je_united 2019 - Gift fic for thesecretdoor
Je_united gift fic for thesecretdoor
Title: Remedy
Pairing: Nakajima Yuto/Yamada Ryosuke
Rating: R
Warnings: Angstttttttttttttt. So much of it
Summary: A pair danced across his vision, but only one of them had caught his eye. Short dark hair, long fingers, arms placed in just the right position to make the gangly limbs appear elegant. He was a master of his body, knowing how to move and express his emotions through his art, and Yamada was sure that even angels would cry if given the opportunity to watch him dance.
Notes: Ask and ye shall receive. I hope I’ve given you something that you can enjoy here. I went with an angsty, unrequited love fic in a school setting… You have no idea how much I’m going to be sitting on my seat in anticipation for your thoughts. I’m really quite nervous! I hope you enjoy it!
One, two, three, careful fingers floated through the air, as if they were playing the piano, a carefully crafted tune that was only heard by its creator. Quiet, a delicate silence where not a soul breathed, couldn’t allow themselves to breath as they waited. On the count of eight, the music began, a soft piano melody filling the room.
Following their steps, the people scattered around the floor began following the dictated routine, bodies understanding the music, the sound pouring through their souls and being expelled from their fingertips. The voice of a woman joined the delicate tune, crooning along with the simple melody, a lovely voice that caressed each note as she sang it.
They were the best, their teacher had said, minutes before their little performance had begun. A list in her hand, clutching it in well groomed hands. She called out each name, each student whose name was called stepping forward. No one had cheered, no one had smiled. They had stepped into the light, a little bow or curtsy to show their appreciation for being chosen. You could feel it though, their pride. Their joy. The ones that had been selected as above the others, far more grand and full of talent.
Yamada had waited, anxious. He had practiced for so long, so many hours spent after school. Perfecting his talent, trying to have his name be selected to show the others what he had. That he was worthy of attending their performance arts school, that his audition hadn’t been a fluke. He had heard their words, their whispers. That he had gotten in because he had a pretty face. Not because his dancing was up to par with the others.
Standing there, he had crossed him fingers, eyes squeezed shut. Names being called left and right. He silently begged to anyone that would listen. Call my name, he had thought. Please. Call my name.
He knew the reason why his teacher had put on these exhibitions, letting the full class witness the talent that existed within it. It was meant to inspire, to motivate students to do better, to be better. Keep practicing, keep climbing, until they could one day sit at the top, watching the others below them.
Each time the little shows happened, it only tore Yamada down a little more. Each time forced to the back of the classroom, watching the others dance for him. He would never be good enough, and this time was no different. The last name called, the list folded, Yamada’s name was not amongst those chosen.
A pair danced across his vision, but only one of them had caught his eye. Short dark hair, long fingers, arms placed in just the right position to make the gangly limbs appear elegant. He was a master of his body, knowing how to move and express his emotions through his art, and Yamada was sure that even angels would cry if given the opportunity to watch him dance. It wasn’t a surprise that Nakajima Yuto’s name had been called. It was never a surprise. More of a question of when than if.
Yamada remembered those first days of school, when students kept looking each other over with upturned noses, ready to present their resume of accomplishments if someone so much had looked at them wrong. Awards, titles. First place, second place, all sorts of glory and honor attached to their names, and yet, when they asked Yamada of his triumphs, he had nothing to show.
He had always dreamed of being a dancer, to stand on stage with those in his troupe and bring a beautiful artform to the public. His family didn’t have much, not enough for him to go to dance lessons, so Yamada had studied on his own. The internet had been his teacher, Youtube videos teaching him routines and styles he had never heard of, but the world knew had existed.
Perhaps that’s why his classmates had looked down upon him, forcing him to work twice as hard to change their opinions of him. He didn’t have a wall of accolades to his name. He didn’t have fancy private instructors, dance coaches, telling him what he could or couldn’t do. He only had his talent, his work ethic, and that…that was why he felt so behind, so inferior to his classmates.
