I Feel Fine (Part 1) for Tessa!
Title: I Feel Fine
Recipient: Tessa / chouta_angel
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some liberties with geography.
Summary: Seven years later, eight boys from Hyoutei travel cross country in an RV; it's the end of the world as we know it.
Notes: While writing this, I listened to the Zac Brown Band's You Get What You Give album on repeat. Some of it slithered on in, and I don't own a lick of it.
It had been seven years since they were all together in junior high school. Despite their separate directions, Hyoutei made the effort to gather at least once every year for an extravagant reunion.
This year was Shishido’s turn to make plans. Everyone looked forward to it with dread, except Ohtori, who had far too much faith in his boyfriend (his pet, if one asked Atobe). Perhaps they were even justified; Shishido had been driving for over forty minutes, on a dirt road for the last ten, to pick up some mysterious object that he would only describe as the coolest fucking thing ever.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Mukahi complained as they pulled up to a weather beaten house in the middle of nowhere.
Shishido rolled his eyes and went around to open the backseat door. Jirou tumbled out onto the dirt and mumbled a little in his sleep, undisturbed by the fall. “You’re about to feel really stupid, because this is basically the most awesome thing my uncle has ever bought.”
Mukahi manhandled one of Jirou’s legs into his grip and scowled at Shishido, who had latched onto one of the blonde’s arms. “Yeah? The same uncle who thought paintballs were eggs and tried to hatch them?”
“...Shut up,” Shishido grumbled. Together, they dragged Jirou round to the back of his uncle’s property.
Gakuto took one look at the 1980s RV covered in twigs and cracked up. “Oh fucking shit, you can’t be serious. This isn’t going to work. Atobe is gonna die a virgin before Jirou even has a chance and your boyfriend will hate you for shoving him and us into a death trap, fuckwit.”
“What the hell you talking about?! We had some great family trips in this ol’ girl! If anything’s gonna work, this will!”
“Sugoi!”
Shishido and Gakuto whirled around to see that Jirou had clamored into the driver’s side with enough eagerness to rip the door off the hinges and onto the grass.
“Errr...we can fix that before next week -- Oi, Jirou!” Shishido dashed to the van.
The bright blond waved at them from behind a wheel bigger than his head, completely not expecting the impending thrashing from Shishido.
Gakuto sat on the fallen door. “We’re all gonna die.”
-
“We’re all going to die,” Hiyoshi was the first to arrive at Shishido’s dormitory complex. He stared at the RV and screamed only on the inside.
Oshitari wasn’t far behind him. He rested his chin upon Hiyoshi’s head and recited, “Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once.”
“Where was that attitude last night when you found a spider in the shower?” Gakuto rolled his eyes as he shuffled up to the pair.
The sound of suitcase wheels on concrete filled the short silence.
“Oh, someone may be stabbed today today, but certainly not in the back,” disdain dripped from Atobe’s every syllable. Atobe dropped his purse in anger, toppling the rest of his LV designer luggage like dominos. He was much too occupied staring at the awful, dirty contraption to care. It was so disparate from the rest of his life that he shouldn’t have been forced to look upon it. His private jet must have crashed in the Alps on the way from England. Pity, he only just had it painted with his lovely visage -- completely wasted on mountains! Death was cruel. Except was that Jirou waving at him from behind the steering wheel, beckoning him to death? “This welcome is dreadful. I demand a better one.”
The hugs that followed consoled Atobe a little, but not quite enough to make him forget the mess of a vehicle before him.
“Perhaps...it’s a movie trailer?” Taki suggested hopefully. “Shishido’s Uncle seemed very Hollywood. Is Kamenashi Kazuya inside?! Oh goodness, I’m not ready….”
“The same uncle who asked why Andrea Boccelli speak English even though he’s blind?” Oshitari asked while neatly dodging Gakuto’s angry grab for his knapsack full of movies. “Honestly, dear, if you expect me to suffer a road trip without a fuss, best leave my entertainment.”
Close to perishing, Taki fell to his knees and choked, “...Road...trip? In that thing?”
“Well, that looks familiar,” Shishido mumbled to himself. At his side, Ohtori frowned.
“Shishido-san...maybe you shouldn’t say things like that.”
Being called Shishido-san after almost five years of dating silenced the brunette. The only place that title belonged now was in their bedroom! “Sorry,” he grumbled, not particularly sorry at all. “Do you like it? I mean. Do you like...road trips?” after all these years, he had never taken Ohtori on a road trip. He felt like a terrible boyfriend.
One look at Shishido’s face and a flush bridged Ohtori’s nose. “Y-yeah, I love road trips.” Just because Ohtori had never been on a road trip didn’t mean he couldn’t love them.
When Shishido turned his back to try and lure Jirou from the driver’s seat, Hiyoshi handed Ohtori a motion sickness pouch and boarded the questionable RV. If they left Atobe behind, it was almost as good as besting him personally.
Atobe sighed and dropped his sunglasses from his hairline to the bridge of his nose for a selfie. He pressed send and a little seen checkmark appeared seconds later. “That clown car of Ryou’s better be bigger from the inside.”
It was not, as it turned out, bigger from the inside. Eight college-age boys were not meant to fit into a dilapidated death trap of a van.
“It’s an RV,” Shishido insisted. He had successfully ousted Jirou from the driver’s seat. “And it’s vintage. You like it, right, Choutarou?”
“Uhmm…” Ohtori couldn’t quite find the words to describe his horror, so he just said, “Yeah, it’s really...not something I’ve ever done before.”
Shishido turned the key. “Exactly. Live a little, Atobe.”
“No. I refuse. You are going to return this piece of junk to your uncle, and we will spend our spring break at the Bali estate -”
“Atobe,” Jirou interrupted, smiling up at him with just the right measure of charm and uncertainty. “Come sit with me. There’s room right here.” He patted the spot between his spread legs.
Silence came over the RV. Everyone watched the scales shift visibly in Atobe’s mind. The silence only felt like silence when Hyoutei’s former king sat on the creaking bed.
Shishido flicked on the radio and pulled out onto the road.
“So where are we going?” Gakuto asked.
Jirou pulled Atobe back against him like a teddy bear. The blond turned his face into Atobe’s armpit, which smelled better than any armpit had a right to, and said, “Who cares?”
-
It wasn’t that they ran out of things to say to each other. Just that when silence washed over the RV, no one did anything to stop it. Even if most of them missed the opportunity to meet most of the year, at times like these, they were just as comfortable with each other as they were seven years ago.
Which was why Taki whipped out a mix CD and popped it into the RV’s slot.
“Hmm, what’s that?” Shishido asked, keeping his eyes on the wheel.
“My ex-boyfriend gave it to me!”
“Oh? Are you still heartbroken, Taki?” Oshitari asked. Hyoutei’s former tensai sat languidly in the passenger side, his fingers combing through the air out the window. “Come sit on my lap for comfort.”
Taki didn’t take the invitation, but he held onto the back of Oshitari’s chair and drummed his fingers on the tensai’s shoulders as the rhythm of the first track started. “Not at all,” he answered, quite amused. “I dumped him, I just liked the music.”
“Did you let his uneven face get to you?” Shishido narrowed his eyes with judgment.
“Hey! Symmetry is very important to me!”
“...I really hoped you had been joking about that,” he screwed up his face and set his eyes back on the road.
