(news) time; ryotego
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Fluff; AU
Notes: 1700~ words; For
xtilly again because she's still a nagger, and I want chocolate, and it's her birthday soon.
Ryo’s sixteen when the new family moves in across the road from him. He sits at his desk, stares out through the window - just watches. The boxes are dragged out from the back of the truck one after the other. The men are hardworking Ryo notices, sees them panting incessantly, desperate for a drink. His eyes pause on the boy sitting cross-legged on the grass more and more as time passes until he can’t look at anything else. He furrows his eyebrows, leans all over his desk trying to get closer, get a better look. But somehow no matter how hard he squints, how much he tilts his head to the side to see if his focus gets any better, he can’t make out the face.
He sighs, leans back in his chair and stretches, smirking at the way the chair squeaks as he does so. He blinks slowly up at the clock watching the second hand tick around the 360 degrees. He shrugs and stands up, glancing back at his maths work sprawled out over the desk, no progress made. It can wait until later he figures.
Shutting the front door quietly after him, he makes his way across the road, coke cans in hand. He smiles at the boy as he looks up questioningly, sitting down beside him.
“Like the area?” he offers, a blatantly impersonal conversation starter.
The boy blinks unsurely, nods a thanks as he takes the coke from Ryo’s outstretched hand.
“Nishikido Ryo,” he says, looking at the wide-eyed, scruffy-haired boy expectantly.
“I-I’m T-Tegoshi Yuya. N-Nice to meet y-you,” the boy struggles, flustered.
Ryo frowns and opens his mouth to speak again, but Tegoshi cuts him off. “I h-have to g-go u-unpack,” he rushes, stumbling as he stands. He grimaces and bows hastily before dashing off, not missing the opportunity to trip up the single step to the front door.
:::
A few years pass and Tegoshi barely eases up at all. Ryo hears from the boy’s mother that he’s always that way, but he still can’t accept it. Ryo invites the boy over more and more, asks him to help with his schoolwork. He’s not sure that he really needs the help from someone years younger when he’s relatively competent already, but he likes to hear the boy speak about work, though he’s not quite sure why.
“When’s your birthday again?” he asks one time, out of the blue, as Tegoshi gazes over the maths in front of him.
Tegoshi splutters, drops his pencil. “N-November. A-Anyway! This p-problem here-” he attempts to change the topic back anxiously.
Ryo looks at the calendar; still only March. He shrugs. “Let’s go somewhere then,” Ryo decides, makes a note on a scrap of paper he finds.
Tegoshi shuts up, and nods, forcing out something that resembles a smile. Ryo grins back, pats the boy on the back lightly. “It’ll be fun,” he assures him.
:::
Tegoshi stands awkwardly on the porch, rings the doorbell. The door swings open and his lips twitch upwards into a smile. Ryo blinks a few times.
“You have awful fashion sense,” he states bluntly.
“T-Thanks. I guess you c-can help me th-then,” Tegoshi grins even wider, wraps the multicolored, striped scarf tighter around his neck.
Ryo grins back, nods at his friend. They walk to the bus stop in silence, elbows bumping casually. Tegoshi laughs as he trips over his feet on multiple occasions, smiles widely the whole time. They sit on the bus down near the back, Ryo making casual conversation, making sure to only ask yes or no questions. Tegoshi nods his head here, shakes it there, always smiling.
Ryo likes it when Tegoshi’s like this; likes it to an extent he doesn’t really understand, probably doesn’t want to understand.
Tegoshi sparks up suddenly and grabs Ryo’s arm excitedly, dragging him down the aisle. Ryo steadies Tegoshi as he trips off the bus, wonders if he’ll ever grow out of it. Ryo leads him into various shops, buys him a few things here and there and urges him to cut his hair.
The day drags on as they sit on a park bench sipping hot chocolate from cheap styrofoam takeaway cups. Ryo glances at Tegoshi secretly, marvels at his work: baggy clothes ditched in favor of dark, snug jeans, tight white t-shirt and fitted denim jacket, hair smooth and framing his face rather than fluffy and sticking out all over the place. Ryo’s still a little speechless.
Tegoshi shivers as a cold wind passes, tucks his legs up on the bench and sits cross legged, before finally dragging his scarf back out of a bag and wrapping it around his neck. Ryo sighs, and Tegoshi just giggles, nudges the other with his shoulder.
“Thanks a lot for today,” he smiles, sips again.
Ryo’s jaw almost drops dramatically.
