The Shoes that were Danced to Pieces
Title: The Shoes that were Danced to Pieces
Rating: PG
Pairing: MassuShige friendship, Massu/Pi
Warnings: None
Words: 3,180
Summary: AU "Shige should leave the sleuthing to a professional." Or, "There's no kingdom and a bride waiting at the end of this mystery, but Shige thinks Massu's happiness is prize enough."
Notes: *Repost* For nanyakanya for newsficcon. Modern-day retelling of the Grimm brothers’ "The Shoes That Were Danced To Pieces", or "The Twelve Dancing Princesses."
---
“Taka,” Massu’s mother said in exasperation, eyeing his sneakers. “Just how many pairs of shoes are you going to go through?”
“Sorry, mom,” he said, giving her a guilty look as he finished tying the laces and stood. “I’ll try to be more careful.”
She went back into the house and came back with a wallet, pulling a few bills out and pressing them into Massu’s hand. “Get a new pair after school. I don’t want my son looking like a hobo.”
Shige coughed into his hand to hide a smirk and scratched his nose, looking at Massu with mirth in his eyes.
Massu wrinkled his nose at him. “C’mon,” he said, stuffing the money into his pocket, “let’s go.”
As they walked to class, they talked idly about the rest of the day - classes, lunch, Shige’s photography club activities, and Massu’s track practice - until Shige suddenly asked, “Massu, if you go through shoes so quickly, how come you’re never wearing new shoes?”
“Eh? I do,” Massu assured him, “I just get them dirty so quickly you can’t tell.”
But then Massu scratched the back of his neck and made a face like he always did when he was lying and Shige narrowed his eyes at him thoughtfully.
Shige forgot about the whole thing until a week later. He had just bent down to tie his shoelaces when he glanced over and noticed Massu’s shoes, different from the ones before but still much too broken in to only be a week old.
“Massu…”
“Hm?”
He stood and looked at his friend quizzically. “Those can’t possibly be the shoes you just bought.”
Massu grinned, “I told you I get them dirty quickly.”
“They’re not dirty, Massu. They’re worn-in. They look like you’ve had them for months rather than days.”
Massu shrugged. “I’m active.”
“Hmmm…” He knew Massu well enough to know that he wasn’t going to get anywhere asking him questions. “Well, don’t forget that you’re supposed to come over after practice to study today. The math test is in a couple days.”
Massu pouted at him.
“Don’t give me that face. Someone’s got to keep you on track. You may get into school on a sports scholarship, but you should still try to pass your exams.”
“I should really leave the studying to you. You’re much better at it. I don’t make you come with me to swim or run.”
“That’s totally not the same,” Shige replied, frowning at him.
That night, Massu fell asleep halfway through their study session, while Shige was in the bathroom, and Shige came back to see Massu’s head flopped back and to the side, fingers loosely holding his pencil, and a slight snore emanating from him.
“C’mon, Sleeping Beauty,” Shige said, laughing and gently shaking Massu awake. “Can you make it home okay? Or will you fall asleep walking?”
Massu rubbed his eyes groggily and stood, watching approvingly as Shige gathered his things for him and put them in his bag neatly. “I’ll be fine,” he said gratefully. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He didn’t think anything of it until a few weeks later when their families were picnicking together and he overheard Massu’s mother tell his own in a worried voice, “Massu’s been so tired the past six months. He gets home so late some nights. I’ve tried to scold him but he says he’s practicing and gives me such a pitiful look that I can’t keep it up. But I’m worried.”
What was Massu practicing for? Track? Shige knew that the lights at the school field weren’t on after dark unless there was scheduled practice and Massu did short-distance runs so it’s not like he could just practice anywhere. That meant that he probably wasn’t practicing, and if that was the case, just what was he up to? Since Massu hadn’t told him thus far, he figured he would continue not telling him and, rather than putting Massu on edge with questions, he instead decided that he would simply find out on his own.