Yuto was perfect. Tall, elegant, years of work under belt, golden trophies a plenty. He was popular, one that girls fawned over and boys envied, and yet he was too sweet to dislike. There was a childlike innocence to him, one that believed in everyone, no matter what.
Yamada remembered certain moments during their time at school when he hadn’t done well in a performance test, the results immediately following his dance. How his teachers ruthlessly rained down their comments, hoping it would aid in building him up, but it only served to tear him down even more.
He could hear the laughs from his classmates, looking on. Their sly comments hidden behind their hands so they could be deposited directly into their friend’s ears. Even if they had been meant to be hidden, he could still hear them echoing around the walls, so much louder than those of his teacher.
Trash. Filth. He shouldn’t even be here. He wasn’t up to par with the rest of them.
They theorized when he would be kicked out, thrown out the door. Rumors flew around the room, the worst cutting him like a knife to the heart. Each word, each syllable, only driving it deeper in until his back was covered in wounds.
A hand had clasped his wrist, a warm smile all he could remember as something different filled his head.
“Don’t pay her any mind,” they said, consonants crisp and refreshing. “Our teacher is just jealous you got in and not her nephew. I think you did fantastic.”
And then the hand was gone, its owner jogging over to return to their friends. It took until Yamada was sitting on the train ride home, the shock finally wearing off, to realize Nakajima Yuto had given him a compliment.
Perhaps that it was then that everything had started to blossom, a little spark of kindness all it took for his emotions to take off, going on a wild adventure he couldn’t control. Looking over in a crowded room, catching Yuto smiling when he noticed Yamada looking back. A few times Yuto had come over when he noticed Yamada practicing, offering a few pointers to improve. Those long fingers touching Yamada’s body in the most innocent of ways yet making him feel so hot.
Yuto had to know what he was doing, had to. He was too perfect, too pristine, to not know how much he worked up Yamada. But he still loved it. That feeling of Yuto’s hand on his thigh, moving along the toned skin to position it how he wanted. How his skin burned from the touch, remembering it until he finally got home and let his mind wander.
When Yamada wanted to relax, let off a little steam, he had always imagined himself topping. Thought of how good it would be to be surrounded in a tight, slick heat, but with Yuto…it felt natural to see the other man above him. His boyish charm turning dark, sweltering hot, as those same fingers that had touched his thigh earlier were spreading them wide, all of Yamada’s clothes melting off of his body in a moment.
He imagined Yuto as slow, a tease, wanting to feel every inch of Yamada before slickening his fingers, sliding in each one until Yamada was begging, pleading, for more. Imagining Yuto’s kisses peppering his skin as Yamada worked himself open to his fantasy. He would moan, so loud, blushing because of Yuto’s little chuckle, calling him cute. Voice low, asking Yamada to tell him more.
Yamada was careful though, always cutting off his fantasies before Yuto would really give it to him, fucking him into the sheets. It was always there, on the cusp of his mind. Watching, waiting, trying to break past the barriers he had erected. Once he broke them down, he knew there was no going back.
It wasn’t like it was a horrible thing though, fantasizing about a classmate. They were both adults, the same age. The more Yamada thought about it, daydreamed about it, he could see himself in a relationship with the other boy. Waking up on a lazy Sunday, lounging around in bed all day. The sweet kisses, burning touches…things that would never come to fruition.
Yuto had a solid group of friends. Popular, good looking. They were the best of the best, consistently picked as top performers. There were whispers, rumors, that they had all attended some elite dance school in the city before graduating and attending their performing arts school. Nothing confirmed, their little group quite tight-lipped, but it was well known. If you were a top performer, you wanted to be associated with them.
Yamada had never cared for the group as a whole, their noses quite upturned at those they considered beneath them. He continued on his way until he had overheard it one day.