Atobe agreed to an extent. There was something comfortable about symmetry. At the same time, his eyes always lingered longer on a face that was just a little bit off. Even if he tried to avert his gaze, an inexplicable allure drew him back. He liked tiny freckles, curls, and the spikes of color in striking eyes. Whether these things were beautiful to begin with, or he stared until they became so, Atobe had no clue. “There’s something to be said for singularity.”
“You know, Atobe. You’d be much more attractive if you had a mole on each side.” Everyone except for Atobe laughed. Ohtori tried to politely hide his smile behind the sheet music he was marking, but ultimately failed. Taki continued, “In terms of symmetry, after myself, Hiyoshi is the most beautiful. I could look at his haircut all day long.”
All but howling, Gakuto wiped his eyes and said, “Oh Hiyoshi, you sexy thing! Won’t you be my wife?”
“I thought I was your wife?” Oshitari looked aghast for a moment. “Or am I the secret spice to your marriage? Do I climb up from the gardens to join the two of you in bed every night? Am I the hush-hush father of one of Hiyoshi’s children? Goodness, I’ll have to phone Kabaji and ask his advice on childcare.”
Hiyoshi took on a magnificent shade of red and growled at Oshitari. “I’m going to kill you first.”
“If things are going to get kinky, I’ll be demanding a safe word.”
Losing patience, Hiyoshi threw his book at Oshitari. The genius dodged and the book’s spine collided with the windshield.
“OI! Driving here!” Shishido shouted. “Murder him when we get there! Fucking lameasses…” Clearly Taki’s music was making everyone crazy. Shishido went to eject it, but nothing happened. “The hell….” the RV swerved dangerously.
Ohtori looked at the tiny Honda in the neighboring lane and worried for its safety. “Ryou, everything okay?”
“The CD is stuck! The hell did you do Taki?! Do you have to fuck up everything?!”
“Hey, don’t yell at him, your RV is a piece of crap!”
“What do you mean my RV is a piece of crap!”
Atobe sighed and turned back to the sleeping blond. Somehow, Jirou managed to completely mold himself to Atobe’s side and cradle his face against Atobe’s armpit. He closed his eyes and focused on the English words pouring from the second-hand stereo.
Sunrise is a fire in the sky
Never been so happy never felt so high
And I think I might’ve found me my own kind of paradise
-
Some four hours later, eight boys emerged gratefully from the confines of the RV. The field of grapes ahead stretched onto the edges of Atobe’s vision like an endless tent. Finally, something familiar. But should there not be a chateau for them to partake of the fruit?
“A winery? Ne, Shishido, have you finally grown some taste?” Taki elbowed Shishido playfully.
Frowning, Shishido said, “Hey, watch where you fling those things. Who the hell want to drink wine? We’re grape picking, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Oshitari echoed. “Where did you find these idiots, Ryou? On the side of the road?”
“The hell -” Gakuto jumped onto Oshitari’s back. Though Oshitari pretended to howl at the sound of Gakuto growling in his ear, the little smile on his face forced Hiyoshi to roll his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t too late to walk home. Or walk to Mount Fuji and beg a tourist to take him back to Tokyo.
Ohtori opened his mouth, then closed it again with Gakuto’s next yelp, then opened it again only to shut it again when Hiyoshi wondered loudly if he could get away with drowning Atobe and Oshitari together in a wine vat. “Um -” he interrupted Oshitari’s swooning over such a romantic end. “Maybe we should check out the demonstration.”
“Exactly,” Shishido said, relieved. He didn’t say anything further, but the way Shishido leaned his head against him for few seconds on the walk over spoke volumes to Ohtori.
Half an hour later, Atobe plucked some grapes from the vine adjacent to Ohtori and grumbled, “How do you deal with him?” He dropped the bunch into his pail and went after the next, because he intended to prove his superiority in all tasks, including those belonging to commoners.
Ohtori was gentler with his grapes. The shadows of the leaves resembled tattoos against his light skin. “You mean I get to deal with him.”
How droll. Atobe frowned and turned his attention to a fat bundle of grapes just above his eye level.
“It’s been seven years, Atobe-san. If I learned anything at all, it’s that a relationship only as perfect as you let it be,” With a deep chuckle that he seem to have grown into, Ohtori continued, “If I wanted to see everything bad about Ryou-san, I would….He’s...like my scud serve. Not always accurate, but with practice and a little faith…” his smile went a little boyish and silly. Atobe wondered if it was even possible for Shishido and Ohtori to keep it in their pants.
“Ugh, wipe that look from your face, I feel unclean.”
As if they were fifteen again, Ohtori flushed and fumbled his basket of grapes. “It wasn’t -! I mean, I wasn’t thinking about…”
“Oi! Stop picking on Choutarou!” Shishido called from a few patches over. He threw a clump of dirt warningly near Atobe.
Dodging the dirt seamlessly, Atobe drew out his phone. Naturally, it was already on front camera. Unfortunately, Jirou bending over impeded the view of Mount Fuji in the background. Instead of taking another shot, Atobe kept it and hit send with a little smile.
-
It was dark by the time they left Yamanishi. They all hoped that Shishido booked actual accommodation in Nagoya. One by one, people dozed off. Atobe on the bed with Jirou upside down on top of him; Taki, hair half in cornrows and curled into Oshitari’s side; Ohtori in a magnificent spread eagle sprawl on the floor (the only place the tall boy could sprawl at all) with Shishido’s bomber jacket tucked over him; and Hiyoshi hogged a corner in the fetal position.
“Hey, look at them. Your proximity thing might actually be working,” Gakuto said, then quickly corrected, “...not that I’m agreeing that this was a good idea, because it’s not.”
Shishido snorted behind the wheel. “It was totally a good idea. You just need to fucking admit it. Jirou’s all over him.”
“Jirou’s always all over everyone. Just because he likes being all over Atobe more doesn’t mean anything.”
Because that was pretty true, Shishido could only argue, “At least Atobe is allowing it? More than usual…”
“Probably because there’s no one to really see how much Jirou is fucking up his hair. Though he has been texting an awful lot -”
“With that stupid smirk. Who do you think he’s talking to?”
Shishido pursed his lips. “Tezuka? Years later and that guy still works him up. Poor Ji…”
“Would Tezuka text that much?” Gakuto shook his head. “Maybe it’s that Echizen brat? He is using the international phone.”
“I think he’d look more infuriated than pleased.”
“We just gotta...give ‘em more time?”
“Yeah...we’ve barely been together this year at all, except for Atobe’s dad’s funeral. Then Atobe fucking fled to England,” Shishido gripped the wheel a little tighter.
Gakuto peered back at the sleeping group. “Are you seriously still mad at him? It’s weird. Super weird. Being mad at someone for not letting you do anything.”
“That’s not why I’m mad!”
“Keep it down, you’re gonna wake them up,” Shishido fell silent. When his family had fallen on hard times, Atobe had been the one to help them. It just didn’t seem right for Atobe to run away when he needed his friends the most. Deep down, Shishido understood that he had needed to be with Kabaji in England more than he had needed to be in Japan with them. Deep down, he understood. Even if that understanding tasted bitter.
Gakuto cut through the silence. “…You fall in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.”
Shishido looked away from the road long enough to eye Gakuto like he just gave birth. The high beams from the car passing them reflected his expression in the rearview. “What the fuck? You quote Yuushi now?”
“Yanno, when you love someone, you’ll watch the Fault in Our Stars sixty-seven times just because they want to,” and the worst bit was that Oshitari didn’t even want to make out during movies. Just cry and use Gakuto as part-time tissue, part-time teddy bear. It was completely disgusting.