Shige felt pretty stupid following Massu around like some crazy stalker, but Massu was up to something and he wasn’t spilling and damned if Shige was going to let it go like it was no big deal. He couldn’t think of anything legitimate for Massu to be doing out so late unless it was visiting some girl and if that was the case, then Shige felt he had every right to know about it.
So Shige camped out at Massu’s next practice, following him from the track to the combini, to the park where he walked around eating ice cream and staring off into space, to Massu’s house.
Attempt 1 - inconclusive. That’s okay. There was bound to be trial and error.
The next day he changed quickly after class and followed Massu to the community pool, sneaking in behind a rather tall father of three, sunglasses on, not that Massu looked back. He then proceeded to sit and bake uncomfortably in his shorts and t-shirt and get weird looks from the other patrons, and a rather angry one from a father whose little girl was splashing in the water where Massu kept coming back to touch for his lap. He hid himself behind his book and missed Massu’s departure, he was so engrossed in the rather riveting, if he did say so himself, scene between a reunited father and son, rife with political undercurrents.
Attempt 2 - inconclusive. Well, he wasn’t perfect; he’d admit he made mistakes. His blush the next day when Massu told him with a stern face that ‘you really ought to wear sunscreen because did you know that sustaining just one serious sunburn doubles your chance of getting skin cancer?’ was hidden by his rather unfortunate sunburn.
Shige felt he could be excused from Massu-duty long enough to recover from the burn and so didn’t get back to following him until the next week. That night, Massu left after studying dutifully with Shige for a few hours, if with much yawning, to go home to bed. Shige watched him round the corner before slipping his own shoes on and following.
He wasn’t quite sure what he had expected, but Massu taking the subway (and hadn’t that been fun trying to hide from Massu and purchase a ticket and still keep an eye out for his friend all at the same time) to a small station ten minutes away and walk a half-lit street to slip into the door of a three-story building that apparently housed a Chinese restaurant, a cobbler, and a dance studio. He stared at it in confusion for several minutes before wandering timidly up to the door and opening it quietly. The dance studio was on the first floor and Shige nearly bypassed it, figuring that Massu was probably here for the gyoza, until he caught a familiar flash of bright yellow and turned to find Massu pulling on a pair of new, white sneakers and jiggling around in them a minute before joining another man in front of the mirrors.
Shige rubbed at his eyes and leaned closer to the glass door. No, that was definitely Massu. In a dance studio. With his leg at an angle no leg should ever be in. He tilted his head, staring incredulously, and then shook it. He wasn’t sure how long he stood watching them, sometimes pressing further against the door as someone passed him to go up to the restaurant or down to the street, only getting a couple strange looks which he ignored in favor of watching Massu move.
It was like magic. Watching Massu dance was like watching Massu swim, all fluid movement only intensified by the faster, locking movements that were like water hitting a rock, only impeded momentarily before flowing smoothly over it. Sometimes the instructor would stop him, place a hand here and there as his lips moved, and Massu would nod determinedly and start again. When he finally thought to look at his watch, nearly an hour had passed and he realized that he’d better leave.
Over the next couple weeks, he found out that Massu went three nights a week, from 10pm to 11pm and he felt increasingly creepy as he stood outside the door and watched them dance. At least, he figured, he’d solved the mystery of the worn-out shoes. He obviously wore the new shoes for dancing and when his other shoes wore out he’d buy a new pair and use the dancing pair as his regular shoes. It was a good system, he thought at the edge of his mind, too preoccupied to really think about it.
Shige was torn between confronting Massu and letting it alone. Massu really shouldn’t be wearing himself out so much; it was his final year of high school and he should be focusing on track and studies and getting into college rather than working himself so hard that he fell asleep during dinner. But it was obviously something he loved doing - was meant to do, Shige realized, and who was he to tell him what to do with his life. But he also felt that if there was something that important to his best friend, he shouldn’t have to watch Massu in secret. He should be able to let Massu talk to him about it, be able to tell Massu that he danced like a dream. He was a little bit jealous of the beautiful instructor, with his sleepy eyes, serious face, and pretty, bow-shaped lips that smiled and laughed and encouraged Massu, who touched Massu gently to correct his mistakes and quietly commandeered such an important place in Massu's life. This was a part of Massu that Shige had been left out of and he couldn’t help but be jealous.
