Day 24 ★ Fic by everlind 'Heart' (Part 1) PG-13
24
Heart
by everlind
"Tadaima."
No answer.
Shishido pauses in the doorway, shaking snow off his shoes, littering the genkan with dirty clumps that start to melt instantly. It doesn't occur to him that he should, you know, clean it up. Instead he steps out of his shoes and into the hallway, dropping his keys near the bowl. Utter silence. It's only his living body and an empty house.
He's still not used to it.
It's been a month and Shishido is starting to think he'll never get used to it.
On a weary exhale he ventures further inside, flipping on the heater and the kotatsu as he goes. It's barely five in the afternoon and it is already nearly dark out. Shishido doesn't turn on any lights as he moves towards the kitchen, not wanting to see that vacant corner just now. Even as his eyes avoid it he can feel it, a used-to-be crouching, mournfully watching him. Like something cold and clammy creeping up the side of his neck with prickly legs.
He opens a cupboard, pulling at his lower lip with his fingers as he tries to come up with a brilliant idea for dinner. It's a random cupboard. But he still expected to be looking at something food-related or at least plates or bowls or something, but all it holds is rows of canned cat food.
Force of habit.
Swallowing, Shishido closes it again. Softly, reverently.
No, he's not gonna get used to this.
***
The house stays cold and empty until Choutarou comes home. Finally.
By then Shishido is over his minor meltdown and is knocking up some improvised stir-fry. When Choutarou enters the kitchen and says 'hey' before kissing the nape of his neck, he pretends that it didn't draw a convulsive shiver out of him.
"So," Choutarou says when he removes his warm lips and hot breath from Shishido's skin. "Any idea why the genkan is completely flooded?"
"Er," Shishido goes, stirring as though his life depends on it.
A little groan. After disappearing for a moment to rummage somewhere, he returns and hauls Shishido backwards by the collar of his sweater. "Here," he says, pressing a cloth into his hands. "Mop. I'll take over dinner."
Shishido does. Not because he was told to or something like that. Pst. He's not whipped or anything. It's just that he was totally intending to anyway and why not now, you know? No other reason.
Grumbling under his breath, he soaks up the gray and slimy puddle. "Better not burn anything!" he half yells back, belatedly.
It kinda falls flat.
Especially when he realizes he's using that extra-sanitizing, ultra-disinfecting and mega-whatever-the-hell soap Choutarou so manically insists on using. Horrified, Shishido realizes he's being a total adult. That cleans. On command.
Fuck.
***
"Do you feel old?" he asks Gakuto the next day when they're having lunch together.
A nice and not balanced, not nutritious, not responsible lunch. Very not. Hamburgers and fries. Booyah.
Gakuto, cheeks bulging with the amount of fries he's got crammed in his gob, gives him a slightly baffled look. He looks like a demented chipmunk. "Whaw?" he goes, spraying. After a moment he manages to swallow. "What?"
Slumping back, Shishido moodily squeaks his straw up and down through the plastic cap covering his drink. The cup is empty, just soggy ice cubes that clatter around. "What I said," he mutters.
Gakuto wipes his mouth on his sleeve. "You're not even thirty."
"I'm almost thirty," he counters.
"That's like… three more years!" Gakuto rolls his eyes. "Are you having a crisis?"
"No," Shishido answers. Then adds maliciously, "You'll be thirty first."
"Oh no!" Gakuto says, making jazz-hands at the ceiling of the fast-food joint. "Horror of horror. I will promptly wither and die. My face will slide off and I'll go gray and get this huge, sagging gut and I'll drool all the time and my dick will shrivel and balls will retreat into my body and there'll be warts. On my ass and-"
"Shut up!" Shishido says. "Fuck."
A little cat-like smirk. "You're just being dumb. Er. Than usual."
"Go join a circus," Shishido mumbles, feeling sort of silly.
"Ouch," Gakuto says, deadpan. "I really felt that. You know. Right here." he touches his heart and fake-pouts.