“...And go to crazy long recitals to hear them play one song,” Shishido smiled a little.
“Let them practice taking your pulse as many times as they need to, even when they tell you that you’re going to have a heart attack in the next thirty seconds.”
“Listen to them play the same chords over and over again all day long to get it just right when they all sound exactly the same.”
“Fuck, you wouldn’t believe the hours of shopping.”
“All of our furniture costs a fortune, because he’s so damn tall.”
“Don’t cry about expensive until you hear about how much mayonnaise we buy!”
They both laughed and drowned out the dulcet tones on the radio.
“You’re right,” Shishido said. “We’ve just gotta give ‘em more time. See if they fall asleep before the song plays out.”
Gakuto smirked. “What are you, quoting Ohtori now?”
“Do you ever shut up?” Shishido grumbled. He saw their exit for Nagoya coming up ahead and put on his directional.
“Please tell me you booked an actual hotel and that we’re not camping.”
“I do have some sense of self preservation.”
Gakuto sighed with relief.
-
“This is the worst wine I’ve ever tasted,” Oshitari commented. He took a swig and continued to stroll down the bar and karaoke illuminated streets of Nagoya. The eight men had been far too antsy to even pick a restaurant, let alone settle down in their two-star accommodations. A long walk was the only cure to a long day on the road.
Grumbling on Atobe’s coat tails, Hiyoshi said, “Then buy your own wine next time. I bought that for my parents.”
“We’ll buy your parents something nicer, Piyo,” Gakuto took the bottle from Oshitari and drained it. Ohtori received the empty bottle and placed it in the recycling.
“Let’s buy us something nicer,” Shishido said, and detoured into a convenience store. Jirou rode on Shishido’s back. His golden curls spilled over Shishido’s shoulder to mix with smooth brown hair.
Atobe thought that Shishido looked silly hefting around Jirou, who was almost the same size, but Ohtori looked at his boyfriend as if he were the last decent pastry in this terrible excuse for a store. Why should a place like this be called Family Mart anyway? Where were the families and what exactly should they be doing? No one was purchasing any families. It was too much of hovel to fit any family with whom he wished to associate. At any rate, Atobe decided that Ohtori letting his guard down was as good a reason as any to steal the pudding from his basket. If he was going to drink a chu-hai, he might as well pair it with other commoner delights.
“Jirou likes those, grab one for him too,” Shishido tapped Atobe on the calf with his foot. Worried, Atobe watched Shishido start to lose balance. He stepped in front of them to try and balance the flailing, brown haired man, but only succeeded in cushioning their fall.
Taki’s light, tinkling laughter filled the conbini. He put his bottle of whiskey between his legs to take a few pictures. “What a nice, vacation pigpile.”
Hiyoshi hid behind Oshitari. He assumed Oshitari was engrossed with the big tit, bikini models to notice. At least until Oshitari lowered the book to ask Hiyoshi which lady was his type. Gakuto picked up third beer for himself.
Somehow, when it came time for check out, everyone’s baskets ended up in front of Atobe. With veteran flourish, he handed over his credit card and the rest of his band filed their way out of the conbini, leaving the shelves sparse.
“On nights like this, I really can’t believe that it’s been seven years since we were a team,” Taki took a swig of whiskey straight out of the bottle. “It feels kind of like junior high.”
“Minus the whole drinking in the street thing,” Shishido pointed out. His words had Atobe examining his drink and wondering why he ever left England. At this time of night, he ought to be in the sitting room sharing a nightcap with Kabaji and debriefing their respective days. He itched to check his phone. Was Kabaji missing them?
“Karaoke rooms, Atobe’s houses, the limousine rides...we were much classier,” Gakuto walked alongside Shishido, carrying Jirou’s jacket.
“And now we’re going around in your shitty RV and sleeping in a place that doesn’t even have cable. What happened?”
“I was dragged down by all of you. That’s what happened,” Hiyoshi crossed his arms. “Can we just go back to the hotel now?”
“Why, so you can mope and scheme?” Taki teased, and pulled Hiyoshi closer to him by one of his belt loops. “We’re sorry we drank your wine. Have some of this!” it was very difficult for Hiyoshi to refuse when Taki all but shoved the bottle into his face.
Ohtori sighed happily and dug into the pudding that Atobe had guilty returned to him. “We really should take a group picture tonight. The first night of our reunion trip together.”
“Fantastic, Ohtori-kun,” Oshitari draped an arm about the tall man’s shoulders and pretended not to notice the way his friend flustered to the touch. “Let’s go for purikura.”
Shishido growled, and struggled to try and kick Oshitari while holding Jirou on his back. “Idiot, we don’t have any girls. They won’t let us in.”
“We made all these cookies,” Jirou murmured sleepily, fists curling in Shishido’s jacket. “They havta fit in the oven…”
Jirou’s sleeptalk silenced the men; Hyoutei wasn’t Hyoutei for nothing. The more savvy of their members herded the others like little lambs to a colorful clothing store filled with generously ruffled clothing store.
“I’m sorry, customers, we’re in the process of closing,” the saleswoman bowed her apology.
Oshitari approached and slunk down to her eye level, just on the cusp of being too close. “Her eyes were those of someone who’s just fallen in love, someone who sees nothing but her lover, someone who has no fear of anything.”
First, she was taken aback. Then, an excited bridge of red cut across the woman’s nose. “The eyes of someone who believes that every dream will come true. That reality will move if you just give it a push.” After a moment, she coughed, and drew slightly back from Oshitari. “How did you…?”
Laughing easily, Oshitari said, “Apologies. I saw the book popping out of your purse just there.”
Gakuto flattened his eyelids and said, “Ryou, if you’re my friend, you’ll kill me.”
“Idiot. If you’re my friend, you’ll help me, Jirou is getting seriously heavy -- HEY!”
Taki grinned and hefted Jirou up into his arms. “Let’s make you beautiful, hime-sama!”
Shishido and Gakuto looked at each other.
“Do you think we should stop him?”
“No, not really.”
After fixing a leopard print ball cap on his head, Atobe took a seat on the small bench in front of the changing rooms. He overheard Taki fussing over the size, and barely dodged as a discard dress few over the door toward his feet.
What ruffians I have raised, he texted and watched the seen message flick up.
There was no answer. Not that he particularly needed one when Jirou stepped out of the changing room in a pretty, short yellow dress. Taki tucked a matching flower clip into those messy curls. Jirou looked at Atobe intently, as though waiting for him to say something.
“Very good,” Atobe studied the animated man. Though he wrecked his brain for a more appropriate compliment for the Jirou, he never had the opportunity to deliver.
Jirou beamed energetically and bent over to grasp Atobe’s knees and put his face very close. Even though Taki hadn’t forced Jirou into any mascara, he can distinguish Jirou’s long eyelashes. Jirou’s gaze brimmed with bright enthusiasm. “You’re going to take pictures with me, right, Atobe?!”
“Oi!” Gakuto huffed, still gripping Oshitari’s wrist from the duel to pull him away. “We’re going to be in the pictures too!”
“I’ll wait in the hotel,” Hiyoshi turned to sneak away.
Taki seized the boy with a none too gentle arm around the shoulders. “You’re coming, and be grateful I didn’t dress you up.” Watching Hiyoshi shudder only seemed to please Taki more. Atobe could relate. Taunting Hiyoshi into personal growth had been a favorite activity of his once upon a time. These days, he hardly heard from Hiyoshi farther than a simple I’ll overthrow you with every step of progress his business took. He supposed it was a sign that Hiyoshi kept up. If not for Jirou, dress clad and snuggled into his side as they walked to the nearest game activity center, he might have freed Hiyoshi from Taki’s clutches.