He was used to the comments, the rumors about himself and his audition into the school. One of the girls from Yuto’s group had been talking about him, a pretty girl with long, flowing hair. She had seemed like a vicious type, one that would stab someone in the back for a leading role. Yamada had heard her talk a few times, words cutting like knives the more she spoke, but they gradually didn’t cut as deep the more he heard them.
It was the reaction to her cruel jokes he hadn’t expected. A loud boisterous laugh, one that could only belong to one person and one person only. It was a sound that Yamada had found beauty in, something he could easily smile to once he heard it. A joyful sound that, in turn, cut him deeper than anything he had ever experienced.
The joy from Yuto’s face had drained when he had noticed Yamada standing there, body frozen in place. He had started to reach out, reaction going in slow motion to Yamada’s brain, but he hadn’t stayed behind to see what Yuto did. Merely left the class and spent the entirety in the bathroom.
It was the first time he had skipped class.
The last notes of the song snapped Yamada from his memories, the dancers slowing their movements, not gliding across the dancefloor as quickly. They circled each other, like lovers before turning apart. The last few notes fell from the piano, tinkling keys that struck to the soul. Even without a singer accompanying them, it was a somber song. One of broken love, lovers who would never return to the other’s arms or those of star-crossed lovers, destined to never be together.
For whatever reason, call it fate, Yuto ended in his final position right where Yamada stood, bangs covering his eyes, but those dark orbs still visible beneath. He was breathing hard, evident from how he had put himself into the entire performance. There was something in his eyes. An apology? Pain? Hurt? Yamada wasn’t sure.
He only knew there was a distance between them, something greater than just a couple of feet. It was something deeper than just a dancer and someone watching a performance. It was rooted in their souls, their past, and Yamada wasn’t sure that a couple of words exchanged between them, whether sweet or ones of friendship, could ever fix it. Him and Yuto…things would remain just a fantasy.
A loud clap from their teacher came, a huge bravo for how the chosen had performed. Yamada didn’t wait to hear her words, more of her praises. He didn’t look to see how Yuto would react, the huge smile that would grace his face from hearing those wonderful words from their teacher’s mouth. He merely picked up his bag, gathered his things, and left.
END
Title: Remedy
Pairing: Nakajima Yuto/Yamada Ryosuke
Rating: R
Warnings: Angstttttttttttttt. So much of it
Summary: A pair danced across his vision, but only one of them had caught his eye. Short dark hair, long fingers, arms placed in just the right position to make the gangly limbs appear elegant. He was a master of his body, knowing how to move and express his emotions through his art, and Yamada was sure that even angels would cry if given the opportunity to watch him dance.
Notes: Ask and ye shall receive. I hope I’ve given you something that you can enjoy here. I went with an angsty, unrequited love fic in a school setting… You have no idea how much I’m going to be sitting on my seat in anticipation for your thoughts. I’m really quite nervous! I hope you enjoy it!
One, two, three, careful fingers floated through the air, as if they were playing the piano, a carefully crafted tune that was only heard by its creator. Quiet, a delicate silence where not a soul breathed, couldn’t allow themselves to breath as they waited. On the count of eight, the music began, a soft piano melody filling the room.
Following their steps, the people scattered around the floor began following the dictated routine, bodies understanding the music, the sound pouring through their souls and being expelled from their fingertips. The voice of a woman joined the delicate tune, crooning along with the simple melody, a lovely voice that caressed each note as she sang it.
They were the best, their teacher had said, minutes before their little performance had begun. A list in her hand, clutching it in well groomed hands. She called out each name, each student whose name was called stepping forward. No one had cheered, no one had smiled. They had stepped into the light, a little bow or curtsy to show their appreciation for being chosen. You could feel it though, their pride. Their joy. The ones that had been selected as above the others, far more grand and full of talent.
Yamada had waited, anxious. He had practiced for so long, so many hours spent after school. Perfecting his talent, trying to have his name be selected to show the others what he had. That he was worthy of attending their performance arts school, that his audition hadn’t been a fluke. He had heard their words, their whispers. That he had gotten in because he had a pretty face. Not because his dancing was up to par with the others.
