The Best Laid Plans Pt. II
The Best Laid Plans (Part II)
Nino discovers that not only isn't Sakurai-sensei looking on him or calling on him, but he's also avoiding him. He tries staying after class, but gets too many sidelong looks from students, and Sakurai-sensei strides out the door with quick footsteps before the room is even empty. Nino isn't one to play stalker, so he doesn't bother hanging around the main office.
But it doesn't take him long to figure out what to do. On Friday he cuts the whole day of classes and waits until after school when students stream out the doors into the winter sunlight, leaving for their homes and part-time jobs. When he walks in the door of his classroom, it's empty but for Sakurai-sensei, who is still at his desk, shuffling through what looks like homework. He looks up when he hears Nino, and freezes.
"Hi," says Nino, tugging his scarf down so it doesn't obscure his mouth.
There's an aching moment of silence that presses against Nino's heart. The whole room feels close around him, but all he can see is Sakurai-sensei's ruffled hair, the argyle sweater-vest that he wears once a week, and the worry-lines around his eyes that make him look more tense than he ever has before. "Ninomiya-kun," he says, and then sinks back into his chair, rubbing at one cheek. "I guess I should have figured you'd turn up. You seem to have an affinity for making surprise appearances each time you mysteriously vanish."
Nino nearly blushes, and he tucks his chin down into the warmth of his scarf to hide for a moment. The seconds tick by until Sakurai-sensei sighs. "I can guess why you're here." He indicates a seat. "Sit down."
Nino really would rather stand, because he has a sinking feeling he's not going to be here long, but he sits down anyway. The chair creaks under his weight. He doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything.
But Sakurai-sensei does the talking for him. "You want to know about the meeting, don't you?" His eyes are kind and keen at once. "Especially how it relates to you. Because you're right if you think that it does."
"That's why you've been avoiding me," Nino says, and Sakurai-sensei has the grace to look shame-faced. It's cute, Nino thinks inanely.
"The vice-principal was calling for my dismissal," Sakurai-sensei confirms. "He said that rumors like this bring a bad reputation to the school. He's right, of course. Who would want to send their child to a school with a teacher that has a reputation like that?" He smiles humorlessly.
Nino's mouth tightens. It's not fair at all. But he knows the way people think, and even if he doesn't like it, he can't argue against it. "You're still here though," he says.
"Yes," Sakurai-sensei admits. "I didn't expect to be, but here I am." He rolls his pencil between his fingers and looks off into space. "The principal stood up for me. He said that it would set a precedent if they let me go. It wasn't as if you had come forward and complained, after all, so they didn't have any proof." Sakurai-sensei gives Nino an inscrutable look. "And if the students could chase away any teacher with a rumor, there would be nothing to stop them starting rumors about any teacher at all. The vice-principal looked a bit shocked at that."
"I'd love to start a rumor about that nasty fart," Nino mutters.
Sakurai-sensei's smile is half-quirked with knowing. "So would I."
Nino is momentarily startled, but it changes quickly into pleasure: there haven't been many times he's been able to see Sakurai-sensei step out of his teacher role.
"But," Sakurai-sensei says, and stops. He looks torn, and he's staring at Nino in a way that's making Nino's heart beat irregularly with dread.
"But?" Nino whispers.
Sakurai-sensei rubs his chin. (It's a nervous habit that Nino noticed months ago, but he's been using it more lately.) "But obviously this can't work," he finally says. The words sound hollow, and yet ring with finality as they nail into Nino's chest, lodging there. "It's too dangerous for both of us."
Nino can't move. His feet are rooted to the floor, and his legs are stone heavy. "Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" he says, desperation making his brain fly fast, but he can't think of a single thing.
Sakurai-sensei shakes his head. He's looking kind, too kind, as all at once their roles settle back upon them, the teacher and the student. Nino feels the distance that grows between them almost physically.
"Okay," he says, and somehow manages to stand up. He bows, because it seems like the right thing to do. "Thank you."
Then out the door without looking back, but he can't leave his disappointment behind him: it rides heavy on his shoulders all the way home.
- -
Nino hates school. He doesn't raise his hand anymore and he doesn't even bother trying to pay attention. Aiba doesn't poke him in the back nearly so often, either, and when he does pass notes it's usually about their classmates' short skirts or an invitation to get curry after school. He's learned to avoid the topic of Sakurai-sensei, but Nino can still hear him thinking about it.
Or maybe that's just because he's always thinking about it, too.
It's stupid, he knows it. Really, mooning is cliché, like in bad dramas and foreign movies, but he doesn't have much else to do with himself, and Sakurai-sensei is right there after all. It's distracting, so he tries to distract himself from the distraction by looking out the window and thinking about games.
His grades sink. He gets three quizzes back with fat red penmarks up and down the columns, all with Sakurai-sensei's writing marking up the top with cookie-cutter comments like Let's try our best! He shoves each one into his bag and lets it crinkle into nothingness, smushed under his books.
The days get colder. There's snow overnight, and Nino trudges with frozen feet through the slush each morning. He mumbles curses about the school's dress code and their insistence that everyone wear loafers despite the fact that they have to take them off when they get to school.
Then one Wednesday morning Nino decides that it's stupid to go to school anyway. All he does there is imagine he were anywhere else. When his snooze alarm goes off for the fourth time, he turns it off permanently, rolls over, and goes back to sleep.
- -
Aiba stops by immediately after school. Nino expected him, but he didn't except Becky to come by too. He's a little miffed about that, because while he could convince Aiba into anything (and has many times), Becky is like a typhoon that won't take no for an answer. She lets herself in, takes off her shoes, and wanders into his mother's kitchen without being polite about it.
"What are you doing here?" Nino whispers in a furious aside to Aiba.
"We were worried," Aiba says. He's frowning, and Nino knows he's serious because usually when Aiba frowns he's trying to hide a laugh, but not this time. "We know you're not sick. Well, not sneezy sick anyway."
"I could have been," Nino says stubbornly. "Who says I wasn't?"
"Nino," Aiba sighs, and Nino instantly feels guilty. Aiba knows him too well for him to get away with faking it. "You didn't come to school on purpose."
"Here," Becky says, materializing at Nino's side with a cup of hot tea. Nino isn't sure how she found it or made it so fast, since she's never been in his house before, but it warms away a bit of the chill. She hands a second one to Aiba before leaning against the wall.
"Well, so what," Nino says, staring into his tea.
"We can't make you come or anything," Aiba says. "But we thought we'd stop by anyway."
By the time they leave, pulling their coats up around their ears and holding hands despite their fat gloves, Nino is feeling better than he expected to. Two hours with Aiba being Aiba is like an espresso shot of happiness, and Nino had been surprised at how well Becky had fit into the mix. She hadn't chastised him or lectured him once, but all her skillful teasing of Aiba had Nino laughing more than he had in days.
There's something to be said for friends, he thinks, closing the door behind them. Even if they're nosy and fussy and having a lot more sex than he is.
- -
Nino still doesn't go back to school. He plays games all morning, afternoon, and night, until he's trembling with exhaustion and malnourishment. His mother doesn't find out. She leaves at six in the morning for work and isn't home until after dinner, and Nino tells her school is just fine, thanks. Aiba comes by four times that week, sometimes with Becky and sometimes not, though it's usually when Becky is around that he gets food forced on him. It's not that he's shunning it, really, he just forgets when he gets all wrapped up in his controllers and characters.
Halfway through the second week, Aiba shows up with a yellow envelope and a curious expression. "This is your school stuff."
Nino shoves it to the side, barely looking away from the television. "I don't need it." He's decided he's going to do great things. There's no need for school. He's going to be an actor that steals hearts and offers them back with a smile that can twist anyone around his little finger.
"I think you should open it," Aiba says, unusually determined.
"Why?"
"Sakurai-sensei said to make sure you do. He was pretty insistent."
"Like I care," Nino says. Trust Aiba to bring it up. Nino pointedly plays his game in silence for the next few minutes, sending out signals of irritation in a bid to get Aiba to go away.
"Well, I'll open it, then," Aiba says.
Nino rolls his eyes.
"Hey," Aiba says, and when Nino ignores him some more, he speaks a little louder. "Nino, Nino you really need to look at this. Look." Aiba shoves paper in his face and Nino is momentarily disoriented by the blurry red that's obviously Sakurai-sensei's writing, because damned if he doesn't have a love affair with that pen.
Nino wouldn't read it, honestly, except that the word karaoke catches his eye. "What?" he says, and snatches the paper from Aiba.
He hadn't misread. It's a message that's not empty words of encouragement like a teacher is supposed to say to a student: it's an invitation. I want to talk to you. If you're inclined, come to the Big Echo in front of Mejiro station at 5 tomorrow afternoon.
Aiba is wiggling his eyebrows in a distracting attempt at being suggestive. "What'd I tell you? Eh? Eh?"
"It's not what you think it is," Nino mutters, letting the paper flutter to the floor like a leaf during autumn. "He's just trying to get me to go back to school."
"Then why would he want to meet you at a karaoke booth?" Aiba points out.
It all makes too much sense to Nino. "He can't very well meet me at school, can he? That's too suspicious."
"Sure," Aiba says, elbowing Nino annoyingly in the ribs. "But you're going to go anyway, aren't you?"
"No," grunts Nino.
- -
That had been a lie, and they both knew it. At five o'clock the next day Nino is giving Sakurai-sensei's name to a chipper, crisply-uniformed girl behind the desk, and she points him at the stairs after telling him Room 304.
Nino doesn't think too hard about what he's doing as he trudges up the stairs. He just puts one foot in front of the other and keeps his hand on the rail, and when he reaches the proper door he pushes it open without even giving himself a chance to stop and second-guess.
The room's lights are up. There's a basket of french fries on the table next to two microphones and the bright white light of the television is flickering faintly over everything.
And there's Sakurai-sensei. But it's not the Sakurai-sensei that Nino knows: he's dressed in jeans, which makes Nino's brain short-circuit just a little bit. "I see Aiba got my note to you," says Sakurai-sensei, who doesn't seem to know whether to smile or be serious. "Here, sit down."
Sakurai-sensei moves over, which he doesn't actually need to do because the bench is long and he's already halfway down it, but Nino plops into the seat without question.
"Fries?" Nino says, feeling an inane need to say something.
"What? Oh. Do you want some?" Sakurai-sensei passes the basket.
It's pretty surreal. Nino can't quite resolve the Sakurai-sensei in front of him with the one at school: they're clearly the same man, but Nino could easily pretend right now that they're not. It's almost like a date, Nino thinks, except he's smarter than to believe that.
"I'm okay," Nino says politely.
Sakurai-sensei eyes him a little too long for his liking, but doesn't push the issue. He puts the basket aside. "I'll get to the point then," he says. "Do you know why I asked you here?"
"To get me to go back to school?" Nino says, slumping against his seat, which probably makes him look sulky.