Instead, he sauntered past Hiyoshi and shot him a parting smirk, sucks to suck.
The attendants looked at them strangely as the proceeded up the stairs, but as they had a ‘woman’ among them, they were neither stopped nor questioned.
“...” Ohtori stared at the small photo booth. “Um, are we all supposed to get in here?” When he leaned in to take a peek, Taki shoved him right into the booth and squished in afterward.
“Shorties to the front, squish up nice and close to make room,” Oshitari purred and patted Gakuto’s bum as he passed on into the photo space. Hiyoshi covered his ass with his hands and glared directly into the camera.
“Nah, Hiyoshi, you looking to melt the lens?”
“And me without my mirror,” Oshitari sighed and squashed in after Atobe.
Atobe swallowed. Jirou pressed up against his back. The polyester ruffles brushing his sleeves should have horrified him. His skin itched in a more unexpected way.
Three, two, one
The men squashed in together, each trying to get their face into the photo.
Three, two, one
“Let’s all blow kisses!” Taki suggested.
“Hell no!”
“How about a real kiss?”
“KYAH GEROFF ME!”
Three, two, one
“Katsuno wa -”
“HYOUTEI!”
Their raised fists to completely obscure the cute-cam.
They usurped the photo booth for another ten sessions. How could they not laugh at their eyes blown up comically big, or put little nameko characters on Hiyoshi’s head, or at roll their eyes at Atobe when he insisted having an entire session of himself doing insight in different poses?
The last photo of Atobe’s was the best; Jirou jumped in onto Atobe’s back and refused to let go. Not even when it was time to leave.
Jirou nuzzled Atobe as they walked back to the hotel, “I missed you.”
“Ah, well of course you did,” even slightly tipsy, Atobe’s practiced poise helped him to respond in the usual way. “I would have liked to see more of you as well.”
“I think if you really wanted to, you would have.”
“Jirou, I -”
“Atobe-kun,” Jirou’s soft voice in his ear wavered, but didn’t break. Atobe could taste the chu-hai from the breath wafting down his neck. “I keep trying to hold onto you, but you’re running from me too fast. Not even my wrists can endure,” Atobe felt Jirou turn his face closer, nose skimming his pulse. “Atobe-kun...wears such slippery shirts.”
“My shirts aren’t slippery!” Atobe defended, because he wasn’t quite sure what to say to Jirou’s admission. It didn’t matter. The only response to the accusation was Jirou’s soft snoring.
-
Kiyomizu temple made Atobe wonder if he had ever been this acutely aware of spring. As they slowly climbed the steps through the hordes, he wondered if he ought to have gone shopping instead. His housekeeper might enjoy a fine tea set and he well remembered how to find the finer things in town. Regardless of these thoughts, he blazed onward and upward through fallen petals and expensive kimono prints. It felt like hearing a song that all your friends know by heart for the very first time. Is it too late to join in the enjoyment?
“He must be very ignorant, for he answers every question he is asked,” Oshitari leaned over to murmur in Atobe’s ear. They walked slowly behind the rest of the group.
“I do believe that’s the tour guide’s job, Yuushi,” Atobe noticed that the back of Jirou’s neck was sunburned.
Oshitari sighed and put out a hand to catch some wafting petals. “There’s nothing compelling about easy answers.”
Shishido, who had been walking ahead with Ohtori, turned around to bite, “This from a guy whose tennis was only answers?”
“Really? I thought it was about making people ask only the questions I want to hear. And watching Gak-kun’s moon salute.”
“Pervert,” Gakuto shot at him. Despite his blazing attitude, the redhead looked much improved from yesterday’s fit of jealousy. Atobe almost wondered what kind of words he had for the genius when they returned to their hotel room.
Oshitari grabbed the back of Gakuto’s shirt and pulled him back before he could be swept along a tsunami of red-capped elementary school children. They plodded along after their teacher like little ducks, climbing the stairs like cherry blossoms falling up.
Atobe felt his personal phone buzz. He hadn’t sent any messages from the phone today.
SOS -Ji
Pursing his lips in worry, Atobe quickly looked about for Jirou. The pink-necked blond was nowhere to be seen. The crowd was such that he might not even see Jirou a few feet from him.
Are you all right? Where are you?
Read.
A few seconds later, Jirou provided a reply: With Maruyama Junior High School. They don’t believe that I’m not a student ?
Atobe exhaled. If this would happen to anyone… Where are you?
His phone buzzes a few seconds later. He opens the message to see a picture of Jirou surrounded by students in uniform making the ‘v’ sign with him. The teacher thinks I forgot my uniform….
Despite himself, Atobe chuckled. He noticed belatedly that their group has moved on without him. No matter, Atobe can see the sprawl of Kyoto in the background of Jirou’s photograph. Naturally, he aimed for the top with long powerful strides up the stairs. The little red capped elementary students stood still in awe, and perhaps fear, of the intensity creased into his face.
When Atobe Keigo goes through, ruffians step aside, Atobe noted with pride, sticking his nose high up in the air into a cloud of incense. Coughing, he waved a hand at the hovering smoke and walked backward to nearly fall down a step. A pair of hands braced his back firmly.
“Atobe?” Jirou dropped his forehead against Atobe’s back and kept his hands just so, as if it were the most natural position in the world.
At least it didn’t feel unnatural. Atobe never cared what others thought of him before, and he had no intention to start now.
“I found you,” Atobe declared.
Jirou laughed. It was more of a puff of air against his shirt really. Would it stain? “Atobe was the one standing in a cloud of incense. I’m the one who found you.”
“Ahn? Is that so, Jirou? When you’re the one who called me up here.”
“I told you to find me, not to get lost,” Jirou laughed again. This time Atobe didn’t think about the dry cleaning. “Come on. The view’s really great,” he slipped away just enough to take hold of Atobe’s wrist and bring him out to the magnificent porch.
Toward the end of spring, almost all the cherry blossoms had already fallen. Trodden, they covered the ground like a blanket beneath empty branches. Beyond the trees, the old Heian capital sprawled out before them, a collision of old fashioned pointed roofs and modern, flat buildings. At night, he wondered if the lights drowned out everything else.
“Look, Atobe!” Jirou leaned over the porch and pointed. “Kyoto Tower! Let’s get a picture with that in the background with the temple.”
“Very well,” Atobe put out his hands for Jirou’s phone. He had longer arms. “Leave it to me.”
Jirou grinned and pressed closer to Atobe. There were pocky crumbs on the collar of Jirou’s shirt; the only reason Atobe put an arm around him was to brush them off. His thumb hovered over the button until he found the ideal shot. Just after he took the shot, the phone lit up with Shishido’s name across the screen. He pushed the phone into Jirou’s hands. Immediately, he could hear Shishido’s secretly worried griping from the other end of the line.
While Jirou spoke with Shishido, Atobe pulled out his own phone. He took the exact same shot with only himself, and sent it along. Atobe stared at the message and appeared gratified when the word seen appeared directly beneath it. Looking back out on Kyoto, Atobe pocketed his phone, only for it to buzz. Was it -¬?
No. Jirou texted him the picture they had taken together. The blond grinned at him sheepishly, and that too pulled a half-smile to Atobe’s face.
“Come on, they’re waiting for us below. We’re all gonna get some pictures under the trees,” Jirou held out his hand and Atobe took it.