:::
Ryo watches Tegoshi, sees him get more confident, sees people he doesn’t know come and go from the boy’s house more often than before, but they’re young, Tegoshi’s age, not his mum’s friends anymore. And Ryo doesn’t care at first, not really. Not until they become curvy and short skirt-wearing. And it doesn’t fit, Ryo decides. Because it’s Tegoshi. Tegoshi, his fuzzy haired, stuttering neighbor.
But he really isn’t anymore, Tegoshi. His stutter has died down, his hair is far from fuzzy, and Ryo almost misses it all. Almost misses being the only person Tegoshi had even half the courage to speak to, the only person he would smile so brightly for, and he’s not sure if it’s jealousy or loneliness or what, but his words become short and snappy and Ryo thinks maybe they’re falling out of whatever it was they had.
He takes the time to go to Tegoshi’s house one Sunday only to find he’s out. But Tegoshi’s mum invites him in, she’s always liked Ryo.
“Thank you so very much,” she bows, looks like she’s about to cry but holds back. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Yuya. Please continue to look after him,” she smiles earnestly.
And Ryo feels like shooting himself for acting like such an ass as of late.
:::
Winter approaches fast, too quickly. Ryo turns 22 and he thinks about moving out of home. He’s old enough, makes enough money here and there, but something holds him back. He knows in his heart what it is but he doesn’t want to admit it. Because it’s not like Ryo to be attached to something; someone.
And then it’s Tegoshi’s birthday again and he wonders if there’s a point in even asking to do anything. He hasn’t spoken to the boy in a few months, and as much as it eats away at him, he hasn’t done anything about it. He looks thoughtful for a moment before picking up a pen and scribbling a few words on a piece of paper. He seals it in an envelope as he hops down the stairs and sprints across the street. He breathes deeply, drops the letter in the mailbox and dashes back. He wonders if it’s the rush from the brief exercise that makes his heart rate speed up.
Twenty or so minutes later he hears the faint squeak of the hinges on his mailbox and he perks up. He argues with himself in his head for a moment before running down to check. He pulls out the envelope, his envelope, opened and resealed with an ice cream sticker. Ryo smiles just a little and walks back into the house, pulls out the letter inside.
At first he thinks it’s just his own note again, “Come over tonight? Mum and Dad are out,” but he sees shakily written down the bottom in green ink, “Of course,” and he hasn’t smiled this much in years.
Conversation is sparse initially, and Tegoshi gazes distantly out the window, sips at his orange juice, while Ryo stares. Tegoshi’s cheek bones have become more defined and his clothes even more body-hugging recently and Ryo wonders how he could possibly have not noticed. The younger one turns back and chokes upon seeing the other staring intently.
“Y-You- W-What is it?” he stutters, curses at himself mentally.
Ryo blinks a few times, “Movie?”
Tegoshi looks skeptical but nods nevertheless, follows his neighbor to the lounge. Before he realises it, the movie’s started and finished and Ryo’s head is barely inches from his shoulder. A second later and it reaches it’s destination, and Ryo’s eyelids flutter open on impact. Ryo’s not sure what it is exactly - though he expects it has something to do with the way Tegoshi laughs, smiles - that prompts him to wrap a hand around his neck and press their lips together.
Tegoshi’s eyes widen, and he’s lost as to what to make of it, but he realises that somehow he’s not bothered, and the revelation scares him a little. He shrugs inwardly, closes his eyes and gives in. Ryo feels the boy’s defense drop and he slips his tongue into his mouth, pushes him down against the couch. Ryo’s hands roam under the boy’s shirt, slip it up over his head and drop it on the floor. His lips move down to Tegoshi’s neck first, then his collarbone, and his friend shivers once, twice. Ryo pulls back just a bit.
“C-Cold,” Tegoshi mumbles.
Ryo laughs at him, scruffs his hair and frowns sympathetically.
“J-Just a minute,” Tegoshi smiles, jumping off the couch, grabbing his shirt as he walks off.
The older one quirks an eyebrow as Tegoshi returns, drops down on the couch beside his friend, stripy, multicolored scarf wrapped around his neck. Tegoshi looks at him, grins all toothy and potentially awkward, but Ryo doesn’t notice.
:::
Ryo doesn’t pay much attention to time anymore. He even starts relying on the changes in temperature to tell him when the new season begins. It makes him feel like he’s getting old, and even Tegoshi teases him about it, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Doesn’t matter how many hours in a day, how many weeks in June, as long as he can do the things he enjoys and see Tegoshi every now and then, just talk to him, then it’s more than enough.