Sakurai-sensei hesitates, but then nods, slowly. "Your absence is being questioned by the board," Sakurai-sensei says. "You'll be expelled if you miss more school. But let me guess," he says, settling his hands on his knees. "What you're staying away from is me, isn't it?"
That stings too close to the truth. "I have plans," Nino says defiantly. "I'm going to be an actor. I could do it, too." The words are sharp and unpolished, and even to Nino they sound like an excuse.
"I don't doubt that," Sakurai-sensei says carefully. "But graduation is coming up. You could wait till then, couldn't you?"
"Why should I?" Nino says. "I don't need a certificate to be an actor. I don't need anything but myself."
Sakurai-sensei levels a look at him. "What would it take to get you to come back?"
Nino doesn't know. If he were to be truthful with himself, which he won't, he misses school. He misses Aiba's stupid notes and Becky twirling around corners, he misses lunchtime with the girls (they always gave him extra snacks) and drama club with its inanities and improv. He misses the stupid sound of the school bell, and he really misses watching Sakurai-sensei teach, so earnest and ready to laugh with his students.
But he's not being honest, and he just can't take it. "I've already decided," he says, and steals a fry from the basket before standing up. He's wasting his time.
Sakurai-sensei's hand catches his wrist and holds it tight. "No," he says, his voice more imperative than Nino has ever heard it. It's enough to take all his attention away from the eye-catching video promotions on the television screen. "I mean it. I… I'm not going to lose you like this," he says, looking unusually distressed.
"Lose me?" Nino echoes wonderingly. "You're the one who said it was a bad idea."
"It is," Sakurai-sensei says. Nino can see the inner struggle, and doesn't know how he missed it before. It's even more of a shock than seeing his teacher in jeans: Sakurai-sensei honestly wants him. "It is, I know it is, and I thought that was the right thing to do, but you stopped coming to school, and I didn't think I'd be so bad at handling that." The words come out in a rush of urgency. "But here I am."
Nino stares, frozen in place. Any minute now he's going to wake up, curse his subconscious, and mope around the house for the rest of the day.
"Come here," Sakurai-sensei says. Nino actually isn't given a choice about it, though, because Sakurai-sensei pulls him into his lap and Nino has to grab at his shoulders to keep from being an awkward tumble. He can feel muscle under his thighs and Sakurai-sensei's collarbones beneath his hands, and two seconds later Sakurai-sensei is kissing him and making no attempt to be polite about it.
Nino is caught in the whirlwind, his heart beating like the thunder of drums as his mind tries to catch up with what's going on. Before he can, Sakurai-sensei pulls at his hips, turning Nino forward so he's sitting between Sakurai-sensei's knees, Sakurai-sensei's chest pushing against his spine with each deep breath. There are lips on his neck, fierce and soft at the same time. Nino grips at the table in front of him, knuckles whitening. "Is this your bid to try to get me back to school?" Nino even manages to keep his voice even.
Sakurai-sensei splays one palm over Nino's stomach, holding him in place. "If you tell me to stop, I'll stop," he says.
"Like I could say something like that," Nino whispers.
Sakurai-sensei doesn't touch him gently. His hands are heavy and rough and drag Nino's clothes this way and that as they find the shape of his body beneath. Nino's nerves prickle with electricity everywhere that Sakurai-sensei touches, and when his palm goes right between Nino's legs and squeezes unapologetically, Nino stops breathing altogether. He's absurdly happy he didn't wear jeans.
There's a bit of a scuffle as Sakurai-sensei works him out of his pants, Nino lifting his hips to help until they're down to his knees. It's only an afterthought to look for the security camera. "Someone's going to see," he says, starting to doubt the wisdom of this whole situation.
Sakurai-sensei kisses his ear. "No one will notice from this angle." And okay, yeah, the table is in the way, but -
Then Sakurai-sensei's hand is on Nino's dick, and he stops bothering to worry about it, because oh. Nino stares. Just looking is almost as arousing as the handjob itself: Sakurai-sensei is pulling with long, pressured strokes, right off his tip. His hands are masculine, and look good on Nino's dick, better than Nino's own.
It's warm in the room. Nino wishes he had taken off his jacket, because he's starting to sweat, even with his pants down. A moan echoes through him as everything starts to build and build, and his dick aches wonderfully.
So it's incredibly disorienting when Sakurai-sensei just stops. "Use this," he says, and Nino can't quite believe it. He's holding one of the microphones up to Nino's mouth.
"You're dirty," Nino says with a frustrated pant. It echoes back at him, embarrassingly loud.
"The extra commentary isn't necessary," Sakurai-sensei says, sounding more cutely sullen than a teacher ought to.
He starts to pump again, and Nino's body enthusiastically answers, tingling with pleasure. With skillful hands, he coaxes sounds out of Nino's throat that Nino hadn't even been aware he could make, and each uneven gasp and groan fills the tiny room through the microphone. Nino hopes desperately that no one hears him through the walls. Behind him, Sakurai-sensei hums, and Nino feels his arousal under his hips. Nino isn't going to last long at this rate.
His orgasm comes hard and fast, rippling over his skin before his dick jumps and he comes in hot jets that splatter over the table, and then he's lost among the stars, his whole body fuzzy with relief.
Sakurai-sensei tucks him carefully back into his underwear after cleaning him up with a conveniently placed wet napkin, and hugs Nino around his middle. "Are you okay?"
Nino is great, actually. He feels like he's been on the rollercoaster from hell these last few weeks, but at least right now he's soaring. He's never had a more fantastic orgasm and he doesn't want to let go of it. "How am I supposed to answer that?" he mumbles, still a lazy lump.
"Traditionally 'yes' or 'no'," Sakurai-sensei answers, sounding worried.
Nino squirms, trying to pull up his pants. He leaves them unbuttoned but gets himself turned over enough to make eye contact and put his hands on Sakurai-sensei's chest. There's the intriguing promise of muscle beneath his shirt, and Nino lets his hands roam. "I don't know," he admits. "This isn't what I expected what I came in." Not that he minds. He very definitely doesn't mind.
"It wasn't what I intended to do," Sakurai-sensei admits, settling his hands on Nino's hips. "I was thinking we should lay low, until graduation."
"Wait a minute," Nino says, his eyes narrowing. Until graduation presumes a few things which Nino hasn't even agreed to, but he lets that slide for now. "You're not trying to bribe me, are you? That's not appropriate behavior for a teacher."
This doesn't seem to have even occurred to Sakurai-sensei. His mouth works for a moment. "That wasn't what I meant," he says, alarmed in that special way of his.
"Well, I'll think about it," Nino says with attempted indifference. "If you tell me five sexy things about myself."
"Five?" Sakurai-sensei sputters.
"I could make it ten."
"No, five, five is good," Sakurai-sensei says promptly, and Nino laughs until Sakurai-sensei finally figures out that he's joking. His face is priceless.
"I didn't know you were so gullible," Nino says. He wants to kiss Sakurai-sensei again, but somehow, even sitting in his lap, it doesn't seem like the right thing to do. He picks up Sakurai-sensei's hand instead, playing with the fingers, admiring the masculinity of them all over again.
"Let's not tell the world," Sakurai-sensei says, sounding resigned. "Though I'm fairly sure it already knows."
Nino hesitates. "Are you sure I can't visit your place on the weekends, or something?"
At Sakurai-sensei's regretful smile, Nino's hopes sink down to his knees. "That'll be the first thing we do when you graduate," Sakurai-sensei promises.
Graduation can't come too soon, Nino thinks fiercely.
- -
Nino doesn't tell Aiba. It's not that he doesn't trust Aiba anymore, because he does, and he's sure that Aiba would guard the secret with his life after what happened last time. But he also knows that the best kept secrets are ones never told.
He goes back to school the next day, after a struggle with his alarm clock and finding a clean pair of underwear. Aiba leaps up from his desk when he sees Nino and drags him right back out the door into the hallway.
"What happened?" he says, and then shushes himself when he belatedly realizes that there are ears on all sides. But his eyes beg the question.
"I got bored being at home," Nino says, punching Aiba in the shoulder. It's totally weak and Aiba might as well not even notice for all the attention he gives it. "You didn't visit me enough."
He's almost smothered when they go eat lunch with the girls. All three of them are happy to see him, and Becky even promises to make his lunch for him the next day, since he's stuck with cold cafeteria lasagna and bread.
"You don't have to," Nino says, remembering the incident with the cupcakes.
"No is not an acceptable answer," Becky informs him primly.
"What about me?" Aiba pouts. "You never make my lunches."
"You are such a mooch," Becky sighs. But the next day she brings three lunchboxes, and Aiba's has strawberries cut like hearts inside. Her look dares anyone to mention it.
Nino keeps his head down so she can't see him smile. It feels good to be back.
- -
There are lots of things Aiba wants to know, but he stops asking once he realizes that Nino's avoiding all his questions. For the most part, he's just happy that Nino's back in class and there to pass stupid notes to. Sakurai-sensei purposely ignores their transgressions, though Nino is more studious than Aiba has ever known him to be before. He takes real notes instead of just doodling in margins.
That in itself would've been enough of a hint that there's something going on, but plus Nino's sudden lack of emo waves makes Aiba sure that there's a story behind all this. He makes it up for himself, but he's pretty sure he's not far off.
- -
There are good things and bad things about going shopping with Becky.
More good than bad, admittedly. Aiba likes fashion, and Becky likes fashion, and when they go shopping they stay in each store for hours, picking through dangly earrings in the shapes of hearts and tarot cards and octopi (for her) and bracelets made of onyx and checkerboard tape (for him). And Becky is opinionated, but whenever she asks Aiba which scarf or t-shirt he likes better, it's always the one she buys. He loves it when she wears them because she always looks beautiful and he can say that he helped.
Admittedly he doesn't really understand the nail stickers (much less the nail feathers), but that's okay.
But there are a couple of things that Aiba could live without. The first is having to carry all her bags, because she buys a lot. The second is when she gets stuck in the changing room trying on outfits that would last her from Monday through Sunday. Like now.
"You're not done yet?" Aiba grouses, fluttering the curtain that's hiding an undoubtedly half-naked Becky from his view.
"You don't have a patient bone in your body," she retorts. "Why don't you go look at the mannequins or something?"
"That's boring," Aiba says. There's a thread on the curtain. He starts to pick at it, twisting it around the tip of his middle finger.
He hears a huff, and then the rings hold up the curtain clatter and Becky is standing there with her hand on her hip. She's trying on the Hawaiian sundress that was on sale at the front of the store. "You could do something helpful," she says, and hands him off three dresses that she must have finished with without showing him. "Would you put these back for me?"
Aiba ambles around the store, trying to remember where each dress goes. It doesn't take him long, since he'd watched her pick each one up. He's back at the dressing room five minutes later, scratching his nails against the curtain like a puppy. "Beckyyyy."
"What!"