Part 2
Recipient: Tessa / chouta_angel
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Some liberties with geography.
Summary: Seven years later, eight boys from Hyoutei travel cross country in an RV; it's the end of the world as we know it.
Notes: While writing this, I listened to the Zac Brown Band's You Get What You Give album on repeat. Some of it slithered on in, and I don't own a lick of it.
It had been seven years since they were all together in junior high school. Despite their separate directions, Hyoutei made the effort to gather at least once every year for an extravagant reunion.
This year was Shishido’s turn to make plans. Everyone looked forward to it with dread, except Ohtori, who had far too much faith in his boyfriend (his pet, if one asked Atobe). Perhaps they were even justified; Shishido had been driving for over forty minutes, on a dirt road for the last ten, to pick up some mysterious object that he would only describe as the coolest fucking thing ever.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Mukahi complained as they pulled up to a weather beaten house in the middle of nowhere.
Shishido rolled his eyes and went around to open the backseat door. Jirou tumbled out onto the dirt and mumbled a little in his sleep, undisturbed by the fall. “You’re about to feel really stupid, because this is basically the most awesome thing my uncle has ever bought.”
Mukahi manhandled one of Jirou’s legs into his grip and scowled at Shishido, who had latched onto one of the blonde’s arms. “Yeah? The same uncle who thought paintballs were eggs and tried to hatch them?”
“...Shut up,” Shishido grumbled. Together, they dragged Jirou round to the back of his uncle’s property.
Gakuto took one look at the 1980s RV covered in twigs and cracked up. “Oh fucking shit, you can’t be serious. This isn’t going to work. Atobe is gonna die a virgin before Jirou even has a chance and your boyfriend will hate you for shoving him and us into a death trap, fuckwit.”
“What the hell you talking about?! We had some great family trips in this ol’ girl! If anything’s gonna work, this will!”
“Sugoi!”
Shishido and Gakuto whirled around to see that Jirou had clamored into the driver’s side with enough eagerness to rip the door off the hinges and onto the grass.
“Errr...we can fix that before next week -- Oi, Jirou!” Shishido dashed to the van.
The bright blond waved at them from behind a wheel bigger than his head, completely not expecting the impending thrashing from Shishido.
Gakuto sat on the fallen door. “We’re all gonna die.”
-
“We’re all going to die,” Hiyoshi was the first to arrive at Shishido’s dormitory complex. He stared at the RV and screamed only on the inside.
Oshitari wasn’t far behind him. He rested his chin upon Hiyoshi’s head and recited, “Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once.”
“Where was that attitude last night when you found a spider in the shower?” Gakuto rolled his eyes as he shuffled up to the pair.
The sound of suitcase wheels on concrete filled the short silence.
“Oh, someone may be stabbed today today, but certainly not in the back,” disdain dripped from Atobe’s every syllable. Atobe dropped his purse in anger, toppling the rest of his LV designer luggage like dominos. He was much too occupied staring at the awful, dirty contraption to care. It was so disparate from the rest of his life that he shouldn’t have been forced to look upon it. His private jet must have crashed in the Alps on the way from England. Pity, he only just had it painted with his lovely visage -- completely wasted on mountains! Death was cruel. Except was that Jirou waving at him from behind the steering wheel, beckoning him to death? “This welcome is dreadful. I demand a better one.”
The hugs that followed consoled Atobe a little, but not quite enough to make him forget the mess of a vehicle before him.
“Perhaps...it’s a movie trailer?” Taki suggested hopefully. “Shishido’s Uncle seemed very Hollywood. Is Kamenashi Kazuya inside?! Oh goodness, I’m not ready….”
“The same uncle who asked why Andrea Boccelli speak English even though he’s blind?” Oshitari asked while neatly dodging Gakuto’s angry grab for his knapsack full of movies. “Honestly, dear, if you expect me to suffer a road trip without a fuss, best leave my entertainment.”
Close to perishing, Taki fell to his knees and choked, “...Road...trip? In that thing?”
“Well, that looks familiar,” Shishido mumbled to himself. At his side, Ohtori frowned.
“Shishido-san...maybe you shouldn’t say things like that.”
Being called Shishido-san after almost five years of dating silenced the brunette. The only place that title belonged now was in their bedroom! “Sorry,” he grumbled, not particularly sorry at all. “Do you like it? I mean. Do you like...road trips?” after all these years, he had never taken Ohtori on a road trip. He felt like a terrible boyfriend.
One look at Shishido’s face and a flush bridged Ohtori’s nose. “Y-yeah, I love road trips.” Just because Ohtori had never been on a road trip didn’t mean he couldn’t love them.
When Shishido turned his back to try and lure Jirou from the driver’s seat, Hiyoshi handed Ohtori a motion sickness pouch and boarded the questionable RV. If they left Atobe behind, it was almost as good as besting him personally.
Atobe sighed and dropped his sunglasses from his hairline to the bridge of his nose for a selfie. He pressed send and a little seen checkmark appeared seconds later. “That clown car of Ryou’s better be bigger from the inside.”
It was not, as it turned out, bigger from the inside. Eight college-age boys were not meant to fit into a dilapidated death trap of a van.
“It’s an RV,” Shishido insisted. He had successfully ousted Jirou from the driver’s seat. “And it’s vintage. You like it, right, Choutarou?”
“Uhmm…” Ohtori couldn’t quite find the words to describe his horror, so he just said, “Yeah, it’s really...not something I’ve ever done before.”
Shishido turned the key. “Exactly. Live a little, Atobe.”
“No. I refuse. You are going to return this piece of junk to your uncle, and we will spend our spring break at the Bali estate -”
“Atobe,” Jirou interrupted, smiling up at him with just the right measure of charm and uncertainty. “Come sit with me. There’s room right here.” He patted the spot between his spread legs.
Silence came over the RV. Everyone watched the scales shift visibly in Atobe’s mind. The silence only felt like silence when Hyoutei’s former king sat on the creaking bed.
Shishido flicked on the radio and pulled out onto the road.
“So where are we going?” Gakuto asked.
Jirou pulled Atobe back against him like a teddy bear. The blond turned his face into Atobe’s armpit, which smelled better than any armpit had a right to, and said, “Who cares?”
-
It wasn’t that they ran out of things to say to each other. Just that when silence washed over the RV, no one did anything to stop it. Even if most of them missed the opportunity to meet most of the year, at times like these, they were just as comfortable with each other as they were seven years ago.
Which was why Taki whipped out a mix CD and popped it into the RV’s slot.
“Hmm, what’s that?” Shishido asked, keeping his eyes on the wheel.
“My ex-boyfriend gave it to me!”
“Oh? Are you still heartbroken, Taki?” Oshitari asked. Hyoutei’s former tensai sat languidly in the passenger side, his fingers combing through the air out the window. “Come sit on my lap for comfort.”
Taki didn’t take the invitation, but he held onto the back of Oshitari’s chair and drummed his fingers on the tensai’s shoulders as the rhythm of the first track started. “Not at all,” he answered, quite amused. “I dumped him, I just liked the music.”
“Did you let his uneven face get to you?” Shishido narrowed his eyes with judgment.
“Hey! Symmetry is very important to me!”
“...I really hoped you had been joking about that,” he screwed up his face and set his eyes back on the road.
Atobe agreed to an extent. There was something comfortable about symmetry. At the same time, his eyes always lingered longer on a face that was just a little bit off. Even if he tried to avert his gaze, an inexplicable allure drew him back. He liked tiny freckles, curls, and the spikes of color in striking eyes. Whether these things were beautiful to begin with, or he stared until they became so, Atobe had no clue. “There’s something to be said for singularity.”