---
They sat side-by-side in the flattened grass, skipping flat stones across the placid lake, Shige humming Mr. Children songs while Massu sang the words in his low, lilting voice.
"Massu," Shige said during a lull, the only sounds the stones splashing against the water and the slight breeze fluttering through the long grasses around them.
"Hm?"
"I have a confession."
Massu turned his face to Shige, calmly flipping a flat stone between his fingers.
Shige licked his lips. "I really like pens," he blurted.
"Shige?" Massu looked really confused and Shige mentally backpedaled a bit.
"I mean," he said, swallowing. "I just really like how there are so many kinds, and they write differently, and there are so many different colors of ink. I like dip pens the best. There are just so many nibs for them. And there's no end to the different kinds of ink, let alone colors. It just feels nice to be able to write with all these tools. Like, the handwriting never changes, but the overall feel does, just by using a different pen. It's … amazing," he trailed off, blushing at Massu's wide, confused eyes. "I just… felt like getting it off my chest. It's nice to have someone to talk to about it, you know? Someone I know and care about."
Massu cocked his head at him thoughtfully and then smiled. A great, big, comforting smile that turned his eyes into crescent moons and Shige thought, This is it.
"That's nice, Shige. Of course you can talk to me about pens, if you'd like."
Not what he was aiming for. "Do you… er… have anything like that?" he asked cautiously and watched Massu turn back to the lake and toss the stone with a quick flick of his wrist that sent it skipping six times. "Nice."
"I don't really think much about pens," Massu replied.
Shige narrowed his eyes. He had known that, realistically, Massu wouldn't just break and tell him now, but he had hoped. Oh well. "Well, I'll listen to you if there's ever anything you want to talk about. I just wanted to say."
Massu smiled at him again, bright and genuine. "Thanks, Shige."
Shige grunted.
---
Two weeks later, while Shige and Massu were out shopping, another opportunity presented itself in the form of a dance studio with a class in session, its wide, glass windows allowing passersby to watch. It was a class of middle-school aged students learning ballet, and Shige interrupted his own sentence to stop and stare, Massu slowing then stopping just after.
Shige had never taken the time to really watch dance before he'd found out about Massu's secret passion. His parents weren't terribly interested in it, and he hadn't been either. But now he could see the grace and skill required for the movements, even in such young students and he marveled at their concentration and execution. He could tell which ones were serious about it, loved it, because their faces looked just like Massu's when he was learning something new.
"Shige?"
"Sorry," Shige said, shaking his head and looking at his friend. "Isn't dance amazing? Look at that girl in red. She's really excellent."
"I didn't know you liked that sort of thing," Massu said quietly, looking away.
"I've recently started learning a little about it."
Massu grinned. "Shige would be a terrible dancer."
Shige frowned at him. "Oi. I didn't say I was learning to dance. I said I was learning about it." Massu started walking again and Shige trailed after. "Massu would be an excellent dancer, though."
He thought he detected a slight slowing of Massu's gait, a swift moment of hesitation, but he couldn't be sure. Massu kept right on going.
When he literally ran into Massu and his instructor the following week, rounding a corner at top speed and ending up practically in Massu's lap, he knew he looked like fool with his mouth wide open and rushed to close it. The instructor held out both hands to them and Shige and Massu each took one and let him pull them up.
"Sorry, Massu," Shige said when they'd got themselves all sorted out, and he reached out to brush at some dirt on Massu's sleeve.
"You know each other?" the instructor asked interestedly, and Shige registered the slightly breathy voice.
"Yeah," Massu said, smiling and looking a bit nervous. "Yamashita-san, this is my childhood friend Kato Shigeaki. Shige, this is Yamashita Tomohisa."