"Let me in."
"Are you nuts?" she says, but she's distracted with whatever she's trying on and not taking him seriously.
The thing is, Aiba is serious. Serious enough to do go in there without invitation, and before he can even finish that thought he's opening the curtain and shoving inside.
Becky shrieks like a teapot and jerks around, hair flying in a whirl of ebony. She's got a dress in her hands instead of on her body, and Aiba gets an eyeful before she pulls it to her chest like a towel. "What the hell!" she yelps, walloping him on the shoulder.
"I told you I was bored," Aiba complains, though he can't say he's bored anymore. There are too many things to look at, from the emerald green straps of her bra (her bra!) to the swoop line of her spine reflected in the mirror behind her. This is much better.
"Just what am I supposed to do with you?" Becky sounds like she does when he slops tea on his pants.
"Are you all right in there, miss?" Aiba jumps, nearly whacking his head against a clothes hook. He'd totally forgotten about the sales clerks.
Becky rolls her eyes expressively. "Just fine!" she says, giving Aiba a warning look, and either the clerk believes her or is too polite to persist. They listen as her footfalls disappear under the store's trendy music. Aiba sags in relief.
Becky is still shielding her body with the dress. It's not a bad dress, honestly, but Aiba likes it better off her than on her. "So, what?" Becky says, keeping her voice carefully low just in case. "You're going to watch me change?"
Aiba makes himself comfortable on the changing room's ornate little bench. "Yup!"
He wonders if anyone else realizes how Becky has changed these last few weeks. Ever since they've slept together, Aiba has seen it. She's more confident in herself, and more confident in herself with him. He's noticed it in small ways, like how she'll kiss him goodbye at the end of lunch and how she's stopped getting frustrated at her imperfections. She laughs instead, and hides her face against Aiba's shoulder so he can hug her extra hard. She's softer when they're alone, and doesn't push off his hands if they wander too low or too high.
And now she's letting him watch her get changed, which one month ago would have been a pipe dream.
"What do you think?" she says, gathering the hem to put the skirt on display.
He thinks he wants to see what's underneath again. "Too long," he says.
"It's a mini-skirt!"
"That's what I said," Aiba tells her, preparing to be smacked. It's an old habit.
But Becky doesn't do it, she just shakes her head and says, "Boys," and starts pulling the dress over her head. Aiba watches as her legs lengthen, and her panties come into view, a pair to the deep green of her bra, and then it's her smooth tummy and both breasts rimmed in lace. He's in heaven.
And also a little bit of hell, because he's starting to get more turned on than he should in the middle of a mall. He tries to ignore it, but he's not so good at ignoring things, not when Becky is right in front of him sliding in and out of her clothes. It's an exhibition of all the places he loves to put his hands.
Surprisingly, Becky doesn't notice. Usually she has eyes in the back of her head where Aiba's concerned, but she's paying more attention to her dresses, clicking through the hangers and rearranging things. She hums along to the store's music under her breath as Aiba looks at her butt and thinks about putting his hands on it to feel the way it curves.
Aiba tries to remind himself that they're in public and it's a bad, bad idea. Really, really bad. Badder than sleeping with your teacher (not that he would ever say that to Nino). His dick informs him that it really doesn't care, and in fact, being in a dressing room is very exciting.
Aiba is only a teenage boy, after all.
"Becky?"
"Hm?" She's selected a polka-dotted thing with shoulder straps that tie up with ribbon.
Aiba catches the dress before Becky can take it off the hanger and puts it back with the others before he kisses the astonished 'o' of her mouth. "What," she manages to get out before he kisses her again, and then, "Aiba!" and, "Hey." He tucks her hair behind her ear, still trying to kiss her when she pushes both palms flat to his chest to get some space. "Seriously? Here?" she whispers, clearly having her own set of doubts.
Aiba's brain scrambles around all his lust to come up with something to say that will convince her. "I couldn't stop looking at your ass," is what comes out, which isn't ideal, but he gives it a squeeze for good measure. "If we're quiet, it'll be fine, right?" That sounds better.
Aiba feels her waver. He dots a kiss to her nose, which always makes her smile. It works this time, too, her lips shaping a tentative curl. "You're never quiet," she reminds him. But her arms go around his neck, however nervously, and Aiba cheers triumphantly within the safety of his mind.
He pushes Becky up against the wall, right next to the mirror, and this time when he kisses her, she kisses back. It takes a little more encouragement, but soon her nails are pricking against his neck by accident as she matches his fervor. His dick throbs pleasantly in approval.
It's rushed. He's pretty sure that changing rooms don't have time limits, but it's still looming over them: the clerk could come back at any time to interrupt, and that spurs Aiba on, pushing his hands right where they want to go instead of letting them detour on the way. Becky squeaks into his mouth when Aiba rubs at her panties, searching for wetness. When she suddenly stiffens, her mouth falling open to drag in a breath, he realizes he must have found her clit.
"There?" he murmurs, circling his fingers.
Becky doesn't fall apart, but it's close. She almost bites his lip, and she does bite her nails into his skin. It short-circuits Aiba's brain, and he pulls her panties down in a hurry, pushing two fingers into her at once. She's hot inside, plush and sticky, her muscles contracting around Aiba's fingers.
The way she rolls against him is gloriously wrong. She's making whimpering sounds that go right between Aiba's legs, and Aiba's impatience pushes him a step farther.
"Becky?" he says into her hair. He starts undoing his belt, trying to hold her up at the same time.
When Becky opens her eyes, she immediately sees the problem. She hesitates, though. "Do you have a condom?"
Aiba wishes so hard that he did. "No, but - even just by hand…"
"'Just' nothing." Becky's gotten enough of her breath back to grumble. She helps him with his zipper, pushing his clothes out of the way till his dick pops up, arrowing in her direction.
Aiba's forehead falls against hers when she closes her hand around him, and he shuts his mouth hard on a moan, willing all the ones to come after to stay locked in his chest. She works him with an eccentric rhythm, and Aiba feels sweat on the back of his neck and in his armpits as she stokes the fire. From the corner of his eye he sees them in the mirror, him bowed over her, her panties closer to her knees than her hips, his dick pushing into her hand.
His orgasm comes over him in a rush of glitter, sparkling behind his eyelids. He hears Becky shushing him, feels her still touching him as he empties himself all over her leg, but all he can do is hum as the tension and heat seeps from his body.
"That was the best orgasm ever," he sighs.
"I'm so glad. Now how about getting off me?"
Oh. He supposes he is sort of trapping her against the wall. He's heavy-limbed and loathe to move, but he kisses her cheek and sits down on the bench again, letting her busy herself with finding some tissues and getting herself clean. Thankfully, she has a few in her bag. When she's done, she tosses the wad of them into his lap. "Present," she says sweetly. He heaves a sigh when she pulls on her clothes, hiding all her pretty peachy skin again.
She peeks out of the changing room before she opens the curtain in a hurry and shoves him out, leaving the clothes she was trying behind her. When they get out into the main walk of the mall she finally slows down, covering her eyes with her hands. "I cannot believe we just did that."
Aiba giggles. "It was fantastic."
"I'm never letting you into my changing room again," she vows. But she's hiding a smile, and wraps her fingers tighter in his when he takes her hand.
Aiba is definitely going to start keeping a condom in his wallet.
- -
Winter starts loosening her fingers on the world. The mornings turn crisply golden, and the trees remember how to be green. Spring comes, with her rainshowers and her flowers and the music of the birds.
Spring is just what Nino has been waiting for, because spring means graduation.
- -
The day is as perfect as any day is supposed to be. The sakura are like raindrops, twirling through the air to catch in the girls' hair. Everyone is photogenic in their robes, smiling as cameras flash and parents laugh, and the world already has a nostalgic glow, as if everything has turned into a memory before it's even faded into the past.
In the theater the principal drones on about promise and potential and the wonderful youth of today, and Nino sits at attention and does a good job of looking interested even though his mind is far away. He, like everyone else, is thinking about the future.
Sakurai-sensei is there, sitting on stage amongst all the teachers in their formal black suits. Nino watches, butterflies flitting lazily in his stomach, as Sakurai-sensei claps after every poignant remark. They've barely had time to talk together these last few weeks, but on their last day of classes Sakurai-sensei had caught him before he was out the door. Nino knows where to meet him after the ceremony. They're going to go to Sakurai-sensei's apartment.
The wait is achingly long, but finally, finally, a cheer goes up amongst all the graduates, and hats tumble through the air. Nino is no longer a student.
- -
Nino knows where he's supposed to go, but getting there seems to be a problem. There are people everywhere, walking in his way. No one seems to want to leave. Nino manages to maneuver himself halfway to the campus gate when he hears his name.
"Nino! Hold up!"
When he turns, Aiba is threading through their classmates with Becky at his side.
Aiba catches his arm before Nino can protest and pulls him into a hug that crushes all his breath away. "We did it! We did it, you did it, we graduated!" He's nearly dancing, doing an awkward little spin and dragging Nino along for the ride, all his enthusiasm spilling over onto Nino. Nino can't help it - he laughs.
"Aiba-kun! You're going to smother him," Becky says, and helps detangle them. Aiba immediately wraps his arms around her instead, squeezing. They're so happy that light spills off them, and not for the first time, Nino is glad that they found each other.
"What are you doing now? You should come with us," Becky says. "We're going out for dinner in celebration."
Nino knows he wouldn't be interrupting. They've always had room for him. But there's someone else waiting for him, and Nino has been anticipating this day for too long. "Sorry," he says, not really feeling sorry at all. "I have somewhere else to be."
Aiba blinks, and then looks at him more closely. "Are you going to see Sakurai-sensei?"
"What?" Nino says, a moment of panic thumping in his chest. He knows he didn't tell anyone. "How did you…?"
Becky's mouth falls open. "Really? No." She looks at Aiba, and then Nino, her eyes blue and big and hopeful. "Really?"
"I know you better than you think," Aiba giggles, and then throws Nino an outrageous failure of a wink that makes Nino groan. Why does he have to have an observant idiot for a best friend? "It wasn't really hard," Aiba admits. "You never cared about graduating until you came back to school. And you started looking at Sakurai-sensei like that again. But don't worry, nobody else noticed."
"What are you hanging around here with us for?" Becky says with delight. She takes Nino's hand in both of her own and kisses him on the cheek, just a flutter. "Hurry up!"
They wave, Becky bouncing on her toes, before they vanish back into the crowd. Fondness envelops Nino as he watches them go. Idiot though Aiba might be, the two of them are the most awesome friends he could ever hope to have. He wishes them all the happiness in the world.
- -
Sakurai-sensei is waiting for Nino at an old café that takes so many backroads to get to it's nearly invisible. By the time Nino finally finds it his nerves are jumping all over the place, the lazy butterflies going mad in his stomach now. It's not that he's scared, exactly, but it's too easy to imagine something going wrong. What if Nino made a mistake?