Standing there, he had crossed him fingers, eyes squeezed shut. Names being called left and right. He silently begged to anyone that would listen. Call my name, he had thought. Please. Call my name.
He knew the reason why his teacher had put on these exhibitions, letting the full class witness the talent that existed within it. It was meant to inspire, to motivate students to do better, to be better. Keep practicing, keep climbing, until they could one day sit at the top, watching the others below them.
Each time the little shows happened, it only tore Yamada down a little more. Each time forced to the back of the classroom, watching the others dance for him. He would never be good enough, and this time was no different. The last name called, the list folded, Yamada’s name was not amongst those chosen.
A pair danced across his vision, but only one of them had caught his eye. Short dark hair, long fingers, arms placed in just the right position to make the gangly limbs appear elegant. He was a master of his body, knowing how to move and express his emotions through his art, and Yamada was sure that even angels would cry if given the opportunity to watch him dance. It wasn’t a surprise that Nakajima Yuto’s name had been called. It was never a surprise. More of a question of when than if.
Yamada remembered those first days of school, when students kept looking each other over with upturned noses, ready to present their resume of accomplishments if someone so much had looked at them wrong. Awards, titles. First place, second place, all sorts of glory and honor attached to their names, and yet, when they asked Yamada of his triumphs, he had nothing to show.
He had always dreamed of being a dancer, to stand on stage with those in his troupe and bring a beautiful artform to the public. His family didn’t have much, not enough for him to go to dance lessons, so Yamada had studied on his own. The internet had been his teacher, Youtube videos teaching him routines and styles he had never heard of, but the world knew had existed.
Perhaps that’s why his classmates had looked down upon him, forcing him to work twice as hard to change their opinions of him. He didn’t have a wall of accolades to his name. He didn’t have fancy private instructors, dance coaches, telling him what he could or couldn’t do. He only had his talent, his work ethic, and that…that was why he felt so behind, so inferior to his classmates.
Yuto was perfect. Tall, elegant, years of work under belt, golden trophies a plenty. He was popular, one that girls fawned over and boys envied, and yet he was too sweet to dislike. There was a childlike innocence to him, one that believed in everyone, no matter what.
Yamada remembered certain moments during their time at school when he hadn’t done well in a performance test, the results immediately following his dance. How his teachers ruthlessly rained down their comments, hoping it would aid in building him up, but it only served to tear him down even more.
He could hear the laughs from his classmates, looking on. Their sly comments hidden behind their hands so they could be deposited directly into their friend’s ears. Even if they had been meant to be hidden, he could still hear them echoing around the walls, so much louder than those of his teacher.
Trash. Filth. He shouldn’t even be here. He wasn’t up to par with the rest of them.
They theorized when he would be kicked out, thrown out the door. Rumors flew around the room, the worst cutting him like a knife to the heart. Each word, each syllable, only driving it deeper in until his back was covered in wounds.
A hand had clasped his wrist, a warm smile all he could remember as something different filled his head.
“Don’t pay her any mind,” they said, consonants crisp and refreshing. “Our teacher is just jealous you got in and not her nephew. I think you did fantastic.”
And then the hand was gone, its owner jogging over to return to their friends. It took until Yamada was sitting on the train ride home, the shock finally wearing off, to realize Nakajima Yuto had given him a compliment.
Perhaps that it was then that everything had started to blossom, a little spark of kindness all it took for his emotions to take off, going on a wild adventure he couldn’t control. Looking over in a crowded room, catching Yuto smiling when he noticed Yamada looking back. A few times Yuto had come over when he noticed Yamada practicing, offering a few pointers to improve. Those long fingers touching Yamada’s body in the most innocent of ways yet making him feel so hot.
Yuto had to know what he was doing, had to. He was too perfect, too pristine, to not know how much he worked up Yamada. But he still loved it. That feeling of Yuto’s hand on his thigh, moving along the toned skin to position it how he wanted. How his skin burned from the touch, remembering it until he finally got home and let his mind wander.
