Gakuto/Jiroh ♥ Love
Title: All the Time in the World
Pairing: Gakuto/Jiroh
Rating: PG-13 for boys kissing and Gakuto's dirty mouth.
Summary: Gakuto realizes that there's really not that much space between friendship and romance. (word count - 5429)
a/n ~ Fluff of the pure, unadulterated variety. This was written for hyatt_ayanami - I hope this doesn't give you cavities, babe. ♥
All the Time in the World
Mukahi Gakuto had not always been a student at Hyoutei Gakuen. He hadn’t always been considered part of the elite, hadn’t always felt as though he had the privilege of saying whatever he wanted and doing whatever he wanted. He hadn’t always been given everything he ever wanted and, truthfully, he still didn’t.
There was one common denominator between his old life and his new. That one little detail that had - so many times - been the only thing standing between Gakuto and life’s numerous bitter defeats and that thing was currently slumped against Gakuto’s shoulder, slumbering peacefully.
Gakuto frowned, nudged his friend irritably. “Jiroh. Wake up.”
The sleepy blonde made a soft, purring sound and shifted to drape his arm over Gakuto’s belly. “Mm. Dun’ wanna.”
Unable to move, unable to reach into his backpack to retrieve his bento, Gakuto nudged Jiroh again. “Ji-chan, get up. I’m hungry and I want to eat.”
Muffling his yawn against Gakuto’s shoulder, Jiroh smiled and nuzzled the little hollow his cheek rested against. Gakuto had such nice shoulders - truly, Jiroh imagined that they had been fashioned specifically for the contours of his face. “So eat. Mmm, you smell like orange candy.”
Mouth set in a grim line, Gakuto’s jaw tightened and he curled his hands into fists on his knees. It was bad enough that he had to constantly be aware of Jiroh’s state of consciousness less he walk away someday and simply leave his friend sitting all alone wherever they might be, but now he was interfering in Gakuto’s lunchtime. And that made for a very irritable Mukahi. “I don’t smell like anything and I can’t eat when you’re laying all over me now get up.” So saying, Gakuto nudged Jiroh much harder and with much more intent than before and experienced a very brief, very satisfying feeling of selfish success when his friend slid backwards to sprawl against his bag.
His triumph was short-lived, however, as Jiroh simply rolled to one side and went right back to sleep. Also note-worthy was the warm, taut curve of Jiroh’s rump pressed so comfortably against Gakuto’s thigh. He sighed, unable to maintain any real irritation where Jiroh was concerned, and reached into his bag.
There was a breeze - just enough to lift the edges of Gakuto’s hair - and when he glanced up again, Oshitari Yuushi ambled right into Gakuto’s line of vision. Just looking at him seemed to suck all the air from Gakuto’s lungs and he stared, transfixed, as his beautiful new doubles partner seemed to attract every bit of sunlight the sky had to offer.
And then he scowled, nudging Jiroh for no good reason other than he was feeling less than charitable over his fawning, girly thoughts. Imagine. Sitting under a shade tree waxing poetic over some slow-talking, smirking tensai who, incidentally, possessed the absolute finest ass in all of Japan.
Jiroh grunted. And then he giggled in his sleep. Gakuto chewed listlessly; he didn’t see a damn thing funny.
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Gakuto often thought about the day he met Akutagawa Jiroh. He usually only dragged this memory out, however, after he had snapped at Jiroh and had time to regret being such a shit to him. That moment - when he thought about it - never failed to make him smile.
The other kids didn’t talk to Gakuto the way he wished they would. Nothing he did and nothing he said seemed to earn him any friends and truthfully, Gakuto didn’t quite know why.
It was on his third day of his first year that Gakuto gave up on trying to make friends. Toting his bag outside, intending to eat by himself on the lawn, he told himself he didn’t care. Mukahi Gakuto didn’t need anyone’s acceptance and he reminded himself that other people usually only managed to hold you back in the long run.
He was still thinking about it even after he’d chosen a shady place to sit and while he took out his bento to arrange his lunch. He would have been horrified to know just how forlorn he truly looked and he’d become so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the three older boys approaching him from the direction of the school. Only glancing up when three pairs of equally worn trainers moved into his peripheral vision, Gakuto couldn’t help the scowl he offered - it was, of course, the only real expression he seemed able to manage lately.
“What do you want?” He demanded, fingers tightening at the edges of his bento. The expressions on the boys’ faces told Gakuto that this was not a friendly, social visit.
“That’s not how you address your betters, boy,” the big one with the buzz-cut sneered, earning himself a playful nudge and muffled snickers from his companion.
Gakuto stared at him for a long moment before offering him a sugary smile. “I’ll remember that if I see anyone who fits that description. Boy.”
Instantly, buzz-cut’s smile evaporated and he frowned. “Are you stupid or something?”
Selecting a grape and popping it into his mouth, Gakuto chewed lazily. “Or something. How about yourself?”
The boy in the middle, good-looking and blonde with a killer smile, nudged Gakuto’s knee with the tip of shoe. “Don’t be dumb, kid.”
Correctly assuming that he wasn’t going to have any peace in the spot he’d chosen, Gakuto began getting his bento together again. He knew he’d just have to find a better place to eat. “Well, I won’t. Your friend might get pissed off that I’m trying to take his job.”
The boy on the left, dark and quiet and looking a bit uncomfortable, said nothing. He stared at Gakuto, though, and didn’t seem willing to tear his gaze away.