“You know, Atobe. You’d be much more attractive if you had a mole on each side.” Everyone except for Atobe laughed. Ohtori tried to politely hide his smile behind the sheet music he was marking, but ultimately failed. Taki continued, “In terms of symmetry, after myself, Hiyoshi is the most beautiful. I could look at his haircut all day long.”
All but howling, Gakuto wiped his eyes and said, “Oh Hiyoshi, you sexy thing! Won’t you be my wife?”
“I thought I was your wife?” Oshitari looked aghast for a moment. “Or am I the secret spice to your marriage? Do I climb up from the gardens to join the two of you in bed every night? Am I the hush-hush father of one of Hiyoshi’s children? Goodness, I’ll have to phone Kabaji and ask his advice on childcare.”
Hiyoshi took on a magnificent shade of red and growled at Oshitari. “I’m going to kill you first.”
“If things are going to get kinky, I’ll be demanding a safe word.”
Losing patience, Hiyoshi threw his book at Oshitari. The genius dodged and the book’s spine collided with the windshield.
“OI! Driving here!” Shishido shouted. “Murder him when we get there! Fucking lameasses…” Clearly Taki’s music was making everyone crazy. Shishido went to eject it, but nothing happened. “The hell….” the RV swerved dangerously.
Ohtori looked at the tiny Honda in the neighboring lane and worried for its safety. “Ryou, everything okay?”
“The CD is stuck! The hell did you do Taki?! Do you have to fuck up everything?!”
“Hey, don’t yell at him, your RV is a piece of crap!”
“What do you mean my RV is a piece of crap!”
Atobe sighed and turned back to the sleeping blond. Somehow, Jirou managed to completely mold himself to Atobe’s side and cradle his face against Atobe’s armpit. He closed his eyes and focused on the English words pouring from the second-hand stereo.
Sunrise is a fire in the sky
Never been so happy never felt so high
And I think I might’ve found me my own kind of paradise
-
Some four hours later, eight boys emerged gratefully from the confines of the RV. The field of grapes ahead stretched onto the edges of Atobe’s vision like an endless tent. Finally, something familiar. But should there not be a chateau for them to partake of the fruit?
“A winery? Ne, Shishido, have you finally grown some taste?” Taki elbowed Shishido playfully.
Frowning, Shishido said, “Hey, watch where you fling those things. Who the hell want to drink wine? We’re grape picking, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Oshitari echoed. “Where did you find these idiots, Ryou? On the side of the road?”
“The hell -” Gakuto jumped onto Oshitari’s back. Though Oshitari pretended to howl at the sound of Gakuto growling in his ear, the little smile on his face forced Hiyoshi to roll his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t too late to walk home. Or walk to Mount Fuji and beg a tourist to take him back to Tokyo.
Ohtori opened his mouth, then closed it again with Gakuto’s next yelp, then opened it again only to shut it again when Hiyoshi wondered loudly if he could get away with drowning Atobe and Oshitari together in a wine vat. “Um -” he interrupted Oshitari’s swooning over such a romantic end. “Maybe we should check out the demonstration.”
“Exactly,” Shishido said, relieved. He didn’t say anything further, but the way Shishido leaned his head against him for few seconds on the walk over spoke volumes to Ohtori.
Half an hour later, Atobe plucked some grapes from the vine adjacent to Ohtori and grumbled, “How do you deal with him?” He dropped the bunch into his pail and went after the next, because he intended to prove his superiority in all tasks, including those belonging to commoners.
Ohtori was gentler with his grapes. The shadows of the leaves resembled tattoos against his light skin. “You mean I get to deal with him.”
How droll. Atobe frowned and turned his attention to a fat bundle of grapes just above his eye level.
“It’s been seven years, Atobe-san. If I learned anything at all, it’s that a relationship only as perfect as you let it be,” With a deep chuckle that he seem to have grown into, Ohtori continued, “If I wanted to see everything bad about Ryou-san, I would….He’s...like my scud serve. Not always accurate, but with practice and a little faith…” his smile went a little boyish and silly. Atobe wondered if it was even possible for Shishido and Ohtori to keep it in their pants.
“Ugh, wipe that look from your face, I feel unclean.”
As if they were fifteen again, Ohtori flushed and fumbled his basket of grapes. “It wasn’t -! I mean, I wasn’t thinking about…”
“Oi! Stop picking on Choutarou!” Shishido called from a few patches over. He threw a clump of dirt warningly near Atobe.
Dodging the dirt seamlessly, Atobe drew out his phone. Naturally, it was already on front camera. Unfortunately, Jirou bending over impeded the view of Mount Fuji in the background. Instead of taking another shot, Atobe kept it and hit send with a little smile.
-
It was dark by the time they left Yamanishi. They all hoped that Shishido booked actual accommodation in Nagoya. One by one, people dozed off. Atobe on the bed with Jirou upside down on top of him; Taki, hair half in cornrows and curled into Oshitari’s side; Ohtori in a magnificent spread eagle sprawl on the floor (the only place the tall boy could sprawl at all) with Shishido’s bomber jacket tucked over him; and Hiyoshi hogged a corner in the fetal position.
“Hey, look at them. Your proximity thing might actually be working,” Gakuto said, then quickly corrected, “...not that I’m agreeing that this was a good idea, because it’s not.”
Shishido snorted behind the wheel. “It was totally a good idea. You just need to fucking admit it. Jirou’s all over him.”
“Jirou’s always all over everyone. Just because he likes being all over Atobe more doesn’t mean anything.”
Because that was pretty true, Shishido could only argue, “At least Atobe is allowing it? More than usual…”
“Probably because there’s no one to really see how much Jirou is fucking up his hair. Though he has been texting an awful lot -”
“With that stupid smirk. Who do you think he’s talking to?”
Shishido pursed his lips. “Tezuka? Years later and that guy still works him up. Poor Ji…”
“Would Tezuka text that much?” Gakuto shook his head. “Maybe it’s that Echizen brat? He is using the international phone.”
“I think he’d look more infuriated than pleased.”
“We just gotta...give ‘em more time?”
“Yeah...we’ve barely been together this year at all, except for Atobe’s dad’s funeral. Then Atobe fucking fled to England,” Shishido gripped the wheel a little tighter.
Gakuto peered back at the sleeping group. “Are you seriously still mad at him? It’s weird. Super weird. Being mad at someone for not letting you do anything.”
“That’s not why I’m mad!”
“Keep it down, you’re gonna wake them up,” Shishido fell silent. When his family had fallen on hard times, Atobe had been the one to help them. It just didn’t seem right for Atobe to run away when he needed his friends the most. Deep down, Shishido understood that he had needed to be with Kabaji in England more than he had needed to be in Japan with them. Deep down, he understood. Even if that understanding tasted bitter.
Gakuto cut through the silence. “…You fall in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.”
Shishido looked away from the road long enough to eye Gakuto like he just gave birth. The high beams from the car passing them reflected his expression in the rearview. “What the fuck? You quote Yuushi now?”
“Yanno, when you love someone, you’ll watch the Fault in Our Stars sixty-seven times just because they want to,” and the worst bit was that Oshitari didn’t even want to make out during movies. Just cry and use Gakuto as part-time tissue, part-time teddy bear. It was completely disgusting.
“...And go to crazy long recitals to hear them play one song,” Shishido smiled a little.