But he hasn't. Sakurai-sensei is there just like he promised, and stands up when Nino walks in.
They don't say anything. There's really nothing to say. Nino follows him to the train station, and they ride to the part of the city Sakurai-sensei lives in, twenty minutes away. Nino only pretends to watch the buildings and smokestacks that sweep by outside. Every part of him is focused on Sakurai-sensei standing next to him. Nino can hear him breathe, an even in-and-out. When the train bumps, Nino sways closer to him until they almost touch. The air around them is so charged he thinks someone ought to notice, but nobody does.
Sakurai-sensei's apartment isn't far from the station. Nino counts every step, and shifts his weight awkwardly when they get to Sakurai-sensei's door and he has to pull out his keys.
It turns out that Sakurai-sensei's apartment isn't very large. Nino tries not to stare, but it's the first time he's been here and curiosity gets the better of him. The front room is tiny, things fit haphazardly into the corners. Nino couldn't precisely call it tidy. There are old newspapers on the table and a used coffee mug, a drip of dried coffee winding down one side. A huge shelf takes up one wall, stacked meticulously with CDs. Nino leans in for a closer look, and recognizes only a few of the names on the spines.
"Would you like a tour?"
Nino starts. Sakurai-sensei has taken off his jacket and loosened his tie and his top buttons, and he's watching Nino patiently. Nino's mouth goes dry. "Sure."
They look at the kitchen, which doesn't interest Nino at all, but he's not surprised when Sakurai-sensei informs him he uses the microwave more than the oven. The bathroom is like a closet with a shower in it, the toilet seat is up and the bath rug crooked. Sakurai-sensei hastily rearranges it. "Pretend you didn't see that."
When they walk into the bedroom, Sakurai-sensei closes the door. Nino hears it snick home, closing them in. Nino closes his eyes, but he can still see the bed waiting in front of them, the sheets turned down as if Sakurai-sensei had prepped it before he left that morning. Apprehension curls under his skin. He can't tell Sakurai-sensei he's never done this before.
Sakurai-sensei puts his hand on Nino's hip, and Nino feels all his heat bleed through his clothes. "Are you ready?" he murmurs.
Nino shoves down all his doubts, turning around in Sakurai-sensei's grip to dig his fingers into Sakurai-sensei's shirt, kissing him hard. He puts everything into it, all the minutes and hours and months he's waited. He doesn't want to wait anymore. He's full of energy, need tripping down his fingertips as he shakily tries to undo Sakurai-sensei's buttons.
Sakurai-sensei's chest swells under his hands, filled with a breath he almost doesn't let go of. He scoops Nino up, dropping him onto the bed so that the sheets bounce, and then crawls on top of him, his shirt falling open down to his navel.
The unhurried way that Sakurai-sensei strips him is maddening. First Nino's graduation robe, spread underneath him like a blanket, and then his shirt, which gets caught on Nino's elbows. Nino's nipples are already hard, and his dick is throbbing in his pants, waiting to be freed, but frustratingly enough Sakurai-sensei stops before he gets there.
Nino forgives him, though, because he sits up and pulls off his shirt, showing off a body that Nino is sure doesn't belong on a teacher. He looks like he could pick up two of Nino with no problem at all. The thought shouldn't turn him on as much as it does. "Do you work out?" Nino says, awed.
"Sometimes," Sakurai-sensei admits with a sheepish smile, but he doesn't elaborate. His thumb slides up Nino's stomach, and then over the valleys of his ribs, aiming for a nipple, and when he pinches at it Nino forgets entirely what he had been about to say, or even if he had been about to say anything at all.
Sakurai-sensei explores, and Nino is helpless under his hands. He leaves sore spots on Nino's neck that are sure to be bruises in the morning. Every move he makes is confident, and in comparison Nino feels lost. Sakurai-sensei tickles along Nino's sides, making him kick, and then licks a long stripe from his navel down to the button of his trousers. Nino is shaking when Sakurai-sensei finally helps him take off his pants.
But he's sensed Nino's confusion, and he comes back to kiss Nino's open mouth. "We don't have to do it today," he says, low. His palm is a heavy weight on Nino's stomach, rubbing in soothing circles that slowly leech away Nino's tension.
Nino can hear the clock on Sakurai-sensei's bedside table. It sounds slow against the racing of his heart. "Don't stop."
Sakurai-sensei frowns. He's about to say something else that's doubtlessly unnecessary when Nino decides he needs to be distracted and cups him between the legs. Sakurai-sensei's erection fills his whole hand, and when Nino rolls his palm, he moans. "Really," Nino says, as insistent with his voice as he is with his hand. He needs Sakurai-sensei to feel what he's feeling till he can't ignore it anymore. "I really don't want you to stop."
Whatever self-control Sakurai-sensei had been exerting seems to go out the window. He pushes Nino's legs apart and takes hold of his dick, stroking him with those sure strokes that Nino remembers from the karaoke booth.
When they're both panting, and Sakurai-sensei has finally gotten off all his clothes, he opens up the side table and shows Nino what he reaches for: lube and condoms. Nino nods, and wraps his arms around Sakurai-sensei's neck.
Sakurai-sensei uses a lot of lube, but Nino doesn't complain even though it drips cold tendrils down his skin and pools under his ass. He's too busy trying to relax. He can feel his muscles give, contract, and slowly give again as Sakurai-sensei's knuckle works in and out of him. It's not as hot as he'd hoped, and his erection wilts, but before he can get too embarrassed about it Sakurai-sensei kisses one of his eyes and tells him it happens that way all the time. They take it slow, Sakurai-sensei checking before he inserts another finger and carefully scissors Nino open.
Then he bucks, scrambling for better purchase and panting out a moan, because Sakurai-sensei has touched something inside him that's lit every nerve on fire. And then again, and again, until Nino's blood sings and his vision is fuzzy. When Sakurai-sensei pulls his fingers out, Nino whimpers at their loss.
Sakurai-sensei breathes against his mouth, the muscles in his shoulders bunching as he moves over Nino and slides his hands under Nino's thighs, pushing them up towards his chest, and Nino thinks he should be more embarrassed at how exposed he is but he feels too good for that. The bed shifts as Sakurai-sensei plants his knees.
Sakurai-sensei's dick against his hole is nothing like a finger. The bluntness of it feels too large to be real, and Nino freezes up, his breath caught in his lungs. "Wait, I--"
Sakurai-sensei kisses him. Nino tastes the salt of sweat on his upper lip. They kiss again and again, languid, tender kisses that let Nino breathe. Slowly, the tightness in his chest loosens.
"Okay?" Sakurai-sensei murmurs. His hair has fallen rakishly into his eyes. He's still on the verge of penetration, holding himself as steady as he can on his elbows. There's concern written into every line of his body, and Nino knows that if he said 'stop', Sakurai-sensei would listen. He trusts him.
Nino nods, pressing their foreheads together.
It's so slow that every inch burns itself into Nino's memory. Their bodies rock, Nino sinking into the mattress, Sakurai-sensei's balls a soft thump against his skin. Nino feels messy, and dirty, his temples prickling with perspiration and his ankles locked low on Sakurai-sensei's spine. But the longer they go, the easier Nino's moans come, and the tighter the arousal coils, white-hot in his stomach. Soon, it's not enough.
"Faster," Nino pants, his fingers carding through Sakurai-sensei's damp hair. "Please." He kisses at Sakurai-sensei's jaw with moist sounds that echo the crude shluck that fills his ears each time Sakurai-sensei slides home. "Please." He tries to shove his hips up, to meet Sakurai-sensei halfway for more force, to take him deeper.
Sakurai-sensei shudders with a ragged groan, as if he's fighting with himself. Nino drags his nails down Sakurai-sensei's back and squirms. His dick bumps against his stomach, too sensitive, which just winds him up more. "Sensei!"
Sakurai-sensei's knees dig into the mattress, and he surges deep enough to shove Nino higher up the bed. Nino forgets about everything but holding on, digging his fingers into Sakurai-sensei's back hard enough to leave white marks, whimpering with each pulse of Sakurai-sensei's hips. Static collects in his veins, drawing him tighter and tighter, and when Sakurai-sensei takes hold of his dick, Nino comes like a bright light, convulsing as Sakurai-sensei keeps pounding into him.
By the time Nino is riding out the last stages of his orgasm and is opening his eyes, Sakurai-sensei shudders, holding Nino to his chest. Nino watches as his eyelashes flicker and his mouth opens to show the pink bed of his tongue. It's the first time Nino's been able to see his face as he comes.
For a long moment, neither of them moves. And then Sakurai-sensei reaches from some tissues to clean them up, dabbing at the drizzle of Nino's come. Nino doesn't expect the emptiness he feels without Sakurai-sensei's dick inside him, nor the fatigue that creeps up on him while Sakurai-sensei is disposing of the condom.
When he comes back, he tucks them both under the covers, cradling Nino against him. Nino can hear the beat of his heart from where his ear presses against Sakurai-sensei's naked chest. The scent of sex still lingers in the air like smoke.
Sex isn't what Nino had expected. It's uncomfortable and raw, and has left him sore and exposed and somehow still wanting to do it again and again. But it's also tender and unashamed, with moments of trust that seep in between them to leave a funny squirmy feeling in Nino's stomach.
Nino's pretty sure that Sakurai-sensei has a better understanding of love than he does, but this just might be it.
- -
Epilogue
Aiba's yearbook is dogeared, and some of the pages have been taped back in with loving hands. He looks back on high school as often as he can, claiming they're some of the best years of his life. Oh, sure, those that came after were great, too. Aiba liked his part time jobs okay, and marriage is great, and his kids are the cutest things, cuter than their two teacup poodles even when they draw on the walls in permanent marker.
Becky is pregnant with their third, and Aiba has never seen her more beautiful, even when she's throwing towels at him and having those unnatural cravings that always seem to happen when the grocery stores are closed. After all these years, he has never regretted that she has been the only one to share his bed.
Aiba doesn't see Nino as often as he'd like to, because Nino really did become an actor and he's on airplanes more than he seems to be at home. But when they do get together, Nino brings Sho (Aiba isn't allowed to call him Sensei anymore, which was awkward for a while, but Aiba supposes it would be more awkward if they kept calling him Sensei forever). Aiba is happy that they've somehow made it work. Sho is Nino's touch-down spot, the place he goes home to after sleeping in strange beds all over Japan. When they visit, Sho always has presents hidden in his pockets for the kids, and they play hide-and-seek behind closet doors while Nino steals tastes of things in the kitchen and shamelessly flirts with Aiba's wife.
Sometimes they take out Aiba's yearbook and look through all the messages, remembering Satomi and Meisa and Jun, and laughing at Nino's sulky picture that makes him look like he'd just woken up from a nap. Aiba misses those days, but he has to admit: things have turned out better than anyone could have hoped for.