Shishido makes a face at him. "You know, sometimes you sound like Oshitari."
"What? Smart?" he asks, perking up.
"No," Shishido says, grinning. "Sleazy."
"Fuck you," Gakuto throws a fry at him, that Shishido easily ducks. "Well, we've been together for like… twelve years. That's a lot of time to…" -a dirty curl of the lip- "rub off on each other".
"Ugh," is all Shishido has to that. He knows all about them and rubbing and chocolate body paste and stains. Oodles of yuck.
They both chew in contemplative silence, slightly awed that so much time has happened. Middle school seems like a distant, hazy era that they've heard of, but weren't really around to participate in. Not that he doesn't remember, but. Yeah. He is different person than he was then and it seems hard to connect. All he knows is that it happened and he did all those things and said all those things and somehow he's where he is now.
"Hey," Gakuto goes, tilting his head and gesturing with his burger. "Aren't you two, you know…"
"Yeah…" Shishido says, totally not beginning to smile like a besotted fool or anything.
A low whistle. "A decade. That's not bad either," Gakuto winks. "Won't ever catch up to us, though."
Grunting, Shishido thinks about the whole big wonder of having been together with Choutarou for ten years.
Ten. Years.
Ten years of being in a relationship. This winter. Like. In two weeks. When they'll be together. For ten years.
Uh-oh.
Shishido feels something drop in his stomach. Does that mean they gotta do this anniversary thing all grand and special? Fuckdammit, what do you even do? Go out for dinner? Flowers? No, that's lame. Sex is definitely a part of it. He rubs his chin, before something else occurs to him.
"Hey," he starts, lop-sided smile creeping over his lips. "Do I… uh, sometimes sound like Choutarou, too?"
Sophisticated.
Educated.
Eloquent.
Calm and composed.
Hell yeah.
A pause. Gakuto sort of narrows his eyes as he looks at him. Shishido leans forward, eagerly. Gakuto bursts out laughing, showcasing his half-chewed burger for everybody unlucky enough to glance over.
"You?!" Gakuto trumpets with mirth from behind his hand as he tries to tuck some wayward crumbs back in. "No fucking way."
Shishido dumps the watery ice-cubes into Gakuto's lap.
***
It's rather a bit too early to be in bed, but they're both tired. It's warmer anyway, the two of them naked under the covers. The heater hums a shaky melody to itself as it works up a steady, red glow.
It throws Choutarou's profile into stark contrast. Shishido traces the generous bow of his lips with his eyes, smiles at the dark, bambi-ish eyelashes resting in dusky half-moons on his skin. Slowly, he keeps fingercombing. Compared to his own hair, Choutarou's is fine and wispy, like a baby's. Funny how he still looks so… masculine. Low in his belly, something stirs. Shishido ignores it.
"Ryou," Choutarou suddenly says. "What do you want to do for Christmas?"
Shishido opens his mouth.
"Don't say sex," Choutarou warns, not even needing to look. "If you say sex you're getting coal."
Shishido frowns down on him. "What would I want with coal?"
"That's what Santa gives the naughty kids," Choutarou tells him, perfectly straight faced.
Thinking on that for a moment, Shishido smiles to himself, the dirty, not-so-secret kind of smile. "Well, it'd be worth it if I got to sit on your lap, Mr. Santa Claus."
Hell yeah.
Cracking open an eye, Choutarou lets out a loose, comfortable chuckle. "You're incorrigible," he tells him. "And that is kind of wrong."
"Hmn," Shishido goes, letting his fingers tickle down Choutarou's forehead, across his nose, before stopping at his lips. He leans in to kiss them without taking his fingers away, letting them frame the lingering contact. "Sounds good to me."
Under his own, Choutarou's lips curve in response. "I'm not wearing a red costume though."
"You gotta wear the hat." Shishido insists, pulling back as to be able to properly look at him. Up close like this Choutarou's eyes are warm and knowing.