“Let them practice taking your pulse as many times as they need to, even when they tell you that you’re going to have a heart attack in the next thirty seconds.”
“Listen to them play the same chords over and over again all day long to get it just right when they all sound exactly the same.”
“Fuck, you wouldn’t believe the hours of shopping.”
“All of our furniture costs a fortune, because he’s so damn tall.”
“Don’t cry about expensive until you hear about how much mayonnaise we buy!”
They both laughed and drowned out the dulcet tones on the radio.
“You’re right,” Shishido said. “We’ve just gotta give ‘em more time. See if they fall asleep before the song plays out.”
Gakuto smirked. “What are you, quoting Ohtori now?”
“Do you ever shut up?” Shishido grumbled. He saw their exit for Nagoya coming up ahead and put on his directional.
“Please tell me you booked an actual hotel and that we’re not camping.”
“I do have some sense of self preservation.”
Gakuto sighed with relief.
-
“This is the worst wine I’ve ever tasted,” Oshitari commented. He took a swig and continued to stroll down the bar and karaoke illuminated streets of Nagoya. The eight men had been far too antsy to even pick a restaurant, let alone settle down in their two-star accommodations. A long walk was the only cure to a long day on the road.
Grumbling on Atobe’s coat tails, Hiyoshi said, “Then buy your own wine next time. I bought that for my parents.”
“We’ll buy your parents something nicer, Piyo,” Gakuto took the bottle from Oshitari and drained it. Ohtori received the empty bottle and placed it in the recycling.
“Let’s buy us something nicer,” Shishido said, and detoured into a convenience store. Jirou rode on Shishido’s back. His golden curls spilled over Shishido’s shoulder to mix with smooth brown hair.
Atobe thought that Shishido looked silly hefting around Jirou, who was almost the same size, but Ohtori looked at his boyfriend as if he were the last decent pastry in this terrible excuse for a store. Why should a place like this be called Family Mart anyway? Where were the families and what exactly should they be doing? No one was purchasing any families. It was too much of hovel to fit any family with whom he wished to associate. At any rate, Atobe decided that Ohtori letting his guard down was as good a reason as any to steal the pudding from his basket. If he was going to drink a chu-hai, he might as well pair it with other commoner delights.
“Jirou likes those, grab one for him too,” Shishido tapped Atobe on the calf with his foot. Worried, Atobe watched Shishido start to lose balance. He stepped in front of them to try and balance the flailing, brown haired man, but only succeeded in cushioning their fall.
Taki’s light, tinkling laughter filled the conbini. He put his bottle of whiskey between his legs to take a few pictures. “What a nice, vacation pigpile.”
Hiyoshi hid behind Oshitari. He assumed Oshitari was engrossed with the big tit, bikini models to notice. At least until Oshitari lowered the book to ask Hiyoshi which lady was his type. Gakuto picked up third beer for himself.
Somehow, when it came time for check out, everyone’s baskets ended up in front of Atobe. With veteran flourish, he handed over his credit card and the rest of his band filed their way out of the conbini, leaving the shelves sparse.
“On nights like this, I really can’t believe that it’s been seven years since we were a team,” Taki took a swig of whiskey straight out of the bottle. “It feels kind of like junior high.”
“Minus the whole drinking in the street thing,” Shishido pointed out. His words had Atobe examining his drink and wondering why he ever left England. At this time of night, he ought to be in the sitting room sharing a nightcap with Kabaji and debriefing their respective days. He itched to check his phone. Was Kabaji missing them?
“Karaoke rooms, Atobe’s houses, the limousine rides...we were much classier,” Gakuto walked alongside Shishido, carrying Jirou’s jacket.
“And now we’re going around in your shitty RV and sleeping in a place that doesn’t even have cable. What happened?”
“I was dragged down by all of you. That’s what happened,” Hiyoshi crossed his arms. “Can we just go back to the hotel now?”
“Why, so you can mope and scheme?” Taki teased, and pulled Hiyoshi closer to him by one of his belt loops. “We’re sorry we drank your wine. Have some of this!” it was very difficult for Hiyoshi to refuse when Taki all but shoved the bottle into his face.
Ohtori sighed happily and dug into the pudding that Atobe had guilty returned to him. “We really should take a group picture tonight. The first night of our reunion trip together.”
“Fantastic, Ohtori-kun,” Oshitari draped an arm about the tall man’s shoulders and pretended not to notice the way his friend flustered to the touch. “Let’s go for purikura.”
Shishido growled, and struggled to try and kick Oshitari while holding Jirou on his back. “Idiot, we don’t have any girls. They won’t let us in.”
“We made all these cookies,” Jirou murmured sleepily, fists curling in Shishido’s jacket. “They havta fit in the oven…”
Jirou’s sleeptalk silenced the men; Hyoutei wasn’t Hyoutei for nothing. The more savvy of their members herded the others like little lambs to a colorful clothing store filled with generously ruffled clothing store.
“I’m sorry, customers, we’re in the process of closing,” the saleswoman bowed her apology.
Oshitari approached and slunk down to her eye level, just on the cusp of being too close. “Her eyes were those of someone who’s just fallen in love, someone who sees nothing but her lover, someone who has no fear of anything.”
First, she was taken aback. Then, an excited bridge of red cut across the woman’s nose. “The eyes of someone who believes that every dream will come true. That reality will move if you just give it a push.” After a moment, she coughed, and drew slightly back from Oshitari. “How did you…?”
Laughing easily, Oshitari said, “Apologies. I saw the book popping out of your purse just there.”
Gakuto flattened his eyelids and said, “Ryou, if you’re my friend, you’ll kill me.”
“Idiot. If you’re my friend, you’ll help me, Jirou is getting seriously heavy -- HEY!”
Taki grinned and hefted Jirou up into his arms. “Let’s make you beautiful, hime-sama!”
Shishido and Gakuto looked at each other.
“Do you think we should stop him?”
“No, not really.”
After fixing a leopard print ball cap on his head, Atobe took a seat on the small bench in front of the changing rooms. He overheard Taki fussing over the size, and barely dodged as a discard dress few over the door toward his feet.
What ruffians I have raised, he texted and watched the seen message flick up.
There was no answer. Not that he particularly needed one when Jirou stepped out of the changing room in a pretty, short yellow dress. Taki tucked a matching flower clip into those messy curls. Jirou looked at Atobe intently, as though waiting for him to say something.
“Very good,” Atobe studied the animated man. Though he wrecked his brain for a more appropriate compliment for the Jirou, he never had the opportunity to deliver.
Jirou beamed energetically and bent over to grasp Atobe’s knees and put his face very close. Even though Taki hadn’t forced Jirou into any mascara, he can distinguish Jirou’s long eyelashes. Jirou’s gaze brimmed with bright enthusiasm. “You’re going to take pictures with me, right, Atobe?!”
“Oi!” Gakuto huffed, still gripping Oshitari’s wrist from the duel to pull him away. “We’re going to be in the pictures too!”
“I’ll wait in the hotel,” Hiyoshi turned to sneak away.
Taki seized the boy with a none too gentle arm around the shoulders. “You’re coming, and be grateful I didn’t dress you up.” Watching Hiyoshi shudder only seemed to please Taki more. Atobe could relate. Taunting Hiyoshi into personal growth had been a favorite activity of his once upon a time. These days, he hardly heard from Hiyoshi farther than a simple I’ll overthrow you with every step of progress his business took. He supposed it was a sign that Hiyoshi kept up. If not for Jirou, dress clad and snuggled into his side as they walked to the nearest game activity center, he might have freed Hiyoshi from Taki’s clutches.
