of the courts, Mizuki turned up - Yuuta almost didn't notice him at first, because he wasn't wearing the regulars jacket, but the plain club uniform.
As he next passed Akazawa-buchou, Yuuta tipped his head in the direction of Mizuki, who was running alone, his hair fluffy and bouncing with every jogged step. The captain's eyes slid over; his lips tightened, but he said nothing. He didn't give the other boy punishment, as any other member would have got if they had missed training, but ducked his head, and carried on. When drills started, buchou merely walked up to Mizuki and started discussing new drills as if nothing had happened. The look of pure confusion on Mizuki's face and his first stammered words told everyone there that this was clearly not what he had expected. Perhaps Mizuki-san had thought that everyone would hate him, Yuuta thought wryly as he practiced serves against Kaneda. Even he, the one with the most right to be angry at Mizuki-san, was not, but that was because Mizuki had not yet explained everything.
The Third Year held up a hand, "A moment please," and turned away from Akazawa-buchou. Yuuta saw Mizuki's face slowly change and moulded itself into the mask of cool indifference he usually wore when observing people he deemed beneath him. His next words to careful and precise with no stammering, and the ease with which he found words suggested to Yuuta that, contrary to everyone else's view that Mizuki had abandoned the club, Mizuki had analysed everyone's behaviour in the tournament and had plans for their moves to improve. Yuuta found himself smiling as he and Kaneda switched positions. Kaneda raised an eyebrow, as if to ask him why he was grinning so broadly, but then shook his head, as if he already knew. Yuuta looked suspiciously at the younger boy for a moment: did everyone know how the dynamics between himself and Mizuki-san worked?
Even watching Mizuki practice against Yanagisawa revealed something new to Yuuta. Mizuki prided himself in being able to anticipate his opponents without much effort. Today however, there was none of that smugness, but cold calculation instead. His hits were a little harder than before; his aim a little more precise. Yuuta knew that during his week of absence, Mizuki had worked out his rage at himself through tennis, beating every imaginary opponent to a pulp - or had he lost every time to make him so ruthless?
The atmosphere in the changing room was more lively than it had been for a while; the group accepted Mizuki back into the fold, although with perhaps a higher awareness of his exact shrewdness, and Mizuki just kept quiet those uncomfortable feelings he had started to confess to Yuuta last night. As Yuuta packed his things next to the older boy, he looked up, and met Mizuki's eyes squarely, firmly, and knew what he was going to say. He wasn't particularly happy about it, but he knew that this would sort things out quicker, and ease off the tension between them. "Mizuki-san," he said quietly, trying not to let them be overheard. Kaneda, for his part, seemed to know exactly what Yuuta was doing, and distracted everyone else. Yuuta didn't know how he knew, but he was thankful all the same. "Mizuki-san, I don't know why you did it," and they both knew what 'it' meant, "but I want to start over again with you. All over again."
Mizuki glanced up briefly from zipping up his tennis bag, and didn't say anything, and a short nod of his head indicated both acknowledgement and agreement.
--
Starting over again was a headache, Yuuta decided. It was, he also firmly asserted, the right thing to do, but Mizuki was being formal towards him, and awkwardness hung densely between them like a spider's web heavy with dew. The rest of the members acted like nothing had happened, and for glimpses at a time, they would see the old Mizuki, who made snide remarks, overly intimate comments, laughed at everything and everyone, and revelled in it. There were other reasons as to why starting over was a pain in the backside though. They were about a month on from 'the episode', as Yuuta had heard it reverently whispered between beginners, usually out of Mizuki's hearing, and thankfully nothing spectacularly drastic had changed, except for the presents.
And that was the problem: the presents. Staring at the large and probably ridiculously fattening cake perched quite happily on his desk, which was dripping with cream and slices of strawberries, Yuuta sighed. This was the third such cake which had magically appeared in front of his door this month, and other things too, including a neat stack of Mizuki-san's last year's notes on the Japanese invasion of China, about a mile of grip tape, and, of all things, a massive purple cushion.