"Do I?" Choutarou's hand comes up, cups the back of Shishido's head and pulls him down again. Kisses him. Thoroughly. Hot, parted lips and seeking tongue and dragging lips. Before Shishido's brain completely melts into a useless putty, Choutarou adds, all sly: "What will you be wearing then, I wonder?"
"Er."
"Fair's fair," Choutarou tells him and then rolls them both over.
Shishido forgets to protest.
*
"What will we doing for Christmas, then?" Shishido remembers to ask, after. Barely. His brain seems to have leaked out his ear, all sticky-gooey.
Fingers curl over his hip, territorial. "I want Christmas Eve to be just us."
"Alright," Shishido promptly agrees, infinitely relieved he can turn Atobe's invitation down. He's not in the mood for ice sculptures or whatever the hell he'll come up with. He thinks about Christmas and the empty corner in the kitchen and the anniversary, too. "Dinner?" he hazards.
For a while, Choutarou is quiet. Shishido can feel his exhales dust up against his bare shoulder, steady. Just as he thinks he's dozed off, there's an answer. "Can we just stay home?"
Surprised, he blinks and shifts to peer down. Choutarou is open-eyed, staring off into nothing. Something about the slant of his eyebrows makes that Shishido just nods, says okay.
"Whatever you want," he murmurs.
***
For the most part, Choutarou keeps up a brave facade.
But sometimes it cracks.
Shishido catches the tiniest, most delicate hairline fissure in it when they are setting up the Christmas tree. Choutarou's always the one who insists on putting one, for some reason. Why, Shishido doesn't understand. To him they look like gaudy, plastic monstrosities covered in a layer of sparkly crap. Which take up a whole lot of space. Not to mention collect a whole lot of dust. And it's not like they put any presents under it. Because they still don't do that. Presents.
Shishido plays with his ring as he watches Choutarou struggle with the lights, twisting the silver band around and around with some difficulty. By now it has moulded itself to his ring finger, leaving a lopsided egg-shape.
The wire jerks and shivers as Choutarou winds it through the branches, letting it spiral down. When he plugs it in, the multiple bulbs leap to flickering, merry life. Shishido acutely remembers that this stage of operations was usually accompanied by cursing and laughing and shooing, trying to lift the string out of reach. He thinks about the cupboard full of cat food. They should give it away. No use in keeping it when…
Choutarou has stopped moving.
Shishido doesn't see his face and there's not a sound from him, but the very lines of his shoulders say enough. Abruptly his own throat closes up. When Shishido rests his palm on the small of Choutarou's back it's like touching living stone. Choutarou can get like that. Sometimes he may unravel into emotions as sweetly as honey dissolving into tea and there's the times when he gets like this.
It's not the moment to murmur useless assurances at him. Not Shishido's style anyway. Instead he uses what he usually uses -his body. Himself. Just his arms looped around Choutarou's waist and his cheek resting high on his back, between the powerful valley of his shoulder blades. It doesn't matter Choutarou that is so much taller than him. Even though he doesn't react for a few minutes, when he does, it is to sink down painfully towards the ground with Shishido easing his way. Sitting between the explosion of baubles and tinsel and tiny figurines, Shishido holds Choutarou chest-to-back, cradles him with his legs at either side of him.
Resting his chin on Choutarou's shoulder he catches him echoing playing with the ring, turning it around and around.
"You sure you wanna stay home on Christmas?" Shishido asks him
In the house that is empty even with the two of them in it.
Choutarou nods, slowly. His voice is perfectly steady, calm. "I just… miss her. Sometimes." a thick swallow. "All the time."
"Me, too," Shishido tells him.
It's true.
He may not like cats very much (springing more from the fact that they seem to hate him) and Pancake was a truly dreadful specimen, but he loved that damn animal so damn much regardless. Even if she meant they'd never have a dog.
Now all he can think about is wanting the stupid cat back.
***
The next day, very, very, very carefully, more careful he knew he was capable of being, Shishido asks:
"Would you like a cat again?"