Buzz-cut swore under his breath and kicked Gakuto, knocking his bento out of his hands and sending its contents to scatter on the ground. Gakuto looked up, eyes flashing and index finger smarting from the force of the boy’s well-placed kick. He didn’t let on that it hurt, though, even though it was already beginning to hurt like hell.
“Bastard!” He hissed, picking up his chopsticks case and holding it close.
The blonde grabbed his friend and hauled him back when he would have lunged at Gakuto and he and the dark haired boy dragged him away, cursing and spitting, likely seeking to avoid garnering a teacher’s attention. It was one thing to bully the new kid - quite another to get caught starting a scuffle.
He didn’t look up to watch them depart, though, and he missed the interested stare the dark-haired boy sent his way.. Gakuto frowned, steeling himself against the tears that pricked the backs of his eyelids and telling himself that he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter.
So absorbed in picking up his ruined lunch and fastening his bento again, Gakuto didn’t notice the new boy that approached and he shied away, startled when this new one flopped down beside him on the lawn. He sat close - familiarly close - and didn’t say a word as he began picking up bits of fruit and bread to stuff back into Gakuto’s bento.
Gakuto frowned, but he didn’t move away. “What are you doing?” He asked, voice harsh and just this side of hostile.
The boy looked up, eyes wide and blinking. “Mm? I’m helping you pick this up. What did you think I was doing?”
Gakuto scowled; he hated being the object of someone else’s pity. “I thought you were poor and had to resort to eating somebody else’s lunch off the ground because you don’t have your own.”
They were hateful words, and he knew it, but he simply couldn’t stop them from forming. He’d spent too many years sharpening his tongue as a method of defense and - to date - he’d never failed himself. The other boy only smiled, however, and slipped the strap into place, patting the bento as though it were alive and taking it from Gakuto to set it aside.
“Oh, no. I have my own lunch. See?” He held up a big, rectangular bento - bright yellow with Pikachu all over it.
Gakuto scowled and picked his bento up, shoving it back into his bag with no small amount of irritation. “Yeah, well…good for you.” He hesitated, eyeing the newcomer with a malicious glint in his eyes. “Aren’t you a little old for Pikachu, anyway? I mean, Pokemon is for babies.”
He regretted his words as soon as he’d uttered them as he remembered that his own bento was decorated with lots of lavender flowers. He hunched over, zipping his bag quickly and wishing he’d just kept his big mouth shut. Surprisingly enough, the other boy just laughed and began to arrange his lunch, balanced on his knees. “Silly. Everybody likes Pikachu.” With a big smile, he clicked his chopsticks at Gakuto’s nose. Along the side, beneath the slashy, hard to read text, were a parade of little Vulpix. When Gakuto didn’t answer, the boy scooted closer. “Don’t put away your chopsticks; I don’t have an extra pair.”
Gakuto shook his head, unable to follow this boy’s erratic train of thought. “What…?”
The boy blinked, swept his tousled honey-colored hair out of his eyes and smiled that easy, disarming smile again. “Wake up, new kid. It’s lunchtime!”
Suddenly, Gakuto remembered where he’d seen this boy before. They had two classes together. This boy had slept through the majority of both - and he was telling Gakuto to wake up?
“You’re weird,” he declared, taking out his chopsticks, assuming that his classmate was offering to share. He looked apprehensive though, and fidgeted with his chopsticks as he watched the boy pick through his lunch. The boy only nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I am, sometimes, I guess. But what do you care? You have someone you need to impress?”
Taken aback, Gakuto stared, speechless for a moment. “Uh…no.” Hating the uncertainty in his voice, he scowled, fingers tightening around his chopsticks. “Hell, no.”
The boy beamed, offered Gakuto his bento. “Good. Me either. I’m Akutagawa Jiroh. Just call me Jiroh, though.”
Gingerly selecting a rice ball and glancing up at Jiroh while he chewed, Gakuto swallowed quickly. “Okay. I’m Mukahi Gakuto.” There was no ‘nice to meet you’ because Gakuto figured only losers said things like that.
Jiroh nodded, spearing a bite for himself and tapping Gakuto’s chopsticks with his own. “Hee. Okay, Gakkun. It’s very nice to meet you.” Spoken around a mouthful of rice, Gakuto reasoned that the lack of table manners made up for the dorky greeting. So he decided to overlook it.
“Not Gakkun. Just Gakuto,” he corrected, trying not to take the bites of fish that Jiroh seemed to like best. He didn’t want to be beholden to this kid, no matter how nice he was.
Jiroh smiled, made a happy little humming sound as he worked around Gakuto’s chopsticks. “Ne, Gakkun. You smell like oranges. Oranges are my favorite.”
Gakuto didn’t answer, though he blushed a little. And he found himself sneaking little glances at his new friend throughout lunch. When lunchtime was over, Jiroh put away his bento and licked one of Gakuto’s chopsticks clean when the other lifted them absently. He laughed, and Gakuto was enchanted. He didn’t even object when the other boy slung a casual arm around his shoulders on their way back to class.
They had lunch together every day after that.
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Tennis practice was a real bitch that afternoon. Gakuto couldn’t keep his eyes off of Oshitari and, as a result, made several embarrassing mistakes. Shishido’s intense stare felt like lasers against Gakuto’s back and though he didn’t say a word, Gakuto knew that smug bastard was laughing on the inside.