Dipping a finger into an artistically curved swirl of cream, Yuuta admitted to himself that the cake was indeed very, very nice, and as of such, had probably cost quite a bit. On the other hand, he felt somewhat cheated, like Mizuki was trying to bribe him into doing something, and what was worse was that he didn't know what he was being bribed into doing. He did sink rather gratefully into his chair, now cum great purple cushion, though. The cushion was very soft. The notes were wonderfully helpful, Mizuki's handwriting being obsessively neat and about as unlike his own as one could get, and since he hadn't needed to re-grip his racket yet, he couldn't tell how wonderful the grip tape was, but the grip tape was probably quite wonderful too.
Yuuta sighed, and put his head in his heads. He didn't need to deal with this. The team was already joking with Yuuta, shooting knowing looks at him which he returned with a blush, or a glare, or usually both, but no cutting remarks, because he had a vague feeling that the jokes they were telling were most likely true. Two soft knocks on the door indicated that Mizuki was here, because... because... Yueta groaned softly. He knew that it was Mizuki, because he could recognise his sempai's knock. That was something he did not need to examine himself for. He was also quite afraid of what he might uncover if he dug too deeply for answers.
"Come in," the boy called, pushing all things to do with feelings and such out of his mind, right to the point when he caught sight of the big fat cake again. Oh dear.
Mizuki eased the door open. "Do you like the cake?" he asked, obviously hoping that Yuuta did, even though there was only the dab of cream missing from the original baked masterpiece.
"Oh yeah," Yuuta flicked a quick glance at it, then gave in and took a strawberry slice. "You want some?" The question was redundant though, because Yuuta knew what the answer was going to be. He knew, because he had tried to offer some to Mizuki every time the other boy had bought him one, and Mizuki had always declined the same way.
"No thanks," the boy smiled shyly, eyes lighting up just that little bit more as he spotted his gift of a cushion poking up from behind Yuuta when he leaned forward to ruffle Yuuta's hair. "It's for you." That last sentence always made Yuuta feel a bit jittery, his throat tightening up even as he wanted to insist at the same time.
Yuuta cleared his throat, "Erm... Mizuki-san? This... This must have cost a lot. You shouldn't... you know. You shouldn't do so much stuff for me," he finished quickly, shifting slightly in his seat, comfortable as it was.
The change was immediate; Mizuki's face closed down as if there'd been a power-cut. "Oh. Right. Okay." The boy edged out of the room with a few mumbled farewells, obviously misunderstanding what Yuuta really meant. Yuuta bit his lip as the older boy closed the door behind him, wanting to call him back and explain, but he knew that he wasn't eloquent enough to sooth Mizuki's feelings. Mizuki-san had always been the one to do that for him.
As Yuuta had expected and dreaded, after he asked Mizuki to stop, there came no more cakes, no notes of advice, no other random things that had caught Mizuki's eye in the street as suitable for Yuuta. In fact, he withdrew almost completely, like 'the episode' all over again. The worse thing about this time was that Mizuki was gradually opening up to the other members much more by now, and it was Yuuta feeling like the outsider this time.
Sitting down next to Kaneda in the changing rooms, Yuuta felt an elbow jab him in the ribs. "Mizuki-san is really smart," Kaneda started, as Yuuta started at him in slight confusion, "and you have a great instinct on the court, but you're both a little dumb at times." Yuuta blinked this time, as Kaneda blushed slightly for having to say this. "You've gotta explain to him. He doesn't get feelings, and you don't get people." Yuuta still felt a little lost. "Just go talk to him," Kaneda shrugged, "How do you expect to get anything sorted out if you don't actually sit down and sort it out together?" The boy stood up and left with Atsushi and Yanagisawa, who both looked like they knew what had just transpired. Yuuta rubbed his temples. This was all so unnecessarily complicated! And his teammates were so much better suited to this than him... but no. Of course not; this was between himself and Mizuki-san.