The silence rings like a gunshot.
"Not to…" Shishido says, heart wrenching all of its own accord. "Not to replace… nothing c-"
He shuts up.
There's no answer for so long that Shishido fears he's made an enormous faux-ass. He only asked for Choutarou's sake, not to try and fix something that can't ever be fixed. Pancake will leave a scar on them. A healthy scar, connected to good memories. And yeah, maybe in time it'll fade and become nearly invisible to the eye, but even when invisible to the eye you need only touch it to feel what it stands for. Shishido knows this, but he's not sure if he just sounded like an emotionless tool right now. Eventually he dares to peek.
Choutarou is looking at the dishes as though washing them is the greatest honor imaginable and he can't bare to look away. He doesn't seem angry, but he makes sure not to meet Shishido's eyes either.
Huh.
"Erm," he says and does a rapid left-right-left toss of his head. "Not anytime soon."
"Alright," Shishido says cautiously, frowning at Choutarou doing his very best to look neutral (and of course completely failing at it).
It's delicate.
He's not much good with delicate stuff. Shishido takes a towel to start drying off, not wanting to open his gob and say something Not Very Smart. Instead he sort of nods, more an universal sign of acknowledgement than actual agreement. In the end he kisses Choutarou's upper arm, or his sleeve more like, but it says what it needs to say.
Choutarou bumps back, smiling.
***
With winter break so near, his students become lazy and distracted. Shishido goes through a fresh box of chalk every week. Even through they try to duck, his tennis-honed reflexes are yet undefeated. Other teachers complain that it's like trying to teach a bunch of wild monkeys basic hygiene, while his own cower even if they so much as sneeze. At least they behave.
As a reward, he'll not burden them too heavily with homework.
But their minds have already degenerated to a useless, Christmassy goop and so Shishido gleefully scratches red all over their assignments. Maybe it is bad to get his kicks out of his, but hey. He's being professional. Mostly.
Shishido rarely gets phoned at work. While all colleagues seem to have theirs permanently glued to their hands, Shishido's mobile is usually floating around in his rucksack, buddying up with the pieces of fluffy gum and twists of band-aid. Usually getting called means it's Choutarou. Or his mother. Maybe Gakuto.
So when his phone buzzes and he checks to see Atobe's name on the screen he promptly ignores it.
It rings and rings and rings and then finally goes into voicemail. "Shishido," Atobe says, "Pick up. It's important."
Shishido rolls his eyes.
"It's about Ohtori-kun, something has ha-"
"Yes!" Shishido bursts out. "what'shappenedisheokay?"
A low, lofty chuckle. "You are pitifully predictable."
"What? What are you-" he pauses, mouth an 'o' as it dawns on him. "You bastard."
Atobe hums, pleased. "What are you doing right now?"
"… I am dancing the Macarena with a corncob up my ass," Shishido snaps. "What the hell do you think I'm doing? I'm at work, you ass!"
"Must you be so vile?"
"Ergh, forget it. What do you want?" Shishido pinches the bridge of his nose he can feel the onset of an Atobe-induced headache. The nagging kind.
"Gakuto has informed me" -Shishido categorically hates any sentence beginning with 'Gakuto said' or any variation thereof. They never end well- "that you and Ohtori-kun are doing your Silver this winter."
"…our- our what?"
"Your Silver. Don't you-" Atobe tsks. "Your anniversary. Ten years is silver, surely you know?"
"And this matters how?"
"Then how will you color-coordinate?" Atobe exclaims.
Shishido contemplates his red pen. Wonders if jamming it into his left eye socket would ease his mounting annoyance. Maybe swirl it around a bit, make more room for other things besides the Atobe-headache taking up residence.
"Keigo," he says. "What the hell am I supposed to color-coordinate? Condoms?"
There's nothing that cheers him up more than Atobe's wild snort of disgust. Sucker.