Laughing on the outside was Oshitari Yuushi, who seemed incredibly amused by Gakuto’s lack of focus and let everyone know in the way he smirked and chuckled under his breath. His amusement, good-natured though it was, only served to further infuriate Gakuto. Did nothing phase the big, gorgeous, slow-talking, stupid, irresistible…
“Mukahi!” Atobe barked, interrupting Gakuto’s inner monologue, one hand balanced casually on his hip, the other holding his racket loosely. Tied around his shoulders was a lavender cardigan and he looked as though he didn’t intend to break a sweat today. Gakuto wanted to pull his hair. Hard.
“Gomen, Atobe!” He shot back, jaw clenched. “I’m just off my game today.”
Frowning, Atobe shaded his eyes from the sun and called out to Gakuto, “Perhaps you should sit this next one out, then.”
It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order - and Gakuto recognized it as such. “Whatever you say,” he muttered, shouldering his racket and stalking past Atobe, who was hefting his own racket experimentally and spearing Oshitari with a heavy, meaningful gaze.
Flinging himself down on the bench, Gakuto scowled when Shishido raked him with an assessing glance. “What are you looking at?” He demanded, annoyed. Shishido smirked and rested an arm on Ohtori’s shoulder.
“Nothing,” he drawled. Gakuto couldn’t help noticing what a stretch it was for Shishido to reach Ohtori’s shoulder - the little shrimp - and he smiled sweetly when he flipped his teammate off.
A tentative hand at Shishido’s elbow had him turning away and Ohtori stared at Gakuto for a moment before offering a hesitant smile. Then he, too, turned away, and Gakuto couldn’t remember why he’d been irritated in the first place.
Attention finally back on Oshitari where it belonged, Gakuto frowned to see Atobe and Oshitari engaged in an easy, almost playful match - complete with banter and matching smirks. Gakuto stretched a length of hair between his lips and chewed thoughtfully, determined not to fidget.
And then Oshitari laughed and the hairs on the back of Gakuto’s neck stood up.
A quiet yawn beside him pulled him back into the present quickly enough, though, and Gakuto cursed fluidly when he startled to one side. Shooting Jiroh an accusatory glare, Gakuto spit out his hair and wiped his cheek. “Damn it, Ji-chan, don’t sneak up on me like that!”
Jiroh stretched lazily, ignoring Gakuto’s venom when he leaned on the shorter boy’s shoulder and relaxed again. “Your hair is wet. Is that spit?”
Making a low, disgusted sound, Gakuto nudged Jiroh, though he didn’t attempt to push him away. He’d never admit it, but having Jiroh this close to him made him feel safe, comfortable. He wondered, as he watched his captain and his partner play, if Jiroh ever felt anything similar as a result of Gakuto’s proximity. He doubted it. Jiroh didn’t seem the type to think about those sorts of things. Unlike Gakuto, who thought about having other boys sit next to him like this on a daily basis.
“Gakkun?”
Gakuto nudged Jiroh’s knee with his own. Jiroh nudged back. Neither of them acknowledged it verbally. “What?”
“Oshitari and Atobe-buchou are flirting with each other.”
Gakuto nudged Jiroh again, harder this time, and it was not the intimate touch of before. “Shut up, they are not!”
Stifling a yawn, Jiroh made a soft, humming sound when Kabaji shuffled past, not even pausing when he tousled Jiroh’s curls a little. Gakuto didn’t comment, no matter how creepy he thought it was.
“They are, too. Look. Keigo always does that little hair flippy thing when he’s being flirty.”
Distracted away from his jealous rage for a moment, Gakuto arched a brow. “Keigo?”
Jiroh nodded, unperturbed. “Mm. And Oshitari knows it, too. See how he’s smiling? That means he doesn’t mind that Keigo’s flirting and his smile is how he flirts back.”
Fingers curling into fists at his knees, Gakuto frowned, eyes narrowed. “Yuushi smiles at me like that all the time.”
“Yes, but you don’t flirt with him like Keigo’s doing right now. Watch them, Gakkun - it’s like a dance.”
Stupid Yuushi. Why didn’t he ask Gakuto to dance? “You’re the only one who calls Atobe ‘Keigo’,” Gakuto pointed out, tone heavy with innuendo.
Jiroh shrugged. “And I’m the only one who calls you ‘Gakkun’ and you’re the only who calls Oshitari ‘Yuushi’ and Shishido is the only one who calls you ‘shrimp’ behind your back.”
Gakuto sat up, indignant. “That shrimp called me a shrimp?”
Jiroh tugged a strand of Gakuto’s hair. “Hush. There’ll always be somebody taller than you, silly.”
Gakuto frowned. He didn’t like the way this entire conversation was going. Yuushi and Prince ‘Keigo’ were flirting in front of everyone, Shishido had been talking smack behind Gakuto’s back, Kabaji had a crush on Jiroh and Jiroh was making too much sense, no matter how nonsensical he sounded.
“Why doesn’t Yuushi notice me, Ji-chan?” Gakuto asked softly, all traces of hostility absent just this once. “He has to know that I like him.”
Jiroh was silent for a long moment and Gakuto eventually glanced down, sure the other boy had drifted off to sleep again, only to find those soulful brown eyes staring up at him. Gakuto swallowed, almost blushing when Jiroh didn’t look away. “You should follow Keigo’s example, I think,” he murmured, meeting Gakuto’s eyes when Gakuto couldn’t seem to notice anything but Jiroh’s pale lips.
“Follow…how?” He asked, nudging Jiroh’s knee gently once again.
Jiroh nudged back, even more gently. “Take the offensive. Let him know you like him. Maybe he wants to be wooed?”