"Nice to meet you," they both said at the same time, and Yamashita gave Shige a shy smile.
"Weren't you going somewhere?" Massu asked, and Shige narrowed his eyes a bit. "You must have been running to knock me over like that. And you only run if you have to," he finished with a grin.
"Um. I…" he blushed, "saw Saito-san." She'd had a crush on him since third grade and he avoided her like the plague after trying every way possible to let her know he wasn't into her.
Massu snickered and nodded. Yamashita managed to look politely puzzled.
"Where do you go to school, Yamashita-san?" Shige asked innocently, avoiding the subject.
"Ah." He scratched his neck. "I go to Meiji."
"Really?" Shige was surprised and mildly disgruntled. He taught dance. He was much too pretty to be normal. And he was apparently more than moderately intelligent.
"Shige wants to go to Aoyama for university."
"Don't you?" Yamashita asked Massu curiously.
Massu shrugged and smiled. "Dunno, yet. Wherever I can get a scholarship to, I guess."
A moment of awkward silence and Shige watched as Yamashita touched just the tip of his fingers to the back of Massu's hand and it seemed so familiar that Shige was taken aback.
Massu looked over at Yamashita then back at Shige. "Ah, right. Sorry, Shige. We actually have somewhere to be. Yamashita got us tickets for the movies and we don't want to be late. Sorry."
"No, that's okay. Have fun." He watched them walk off, Yamashita leaning close to listen to something Massu said and then both of them laughing and Yamashita slinging his arm over Massu's shoulders.
He walked home, sullen. So they were hanging out outside of the studio, too, and Massu only introduced him because he had to. He'd feel better about all this if he just knew why Massu was keeping him out of the loop.
Two nights later he found himself back at the studio, standing outside and watching them together like some kicked puppy. He didn't like this feeling. Not one bit. He decided, as he watched Massu and Yamashita dance, that he would confront Massu, lay it all out on the table. He didn’t want to be left out anymore, couldn’t understand why he had been. He suddenly felt a bit grumpy. He’d talk to him tomorrow.
He had just decided to leave, stepped away from the door even, when Yamashita smiled enigmatically and cupped Massu’s sweaty cheek, and then it seemed like slow motion - both imperceptibly leaning in, eyes slipping closed just before their lips met and held.
Shige took another step back, blinking furiously, mouth open and heart beating fast. The instructor pulled back and smiled softly and Shige could see Massu’s cheeks turn a deeper shade of red and then Shige was pushing through the front door and out into the street.
He stood at the station thinking carefully as he waited for his train, brow furrowed in concentration. His thoughts were a jumble of confusion, a little bit of anger, frustration, sadness. He was surprised. His best friend was keeping more than just one secret from him, one looming large, but it wasn't the secrets themselves that bothered him so much, but that Massu wouldn't entrust them to him. Maybe he was afraid. Afraid that Shige would hate him for liking boys, for dancing, maybe attribute dancing to the fact that he liked boys and make both things dirty. Shige was disappointed that Massu would think that Shige could ever hate him. But Massu had always been private. He had always taken a long time to think about things before telling anyone, like when he decided that he would rather swim and do track than play baseball like his father wanted him to. No one had known, but Massu had decided several years earlier, he told Shige. But he hadn't wanted to rush his decision, had decided to give baseball a chance while not giving up swimming or running. And when he finally did tell his father, it was with a quiet confidence borne from years of thought on the matter and with a solid opinion. His father had been displeased but understanding. This was something different, something infinitely more difficult to address and he wondered how long Massu had already been thinking. How much longer he might need.
Finally, he let his lips curve up into a smile, forehead smoothing. Sometimes, he told himself, when someone has something precious, he wants to hide it from the world to keep it innocent and unsullied. It wasn’t that Massu didn’t trust Shige, it was more, perhaps, that Massu wasn't sure of himself yet. Shige still felt jealous and a little left out, but maybe, he thought, he’d let Massu keep this secret just a little longer. He might understand a little now.