"Don't be-"
"vile," Shishido finishes. "Yeah, I know. Look, are you actually gonna say anything useful or just get your bleat on? Cause I got work. You know. That thing that most people do, have to do, to earn money? I'm doing that right now. I know it may be hard for you to understand this concept, but money doesn't actually fall out of your father's ass. Crazy. I know. But-"
"I hate you," Atobe says.
"I hate you mostest," Shishido says back sweetly.
"Listen." Atobe says. "I don't have to do this, you know. I could just let you blunder on, raining ruin and disaster upon all you touch. But ore-sama is magnanimous. Even to those undeserving, people such as yourself, Ryou, if that wasn't clear. I shall organize your silver anniversary for you."
For a moment Shishido actually pulls back to stare at his mobile in disbelief.
At long last, with great care he says, "No." and "Fuck you." and hangs up.
***
"If Atobe calls," Shishido tells Choutarou over dinner. "Just say no." Re-considers. "Better yet, don't pick up. Burn your phone."
Choutarou nods, eyes sparkling. "Atobe-san wants you to know that…" he halts, makes a face (and Shishido is absolutely not thinking he looks adorable when he does it, nope.). "I can't remember everything he said, but it had doom in it."
"Doom," Shishido repeats.
A nod, Choutarou gestures with his chopsticks. "Yours specifically."
"Oh," Shishido goes and fears it might not be so far from the truth what with Atobe having called and having talked to Choutarou about the Big Ten, likely mentioning Shishido's lack of cooperation and seeming indifference towards the event.
He's not indifferent.
It's ten years of being with Choutarou. How could he ever be indifferent to that? But it's not something that brings color-coordination to mind, silver or not. Feeling obliged to try and salvage what is looking to be Atobe's successful strike for revenge, he goes "Er."
Choutarou looks at him, all attentive and polite and Shishido kinda wants to go and hide under the table but also kiss his mouth, which is wet from licking his lips and this really isn't the time to get a boner. He needs full capacity up in his brain, not down in his pants! Dammit.
"I- yes. So." he chews on the inside of his cheek. "I care about that. I just didn't know… wasn't sure. What, what you'd wanna do."
"Do?"
"Yeah. Like, it's a special occasion. I'm not gonna give you flowers or anything, that's-that's-"
"for girls," Choutarou helps him out.
"Yeah! Which you're not." Shishido stabs at his food. "But that doesn't mean I don't wanna do something. Do you? Want to do something?"
Under the table, Choutarou's foot rubs against his calf.
Shishido suppresses a manly squeak. And promptly crosses his legs.
"We could do stuff," Choutarou informs him.
"Stuff," Shishido nods hastily as the contact travels higher up his leg. "Stuff is good. I love stuff!"
"Me too," Choutarou says, earnestly.
Squirming, Shishido manages "W-what… what kind of stuff?"
"Poetry," Choutarou says. "Write me a poem."
Shishido gapes at him dismay.
"That, or the same thing you're giving me for Christmas."
"But we said not to do any presents. Instead we usually just- Ooooh."
"Yes," Choutarou agrees. "Ooooh".
"I could do that," Shishido tells him, seriously. "There could be a lot of Ooooh."
Across the table, they smile at one another before bursting out laughing.
This.
This is, to Shishido, what those ten years are about. His best friend. And his lover.
***
Shishido isn't a Christmassy person. It's a load of romantic mush that promotes the exchanging of material wealth to the point of absurdity. He needs the fingers on both hands to count the amount of downright useless presents he has accumulated over the years. Ugly sweaters, a book about a magical flying puppy (which was cute but kinda more suited to toddlers than teenage boys), teddy bears, shaving cream (when he didn't even have pubic hair yet) and a whole box of the wrong flavor of gum. In return, Shishido knows he's given loads of dumb gifts himself such as soap sets, candles and incense, or random gift vouchers when he could get away with it.
This doesn't mean he dislikes giving people stuff. He does. But he'd rather do it spontaneously than out of a sense of obligation due to some sorta hyped-up foreign holiday.