Gakuto frowned. “Wooed? That’s ridiculous - he’s far too aggressive to want that.”
Jiroh still hadn’t looked away. “Everybody wants that, Gakkun. You shouldn’t put people into categories like that. It never works.”
Gakuto fell silent, then, and Jiroh turned his head, pressing his mouth against Gakuto’s sleeve. His breath was hot. Gakuto glanced down at him, unable to focus on Oshitari quite the way he felt he should. “What do you suggest, Ji-chan?”
Rubbing his mouth against Gakuto’s sleeve, Jiroh looked up and smiled impishly. The tension, almost as soon as Gakuto had become aware of it, suddenly dissipated. “Bring him flowers?”
Gakuto snorted. “The only flowers that shameful whore would be interested in is a daisy chain and there’s far too few of us to pull that off.”
Jiroh blinked, considering this for a moment and then he smiled, snuggling against Gakuto’s side. “That’s an interesting thought, though. Don’t worry, Gakkun - he’ll notice you eventually. How could he not?”
His friend’s words would echo in Gakuto’s head long after practice had ended and, so consumed as he was by the odd feelings he was experiencing, Gakuto missed the way Atobe glanced over at the two of them, expression pensive.
The next morning, Jiroh didn’t show up for school.
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Gakuto was restless. He was restless and preoccupied and was annoyed with himself for being unable to pinpoint the reason. Surely Jiroh’s unexpected absence wasn’t enough to cause this sort of unrest in him - his friend was probably just sick or something normal like that. Doubly suspicious was the way he couldn’t seem to focus on the fit of Oshitari’s shorts or the way his partner leaned in close to speak to Atobe during lunch. Palm flat against the wall, the taller boy hovered over Atobe, coaxing small smiles and hushed words from his captain. As he wandered past, mind on whether or not Jiroh would need Gakuto to gather his missed schoolwork for him, he bumped into Oshitari who, in turn, bumped into Atobe and pinned him to the wall at his back.
Mumbling an absent apology, Gakuto continued on his way, deciding that taking Jiroh his books and assignments was something that a good friend would do. And he was Jiroh’s best friend - wasn’t he?”
He thought about it all the way to Jiroh’s house - their friendship and the three years that had passed since they’d met. It occurred to Gakuto that since he’d never actually told Jiroh that they were best friends, there was still the possibility that Jiroh didn’t know. It was strange, too, that until Gakuto had developed the rather inconvenient crush on Oshitari, he and Jiroh had never actually discussed crushes - girls or boys. Gakuto had always just assumed that he would love a boy someday, mainly because - when he was five - he’d wanted to marry his best friend, Shun. Jiroh, however, had never expressed an interest in anyone and, though so many people admired Jiroh, he never indicated a preference for any of them.
Well…with the exception of Fuji Shuusuke, and Gakuto preferred to think of that as just a simple case of hero worship. But Gakuto had noticed the way Atobe seemed to turn a blind eye to any transgression Jiroh might commit and it was hard to ignore the way his voice changed, softened, when he was speaking to Jiroh.
Inexplicably, Gakuto grew angry, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk while he trudged along, laden with enough schoolwork and textbooks for three sick Jirohs. It wasn’t fair - Atobe got everything. He got the life that Gakuto could only dream of, the popularity that Gakuto would rather die than admit an envying. He snared the attention of the only boy Gakuto had coveted in a very long while and he seemed determined to have Jiroh, too. Gakuto growled. Prince Atobe would steal Jiroh away over Gakuto’s dead body.
By that time, Gakuto was stomping along the sidewalk, wishing all manner of embarrassing social situations upon Atobe Keigo, and it was with a force he hadn’t really intended that he pounded on Jiroh’s front door.
After a moment, during which time Gakuto stood on the front steps and marinated in his own hateful thoughts, the door opened slowly and Jiroh appeared - all tousled curls and sleepy eyes. He smiled that soft, genuine smile that always told Gakuto that his friend was glad to see him and pressed his nose against the glass of the screen door. “Oi, Gakkun. What are you doing here?”
Gakuto shook his bag, wondering why he felt the need to yell at Jiroh for muddling his thoughts all day. “Duh. I brought your homework. What’s wrong with you, anyways? Are you sick?”
Pushing open the door, Jiroh held it open for Gakuto, who ducked in without hesitation. “No, I’m fine. What’s wrong with you?”
Hefting the bag and scowling, Gakuto found himself noticing Jiroh’s baggy t-shirt and the way it bared his collarbones and the delicate curve of one shoulder. Gakuto stared, mind wandering even as he tried to gather his thoughts into some form of coherency. “Uh…what? Oh. Nothing, Ji-chan. Nothing’s wrong with me. I just thought you were sick or something. I guess I was worried…or something.”
A slow, bright smile lit Jiroh’s face and he launched himself at Gakuto, hugging him tight around his waist and knocking his friend backward. The weight of the bag at his back combined with the force of one excited Akutagawa Jiroh was too much for Gakuto to withstand and when he tumbled backward with a startled yelp, he took his friend with him.
Sprawled on top of Gakuto and grinning happily, Jiroh smacked a wet kiss on Gakuto’s cheek. Gakuto frowned and tried to wipe it off. “Jeez, Ji-chan. You trying to kill me?”
Jiroh giggled. “Of course not. I’m trying to kiss you.”
So saying, he leaned in again and pressed another kiss to the corner of Gakuto’s mouth. This time, Gakuto remained still under Jiroh, eyes wide. “W-what?”