…And he still keeps a condom in his wallet, just in case.
Nino discovers that not only isn't Sakurai-sensei looking on him or calling on him, but he's also avoiding him. He tries staying after class, but gets too many sidelong looks from students, and Sakurai-sensei strides out the door with quick footsteps before the room is even empty. Nino isn't one to play stalker, so he doesn't bother hanging around the main office.
But it doesn't take him long to figure out what to do. On Friday he cuts the whole day of classes and waits until after school when students stream out the doors into the winter sunlight, leaving for their homes and part-time jobs. When he walks in the door of his classroom, it's empty but for Sakurai-sensei, who is still at his desk, shuffling through what looks like homework. He looks up when he hears Nino, and freezes.
"Hi," says Nino, tugging his scarf down so it doesn't obscure his mouth.
There's an aching moment of silence that presses against Nino's heart. The whole room feels close around him, but all he can see is Sakurai-sensei's ruffled hair, the argyle sweater-vest that he wears once a week, and the worry-lines around his eyes that make him look more tense than he ever has before. "Ninomiya-kun," he says, and then sinks back into his chair, rubbing at one cheek. "I guess I should have figured you'd turn up. You seem to have an affinity for making surprise appearances each time you mysteriously vanish."
Nino nearly blushes, and he tucks his chin down into the warmth of his scarf to hide for a moment. The seconds tick by until Sakurai-sensei sighs. "I can guess why you're here." He indicates a seat. "Sit down."
Nino really would rather stand, because he has a sinking feeling he's not going to be here long, but he sits down anyway. The chair creaks under his weight. He doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything.
But Sakurai-sensei does the talking for him. "You want to know about the meeting, don't you?" His eyes are kind and keen at once. "Especially how it relates to you. Because you're right if you think that it does."
"That's why you've been avoiding me," Nino says, and Sakurai-sensei has the grace to look shame-faced. It's cute, Nino thinks inanely.
"The vice-principal was calling for my dismissal," Sakurai-sensei confirms. "He said that rumors like this bring a bad reputation to the school. He's right, of course. Who would want to send their child to a school with a teacher that has a reputation like that?" He smiles humorlessly.
Nino's mouth tightens. It's not fair at all. But he knows the way people think, and even if he doesn't like it, he can't argue against it. "You're still here though," he says.
"Yes," Sakurai-sensei admits. "I didn't expect to be, but here I am." He rolls his pencil between his fingers and looks off into space. "The principal stood up for me. He said that it would set a precedent if they let me go. It wasn't as if you had come forward and complained, after all, so they didn't have any proof." Sakurai-sensei gives Nino an inscrutable look. "And if the students could chase away any teacher with a rumor, there would be nothing to stop them starting rumors about any teacher at all. The vice-principal looked a bit shocked at that."
"I'd love to start a rumor about that nasty fart," Nino mutters.
Sakurai-sensei's smile is half-quirked with knowing. "So would I."
Nino is momentarily startled, but it changes quickly into pleasure: there haven't been many times he's been able to see Sakurai-sensei step out of his teacher role.
"But," Sakurai-sensei says, and stops. He looks torn, and he's staring at Nino in a way that's making Nino's heart beat irregularly with dread.
"But?" Nino whispers.
Sakurai-sensei rubs his chin. (It's a nervous habit that Nino noticed months ago, but he's been using it more lately.) "But obviously this can't work," he finally says. The words sound hollow, and yet ring with finality as they nail into Nino's chest, lodging there. "It's too dangerous for both of us."
Nino can't move. His feet are rooted to the floor, and his legs are stone heavy. "Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" he says, desperation making his brain fly fast, but he can't think of a single thing.
Sakurai-sensei shakes his head. He's looking kind, too kind, as all at once their roles settle back upon them, the teacher and the student. Nino feels the distance that grows between them almost physically.
"Okay," he says, and somehow manages to stand up. He bows, because it seems like the right thing to do. "Thank you."
Then out the door without looking back, but he can't leave his disappointment behind him: it rides heavy on his shoulders all the way home.
- -
Nino hates school. He doesn't raise his hand anymore and he doesn't even bother trying to pay attention. Aiba doesn't poke him in the back nearly so often, either, and when he does pass notes it's usually about their classmates' short skirts or an invitation to get curry after school. He's learned to avoid the topic of Sakurai-sensei, but Nino can still hear him thinking about it.
Or maybe that's just because he's always thinking about it, too.
It's stupid, he knows it. Really, mooning is cliché, like in bad dramas and foreign movies, but he doesn't have much else to do with himself, and Sakurai-sensei is right there after all. It's distracting, so he tries to distract himself from the distraction by looking out the window and thinking about games.
His grades sink. He gets three quizzes back with fat red penmarks up and down the columns, all with Sakurai-sensei's writing marking up the top with cookie-cutter comments like Let's try our best! He shoves each one into his bag and lets it crinkle into nothingness, smushed under his books.
The days get colder. There's snow overnight, and Nino trudges with frozen feet through the slush each morning. He mumbles curses about the school's dress code and their insistence that everyone wear loafers despite the fact that they have to take them off when they get to school.
Then one Wednesday morning Nino decides that it's stupid to go to school anyway. All he does there is imagine he were anywhere else. When his snooze alarm goes off for the fourth time, he turns it off permanently, rolls over, and goes back to sleep.
- -
Aiba stops by immediately after school. Nino expected him, but he didn't except Becky to come by too. He's a little miffed about that, because while he could convince Aiba into anything (and has many times), Becky is like a typhoon that won't take no for an answer. She lets herself in, takes off her shoes, and wanders into his mother's kitchen without being polite about it.
"What are you doing here?" Nino whispers in a furious aside to Aiba.
"We were worried," Aiba says. He's frowning, and Nino knows he's serious because usually when Aiba frowns he's trying to hide a laugh, but not this time. "We know you're not sick. Well, not sneezy sick anyway."
"I could have been," Nino says stubbornly. "Who says I wasn't?"
"Nino," Aiba sighs, and Nino instantly feels guilty. Aiba knows him too well for him to get away with faking it. "You didn't come to school on purpose."
"Here," Becky says, materializing at Nino's side with a cup of hot tea. Nino isn't sure how she found it or made it so fast, since she's never been in his house before, but it warms away a bit of the chill. She hands a second one to Aiba before leaning against the wall.
"Well, so what," Nino says, staring into his tea.
"We can't make you come or anything," Aiba says. "But we thought we'd stop by anyway."
By the time they leave, pulling their coats up around their ears and holding hands despite their fat gloves, Nino is feeling better than he expected to. Two hours with Aiba being Aiba is like an espresso shot of happiness, and Nino had been surprised at how well Becky had fit into the mix. She hadn't chastised him or lectured him once, but all her skillful teasing of Aiba had Nino laughing more than he had in days.
There's something to be said for friends, he thinks, closing the door behind them. Even if they're nosy and fussy and having a lot more sex than he is.
- -
Nino still doesn't go back to school. He plays games all morning, afternoon, and night, until he's trembling with exhaustion and malnourishment. His mother doesn't find out. She leaves at six in the morning for work and isn't home until after dinner, and Nino tells her school is just fine, thanks. Aiba comes by four times that week, sometimes with Becky and sometimes not, though it's usually when Becky is around that he gets food forced on him. It's not that he's shunning it, really, he just forgets when he gets all wrapped up in his controllers and characters.
Halfway through the second week, Aiba shows up with a yellow envelope and a curious expression. "This is your school stuff."
Nino shoves it to the side, barely looking away from the television. "I don't need it." He's decided he's going to do great things. There's no need for school. He's going to be an actor that steals hearts and offers them back with a smile that can twist anyone around his little finger.
"I think you should open it," Aiba says, unusually determined.
"Why?"
"Sakurai-sensei said to make sure you do. He was pretty insistent."
"Like I care," Nino says. Trust Aiba to bring it up. Nino pointedly plays his game in silence for the next few minutes, sending out signals of irritation in a bid to get Aiba to go away.
"Well, I'll open it, then," Aiba says.
Nino rolls his eyes.
"Hey," Aiba says, and when Nino ignores him some more, he speaks a little louder. "Nino, Nino you really need to look at this. Look." Aiba shoves paper in his face and Nino is momentarily disoriented by the blurry red that's obviously Sakurai-sensei's writing, because damned if he doesn't have a love affair with that pen.
Nino wouldn't read it, honestly, except that the word karaoke catches his eye. "What?" he says, and snatches the paper from Aiba.
He hadn't misread. It's a message that's not empty words of encouragement like a teacher is supposed to say to a student: it's an invitation. I want to talk to you. If you're inclined, come to the Big Echo in front of Mejiro station at 5 tomorrow afternoon.
Aiba is wiggling his eyebrows in a distracting attempt at being suggestive. "What'd I tell you? Eh? Eh?"
"It's not what you think it is," Nino mutters, letting the paper flutter to the floor like a leaf during autumn. "He's just trying to get me to go back to school."
"Then why would he want to meet you at a karaoke booth?" Aiba points out.
It all makes too much sense to Nino. "He can't very well meet me at school, can he? That's too suspicious."
"Sure," Aiba says, elbowing Nino annoyingly in the ribs. "But you're going to go anyway, aren't you?"
"No," grunts Nino.
- -
That had been a lie, and they both knew it. At five o'clock the next day Nino is giving Sakurai-sensei's name to a chipper, crisply-uniformed girl behind the desk, and she points him at the stairs after telling him Room 304.
Nino doesn't think too hard about what he's doing as he trudges up the stairs. He just puts one foot in front of the other and keeps his hand on the rail, and when he reaches the proper door he pushes it open without even giving himself a chance to stop and second-guess.
The room's lights are up. There's a basket of french fries on the table next to two microphones and the bright white light of the television is flickering faintly over everything.
And there's Sakurai-sensei. But it's not the Sakurai-sensei that Nino knows: he's dressed in jeans, which makes Nino's brain short-circuit just a little bit. "I see Aiba got my note to you," says Sakurai-sensei, who doesn't seem to know whether to smile or be serious. "Here, sit down."
Sakurai-sensei moves over, which he doesn't actually need to do because the bench is long and he's already halfway down it, but Nino plops into the seat without question.
"Fries?" Nino says, feeling an inane need to say something.
"What? Oh. Do you want some?" Sakurai-sensei passes the basket.
It's pretty surreal. Nino can't quite resolve the Sakurai-sensei in front of him with the one at school: they're clearly the same man, but Nino could easily pretend right now that they're not. It's almost like a date, Nino thinks, except he's smarter than to believe that.
"I'm okay," Nino says politely.
Sakurai-sensei eyes him a little too long for his liking, but doesn't push the issue. He puts the basket aside. "I'll get to the point then," he says. "Do you know why I asked you here?"
"To get me to go back to school?" Nino says, slumping against his seat, which probably makes him look sulky.