Genre: Fluff; AU
Notes: 1700~ words; For
xtilly again because she's still a nagger, and I want chocolate, and it's her birthday soon.
Ryo’s sixteen when the new family moves in across the road from him. He sits at his desk, stares out through the window - just watches. The boxes are dragged out from the back of the truck one after the other. The men are hardworking Ryo notices, sees them panting incessantly, desperate for a drink. His eyes pause on the boy sitting cross-legged on the grass more and more as time passes until he can’t look at anything else. He furrows his eyebrows, leans all over his desk trying to get closer, get a better look. But somehow no matter how hard he squints, how much he tilts his head to the side to see if his focus gets any better, he can’t make out the face.
He sighs, leans back in his chair and stretches, smirking at the way the chair squeaks as he does so. He blinks slowly up at the clock watching the second hand tick around the 360 degrees. He shrugs and stands up, glancing back at his maths work sprawled out over the desk, no progress made. It can wait until later he figures.
Shutting the front door quietly after him, he makes his way across the road, coke cans in hand. He smiles at the boy as he looks up questioningly, sitting down beside him.
“Like the area?” he offers, a blatantly impersonal conversation starter.
The boy blinks unsurely, nods a thanks as he takes the coke from Ryo’s outstretched hand.
“Nishikido Ryo,” he says, looking at the wide-eyed, scruffy-haired boy expectantly.
“I-I’m T-Tegoshi Yuya. N-Nice to meet y-you,” the boy struggles, flustered.
Ryo frowns and opens his mouth to speak again, but Tegoshi cuts him off. “I h-have to g-go u-unpack,” he rushes, stumbling as he stands. He grimaces and bows hastily before dashing off, not missing the opportunity to trip up the single step to the front door.
:::
A few years pass and Tegoshi barely eases up at all. Ryo hears from the boy’s mother that he’s always that way, but he still can’t accept it. Ryo invites the boy over more and more, asks him to help with his schoolwork. He’s not sure that he really needs the help from someone years younger when he’s relatively competent already, but he likes to hear the boy speak about work, though he’s not quite sure why.
“When’s your birthday again?” he asks one time, out of the blue, as Tegoshi gazes over the maths in front of him.
Tegoshi splutters, drops his pencil. “N-November. A-Anyway! This p-problem here-” he attempts to change the topic back anxiously.
Ryo looks at the calendar; still only March. He shrugs. “Let’s go somewhere then,” Ryo decides, makes a note on a scrap of paper he finds.
Tegoshi shuts up, and nods, forcing out something that resembles a smile. Ryo grins back, pats the boy on the back lightly. “It’ll be fun,” he assures him.
:::
Tegoshi stands awkwardly on the porch, rings the doorbell. The door swings open and his lips twitch upwards into a smile. Ryo blinks a few times.
“You have awful fashion sense,” he states bluntly.
“T-Thanks. I guess you c-can help me th-then,” Tegoshi grins even wider, wraps the multicolored, striped scarf tighter around his neck.
Ryo grins back, nods at his friend. They walk to the bus stop in silence, elbows bumping casually. Tegoshi laughs as he trips over his feet on multiple occasions, smiles widely the whole time. They sit on the bus down near the back, Ryo making casual conversation, making sure to only ask yes or no questions. Tegoshi nods his head here, shakes it there, always smiling.
Ryo likes it when Tegoshi’s like this; likes it to an extent he doesn’t really understand, probably doesn’t want to understand.
Tegoshi sparks up suddenly and grabs Ryo’s arm excitedly, dragging him down the aisle. Ryo steadies Tegoshi as he trips off the bus, wonders if he’ll ever grow out of it. Ryo leads him into various shops, buys him a few things here and there and urges him to cut his hair.
The day drags on as they sit on a park bench sipping hot chocolate from cheap styrofoam takeaway cups. Ryo glances at Tegoshi secretly, marvels at his work: baggy clothes ditched in favor of dark, snug jeans, tight white t-shirt and fitted denim jacket, hair smooth and framing his face rather than fluffy and sticking out all over the place. Ryo’s still a little speechless.
Tegoshi shivers as a cold wind passes, tucks his legs up on the bench and sits cross legged, before finally dragging his scarf back out of a bag and wrapping it around his neck. Ryo sighs, and Tegoshi just giggles, nudges the other with his shoulder.
“Thanks a lot for today,” he smiles, sips again.
Ryo’s jaw almost drops dramatically.