The look in Jiroh’s eyes - such happiness - made words difficult for Gakuto and he was silent as Jiroh hugged him again, just laying atop him for a moment. “Ne, Gakkun. I wondered if you’d ever say that to me.”
“Huh? That you’re trying to kill me?” Gakuto exclaimed, somehow unable to keep his hands from curling around Jiroh’s upper arms.
Jiroh only laughed. “Gakkun, you’re so funny.”
With one last squeeze, Jiroh shimmied off of Gakuto and stood, holding out a hand for his friend to take. “Sorry about that,” he said, sheepish. When Gakuto had gained his feet again, Jiroh began dragging him up the stairs, toward his bedroom. “Ne, Gakkun - I have something for you!”
Dragging the bag along behind him, grunting with the effort of getting it up the stairs, Gakuto allowed his friend to pull him along with almost no complaint. “Shit, Jiroh, what’s the hurry? You’re going to make me fall on my face!”
Releasing Gakuto’s hand once they were inside Jiroh’s room, the blond boy flashed a little grin over his shoulder, conveniently ignoring Gakuto’s admonition. “Sit down.”
Dropping the bag unceremoniously, Gakuto flopped down on Jiroh’s bed and watched him as he stood on tiptoes, reaching to the top shelf of his bookcase. He grunted as he stretched and Gakuto smiled to see him shifting his weight from one foot to another in an attempt to lengthen his body. “Close your eyes, Gakkun. It’s a surprise!”
Sighing, quite put out by all the unnecessary production, no matter that he really thought it rather endearing, Gakuto closed his eyes and held out his hands, as he was certain that would be Jiroh’s next request.
“Okay, then. Hold out your…” he trailed off, making a satisfied sound when he saw that Gakuto had anticipated him. “Ready?” he asked, voice lower as he’d moved in quite close.
Gakuto felt the mattress give beneath Jiroh’s weight and he nodded. “Yes, for God’s sake - before I graduate, if you don’t mind.”
Laughing quietly, Jiroh inhaled audibly before making an extended, ridiculous drum roll sound. Gakuto could not roll his eyes as his eyes were still closed - so he settled for a sigh of exasperation.
It was then, however, that he felt the barest weight of Jiroh’s surprise in his hands and he grew still, curious now. “Can I look?”
Jiroh nodded quickly for a few moments before he realized that Gakuto could not see him. “Oh! Yes. Go ahead.”
When he opened his eyes, he sat quietly for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was looking at. He didn’t understand the significance and, apparently, the look on his face plainly said so. He blinked in confusion, in concentration, and licked his lips tentatively. “Um…Ji-chan…?”
Jiroh fairly bounced in place, thrilled with himself. “Do you like it?”
“It’s a daisy chain,” Gakuto deadpanned.
Jiroh clapped. “Sugoi! You knew! Now you can win Oshitari-kun! See?”
Blinking silently, trying to prevent his brain from simply liquefying and leaking out of his ear in his attempt to follow Jiroh’s train of thought. “No, Ji-chan…I really…don’t see. I have no freaking idea what you’re talking about.”
Jiroh pursed his lips, as though it should be patently obvious what he’d intended. He rapped on Gakuto’s forehead, playful. “Helloooo. You said it yourself, ne, Gakkun? ‘The only flowers that shameful whore would be interested in is a daisy chain and there’s far too few of us to pull that off’, remember?”
Gakuto gaped, words completely eluding him. “Yes, but…”
Jiroh pressed on. “I thought it’d embarrass you if I asked the team to help make it, so I stayed home today and made it myself.” He paused, frowning, and glanced down at his hands. “I kept breaking the stems, though, and I got mad and threw two of them away before I finally finished this one.”
Gakuto shook his head, completely at a loss. “Beh. Third time’s a charm.”
Jiroh beamed. “You really believe that, Gakkun?”
Gakuto ducked his head, smiling to himself and trying to ignore the familiar, unsettling warmth in his belly. Familiar because he’d experienced it before. Unsettling because he was feeling it for Jiroh. Glancing up, he nodded absently, still wondering if now was a good time to inform Jiroh that they were, in fact, best friends and that Gakuto had no intention of allowing Atobe Keigo to usurp his place. “Yep. I really do.”
Seemingly thrilled with his answer, Jiroh leaned in, gripping Gakuto’s shoulders and pulling him close to brush a soft, lingering kiss over his lips. “Does that count? It’s the third one today, ne?”
Laying the wreath of wildflowers aside, Gakuto lay one hand on Jiroh’s shoulder. “Why does it need to count?”
Shrugging, Jiroh averted his eyes, obviously reconsidering his spontaneity. “I guess…I guess I just don’t want you to forget about me when you make Oshitari fall in love with you.”
Wanting to laugh, but somehow knowing that he shouldn’t, Gakuto squeezed his friend’s shoulder and leaned in to rest his forehead against Jiroh’s. “Dummy. You’re my best friend.”
Shyly, Jiroh glanced up through his lashes. “You mean it?”
After a moment of hesitation - a moment in which Gakuto was forced to acknowledge the myriad emotions that simple look from Jiroh induced - Gakuto lifted the flowers from the bed and balanced them atop Jiroh’s messy hair. Lips parted in surprise, Jiroh became quite still and Gakuto realized that - for the first time in a long time - he felt peaceful. Relaxed. Accepted. He closed his eyes, framed Jiroh’s face with his hands and bent to kiss his soft mouth. Upon Jiroh’s swift intake of breath, Gakuto lifted his chin, tilted his head and deepened the kiss, one hand shifting to grip the back of Jiroh’s neck.