Rating: PG
Pairing: MassuShige friendship, Massu/Pi
Warnings: None
Words: 3,180
Summary: AU "Shige should leave the sleuthing to a professional." Or, "There's no kingdom and a bride waiting at the end of this mystery, but Shige thinks Massu's happiness is prize enough."
Notes: *Repost* For nanyakanya for newsficcon. Modern-day retelling of the Grimm brothers’ "The Shoes That Were Danced To Pieces", or "The Twelve Dancing Princesses."
---
“Taka,” Massu’s mother said in exasperation, eyeing his sneakers. “Just how many pairs of shoes are you going to go through?”
“Sorry, mom,” he said, giving her a guilty look as he finished tying the laces and stood. “I’ll try to be more careful.”
She went back into the house and came back with a wallet, pulling a few bills out and pressing them into Massu’s hand. “Get a new pair after school. I don’t want my son looking like a hobo.”
Shige coughed into his hand to hide a smirk and scratched his nose, looking at Massu with mirth in his eyes.
Massu wrinkled his nose at him. “C’mon,” he said, stuffing the money into his pocket, “let’s go.”
As they walked to class, they talked idly about the rest of the day - classes, lunch, Shige’s photography club activities, and Massu’s track practice - until Shige suddenly asked, “Massu, if you go through shoes so quickly, how come you’re never wearing new shoes?”
“Eh? I do,” Massu assured him, “I just get them dirty so quickly you can’t tell.”
But then Massu scratched the back of his neck and made a face like he always did when he was lying and Shige narrowed his eyes at him thoughtfully.
Shige forgot about the whole thing until a week later. He had just bent down to tie his shoelaces when he glanced over and noticed Massu’s shoes, different from the ones before but still much too broken in to only be a week old.
“Massu…”
“Hm?”
He stood and looked at his friend quizzically. “Those can’t possibly be the shoes you just bought.”
Massu grinned, “I told you I get them dirty quickly.”
“They’re not dirty, Massu. They’re worn-in. They look like you’ve had them for months rather than days.”
Massu shrugged. “I’m active.”
“Hmmm…” He knew Massu well enough to know that he wasn’t going to get anywhere asking him questions. “Well, don’t forget that you’re supposed to come over after practice to study today. The math test is in a couple days.”
Massu pouted at him.
“Don’t give me that face. Someone’s got to keep you on track. You may get into school on a sports scholarship, but you should still try to pass your exams.”
“I should really leave the studying to you. You’re much better at it. I don’t make you come with me to swim or run.”
“That’s totally not the same,” Shige replied, frowning at him.
That night, Massu fell asleep halfway through their study session, while Shige was in the bathroom, and Shige came back to see Massu’s head flopped back and to the side, fingers loosely holding his pencil, and a slight snore emanating from him.
“C’mon, Sleeping Beauty,” Shige said, laughing and gently shaking Massu awake. “Can you make it home okay? Or will you fall asleep walking?”
Massu rubbed his eyes groggily and stood, watching approvingly as Shige gathered his things for him and put them in his bag neatly. “I’ll be fine,” he said gratefully. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He didn’t think anything of it until a few weeks later when their families were picnicking together and he overheard Massu’s mother tell his own in a worried voice, “Massu’s been so tired the past six months. He gets home so late some nights. I’ve tried to scold him but he says he’s practicing and gives me such a pitiful look that I can’t keep it up. But I’m worried.”
What was Massu practicing for? Track? Shige knew that the lights at the school field weren’t on after dark unless there was scheduled practice and Massu did short-distance runs so it’s not like he could just practice anywhere. That meant that he probably wasn’t practicing, and if that was the case, just what was he up to? Since Massu hadn’t told him thus far, he figured he would continue not telling him and, rather than putting Massu on edge with questions, he instead decided that he would simply find out on his own.