:::
Ryo watches Tegoshi, sees him get more confident, sees people he doesn’t know come and go from the boy’s house more often than before, but they’re young, Tegoshi’s age, not his mum’s friends anymore. And Ryo doesn’t care at first, not really. Not until they become curvy and short skirt-wearing. And it doesn’t fit, Ryo decides. Because it’s Tegoshi. Tegoshi, his fuzzy haired, stuttering neighbor.
But he really isn’t anymore, Tegoshi. His stutter has died down, his hair is far from fuzzy, and Ryo almost misses it all. Almost misses being the only person Tegoshi had even half the courage to speak to, the only person he would smile so brightly for, and he’s not sure if it’s jealousy or loneliness or what, but his words become short and snappy and Ryo thinks maybe they’re falling out of whatever it was they had.
He takes the time to go to Tegoshi’s house one Sunday only to find he’s out. But Tegoshi’s mum invites him in, she’s always liked Ryo.
“Thank you so very much,” she bows, looks like she’s about to cry but holds back. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for Yuya. Please continue to look after him,” she smiles earnestly.
And Ryo feels like shooting himself for acting like such an ass as of late.
:::
Winter approaches fast, too quickly. Ryo turns 22 and he thinks about moving out of home. He’s old enough, makes enough money here and there, but something holds him back. He knows in his heart what it is but he doesn’t want to admit it. Because it’s not like Ryo to be attached to something; someone.
And then it’s Tegoshi’s birthday again and he wonders if there’s a point in even asking to do anything. He hasn’t spoken to the boy in a few months, and as much as it eats away at him, he hasn’t done anything about it. He looks thoughtful for a moment before picking up a pen and scribbling a few words on a piece of paper. He seals it in an envelope as he hops down the stairs and sprints across the street. He breathes deeply, drops the letter in the mailbox and dashes back. He wonders if it’s the rush from the brief exercise that makes his heart rate speed up.
Twenty or so minutes later he hears the faint squeak of the hinges on his mailbox and he perks up. He argues with himself in his head for a moment before running down to check. He pulls out the envelope, his envelope, opened and resealed with an ice cream sticker. Ryo smiles just a little and walks back into the house, pulls out the letter inside.
At first he thinks it’s just his own note again, “Come over tonight? Mum and Dad are out,” but he sees shakily written down the bottom in green ink, “Of course,” and he hasn’t smiled this much in years.
Conversation is sparse initially, and Tegoshi gazes distantly out the window, sips at his orange juice, while Ryo stares. Tegoshi’s cheek bones have become more defined and his clothes even more body-hugging recently and Ryo wonders how he could possibly have not noticed. The younger one turns back and chokes upon seeing the other staring intently.
“Y-You- W-What is it?” he stutters, curses at himself mentally.
Ryo blinks a few times, “Movie?”
Tegoshi looks skeptical but nods nevertheless, follows his neighbor to the lounge. Before he realises it, the movie’s started and finished and Ryo’s head is barely inches from his shoulder. A second later and it reaches it’s destination, and Ryo’s eyelids flutter open on impact. Ryo’s not sure what it is exactly - though he expects it has something to do with the way Tegoshi laughs, smiles - that prompts him to wrap a hand around his neck and press their lips together.
Tegoshi’s eyes widen, and he’s lost as to what to make of it, but he realises that somehow he’s not bothered, and the revelation scares him a little. He shrugs inwardly, closes his eyes and gives in. Ryo feels the boy’s defense drop and he slips his tongue into his mouth, pushes him down against the couch. Ryo’s hands roam under the boy’s shirt, slip it up over his head and drop it on the floor. His lips move down to Tegoshi’s neck first, then his collarbone, and his friend shivers once, twice. Ryo pulls back just a bit.
“C-Cold,” Tegoshi mumbles.
Ryo laughs at him, scruffs his hair and frowns sympathetically.
“J-Just a minute,” Tegoshi smiles, jumping off the couch, grabbing his shirt as he walks off.
The older one quirks an eyebrow as Tegoshi returns, drops down on the couch beside his friend, stripy, multicolored scarf wrapped around his neck. Tegoshi looks at him, grins all toothy and potentially awkward, but Ryo doesn’t notice.
:::
Ryo doesn’t pay much attention to time anymore. He even starts relying on the changes in temperature to tell him when the new season begins. It makes him feel like he’s getting old, and even Tegoshi teases him about it, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Doesn’t matter how many hours in a day, how many weeks in June, as long as he can do the things he enjoys and see Tegoshi every now and then, just talk to him, then it’s more than enough.