Jiroh made a soft, entreating sound and, after a moment, slid his hands up Gakuto’s arms to wind around his neck. When Gakuto finally eased back, Jiroh followed, fingers seeking, gaze eager. “Gakkun?”
Grinning, thinking himself a complete dumbass for not being smart enough to see what he’d had all along, Gakuto hugged Jiroh to him. “Mm?”
Nosing at the curve of Gakuto’s neck, Jiroh made that soft, contented sound again and Gakuto felt as though his bones would turn to water.
“I think I should keep these flowers.”
When Gakuto didn’t answer right away, Jiroh continued in a rush. “I mean, not that I want to give myself flowers or anything, but I don’t think you should give Oshitari the wrong idea.”
Gakuto snorted his amusement. Jiroh was pushy and decisive in his own way - he wondered if he were the only one lucky enough to have recognized it. “Good point. It would be wrong of me to steal away Prince Atobe’s boyfriend. Especially since he won’t be having you.”
Jiroh laughed, that light-hearted, silly sound that made Gakuto so stupidly happy. “Deal,” he immediately agreed. “Except…”
Gakuto pulled back, indignant scowl firmly in place. “Except what?”
Jiroh smacked a playful kiss to Gakuto’s lips. “I wish I’d known about all this earlier. I spent all day on those stupid flowers when I coulda been watching TV.”
Gakuto just blinked, looking incredulous. Jiroh shrugged. “There was a Pokemon marathon on all day.”
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If Gakuto had been unobservant before he and Jiroh had linked pinkies and silently declared themselves an item in front of the entire school, he was even more so now, Oshitari thought darkly.
He watched the two boys, one so blond and carefree, the other so vibrant and intense, sitting side by side - high up in the bleachers - licking candy from each other’s fingertips and laughing over something that only they would find amusing.. Oshitari shook his head. He’d been so certain that Gakuto would be easy pickings that he’d taken his time in that particular seduction and was now, unfortunately, paying the price. Gakuto and Jiroh were inseparable and didn’t care who’s stomachs they turned with their constant canoodling and cooing at one another. Idly, Oshitari wondered who topped the majority of the time and, hopefully, whether or not the two boys would ever consent to a little three-way snuggle.
On the heels of that lecherous, satisfying thought, Oshitari grunted when Atobe elbowed him none-too-gently in the back.
“Do try to keep from salivating all over your jersey, Yuushi. It’s highly unflattering.”
Offering his lover a lazy smile, Oshitari rubbed his back, feigning injury. “Ah, you insult me so, Keigo. When you know that my thoughts are only of you.”
Snorting in derision, Atobe paused beside Oshitari and, certain that no one was watching, grabbed his ass and squeezed. Oshitari’s near-squeak of surprise was incredibly satisfying to Atobe. “That’s very pleasing to hear, Yuushi,” he declared lightly, strolling away from his lover casually, tapping his racket against his shoulder.
Oshitari grinned, watching Atobe Keigo walk away, and when he glanced up at Jiroh and Gakuto again, the two boys were making their way across the top bench. Jiroh walked ahead and Gakuto followed, holding securely to Jiroh’s bag-strap and strolling along as though they had all the time in the world.
Oshitari supposed, with only a twinge of regret for lost chances, that they did.
Pairing: Gakuto/Jiroh
Rating: PG-13 for boys kissing and Gakuto's dirty mouth.
Summary: Gakuto realizes that there's really not that much space between friendship and romance. (word count - 5429)
a/n ~ Fluff of the pure, unadulterated variety. This was written for hyatt_ayanami - I hope this doesn't give you cavities, babe. ♥
All the Time in the World
Mukahi Gakuto had not always been a student at Hyoutei Gakuen. He hadn’t always been considered part of the elite, hadn’t always felt as though he had the privilege of saying whatever he wanted and doing whatever he wanted. He hadn’t always been given everything he ever wanted and, truthfully, he still didn’t.
There was one common denominator between his old life and his new. That one little detail that had - so many times - been the only thing standing between Gakuto and life’s numerous bitter defeats and that thing was currently slumped against Gakuto’s shoulder, slumbering peacefully.
Gakuto frowned, nudged his friend irritably. “Jiroh. Wake up.”
The sleepy blonde made a soft, purring sound and shifted to drape his arm over Gakuto’s belly. “Mm. Dun’ wanna.”
Unable to move, unable to reach into his backpack to retrieve his bento, Gakuto nudged Jiroh again. “Ji-chan, get up. I’m hungry and I want to eat.”
Muffling his yawn against Gakuto’s shoulder, Jiroh smiled and nuzzled the little hollow his cheek rested against. Gakuto had such nice shoulders - truly, Jiroh imagined that they had been fashioned specifically for the contours of his face. “So eat. Mmm, you smell like orange candy.”
Mouth set in a grim line, Gakuto’s jaw tightened and he curled his hands into fists on his knees. It was bad enough that he had to constantly be aware of Jiroh’s state of consciousness less he walk away someday and simply leave his friend sitting all alone wherever they might be, but now he was interfering in Gakuto’s lunchtime. And that made for a very irritable Mukahi. “I don’t smell like anything and I can’t eat when you’re laying all over me now get up.” So saying, Gakuto nudged Jiroh much harder and with much more intent than before and experienced a very brief, very satisfying feeling of selfish success when his friend slid backwards to sprawl against his bag.