Sakurai-sensei hesitates, but then nods, slowly. "Your absence is being questioned by the board," Sakurai-sensei says. "You'll be expelled if you miss more school. But let me guess," he says, settling his hands on his knees. "What you're staying away from is me, isn't it?"
That stings too close to the truth. "I have plans," Nino says defiantly. "I'm going to be an actor. I could do it, too." The words are sharp and unpolished, and even to Nino they sound like an excuse.
"I don't doubt that," Sakurai-sensei says carefully. "But graduation is coming up. You could wait till then, couldn't you?"
"Why should I?" Nino says. "I don't need a certificate to be an actor. I don't need anything but myself."
Sakurai-sensei levels a look at him. "What would it take to get you to come back?"
Nino doesn't know. If he were to be truthful with himself, which he won't, he misses school. He misses Aiba's stupid notes and Becky twirling around corners, he misses lunchtime with the girls (they always gave him extra snacks) and drama club with its inanities and improv. He misses the stupid sound of the school bell, and he really misses watching Sakurai-sensei teach, so earnest and ready to laugh with his students.
But he's not being honest, and he just can't take it. "I've already decided," he says, and steals a fry from the basket before standing up. He's wasting his time.
Sakurai-sensei's hand catches his wrist and holds it tight. "No," he says, his voice more imperative than Nino has ever heard it. It's enough to take all his attention away from the eye-catching video promotions on the television screen. "I mean it. I… I'm not going to lose you like this," he says, looking unusually distressed.
"Lose me?" Nino echoes wonderingly. "You're the one who said it was a bad idea."
"It is," Sakurai-sensei says. Nino can see the inner struggle, and doesn't know how he missed it before. It's even more of a shock than seeing his teacher in jeans: Sakurai-sensei honestly wants him. "It is, I know it is, and I thought that was the right thing to do, but you stopped coming to school, and I didn't think I'd be so bad at handling that." The words come out in a rush of urgency. "But here I am."
Nino stares, frozen in place. Any minute now he's going to wake up, curse his subconscious, and mope around the house for the rest of the day.
"Come here," Sakurai-sensei says. Nino actually isn't given a choice about it, though, because Sakurai-sensei pulls him into his lap and Nino has to grab at his shoulders to keep from being an awkward tumble. He can feel muscle under his thighs and Sakurai-sensei's collarbones beneath his hands, and two seconds later Sakurai-sensei is kissing him and making no attempt to be polite about it.
Nino is caught in the whirlwind, his heart beating like the thunder of drums as his mind tries to catch up with what's going on. Before he can, Sakurai-sensei pulls at his hips, turning Nino forward so he's sitting between Sakurai-sensei's knees, Sakurai-sensei's chest pushing against his spine with each deep breath. There are lips on his neck, fierce and soft at the same time. Nino grips at the table in front of him, knuckles whitening. "Is this your bid to try to get me back to school?" Nino even manages to keep his voice even.
Sakurai-sensei splays one palm over Nino's stomach, holding him in place. "If you tell me to stop, I'll stop," he says.
"Like I could say something like that," Nino whispers.
Sakurai-sensei doesn't touch him gently. His hands are heavy and rough and drag Nino's clothes this way and that as they find the shape of his body beneath. Nino's nerves prickle with electricity everywhere that Sakurai-sensei touches, and when his palm goes right between Nino's legs and squeezes unapologetically, Nino stops breathing altogether. He's absurdly happy he didn't wear jeans.
There's a bit of a scuffle as Sakurai-sensei works him out of his pants, Nino lifting his hips to help until they're down to his knees. It's only an afterthought to look for the security camera. "Someone's going to see," he says, starting to doubt the wisdom of this whole situation.
Sakurai-sensei kisses his ear. "No one will notice from this angle." And okay, yeah, the table is in the way, but -
Then Sakurai-sensei's hand is on Nino's dick, and he stops bothering to worry about it, because oh. Nino stares. Just looking is almost as arousing as the handjob itself: Sakurai-sensei is pulling with long, pressured strokes, right off his tip. His hands are masculine, and look good on Nino's dick, better than Nino's own.
It's warm in the room. Nino wishes he had taken off his jacket, because he's starting to sweat, even with his pants down. A moan echoes through him as everything starts to build and build, and his dick aches wonderfully.
So it's incredibly disorienting when Sakurai-sensei just stops. "Use this," he says, and Nino can't quite believe it. He's holding one of the microphones up to Nino's mouth.
"You're dirty," Nino says with a frustrated pant. It echoes back at him, embarrassingly loud.
"The extra commentary isn't necessary," Sakurai-sensei says, sounding more cutely sullen than a teacher ought to.
He starts to pump again, and Nino's body enthusiastically answers, tingling with pleasure. With skillful hands, he coaxes sounds out of Nino's throat that Nino hadn't even been aware he could make, and each uneven gasp and groan fills the tiny room through the microphone. Nino hopes desperately that no one hears him through the walls. Behind him, Sakurai-sensei hums, and Nino feels his arousal under his hips. Nino isn't going to last long at this rate.
His orgasm comes hard and fast, rippling over his skin before his dick jumps and he comes in hot jets that splatter over the table, and then he's lost among the stars, his whole body fuzzy with relief.
Sakurai-sensei tucks him carefully back into his underwear after cleaning him up with a conveniently placed wet napkin, and hugs Nino around his middle. "Are you okay?"
Nino is great, actually. He feels like he's been on the rollercoaster from hell these last few weeks, but at least right now he's soaring. He's never had a more fantastic orgasm and he doesn't want to let go of it. "How am I supposed to answer that?" he mumbles, still a lazy lump.
"Traditionally 'yes' or 'no'," Sakurai-sensei answers, sounding worried.
Nino squirms, trying to pull up his pants. He leaves them unbuttoned but gets himself turned over enough to make eye contact and put his hands on Sakurai-sensei's chest. There's the intriguing promise of muscle beneath his shirt, and Nino lets his hands roam. "I don't know," he admits. "This isn't what I expected what I came in." Not that he minds. He very definitely doesn't mind.
"It wasn't what I intended to do," Sakurai-sensei admits, settling his hands on Nino's hips. "I was thinking we should lay low, until graduation."
"Wait a minute," Nino says, his eyes narrowing. Until graduation presumes a few things which Nino hasn't even agreed to, but he lets that slide for now. "You're not trying to bribe me, are you? That's not appropriate behavior for a teacher."
This doesn't seem to have even occurred to Sakurai-sensei. His mouth works for a moment. "That wasn't what I meant," he says, alarmed in that special way of his.
"Well, I'll think about it," Nino says with attempted indifference. "If you tell me five sexy things about myself."
"Five?" Sakurai-sensei sputters.
"I could make it ten."
"No, five, five is good," Sakurai-sensei says promptly, and Nino laughs until Sakurai-sensei finally figures out that he's joking. His face is priceless.
"I didn't know you were so gullible," Nino says. He wants to kiss Sakurai-sensei again, but somehow, even sitting in his lap, it doesn't seem like the right thing to do. He picks up Sakurai-sensei's hand instead, playing with the fingers, admiring the masculinity of them all over again.
"Let's not tell the world," Sakurai-sensei says, sounding resigned. "Though I'm fairly sure it already knows."
Nino hesitates. "Are you sure I can't visit your place on the weekends, or something?"
At Sakurai-sensei's regretful smile, Nino's hopes sink down to his knees. "That'll be the first thing we do when you graduate," Sakurai-sensei promises.
Graduation can't come too soon, Nino thinks fiercely.
- -
Nino doesn't tell Aiba. It's not that he doesn't trust Aiba anymore, because he does, and he's sure that Aiba would guard the secret with his life after what happened last time. But he also knows that the best kept secrets are ones never told.
He goes back to school the next day, after a struggle with his alarm clock and finding a clean pair of underwear. Aiba leaps up from his desk when he sees Nino and drags him right back out the door into the hallway.
"What happened?" he says, and then shushes himself when he belatedly realizes that there are ears on all sides. But his eyes beg the question.
"I got bored being at home," Nino says, punching Aiba in the shoulder. It's totally weak and Aiba might as well not even notice for all the attention he gives it. "You didn't visit me enough."
He's almost smothered when they go eat lunch with the girls. All three of them are happy to see him, and Becky even promises to make his lunch for him the next day, since he's stuck with cold cafeteria lasagna and bread.
"You don't have to," Nino says, remembering the incident with the cupcakes.
"No is not an acceptable answer," Becky informs him primly.
"What about me?" Aiba pouts. "You never make my lunches."
"You are such a mooch," Becky sighs. But the next day she brings three lunchboxes, and Aiba's has strawberries cut like hearts inside. Her look dares anyone to mention it.
Nino keeps his head down so she can't see him smile. It feels good to be back.
- -
There are lots of things Aiba wants to know, but he stops asking once he realizes that Nino's avoiding all his questions. For the most part, he's just happy that Nino's back in class and there to pass stupid notes to. Sakurai-sensei purposely ignores their transgressions, though Nino is more studious than Aiba has ever known him to be before. He takes real notes instead of just doodling in margins.
That in itself would've been enough of a hint that there's something going on, but plus Nino's sudden lack of emo waves makes Aiba sure that there's a story behind all this. He makes it up for himself, but he's pretty sure he's not far off.
- -
There are good things and bad things about going shopping with Becky.
More good than bad, admittedly. Aiba likes fashion, and Becky likes fashion, and when they go shopping they stay in each store for hours, picking through dangly earrings in the shapes of hearts and tarot cards and octopi (for her) and bracelets made of onyx and checkerboard tape (for him). And Becky is opinionated, but whenever she asks Aiba which scarf or t-shirt he likes better, it's always the one she buys. He loves it when she wears them because she always looks beautiful and he can say that he helped.
Admittedly he doesn't really understand the nail stickers (much less the nail feathers), but that's okay.
But there are a couple of things that Aiba could live without. The first is having to carry all her bags, because she buys a lot. The second is when she gets stuck in the changing room trying on outfits that would last her from Monday through Sunday. Like now.
"You're not done yet?" Aiba grouses, fluttering the curtain that's hiding an undoubtedly half-naked Becky from his view.
"You don't have a patient bone in your body," she retorts. "Why don't you go look at the mannequins or something?"
"That's boring," Aiba says. There's a thread on the curtain. He starts to pick at it, twisting it around the tip of his middle finger.
He hears a huff, and then the rings hold up the curtain clatter and Becky is standing there with her hand on her hip. She's trying on the Hawaiian sundress that was on sale at the front of the store. "You could do something helpful," she says, and hands him off three dresses that she must have finished with without showing him. "Would you put these back for me?"
Aiba ambles around the store, trying to remember where each dress goes. It doesn't take him long, since he'd watched her pick each one up. He's back at the dressing room five minutes later, scratching his nails against the curtain like a puppy. "Beckyyyy."
"What!"
"Let me in."