That aside, Shishido has come to appreciate Christmas with Choutarou.
They're very understated. There's no 'typical' Christmas meals or other traditions -besides the tree.
And one other thing.
For that particular one Shishido always resorts to some degree of plotting combined with the shameless exploit of a rather innocent bystander -he's not above to admitting that particular sin. But if the other is aware and willing, then why the hell not?
While he doesn't meet up with Jiroh nearly as much as he does with Gakuto, Jiroh remains a good friend. And usually he can introduce certain topics to him that would be prone to receiving mockery by a certain red-haired pip-squeak.
It's a steely cold day, with skies to match its mood.
Shishido trudges alongside Jiroh in the park, bundled up warmly for once. For some reason he likes it better when he can nick Choutarou's sweaters and vests rather than wear his own. As well as his gloves. Which are proving to be rather roomy. Whatever.
Ahead of them Sushi ranges along the cleared pathways. As much as an overweight dog can 'range'.
Okay.
So he waddles.
But it's a cute kind of waddling. Actually, the dog looks like she's expecting a litter of puppies fit to shame the 101 Dalmatians.
"One day that dog is gonna blow," Shishido says to Jiroh. Most of the sentence is muffled into his voluminous scarf.
Jiroh is wearing a silly knit cap with a trailing pompom at the end. It flops over his shoulder when he shrugs. "I rather like the way she looks."
Grunting, Shishido says, "Yeah, like your boyfriend, I suppose."
It's true that Jiroh is shorter than him and all blonde and curly, but that doesn't mean that when he glares, it isn't downright fucking intimidating. "If you think I'm going to let you make fun of Bunta, think twice, Ryou," he tells him. "Especially when you'll be asking for favors."
Shishido hangs his head, just a little. It was a low, mean blow and he knows it. "I didn't mean it like that," he mumbles.
"I don't care if you don't like Bunta," Jiroh says. "I don't require you to for us to stay friends. But I do want you to respect it and shut the hell up about everything else. I don't call Choutarou-kun a tall freak, either, do I?"
There's no name for the vicious curl of anger at the pit of his belly. Jiroh is his friend. His childhood friend. But right then Shishido just wants to bash his stupid little skull in.
No way Jiroh doesn't see it right there in his eyes. But he smirks, Hyotei to the bone, and tilts his head. "I don't think that, of course," he says all cheerful and bright. "I am very jealous of Choutarou's height, in fact, and wish he'd spare me some. But you get what I am trying to say, don't you?"
As soon as the nasty feeling bubbled up, it simmers down and leaves cold and flopping shame in its wake, like a beached fish. Reluctantly, he nods. One awry remark about Choutarou had his blood boiling, and it was made sorely per illustration. While this wasn't the first time he made a disparaging comment about Bunta's girth and meant it.
"Yeah," he says. "I get it."
"As punishment you'll have to ask him for your Christmas cake himself," Jiroh informs him, beaming like a ray of sunshine bursting through the grouchy December snow clouds.
Halting in his tracks, Shishido gapes at him, jaw hanging. "What?"
After a few more steps Jiroh stops and spins around, sending the pompom on his knit cap zooming about his ears. He just grins.
"But he'll never do it for me!" Shishido says, dismayed. He can already picture it: meekly drooping back home and having to admit he fumbled their chances for ultra-delicious cake by calling Marui a fattie.
Choutarou will SO not be impressed.
Without a single care for him, Jiroh is walking on. "You'll just have to say pretty please," he chirrups. "And beg. And grovel. And suck up to him big time."
Opening and closing his mouth uselessly, Shishido watches Jiroh go ahead, resting a hand on the head of his overweight dog.
He means it.
Fuck. Shishido's doomed.
***
"What the hell makes you think I'm gonna bake a cake for you?" Marui demands.
Shishido shuffles where he stands, trying to fold his scowl away and to keep from drooling at the sight of all the food. This late in the day, bushiness at the bakery is slower. Marui basically has all the time in the world to favor Shishido with a look that would curdle milk.