Shige felt pretty stupid following Massu around like some crazy stalker, but Massu was up to something and he wasn’t spilling and damned if Shige was going to let it go like it was no big deal. He couldn’t think of anything legitimate for Massu to be doing out so late unless it was visiting some girl and if that was the case, then Shige felt he had every right to know about it.
So Shige camped out at Massu’s next practice, following him from the track to the combini, to the park where he walked around eating ice cream and staring off into space, to Massu’s house.
Attempt 1 - inconclusive. That’s okay. There was bound to be trial and error.
The next day he changed quickly after class and followed Massu to the community pool, sneaking in behind a rather tall father of three, sunglasses on, not that Massu looked back. He then proceeded to sit and bake uncomfortably in his shorts and t-shirt and get weird looks from the other patrons, and a rather angry one from a father whose little girl was splashing in the water where Massu kept coming back to touch for his lap. He hid himself behind his book and missed Massu’s departure, he was so engrossed in the rather riveting, if he did say so himself, scene between a reunited father and son, rife with political undercurrents.
Attempt 2 - inconclusive. Well, he wasn’t perfect; he’d admit he made mistakes. His blush the next day when Massu told him with a stern face that ‘you really ought to wear sunscreen because did you know that sustaining just one serious sunburn doubles your chance of getting skin cancer?’ was hidden by his rather unfortunate sunburn.
Shige felt he could be excused from Massu-duty long enough to recover from the burn and so didn’t get back to following him until the next week. That night, Massu left after studying dutifully with Shige for a few hours, if with much yawning, to go home to bed. Shige watched him round the corner before slipping his own shoes on and following.
He wasn’t quite sure what he had expected, but Massu taking the subway (and hadn’t that been fun trying to hide from Massu and purchase a ticket and still keep an eye out for his friend all at the same time) to a small station ten minutes away and walk a half-lit street to slip into the door of a three-story building that apparently housed a Chinese restaurant, a cobbler, and a dance studio. He stared at it in confusion for several minutes before wandering timidly up to the door and opening it quietly. The dance studio was on the first floor and Shige nearly bypassed it, figuring that Massu was probably here for the gyoza, until he caught a familiar flash of bright yellow and turned to find Massu pulling on a pair of new, white sneakers and jiggling around in them a minute before joining another man in front of the mirrors.
Shige rubbed at his eyes and leaned closer to the glass door. No, that was definitely Massu. In a dance studio. With his leg at an angle no leg should ever be in. He tilted his head, staring incredulously, and then shook it. He wasn’t sure how long he stood watching them, sometimes pressing further against the door as someone passed him to go up to the restaurant or down to the street, only getting a couple strange looks which he ignored in favor of watching Massu move.
It was like magic. Watching Massu dance was like watching Massu swim, all fluid movement only intensified by the faster, locking movements that were like water hitting a rock, only impeded momentarily before flowing smoothly over it. Sometimes the instructor would stop him, place a hand here and there as his lips moved, and Massu would nod determinedly and start again. When he finally thought to look at his watch, nearly an hour had passed and he realized that he’d better leave.
Over the next couple weeks, he found out that Massu went three nights a week, from 10pm to 11pm and he felt increasingly creepy as he stood outside the door and watched them dance. At least, he figured, he’d solved the mystery of the worn-out shoes. He obviously wore the new shoes for dancing and when his other shoes wore out he’d buy a new pair and use the dancing pair as his regular shoes. It was a good system, he thought at the edge of his mind, too preoccupied to really think about it.
Shige was torn between confronting Massu and letting it alone. Massu really shouldn’t be wearing himself out so much; it was his final year of high school and he should be focusing on track and studies and getting into college rather than working himself so hard that he fell asleep during dinner. But it was obviously something he loved doing - was meant to do, Shige realized, and who was he to tell him what to do with his life. But he also felt that if there was something that important to his best friend, he shouldn’t have to watch Massu in secret. He should be able to let Massu talk to him about it, be able to tell Massu that he danced like a dream. He was a little bit jealous of the beautiful instructor, with his sleepy eyes, serious face, and pretty, bow-shaped lips that smiled and laughed and encouraged Massu, who touched Massu gently to correct his mistakes and quietly commandeered such an important place in Massu's life. This was a part of Massu that Shige had been left out of and he couldn’t help but be jealous.