"Are you nuts?" she says, but she's distracted with whatever she's trying on and not taking him seriously.
The thing is, Aiba is serious. Serious enough to do go in there without invitation, and before he can even finish that thought he's opening the curtain and shoving inside.
Becky shrieks like a teapot and jerks around, hair flying in a whirl of ebony. She's got a dress in her hands instead of on her body, and Aiba gets an eyeful before she pulls it to her chest like a towel. "What the hell!" she yelps, walloping him on the shoulder.
"I told you I was bored," Aiba complains, though he can't say he's bored anymore. There are too many things to look at, from the emerald green straps of her bra (her bra!) to the swoop line of her spine reflected in the mirror behind her. This is much better.
"Just what am I supposed to do with you?" Becky sounds like she does when he slops tea on his pants.
"Are you all right in there, miss?" Aiba jumps, nearly whacking his head against a clothes hook. He'd totally forgotten about the sales clerks.
Becky rolls her eyes expressively. "Just fine!" she says, giving Aiba a warning look, and either the clerk believes her or is too polite to persist. They listen as her footfalls disappear under the store's trendy music. Aiba sags in relief.
Becky is still shielding her body with the dress. It's not a bad dress, honestly, but Aiba likes it better off her than on her. "So, what?" Becky says, keeping her voice carefully low just in case. "You're going to watch me change?"
Aiba makes himself comfortable on the changing room's ornate little bench. "Yup!"
He wonders if anyone else realizes how Becky has changed these last few weeks. Ever since they've slept together, Aiba has seen it. She's more confident in herself, and more confident in herself with him. He's noticed it in small ways, like how she'll kiss him goodbye at the end of lunch and how she's stopped getting frustrated at her imperfections. She laughs instead, and hides her face against Aiba's shoulder so he can hug her extra hard. She's softer when they're alone, and doesn't push off his hands if they wander too low or too high.
And now she's letting him watch her get changed, which one month ago would have been a pipe dream.
"What do you think?" she says, gathering the hem to put the skirt on display.
He thinks he wants to see what's underneath again. "Too long," he says.
"It's a mini-skirt!"
"That's what I said," Aiba tells her, preparing to be smacked. It's an old habit.
But Becky doesn't do it, she just shakes her head and says, "Boys," and starts pulling the dress over her head. Aiba watches as her legs lengthen, and her panties come into view, a pair to the deep green of her bra, and then it's her smooth tummy and both breasts rimmed in lace. He's in heaven.
And also a little bit of hell, because he's starting to get more turned on than he should in the middle of a mall. He tries to ignore it, but he's not so good at ignoring things, not when Becky is right in front of him sliding in and out of her clothes. It's an exhibition of all the places he loves to put his hands.
Surprisingly, Becky doesn't notice. Usually she has eyes in the back of her head where Aiba's concerned, but she's paying more attention to her dresses, clicking through the hangers and rearranging things. She hums along to the store's music under her breath as Aiba looks at her butt and thinks about putting his hands on it to feel the way it curves.
Aiba tries to remind himself that they're in public and it's a bad, bad idea. Really, really bad. Badder than sleeping with your teacher (not that he would ever say that to Nino). His dick informs him that it really doesn't care, and in fact, being in a dressing room is very exciting.
Aiba is only a teenage boy, after all.
"Becky?"
"Hm?" She's selected a polka-dotted thing with shoulder straps that tie up with ribbon.
Aiba catches the dress before Becky can take it off the hanger and puts it back with the others before he kisses the astonished 'o' of her mouth. "What," she manages to get out before he kisses her again, and then, "Aiba!" and, "Hey." He tucks her hair behind her ear, still trying to kiss her when she pushes both palms flat to his chest to get some space. "Seriously? Here?" she whispers, clearly having her own set of doubts.
Aiba's brain scrambles around all his lust to come up with something to say that will convince her. "I couldn't stop looking at your ass," is what comes out, which isn't ideal, but he gives it a squeeze for good measure. "If we're quiet, it'll be fine, right?" That sounds better.
Aiba feels her waver. He dots a kiss to her nose, which always makes her smile. It works this time, too, her lips shaping a tentative curl. "You're never quiet," she reminds him. But her arms go around his neck, however nervously, and Aiba cheers triumphantly within the safety of his mind.
He pushes Becky up against the wall, right next to the mirror, and this time when he kisses her, she kisses back. It takes a little more encouragement, but soon her nails are pricking against his neck by accident as she matches his fervor. His dick throbs pleasantly in approval.
It's rushed. He's pretty sure that changing rooms don't have time limits, but it's still looming over them: the clerk could come back at any time to interrupt, and that spurs Aiba on, pushing his hands right where they want to go instead of letting them detour on the way. Becky squeaks into his mouth when Aiba rubs at her panties, searching for wetness. When she suddenly stiffens, her mouth falling open to drag in a breath, he realizes he must have found her clit.
"There?" he murmurs, circling his fingers.
Becky doesn't fall apart, but it's close. She almost bites his lip, and she does bite her nails into his skin. It short-circuits Aiba's brain, and he pulls her panties down in a hurry, pushing two fingers into her at once. She's hot inside, plush and sticky, her muscles contracting around Aiba's fingers.
The way she rolls against him is gloriously wrong. She's making whimpering sounds that go right between Aiba's legs, and Aiba's impatience pushes him a step farther.
"Becky?" he says into her hair. He starts undoing his belt, trying to hold her up at the same time.
When Becky opens her eyes, she immediately sees the problem. She hesitates, though. "Do you have a condom?"
Aiba wishes so hard that he did. "No, but - even just by hand…"
"'Just' nothing." Becky's gotten enough of her breath back to grumble. She helps him with his zipper, pushing his clothes out of the way till his dick pops up, arrowing in her direction.
Aiba's forehead falls against hers when she closes her hand around him, and he shuts his mouth hard on a moan, willing all the ones to come after to stay locked in his chest. She works him with an eccentric rhythm, and Aiba feels sweat on the back of his neck and in his armpits as she stokes the fire. From the corner of his eye he sees them in the mirror, him bowed over her, her panties closer to her knees than her hips, his dick pushing into her hand.
His orgasm comes over him in a rush of glitter, sparkling behind his eyelids. He hears Becky shushing him, feels her still touching him as he empties himself all over her leg, but all he can do is hum as the tension and heat seeps from his body.
"That was the best orgasm ever," he sighs.
"I'm so glad. Now how about getting off me?"
Oh. He supposes he is sort of trapping her against the wall. He's heavy-limbed and loathe to move, but he kisses her cheek and sits down on the bench again, letting her busy herself with finding some tissues and getting herself clean. Thankfully, she has a few in her bag. When she's done, she tosses the wad of them into his lap. "Present," she says sweetly. He heaves a sigh when she pulls on her clothes, hiding all her pretty peachy skin again.
She peeks out of the changing room before she opens the curtain in a hurry and shoves him out, leaving the clothes she was trying behind her. When they get out into the main walk of the mall she finally slows down, covering her eyes with her hands. "I cannot believe we just did that."
Aiba giggles. "It was fantastic."
"I'm never letting you into my changing room again," she vows. But she's hiding a smile, and wraps her fingers tighter in his when he takes her hand.
Aiba is definitely going to start keeping a condom in his wallet.
- -
Winter starts loosening her fingers on the world. The mornings turn crisply golden, and the trees remember how to be green. Spring comes, with her rainshowers and her flowers and the music of the birds.
Spring is just what Nino has been waiting for, because spring means graduation.
- -
The day is as perfect as any day is supposed to be. The sakura are like raindrops, twirling through the air to catch in the girls' hair. Everyone is photogenic in their robes, smiling as cameras flash and parents laugh, and the world already has a nostalgic glow, as if everything has turned into a memory before it's even faded into the past.
In the theater the principal drones on about promise and potential and the wonderful youth of today, and Nino sits at attention and does a good job of looking interested even though his mind is far away. He, like everyone else, is thinking about the future.
Sakurai-sensei is there, sitting on stage amongst all the teachers in their formal black suits. Nino watches, butterflies flitting lazily in his stomach, as Sakurai-sensei claps after every poignant remark. They've barely had time to talk together these last few weeks, but on their last day of classes Sakurai-sensei had caught him before he was out the door. Nino knows where to meet him after the ceremony. They're going to go to Sakurai-sensei's apartment.
The wait is achingly long, but finally, finally, a cheer goes up amongst all the graduates, and hats tumble through the air. Nino is no longer a student.
- -
Nino knows where he's supposed to go, but getting there seems to be a problem. There are people everywhere, walking in his way. No one seems to want to leave. Nino manages to maneuver himself halfway to the campus gate when he hears his name.
"Nino! Hold up!"
When he turns, Aiba is threading through their classmates with Becky at his side.
Aiba catches his arm before Nino can protest and pulls him into a hug that crushes all his breath away. "We did it! We did it, you did it, we graduated!" He's nearly dancing, doing an awkward little spin and dragging Nino along for the ride, all his enthusiasm spilling over onto Nino. Nino can't help it - he laughs.
"Aiba-kun! You're going to smother him," Becky says, and helps detangle them. Aiba immediately wraps his arms around her instead, squeezing. They're so happy that light spills off them, and not for the first time, Nino is glad that they found each other.
"What are you doing now? You should come with us," Becky says. "We're going out for dinner in celebration."
Nino knows he wouldn't be interrupting. They've always had room for him. But there's someone else waiting for him, and Nino has been anticipating this day for too long. "Sorry," he says, not really feeling sorry at all. "I have somewhere else to be."
Aiba blinks, and then looks at him more closely. "Are you going to see Sakurai-sensei?"
"What?" Nino says, a moment of panic thumping in his chest. He knows he didn't tell anyone. "How did you…?"
Becky's mouth falls open. "Really? No." She looks at Aiba, and then Nino, her eyes blue and big and hopeful. "Really?"
"I know you better than you think," Aiba giggles, and then throws Nino an outrageous failure of a wink that makes Nino groan. Why does he have to have an observant idiot for a best friend? "It wasn't really hard," Aiba admits. "You never cared about graduating until you came back to school. And you started looking at Sakurai-sensei like that again. But don't worry, nobody else noticed."
"What are you hanging around here with us for?" Becky says with delight. She takes Nino's hand in both of her own and kisses him on the cheek, just a flutter. "Hurry up!"
They wave, Becky bouncing on her toes, before they vanish back into the crowd. Fondness envelops Nino as he watches them go. Idiot though Aiba might be, the two of them are the most awesome friends he could ever hope to have. He wishes them all the happiness in the world.
- -
Sakurai-sensei is waiting for Nino at an old café that takes so many backroads to get to it's nearly invisible. By the time Nino finally finds it his nerves are jumping all over the place, the lazy butterflies going mad in his stomach now. It's not that he's scared, exactly, but it's too easy to imagine something going wrong. What if Nino made a mistake?