It's obvious he doesn't think very highly of him and Shishido starts to see that he's never given Marui any reason to. So, sure, most of it is because he doesn't really know Marui and he's kind of a snob and he's from Rikkai, but Jiroh still really really likes him and yeah, Shishido is kinda overprotective, but so far Marui and Jiroh seem to be… doing pretty good together.
He can tell Jiroh is happy.
Shouldn't that be enough for him?
Marui sure isn't making it easy, though.
And he doesn't even know where Jiroh, that conniving heartless twerp, has skipped of to. Some friend he is.
"You've done so every damn year," Shishido says, doing his best to keep his voice level and sorta polite. "Why can't you do it this Christmas?"
Leaning on the counter (filled with the least spectacular specimens of this day's batch -meaning they still are amazing) Marui demonstratively holds up a hand and starts counting off reasons on his fingers. "First of all you've never asked me. No, you had Jiroh do it for you and Jiroh says please and is makes sure to guilt me into it by telling me you're his friend as well as reminding me Ohtori is, at least, nice."
Thanks a lot Jiroh, Shishido thinks.
"Secondly, my business runs better and better every single year and I really am booked quite full. Oddly enough I'd actually prefer to see my boyfriend sometime too, if that isn't asking too much."
Shishido winces.
"Thirdly," Marui says and winks at him. "I just don't wanna."
And with that, he turns his back on Shishido.
"Look," Shishido says quickly, swallowing all his foolish pride in one nasty, bitter gulp. "Look. I know you don't owe me jack shit."
"I sure don't," Marui cheerfully agrees.
"And I know that this is gonna sound like a quick fix to get my cake," Shishido plunges on.
"It sure does," Marui nods.
"And I really don't like you-" Shishido says from between gritted teeth.
"Not helping your case," Marui points out.
"-like really, really don't-"
"Keeeeep digging."
"But I am sorry," Shishido says.
Silence. Marui blinks owlishly.
Shishido exhales, hard and final and looks away. "Jiroh likes you and that's…." he meets Marui's eyes. "That's enough for me."
They stare at each other.
"Fine," Marui says and twists to busy himself arranging the leftover bread on the shelves more invitingly.
Starting, Shishido shakes his head and goes to lean on the counter himself. "You'll do it?"
"I don't see how one more cake would make any difference," Marui says, voice flat and bored. "Besides, a few days later I'm gonna have to do that pastry buffet for you guys anyway. You sure you want silver icing? Cause lemme tell you, it's gonna look tacky."
"Wait, what?" Shishido says. "Pastry buffet? I didn't order a pastry buffet. It's just the two of us!"
Doubt crosses Marui's features. "But Atobe said-"
"Fuckdammit!" Shishido snarls. "We're not doing an anniversary party or whatever the hell it is Atobe told you. He's just meddling where he doesn't have any damn business. Ignore Atobe."
"I don't really like him much anyway," Marui says randomly, nodding sagely.
"Well," Shishido mutters. "That's one thing we got in common. Besides Jiroh. And tennis."
Marui grunts. "So you're not gonna do an anniversary party?"
"What?" Shishido says, experiencing a sinking sensation. "Why? You think I should?"
A thoughtful, pointed silence. "Well, about who is this anniversary?" Marui says. "Not Atobe, I think."
"Yeah," Shishido says thoughtfully. "Yeah." and then, "Thanks."
"Whatever," Marui says. "This tensai is wise."
Slumping against the window on the bus ride home, he realizes that he never got around to asking Jiroh about the Big Ten thing. And whether he's an insensitive clod of clay that he doesn't even want a damn party. Not like an emotional conversation or anything. Just to make sure. Jiroh is good at those sorts of things. Most of the time, when he's interested enough to stay awake. But Jiroh is a vengeful bitch and left him to stew and instead he talked to Marui about it. About relationship stuff.
He just bonded with Marui.
Well damn.
On to part 2...