---
They sat side-by-side in the flattened grass, skipping flat stones across the placid lake, Shige humming Mr. Children songs while Massu sang the words in his low, lilting voice.
"Massu," Shige said during a lull, the only sounds the stones splashing against the water and the slight breeze fluttering through the long grasses around them.
"Hm?"
"I have a confession."
Massu turned his face to Shige, calmly flipping a flat stone between his fingers.
Shige licked his lips. "I really like pens," he blurted.
"Shige?" Massu looked really confused and Shige mentally backpedaled a bit.
"I mean," he said, swallowing. "I just really like how there are so many kinds, and they write differently, and there are so many different colors of ink. I like dip pens the best. There are just so many nibs for them. And there's no end to the different kinds of ink, let alone colors. It just feels nice to be able to write with all these tools. Like, the handwriting never changes, but the overall feel does, just by using a different pen. It's … amazing," he trailed off, blushing at Massu's wide, confused eyes. "I just… felt like getting it off my chest. It's nice to have someone to talk to about it, you know? Someone I know and care about."
Massu cocked his head at him thoughtfully and then smiled. A great, big, comforting smile that turned his eyes into crescent moons and Shige thought, This is it.
"That's nice, Shige. Of course you can talk to me about pens, if you'd like."
Not what he was aiming for. "Do you… er… have anything like that?" he asked cautiously and watched Massu turn back to the lake and toss the stone with a quick flick of his wrist that sent it skipping six times. "Nice."
"I don't really think much about pens," Massu replied.
Shige narrowed his eyes. He had known that, realistically, Massu wouldn't just break and tell him now, but he had hoped. Oh well. "Well, I'll listen to you if there's ever anything you want to talk about. I just wanted to say."
Massu smiled at him again, bright and genuine. "Thanks, Shige."
Shige grunted.
---
Two weeks later, while Shige and Massu were out shopping, another opportunity presented itself in the form of a dance studio with a class in session, its wide, glass windows allowing passersby to watch. It was a class of middle-school aged students learning ballet, and Shige interrupted his own sentence to stop and stare, Massu slowing then stopping just after.
Shige had never taken the time to really watch dance before he'd found out about Massu's secret passion. His parents weren't terribly interested in it, and he hadn't been either. But now he could see the grace and skill required for the movements, even in such young students and he marveled at their concentration and execution. He could tell which ones were serious about it, loved it, because their faces looked just like Massu's when he was learning something new.
"Shige?"
"Sorry," Shige said, shaking his head and looking at his friend. "Isn't dance amazing? Look at that girl in red. She's really excellent."
"I didn't know you liked that sort of thing," Massu said quietly, looking away.
"I've recently started learning a little about it."
Massu grinned. "Shige would be a terrible dancer."
Shige frowned at him. "Oi. I didn't say I was learning to dance. I said I was learning about it." Massu started walking again and Shige trailed after. "Massu would be an excellent dancer, though."
He thought he detected a slight slowing of Massu's gait, a swift moment of hesitation, but he couldn't be sure. Massu kept right on going.
When he literally ran into Massu and his instructor the following week, rounding a corner at top speed and ending up practically in Massu's lap, he knew he looked like fool with his mouth wide open and rushed to close it. The instructor held out both hands to them and Shige and Massu each took one and let him pull them up.
"Sorry, Massu," Shige said when they'd got themselves all sorted out, and he reached out to brush at some dirt on Massu's sleeve.
"You know each other?" the instructor asked interestedly, and Shige registered the slightly breathy voice.
"Yeah," Massu said, smiling and looking a bit nervous. "Yamashita-san, this is my childhood friend Kato Shigeaki. Shige, this is Yamashita Tomohisa."