But he hasn't. Sakurai-sensei is there just like he promised, and stands up when Nino walks in.
They don't say anything. There's really nothing to say. Nino follows him to the train station, and they ride to the part of the city Sakurai-sensei lives in, twenty minutes away. Nino only pretends to watch the buildings and smokestacks that sweep by outside. Every part of him is focused on Sakurai-sensei standing next to him. Nino can hear him breathe, an even in-and-out. When the train bumps, Nino sways closer to him until they almost touch. The air around them is so charged he thinks someone ought to notice, but nobody does.
Sakurai-sensei's apartment isn't far from the station. Nino counts every step, and shifts his weight awkwardly when they get to Sakurai-sensei's door and he has to pull out his keys.
It turns out that Sakurai-sensei's apartment isn't very large. Nino tries not to stare, but it's the first time he's been here and curiosity gets the better of him. The front room is tiny, things fit haphazardly into the corners. Nino couldn't precisely call it tidy. There are old newspapers on the table and a used coffee mug, a drip of dried coffee winding down one side. A huge shelf takes up one wall, stacked meticulously with CDs. Nino leans in for a closer look, and recognizes only a few of the names on the spines.
"Would you like a tour?"
Nino starts. Sakurai-sensei has taken off his jacket and loosened his tie and his top buttons, and he's watching Nino patiently. Nino's mouth goes dry. "Sure."
They look at the kitchen, which doesn't interest Nino at all, but he's not surprised when Sakurai-sensei informs him he uses the microwave more than the oven. The bathroom is like a closet with a shower in it, the toilet seat is up and the bath rug crooked. Sakurai-sensei hastily rearranges it. "Pretend you didn't see that."
When they walk into the bedroom, Sakurai-sensei closes the door. Nino hears it snick home, closing them in. Nino closes his eyes, but he can still see the bed waiting in front of them, the sheets turned down as if Sakurai-sensei had prepped it before he left that morning. Apprehension curls under his skin. He can't tell Sakurai-sensei he's never done this before.
Sakurai-sensei puts his hand on Nino's hip, and Nino feels all his heat bleed through his clothes. "Are you ready?" he murmurs.
Nino shoves down all his doubts, turning around in Sakurai-sensei's grip to dig his fingers into Sakurai-sensei's shirt, kissing him hard. He puts everything into it, all the minutes and hours and months he's waited. He doesn't want to wait anymore. He's full of energy, need tripping down his fingertips as he shakily tries to undo Sakurai-sensei's buttons.
Sakurai-sensei's chest swells under his hands, filled with a breath he almost doesn't let go of. He scoops Nino up, dropping him onto the bed so that the sheets bounce, and then crawls on top of him, his shirt falling open down to his navel.
The unhurried way that Sakurai-sensei strips him is maddening. First Nino's graduation robe, spread underneath him like a blanket, and then his shirt, which gets caught on Nino's elbows. Nino's nipples are already hard, and his dick is throbbing in his pants, waiting to be freed, but frustratingly enough Sakurai-sensei stops before he gets there.
Nino forgives him, though, because he sits up and pulls off his shirt, showing off a body that Nino is sure doesn't belong on a teacher. He looks like he could pick up two of Nino with no problem at all. The thought shouldn't turn him on as much as it does. "Do you work out?" Nino says, awed.
"Sometimes," Sakurai-sensei admits with a sheepish smile, but he doesn't elaborate. His thumb slides up Nino's stomach, and then over the valleys of his ribs, aiming for a nipple, and when he pinches at it Nino forgets entirely what he had been about to say, or even if he had been about to say anything at all.
Sakurai-sensei explores, and Nino is helpless under his hands. He leaves sore spots on Nino's neck that are sure to be bruises in the morning. Every move he makes is confident, and in comparison Nino feels lost. Sakurai-sensei tickles along Nino's sides, making him kick, and then licks a long stripe from his navel down to the button of his trousers. Nino is shaking when Sakurai-sensei finally helps him take off his pants.
But he's sensed Nino's confusion, and he comes back to kiss Nino's open mouth. "We don't have to do it today," he says, low. His palm is a heavy weight on Nino's stomach, rubbing in soothing circles that slowly leech away Nino's tension.
Nino can hear the clock on Sakurai-sensei's bedside table. It sounds slow against the racing of his heart. "Don't stop."
Sakurai-sensei frowns. He's about to say something else that's doubtlessly unnecessary when Nino decides he needs to be distracted and cups him between the legs. Sakurai-sensei's erection fills his whole hand, and when Nino rolls his palm, he moans. "Really," Nino says, as insistent with his voice as he is with his hand. He needs Sakurai-sensei to feel what he's feeling till he can't ignore it anymore. "I really don't want you to stop."
Whatever self-control Sakurai-sensei had been exerting seems to go out the window. He pushes Nino's legs apart and takes hold of his dick, stroking him with those sure strokes that Nino remembers from the karaoke booth.
When they're both panting, and Sakurai-sensei has finally gotten off all his clothes, he opens up the side table and shows Nino what he reaches for: lube and condoms. Nino nods, and wraps his arms around Sakurai-sensei's neck.
Sakurai-sensei uses a lot of lube, but Nino doesn't complain even though it drips cold tendrils down his skin and pools under his ass. He's too busy trying to relax. He can feel his muscles give, contract, and slowly give again as Sakurai-sensei's knuckle works in and out of him. It's not as hot as he'd hoped, and his erection wilts, but before he can get too embarrassed about it Sakurai-sensei kisses one of his eyes and tells him it happens that way all the time. They take it slow, Sakurai-sensei checking before he inserts another finger and carefully scissors Nino open.
Then he bucks, scrambling for better purchase and panting out a moan, because Sakurai-sensei has touched something inside him that's lit every nerve on fire. And then again, and again, until Nino's blood sings and his vision is fuzzy. When Sakurai-sensei pulls his fingers out, Nino whimpers at their loss.
Sakurai-sensei breathes against his mouth, the muscles in his shoulders bunching as he moves over Nino and slides his hands under Nino's thighs, pushing them up towards his chest, and Nino thinks he should be more embarrassed at how exposed he is but he feels too good for that. The bed shifts as Sakurai-sensei plants his knees.
Sakurai-sensei's dick against his hole is nothing like a finger. The bluntness of it feels too large to be real, and Nino freezes up, his breath caught in his lungs. "Wait, I--"
Sakurai-sensei kisses him. Nino tastes the salt of sweat on his upper lip. They kiss again and again, languid, tender kisses that let Nino breathe. Slowly, the tightness in his chest loosens.
"Okay?" Sakurai-sensei murmurs. His hair has fallen rakishly into his eyes. He's still on the verge of penetration, holding himself as steady as he can on his elbows. There's concern written into every line of his body, and Nino knows that if he said 'stop', Sakurai-sensei would listen. He trusts him.
Nino nods, pressing their foreheads together.
It's so slow that every inch burns itself into Nino's memory. Their bodies rock, Nino sinking into the mattress, Sakurai-sensei's balls a soft thump against his skin. Nino feels messy, and dirty, his temples prickling with perspiration and his ankles locked low on Sakurai-sensei's spine. But the longer they go, the easier Nino's moans come, and the tighter the arousal coils, white-hot in his stomach. Soon, it's not enough.
"Faster," Nino pants, his fingers carding through Sakurai-sensei's damp hair. "Please." He kisses at Sakurai-sensei's jaw with moist sounds that echo the crude shluck that fills his ears each time Sakurai-sensei slides home. "Please." He tries to shove his hips up, to meet Sakurai-sensei halfway for more force, to take him deeper.
Sakurai-sensei shudders with a ragged groan, as if he's fighting with himself. Nino drags his nails down Sakurai-sensei's back and squirms. His dick bumps against his stomach, too sensitive, which just winds him up more. "Sensei!"
Sakurai-sensei's knees dig into the mattress, and he surges deep enough to shove Nino higher up the bed. Nino forgets about everything but holding on, digging his fingers into Sakurai-sensei's back hard enough to leave white marks, whimpering with each pulse of Sakurai-sensei's hips. Static collects in his veins, drawing him tighter and tighter, and when Sakurai-sensei takes hold of his dick, Nino comes like a bright light, convulsing as Sakurai-sensei keeps pounding into him.
By the time Nino is riding out the last stages of his orgasm and is opening his eyes, Sakurai-sensei shudders, holding Nino to his chest. Nino watches as his eyelashes flicker and his mouth opens to show the pink bed of his tongue. It's the first time Nino's been able to see his face as he comes.
For a long moment, neither of them moves. And then Sakurai-sensei reaches from some tissues to clean them up, dabbing at the drizzle of Nino's come. Nino doesn't expect the emptiness he feels without Sakurai-sensei's dick inside him, nor the fatigue that creeps up on him while Sakurai-sensei is disposing of the condom.
When he comes back, he tucks them both under the covers, cradling Nino against him. Nino can hear the beat of his heart from where his ear presses against Sakurai-sensei's naked chest. The scent of sex still lingers in the air like smoke.
Sex isn't what Nino had expected. It's uncomfortable and raw, and has left him sore and exposed and somehow still wanting to do it again and again. But it's also tender and unashamed, with moments of trust that seep in between them to leave a funny squirmy feeling in Nino's stomach.
Nino's pretty sure that Sakurai-sensei has a better understanding of love than he does, but this just might be it.
- -
Epilogue
Aiba's yearbook is dogeared, and some of the pages have been taped back in with loving hands. He looks back on high school as often as he can, claiming they're some of the best years of his life. Oh, sure, those that came after were great, too. Aiba liked his part time jobs okay, and marriage is great, and his kids are the cutest things, cuter than their two teacup poodles even when they draw on the walls in permanent marker.
Becky is pregnant with their third, and Aiba has never seen her more beautiful, even when she's throwing towels at him and having those unnatural cravings that always seem to happen when the grocery stores are closed. After all these years, he has never regretted that she has been the only one to share his bed.
Aiba doesn't see Nino as often as he'd like to, because Nino really did become an actor and he's on airplanes more than he seems to be at home. But when they do get together, Nino brings Sho (Aiba isn't allowed to call him Sensei anymore, which was awkward for a while, but Aiba supposes it would be more awkward if they kept calling him Sensei forever). Aiba is happy that they've somehow made it work. Sho is Nino's touch-down spot, the place he goes home to after sleeping in strange beds all over Japan. When they visit, Sho always has presents hidden in his pockets for the kids, and they play hide-and-seek behind closet doors while Nino steals tastes of things in the kitchen and shamelessly flirts with Aiba's wife.
Sometimes they take out Aiba's yearbook and look through all the messages, remembering Satomi and Meisa and Jun, and laughing at Nino's sulky picture that makes him look like he'd just woken up from a nap. Aiba misses those days, but he has to admit: things have turned out better than anyone could have hoped for.
…And he still keeps a condom in his wallet, just in case.