Title: Faraway So Close
Author:
athena8 (pen name: darcy)
Pairing/Character(s): Yukimura Seiichi & Kirihara Akaya / Yagyuu Hiroshi & Niou Masaharu
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A study in proximity and intimacy
Warnings: Language, mentions of sex
Notes: Special thanks to
shadows_in_mind for helping me with ideas when I was completely at a loss. ♥ Love you, babe! This fic is written as four vignettes, told from four different POV's. The timeline begins in autumn of Kirihara's first year in high school, ending in winter of his second year in college. This story centers around YukiKiri, but somehow ended up also having a little D1. I hope this more or less meets your request, Bitter Melon! ^__^ And thank you for reading.
~~~ * ~~~
Yukimura Seiichi
~~~ * ~~~
It was mid September, about a month into the fall semester of my second year in high school when he told me he was moving away. His parents were getting a divorce, and he was going to live with his mother and her family in Hiroshima. I could never forget that instant those words passed his lips. My eyes had unconsciously wandered away, lingering for a moment on the low hanging branches of the momiji tree where the foliage was still tinged summer green. Unable to face the truth of it. But his expression spoke the volumes I couldn't express. His dark emerald gaze peered into me from behind a mass of curly black locks that never seemed to settle. His voice was steady and practiced as though he had rehearsed those lines over and over until it became a mantra.
October, buchou. I leave at the end of October.
What was October? A month of changing colors and deepening chill. Not cold enough for the wool coat with the double lining, but too breezy for t-shirts and sandals. I used to like this month. It marked the final few weeks I could spend on the freedom of the outdoor tennis courts, before the breathless frost drove us inside.
But that year's October was to leave a different taste in my mouth...
I wanted to reach out and slide my fingertips across his forehead. Sweep away the silken mask that concealed his pain, his parched eyes filled with resignation and emptiness. But I was afraid to see it. And it was something I couldn't admit, even to myself.
"You haven't forgotten my promise, have you?" he then asked with a weak smirk. "I told you I'd take all of you down, and I'm gonna make good on that."
"You also said you'd do it before graduating junior high," I answered back, matching his forced expression with one of my own. His hand went straight to his narrow hip, in that same cocky pose he always took after winning a game.
"Did I?" He shrugged and pretended like as though he didn't remember. "Just some day."
"Some day" turned into that "indefinite" type of some day. The kind of day that you think about in theory but never live to see.
I didn't suggest holding a rematch before he left. Neither of us really believed in that kind of sentimental bullshit.
~~~ * ~~~
Niou Masaharu
~~~ * ~~~
"Is that what you told yourself, Yukimura?" I laughed, smacking him playfully on his shoulder as we walked to class, the muddy snow making sloshing sounds under our feet. "Why didn't you just admit that you thought he could actually beat you?"
"Very funny. We just never got around to it, that's all." He tucked a dark lock behind his ear and kept his eyes ahead, expressionless. I hated it when he pretended indifference.
I snorted.
"Right." It was obvious I didn't believe him.
He glanced at me, the corners of his lips upturned in a smile that was weirdly sweet and menacing at the same time. A silent threat if I ever saw one. I could press the issue if I wanted to, but even someone as shameless as myself knew when to stop.
Tennis was a touchy subject for him these days. I guess it shouldn't be too surprising, considering the latest news of everyone's favorite charmer, aka ex-Vice Captain Sanada Genichirou. He went pro about a year into college, and hasn't really turned back since. Leaving the rest of us minions to our bio 101 lectures, "career counseling" (as they supposedly call it) and college happy hour at the local bars. I never figured that hardass for the glamorous life, but he seemed to be taking to it pretty well.
The last bit of news came a few weeks ago, when we heard that he was training for his first international tournament in Europe. Yukimura was the first to congratulate him and to wish him luck. I never saw him try so hard.
We walked on in silence for a few minutes. "The brat's been worried about you," I said at length.
"Akaya?" A pause. "Have you been talking to him, then?"
"More or less. 'Cuz you've stopped talking to him, apparently."
His jaw tensed a little as he answered me, choosing his words carefully. "We live together. Sometimes you run out of things to talk about."
"Heh...then talk about the fucking weather. Or the grocery list." Just talk to him.
Because he isn't gonna give up until you let him in.
Kirihara hadn't changed too much since high school. Still cocky as hell. Still in-your-face. And still so damn artless.
Maybe Yukimura never expected to see him again after the kid transferred out of our high school. Let him leave without ever having broken Yukimura's winning streak, because you can never forget what you couldn't obtain.