"Nice to meet you," they both said at the same time, and Yamashita gave Shige a shy smile.
"Weren't you going somewhere?" Massu asked, and Shige narrowed his eyes a bit. "You must have been running to knock me over like that. And you only run if you have to," he finished with a grin.
"Um. I…" he blushed, "saw Saito-san." She'd had a crush on him since third grade and he avoided her like the plague after trying every way possible to let her know he wasn't into her.
Massu snickered and nodded. Yamashita managed to look politely puzzled.
"Where do you go to school, Yamashita-san?" Shige asked innocently, avoiding the subject.
"Ah." He scratched his neck. "I go to Meiji."
"Really?" Shige was surprised and mildly disgruntled. He taught dance. He was much too pretty to be normal. And he was apparently more than moderately intelligent.
"Shige wants to go to Aoyama for university."
"Don't you?" Yamashita asked Massu curiously.
Massu shrugged and smiled. "Dunno, yet. Wherever I can get a scholarship to, I guess."
A moment of awkward silence and Shige watched as Yamashita touched just the tip of his fingers to the back of Massu's hand and it seemed so familiar that Shige was taken aback.
Massu looked over at Yamashita then back at Shige. "Ah, right. Sorry, Shige. We actually have somewhere to be. Yamashita got us tickets for the movies and we don't want to be late. Sorry."
"No, that's okay. Have fun." He watched them walk off, Yamashita leaning close to listen to something Massu said and then both of them laughing and Yamashita slinging his arm over Massu's shoulders.
He walked home, sullen. So they were hanging out outside of the studio, too, and Massu only introduced him because he had to. He'd feel better about all this if he just knew why Massu was keeping him out of the loop.
Two nights later he found himself back at the studio, standing outside and watching them together like some kicked puppy. He didn't like this feeling. Not one bit. He decided, as he watched Massu and Yamashita dance, that he would confront Massu, lay it all out on the table. He didn’t want to be left out anymore, couldn’t understand why he had been. He suddenly felt a bit grumpy. He’d talk to him tomorrow.
He had just decided to leave, stepped away from the door even, when Yamashita smiled enigmatically and cupped Massu’s sweaty cheek, and then it seemed like slow motion - both imperceptibly leaning in, eyes slipping closed just before their lips met and held.
Shige took another step back, blinking furiously, mouth open and heart beating fast. The instructor pulled back and smiled softly and Shige could see Massu’s cheeks turn a deeper shade of red and then Shige was pushing through the front door and out into the street.
He stood at the station thinking carefully as he waited for his train, brow furrowed in concentration. His thoughts were a jumble of confusion, a little bit of anger, frustration, sadness. He was surprised. His best friend was keeping more than just one secret from him, one looming large, but it wasn't the secrets themselves that bothered him so much, but that Massu wouldn't entrust them to him. Maybe he was afraid. Afraid that Shige would hate him for liking boys, for dancing, maybe attribute dancing to the fact that he liked boys and make both things dirty. Shige was disappointed that Massu would think that Shige could ever hate him. But Massu had always been private. He had always taken a long time to think about things before telling anyone, like when he decided that he would rather swim and do track than play baseball like his father wanted him to. No one had known, but Massu had decided several years earlier, he told Shige. But he hadn't wanted to rush his decision, had decided to give baseball a chance while not giving up swimming or running. And when he finally did tell his father, it was with a quiet confidence borne from years of thought on the matter and with a solid opinion. His father had been displeased but understanding. This was something different, something infinitely more difficult to address and he wondered how long Massu had already been thinking. How much longer he might need.
Finally, he let his lips curve up into a smile, forehead smoothing. Sometimes, he told himself, when someone has something precious, he wants to hide it from the world to keep it innocent and unsullied. It wasn’t that Massu didn’t trust Shige, it was more, perhaps, that Massu wasn't sure of himself yet. Shige still felt jealous and a little left out, but maybe, he thought, he’d let Massu keep this secret just a little longer. He might understand a little now.