Instead, he sauntered past Hiyoshi and shot him a parting smirk, sucks to suck.
The attendants looked at them strangely as the proceeded up the stairs, but as they had a ‘woman’ among them, they were neither stopped nor questioned.
“...” Ohtori stared at the small photo booth. “Um, are we all supposed to get in here?” When he leaned in to take a peek, Taki shoved him right into the booth and squished in afterward.
“Shorties to the front, squish up nice and close to make room,” Oshitari purred and patted Gakuto’s bum as he passed on into the photo space. Hiyoshi covered his ass with his hands and glared directly into the camera.
“Nah, Hiyoshi, you looking to melt the lens?”
“And me without my mirror,” Oshitari sighed and squashed in after Atobe.
Atobe swallowed. Jirou pressed up against his back. The polyester ruffles brushing his sleeves should have horrified him. His skin itched in a more unexpected way.
Three, two, one
The men squashed in together, each trying to get their face into the photo.
Three, two, one
“Let’s all blow kisses!” Taki suggested.
“Hell no!”
“How about a real kiss?”
“KYAH GEROFF ME!”
Three, two, one
“Katsuno wa -”
“HYOUTEI!”
Their raised fists to completely obscure the cute-cam.
They usurped the photo booth for another ten sessions. How could they not laugh at their eyes blown up comically big, or put little nameko characters on Hiyoshi’s head, or at roll their eyes at Atobe when he insisted having an entire session of himself doing insight in different poses?
The last photo of Atobe’s was the best; Jirou jumped in onto Atobe’s back and refused to let go. Not even when it was time to leave.
Jirou nuzzled Atobe as they walked back to the hotel, “I missed you.”
“Ah, well of course you did,” even slightly tipsy, Atobe’s practiced poise helped him to respond in the usual way. “I would have liked to see more of you as well.”
“I think if you really wanted to, you would have.”
“Jirou, I -”
“Atobe-kun,” Jirou’s soft voice in his ear wavered, but didn’t break. Atobe could taste the chu-hai from the breath wafting down his neck. “I keep trying to hold onto you, but you’re running from me too fast. Not even my wrists can endure,” Atobe felt Jirou turn his face closer, nose skimming his pulse. “Atobe-kun...wears such slippery shirts.”
“My shirts aren’t slippery!” Atobe defended, because he wasn’t quite sure what to say to Jirou’s admission. It didn’t matter. The only response to the accusation was Jirou’s soft snoring.
-
Kiyomizu temple made Atobe wonder if he had ever been this acutely aware of spring. As they slowly climbed the steps through the hordes, he wondered if he ought to have gone shopping instead. His housekeeper might enjoy a fine tea set and he well remembered how to find the finer things in town. Regardless of these thoughts, he blazed onward and upward through fallen petals and expensive kimono prints. It felt like hearing a song that all your friends know by heart for the very first time. Is it too late to join in the enjoyment?
“He must be very ignorant, for he answers every question he is asked,” Oshitari leaned over to murmur in Atobe’s ear. They walked slowly behind the rest of the group.
“I do believe that’s the tour guide’s job, Yuushi,” Atobe noticed that the back of Jirou’s neck was sunburned.
Oshitari sighed and put out a hand to catch some wafting petals. “There’s nothing compelling about easy answers.”
Shishido, who had been walking ahead with Ohtori, turned around to bite, “This from a guy whose tennis was only answers?”
“Really? I thought it was about making people ask only the questions I want to hear. And watching Gak-kun’s moon salute.”
“Pervert,” Gakuto shot at him. Despite his blazing attitude, the redhead looked much improved from yesterday’s fit of jealousy. Atobe almost wondered what kind of words he had for the genius when they returned to their hotel room.
Oshitari grabbed the back of Gakuto’s shirt and pulled him back before he could be swept along a tsunami of red-capped elementary school children. They plodded along after their teacher like little ducks, climbing the stairs like cherry blossoms falling up.
Atobe felt his personal phone buzz. He hadn’t sent any messages from the phone today.
SOS -Ji
Pursing his lips in worry, Atobe quickly looked about for Jirou. The pink-necked blond was nowhere to be seen. The crowd was such that he might not even see Jirou a few feet from him.
Are you all right? Where are you?
Read.
A few seconds later, Jirou provided a reply: With Maruyama Junior High School. They don’t believe that I’m not a student ?
Atobe exhaled. If this would happen to anyone… Where are you?
His phone buzzes a few seconds later. He opens the message to see a picture of Jirou surrounded by students in uniform making the ‘v’ sign with him. The teacher thinks I forgot my uniform….
Despite himself, Atobe chuckled. He noticed belatedly that their group has moved on without him. No matter, Atobe can see the sprawl of Kyoto in the background of Jirou’s photograph. Naturally, he aimed for the top with long powerful strides up the stairs. The little red capped elementary students stood still in awe, and perhaps fear, of the intensity creased into his face.
When Atobe Keigo goes through, ruffians step aside, Atobe noted with pride, sticking his nose high up in the air into a cloud of incense. Coughing, he waved a hand at the hovering smoke and walked backward to nearly fall down a step. A pair of hands braced his back firmly.
“Atobe?” Jirou dropped his forehead against Atobe’s back and kept his hands just so, as if it were the most natural position in the world.
At least it didn’t feel unnatural. Atobe never cared what others thought of him before, and he had no intention to start now.
“I found you,” Atobe declared.
Jirou laughed. It was more of a puff of air against his shirt really. Would it stain? “Atobe was the one standing in a cloud of incense. I’m the one who found you.”
“Ahn? Is that so, Jirou? When you’re the one who called me up here.”
“I told you to find me, not to get lost,” Jirou laughed again. This time Atobe didn’t think about the dry cleaning. “Come on. The view’s really great,” he slipped away just enough to take hold of Atobe’s wrist and bring him out to the magnificent porch.
Toward the end of spring, almost all the cherry blossoms had already fallen. Trodden, they covered the ground like a blanket beneath empty branches. Beyond the trees, the old Heian capital sprawled out before them, a collision of old fashioned pointed roofs and modern, flat buildings. At night, he wondered if the lights drowned out everything else.
“Look, Atobe!” Jirou leaned over the porch and pointed. “Kyoto Tower! Let’s get a picture with that in the background with the temple.”
“Very well,” Atobe put out his hands for Jirou’s phone. He had longer arms. “Leave it to me.”
Jirou grinned and pressed closer to Atobe. There were pocky crumbs on the collar of Jirou’s shirt; the only reason Atobe put an arm around him was to brush them off. His thumb hovered over the button until he found the ideal shot. Just after he took the shot, the phone lit up with Shishido’s name across the screen. He pushed the phone into Jirou’s hands. Immediately, he could hear Shishido’s secretly worried griping from the other end of the line.
While Jirou spoke with Shishido, Atobe pulled out his own phone. He took the exact same shot with only himself, and sent it along. Atobe stared at the message and appeared gratified when the word seen appeared directly beneath it. Looking back out on Kyoto, Atobe pocketed his phone, only for it to buzz. Was it -¬?
No. Jirou texted him the picture they had taken together. The blond grinned at him sheepishly, and that too pulled a half-smile to Atobe’s face.
“Come on, they’re waiting for us below. We’re all gonna get some pictures under the trees,” Jirou held out his hand and Atobe took it.
Part 2