Yukimura inevitably knew. He knew that he would never be able to play tennis again after high school, not after what that disease did to his body. Maybe he wanted the brat to remember him as something that could never be surpassed.
He didn't want to become too tangible. Not like he was now. Or what he thought he was. So ordinary.
~~~ * ~~~
Yagyuu Hiroshi
~~~ * ~~~
"Niou-kun."
He blinked and finally took the cup of tea from me, smiling absently. He was acting rather peculiar since coming home a few minutes prior, but I knew that whatever was on his mind he would reveal to me before long.
I took my seat at the computer and started checking my email. I was about three messages in when he finally broke the silence.
"Aren't you gonna ask me what's up?"
Without turning from my chair, I replied back to him - "Tell me."
"It was absolutely nuts. But don't say I never warned him." He snickered, but I could sense a slight hint of concern in his tone.
"About Kirihara-kun?" I finally turned to look at him. He nodded silently before taking a sip from the tea.
He had no need to elaborate. I knew enough of Kirihara's temperament to visualize the aftermath. Screaming, crying, and possibly objects snatched and heaved across the room. After weeks of avoided eye contact and scant conversation, this type of explosive behavior was the expected result. Sometimes I wondered whether it was Yukimura's design from the beginning.
"I know what you're thinking," Niou caught my gaze with his mischievous eyes.
"Do you, now?" I cocked my head to the side with an amused grin.
"Yup. You're wondering why the hell we can't be like that. It adds some spice to a relationship, don't you think?" He got up from the couch and sauntered towards me, moving his hips from side to side suggestively. Leaning in close to my ear, he purred shamelessly, "I'm sure the make-up sex is out of this world."
So the two of them did work things out, apparently. Such violent highs and lows are perhaps inevitable with two such extreme personalities. It seemed like a symbolic repetition of distance and intimacy. Having come too close to one another, there was an occasional need to pull back. But not too far.
I looked up at Niou's seagreen eyes and saw myself reflected back.
"Throw a fit on occasion, and perhaps we shall see." I chuckled before reaching behind his neck and pulling him into a kiss.
~~~ * ~~~
Kirihara Akaya
~~~* ~~~
My lips still feel bruised from kissing him, hard. It was like I was kissing him for the last time, and I needed to feel him closer and deeper than I ever had before. I grabbed at his hair, fistfuls of that curly mess between my fingers as he fucked me. I wasn't gonna let go. He wasn't gonna get away from me this time.
Like years back, my last year in high school, when we emailed each other less and less until we barely wrote two sentences per month. He would tell me that it was because his first year in college was harder than he expected, and that he just didn't have as much time as he used to. Bullshit. He was afraid of telling me he wasn't the same as he used to be. But I couldn't tell him I didn't care anymore about the tennis. He wanted to hold on to that as long as possible, even if it meant distancing himself from me.
I'm older now. For fuck's sake, I'm nineteen years old. I'm not a damn hero-worshipping kid anymore. And it's not as though even back then, that was the only thing I saw in him. But he still thinks he's gotta be something he's not.
"I told you!" I was sobbing, trying to talk to him when he wouldn't even look in my direction. "Don't pretend like it doesn't affect you at all! Can't you talk to me about it? Please?"
He bit his lip and looked away.
Why did he have to act like it didn't matter to him, when it was so damn obvious that it did? If we couldn't even talk about it, how could I tell him that it made no difference to me how "ordinary" he had become?
Too damn proud to admit that his former fukubuchou's accomplishments were a thorn in his side.
Well fuck that! And fuck you!!
I was yelling, tears of frustration running down my cheeks as I grabbed and threw whatever came into my reach. If he wasn't gonna express it, then I would. The screaming inside his head. I wanted to pull him down from that distance he had placed himself, pull him back down to me.
"You like that? Tormenting yourself? Huh? Buchou??"
"Fuck you, Akaya!" he was screaming too now, grabbing my wrists and throwing me down over the bed. His eyes flashed in that streak of red I only see when he's really pissed.
"You hate it when I call you buchou?? Then stop acting like a fucking buchou!"
His cheeks flushed angrily and his lips were trembling, as though he didn't know whether to scream some more or just finally close the distance. His slender fingers curled tighter around my wrists. His lips descended on mine, his breath hot against my cheeks as he pinned me down under his weight.
Kiss me...hold me...fuck me. And don't ever let go.
Because no matter how close you are, it will never be close enough.