His triumph was short-lived, however, as Jiroh simply rolled to one side and went right back to sleep. Also note-worthy was the warm, taut curve of Jiroh’s rump pressed so comfortably against Gakuto’s thigh. He sighed, unable to maintain any real irritation where Jiroh was concerned, and reached into his bag.
There was a breeze - just enough to lift the edges of Gakuto’s hair - and when he glanced up again, Oshitari Yuushi ambled right into Gakuto’s line of vision. Just looking at him seemed to suck all the air from Gakuto’s lungs and he stared, transfixed, as his beautiful new doubles partner seemed to attract every bit of sunlight the sky had to offer.
And then he scowled, nudging Jiroh for no good reason other than he was feeling less than charitable over his fawning, girly thoughts. Imagine. Sitting under a shade tree waxing poetic over some slow-talking, smirking tensai who, incidentally, possessed the absolute finest ass in all of Japan.
Jiroh grunted. And then he giggled in his sleep. Gakuto chewed listlessly; he didn’t see a damn thing funny.
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Gakuto often thought about the day he met Akutagawa Jiroh. He usually only dragged this memory out, however, after he had snapped at Jiroh and had time to regret being such a shit to him. That moment - when he thought about it - never failed to make him smile.
The other kids didn’t talk to Gakuto the way he wished they would. Nothing he did and nothing he said seemed to earn him any friends and truthfully, Gakuto didn’t quite know why.
It was on his third day of his first year that Gakuto gave up on trying to make friends. Toting his bag outside, intending to eat by himself on the lawn, he told himself he didn’t care. Mukahi Gakuto didn’t need anyone’s acceptance and he reminded himself that other people usually only managed to hold you back in the long run.
He was still thinking about it even after he’d chosen a shady place to sit and while he took out his bento to arrange his lunch. He would have been horrified to know just how forlorn he truly looked and he’d become so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the three older boys approaching him from the direction of the school. Only glancing up when three pairs of equally worn trainers moved into his peripheral vision, Gakuto couldn’t help the scowl he offered - it was, of course, the only real expression he seemed able to manage lately.
“What do you want?” He demanded, fingers tightening at the edges of his bento. The expressions on the boys’ faces told Gakuto that this was not a friendly, social visit.
“That’s not how you address your betters, boy,” the big one with the buzz-cut sneered, earning himself a playful nudge and muffled snickers from his companion.
Gakuto stared at him for a long moment before offering him a sugary smile. “I’ll remember that if I see anyone who fits that description. Boy.”
Instantly, buzz-cut’s smile evaporated and he frowned. “Are you stupid or something?”
Selecting a grape and popping it into his mouth, Gakuto chewed lazily. “Or something. How about yourself?”
The boy in the middle, good-looking and blonde with a killer smile, nudged Gakuto’s knee with the tip of shoe. “Don’t be dumb, kid.”
Correctly assuming that he wasn’t going to have any peace in the spot he’d chosen, Gakuto began getting his bento together again. He knew he’d just have to find a better place to eat. “Well, I won’t. Your friend might get pissed off that I’m trying to take his job.”
The boy on the left, dark and quiet and looking a bit uncomfortable, said nothing. He stared at Gakuto, though, and didn’t seem willing to tear his gaze away.
Buzz-cut swore under his breath and kicked Gakuto, knocking his bento out of his hands and sending its contents to scatter on the ground. Gakuto looked up, eyes flashing and index finger smarting from the force of the boy’s well-placed kick. He didn’t let on that it hurt, though, even though it was already beginning to hurt like hell.
“Bastard!” He hissed, picking up his chopsticks case and holding it close.
The blonde grabbed his friend and hauled him back when he would have lunged at Gakuto and he and the dark haired boy dragged him away, cursing and spitting, likely seeking to avoid garnering a teacher’s attention. It was one thing to bully the new kid - quite another to get caught starting a scuffle.
He didn’t look up to watch them depart, though, and he missed the interested stare the dark-haired boy sent his way.. Gakuto frowned, steeling himself against the tears that pricked the backs of his eyelids and telling himself that he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. They didn’t matter.
So absorbed in picking up his ruined lunch and fastening his bento again, Gakuto didn’t notice the new boy that approached and he shied away, startled when this new one flopped down beside him on the lawn. He sat close - familiarly close - and didn’t say a word as he began picking up bits of fruit and bread to stuff back into Gakuto’s bento.
Gakuto frowned, but he didn’t move away. “What are you doing?” He asked, voice harsh and just this side of hostile.
The boy looked up, eyes wide and blinking. “Mm? I’m helping you pick this up. What did you think I was doing?”
Gakuto scowled; he hated being the object of someone else’s pity. “I thought you were poor and had to resort to eating somebody else’s lunch off the ground because you don’t have your own.”
They were hateful words, and he knew it, but he simply couldn’t stop them from forming. He’d spent too many years sharpening his tongue as a method of defense and - to date - he’d never failed himself. The other boy only smiled, however, and slipped the strap into place, patting the bento as though it were alive and taking it from Gakuto to set it aside.
“Oh, no. I have my own lunch. See?” He held up a big, rectangular bento - bright yellow with Pikachu all over it.
Gakuto scowled and picked his bento up, shoving it back into his bag with no small amount of irritation. “Yeah, well…good for you.” He hesitated, eyeing the newcomer with a malicious glint in his eyes. “Aren’t you a little old for Pikachu, anyway? I mean, Pokemon is for babies.”