When Yamada wanted to relax, let off a little steam, he had always imagined himself topping. Thought of how good it would be to be surrounded in a tight, slick heat, but with Yuto…it felt natural to see the other man above him. His boyish charm turning dark, sweltering hot, as those same fingers that had touched his thigh earlier were spreading them wide, all of Yamada’s clothes melting off of his body in a moment.
He imagined Yuto as slow, a tease, wanting to feel every inch of Yamada before slickening his fingers, sliding in each one until Yamada was begging, pleading, for more. Imagining Yuto’s kisses peppering his skin as Yamada worked himself open to his fantasy. He would moan, so loud, blushing because of Yuto’s little chuckle, calling him cute. Voice low, asking Yamada to tell him more.
Yamada was careful though, always cutting off his fantasies before Yuto would really give it to him, fucking him into the sheets. It was always there, on the cusp of his mind. Watching, waiting, trying to break past the barriers he had erected. Once he broke them down, he knew there was no going back.
It wasn’t like it was a horrible thing though, fantasizing about a classmate. They were both adults, the same age. The more Yamada thought about it, daydreamed about it, he could see himself in a relationship with the other boy. Waking up on a lazy Sunday, lounging around in bed all day. The sweet kisses, burning touches…things that would never come to fruition.
Yuto had a solid group of friends. Popular, good looking. They were the best of the best, consistently picked as top performers. There were whispers, rumors, that they had all attended some elite dance school in the city before graduating and attending their performing arts school. Nothing confirmed, their little group quite tight-lipped, but it was well known. If you were a top performer, you wanted to be associated with them.
Yamada had never cared for the group as a whole, their noses quite upturned at those they considered beneath them. He continued on his way until he had overheard it one day.
He was used to the comments, the rumors about himself and his audition into the school. One of the girls from Yuto’s group had been talking about him, a pretty girl with long, flowing hair. She had seemed like a vicious type, one that would stab someone in the back for a leading role. Yamada had heard her talk a few times, words cutting like knives the more she spoke, but they gradually didn’t cut as deep the more he heard them.
It was the reaction to her cruel jokes he hadn’t expected. A loud boisterous laugh, one that could only belong to one person and one person only. It was a sound that Yamada had found beauty in, something he could easily smile to once he heard it. A joyful sound that, in turn, cut him deeper than anything he had ever experienced.
The joy from Yuto’s face had drained when he had noticed Yamada standing there, body frozen in place. He had started to reach out, reaction going in slow motion to Yamada’s brain, but he hadn’t stayed behind to see what Yuto did. Merely left the class and spent the entirety in the bathroom.
It was the first time he had skipped class.
The last notes of the song snapped Yamada from his memories, the dancers slowing their movements, not gliding across the dancefloor as quickly. They circled each other, like lovers before turning apart. The last few notes fell from the piano, tinkling keys that struck to the soul. Even without a singer accompanying them, it was a somber song. One of broken love, lovers who would never return to the other’s arms or those of star-crossed lovers, destined to never be together.
For whatever reason, call it fate, Yuto ended in his final position right where Yamada stood, bangs covering his eyes, but those dark orbs still visible beneath. He was breathing hard, evident from how he had put himself into the entire performance. There was something in his eyes. An apology? Pain? Hurt? Yamada wasn’t sure.
He only knew there was a distance between them, something greater than just a couple of feet. It was something deeper than just a dancer and someone watching a performance. It was rooted in their souls, their past, and Yamada wasn’t sure that a couple of words exchanged between them, whether sweet or ones of friendship, could ever fix it. Him and Yuto…things would remain just a fantasy.
A loud clap from their teacher came, a huge bravo for how the chosen had performed. Yamada didn’t wait to hear her words, more of her praises. He didn’t look to see how Yuto would react, the huge smile that would grace his face from hearing those wonderful words from their teacher’s mouth. He merely picked up his bag, gathered his things, and left.
END