Knocking at the older boy's door, Fuji Yuuta was starting to think that every other conversation he had with this particular sempai turned into a confrontation. Mizuki's eyes stared blankly at him as he opened the door, and suddenly Yuuta realised exactly what Kaneda had been saying. Mizuki just didn't get it at all, and he suddenly felt himself channelling the frustration that all his teammates must have felt watching the two flounder in their relationship. "What is wrong with you, Mizuki-san?" Those first words were not the first words he intended to say, nor were they the second words, third nor, indeed, last. Yuuta sighed, and held up his hands to stop the other boy saying anything. "I am trying really hard," he spoke measuredly, thinking about each word before it came out. He didn't want this to blow up in his face because of a wrong word, which was what had happened last time. "Really hard," Yuuta repeated, "to, you know, mend our relationship here. I thought we had something good. I'm willing to try all over again, Mizuki-san, so why aren't you?!" The last clause tumbled out of his mouth accompanied by evident aggravation.
Mizuki started, quite dumbfounded at him. "I..." The boy shook his head, as if trying to string together a coherent thought, "I am trying," he struggled with the words, or perhaps it was the emotions that inevitably came with the words. "I'm trying too, but... but you like me doing things for you, I don't know how to make you happy," the guilt cut at his words, making them sound forced, and Yuuta realised with a belated epiphany that Mizuki wasn't trying to bribe his way back into Yuuta's good graces at all, but rather trying to please Yuuta the only way he knew how. "I..." A pause again, "I'll think of something," Mizuki promised eventually, the look of confusion still moulded across his features.
--
Over the next few days, Yuuta felt increasingly light-headed. Mizuki-san was being awkward again, but it was a whole new level of awkward this time. He was almost bi-polar, patting Yuuta on the head or grinning broadly at him at one point in the day, but nodding respectfully and holding doors open politely for him in the next. There were random touches, when Mizuki was in one of his 'good' moods, whereby Yuuta found himself on the end of a lot of hugs and random petting, which Yuuta was greatly disturbed by... and yet, reassured.
It was like the old Mizuki again, and he realised that his body had missed being spoiled rotten by Mizuki. They was also spending a lot of time in each other's rooms now, doing homework together comfortably in silence, although Yuuta would look up once or twice to see the older boy looking at him oddly, but whenever this happened, Mizuki would smile one of his smiles, and duck his head back to his work. There was another thing: Mizuki-san's smiles. They were like the old ones, which impudently wrought much damage on Yuuta's heart, even when he was being distant.
It had taken a while, but Yuuta had eventually realise that Mizuki's sudden change of moods were due to his fear of being pushed away again. As Kaneda had said, Mizuki was terrible at understanding feelings, and in being so, was particularly bad in recognising his own and Yuuta's feelings, even though they were probably the second-worst kept secret within the tennis club, the worst kept secret being buchou and Kaneda. Yuuta had also grouchily realised that everyone else had realised this before him.
As Mizuki leaned on the side of Yuuta's bed, his curls peeking over the edge of the bed and lightly brushing Yuuta's leg as he sprawled over his casually-made bed, Yuuta wondered what Mizuki-san would do if he ran his hair through those soft-looking curls. The older boy was always the one doing the petting, and Yuuta was renowned for being particularly out of his depth with intimacy like that. Shifting his weight as he peered at the clock, Mizuki murmured something about having to go, and rose catlike from his position on the rug, packing his bag efficiently. Yuuta stood too, to see his sempai out, and knew... that it was okay. It was going to be okay. When Mizuki turned to say 'good night', Yuuta grabbed Mizuki's loose tie and leant in suddenly, planting a sloppy, boyish kiss on Mizuki's pouty lips. "It's okay," he said; no words were used to explain what he was talking about, because they were above needing the words. "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay."
Mizuki stared at him for a long while; a curl flicked over one eye and his shoulders bent over in the same position as Yuuta had tugged him into. The only change were his eyes, which grew wider, and Yuuta could have sworn that he noticed a slight gleam in the eyes which might have come from tears... but he had no time to wonder properly, because Mizuki had dropped his bag onto the floor and pulled Yuuta into a tight hug, his arms curling around Yuuta's waist as if he would never let go. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he choked. Yuuta had flung his hands out as he had been pulled, and landed on Mizuki's chest; his fingers crushed the soft shirt the older boy was holding. "I'm so sorry," Mizuki babbled, more than just a little lost, and yet understanding everything at the same time.
"It's okay, Mizuki-san," Yuuta whispered.