He regretted his words as soon as he’d uttered them as he remembered that his own bento was decorated with lots of lavender flowers. He hunched over, zipping his bag quickly and wishing he’d just kept his big mouth shut. Surprisingly enough, the other boy just laughed and began to arrange his lunch, balanced on his knees. “Silly. Everybody likes Pikachu.” With a big smile, he clicked his chopsticks at Gakuto’s nose. Along the side, beneath the slashy, hard to read text, were a parade of little Vulpix. When Gakuto didn’t answer, the boy scooted closer. “Don’t put away your chopsticks; I don’t have an extra pair.”
Gakuto shook his head, unable to follow this boy’s erratic train of thought. “What…?”
The boy blinked, swept his tousled honey-colored hair out of his eyes and smiled that easy, disarming smile again. “Wake up, new kid. It’s lunchtime!”
Suddenly, Gakuto remembered where he’d seen this boy before. They had two classes together. This boy had slept through the majority of both - and he was telling Gakuto to wake up?
“You’re weird,” he declared, taking out his chopsticks, assuming that his classmate was offering to share. He looked apprehensive though, and fidgeted with his chopsticks as he watched the boy pick through his lunch. The boy only nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I am, sometimes, I guess. But what do you care? You have someone you need to impress?”
Taken aback, Gakuto stared, speechless for a moment. “Uh…no.” Hating the uncertainty in his voice, he scowled, fingers tightening around his chopsticks. “Hell, no.”
The boy beamed, offered Gakuto his bento. “Good. Me either. I’m Akutagawa Jiroh. Just call me Jiroh, though.”
Gingerly selecting a rice ball and glancing up at Jiroh while he chewed, Gakuto swallowed quickly. “Okay. I’m Mukahi Gakuto.” There was no ‘nice to meet you’ because Gakuto figured only losers said things like that.
Jiroh nodded, spearing a bite for himself and tapping Gakuto’s chopsticks with his own. “Hee. Okay, Gakkun. It’s very nice to meet you.” Spoken around a mouthful of rice, Gakuto reasoned that the lack of table manners made up for the dorky greeting. So he decided to overlook it.
“Not Gakkun. Just Gakuto,” he corrected, trying not to take the bites of fish that Jiroh seemed to like best. He didn’t want to be beholden to this kid, no matter how nice he was.
Jiroh smiled, made a happy little humming sound as he worked around Gakuto’s chopsticks. “Ne, Gakkun. You smell like oranges. Oranges are my favorite.”
Gakuto didn’t answer, though he blushed a little. And he found himself sneaking little glances at his new friend throughout lunch. When lunchtime was over, Jiroh put away his bento and licked one of Gakuto’s chopsticks clean when the other lifted them absently. He laughed, and Gakuto was enchanted. He didn’t even object when the other boy slung a casual arm around his shoulders on their way back to class.
They had lunch together every day after that.
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Tennis practice was a real bitch that afternoon. Gakuto couldn’t keep his eyes off of Oshitari and, as a result, made several embarrassing mistakes. Shishido’s intense stare felt like lasers against Gakuto’s back and though he didn’t say a word, Gakuto knew that smug bastard was laughing on the inside.
Laughing on the outside was Oshitari Yuushi, who seemed incredibly amused by Gakuto’s lack of focus and let everyone know in the way he smirked and chuckled under his breath. His amusement, good-natured though it was, only served to further infuriate Gakuto. Did nothing phase the big, gorgeous, slow-talking, stupid, irresistible…
“Mukahi!” Atobe barked, interrupting Gakuto’s inner monologue, one hand balanced casually on his hip, the other holding his racket loosely. Tied around his shoulders was a lavender cardigan and he looked as though he didn’t intend to break a sweat today. Gakuto wanted to pull his hair. Hard.
“Gomen, Atobe!” He shot back, jaw clenched. “I’m just off my game today.”
Frowning, Atobe shaded his eyes from the sun and called out to Gakuto, “Perhaps you should sit this next one out, then.”
It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order - and Gakuto recognized it as such. “Whatever you say,” he muttered, shouldering his racket and stalking past Atobe, who was hefting his own racket experimentally and spearing Oshitari with a heavy, meaningful gaze.
Flinging himself down on the bench, Gakuto scowled when Shishido raked him with an assessing glance. “What are you looking at?” He demanded, annoyed. Shishido smirked and rested an arm on Ohtori’s shoulder.
“Nothing,” he drawled. Gakuto couldn’t help noticing what a stretch it was for Shishido to reach Ohtori’s shoulder - the little shrimp - and he smiled sweetly when he flipped his teammate off.
A tentative hand at Shishido’s elbow had him turning away and Ohtori stared at Gakuto for a moment before offering a hesitant smile. Then he, too, turned away, and Gakuto couldn’t remember why he’d been irritated in the first place.
Attention finally back on Oshitari where it belonged, Gakuto frowned to see Atobe and Oshitari engaged in an easy, almost playful match - complete with banter and matching smirks. Gakuto stretched a length of hair between his lips and chewed thoughtfully, determined not to fidget.
And then Oshitari laughed and the hairs on the back of Gakuto’s neck stood up.
A quiet yawn beside him pulled him back into the present quickly enough, though, and Gakuto cursed fluidly when he startled to one side. Shooting Jiroh an accusatory glare, Gakuto spit out his hair and wiped his cheek. “Damn it, Ji-chan, don’t sneak up on me like that!”
Jiroh stretched lazily, ignoring Gakuto’s venom when he leaned on the shorter boy’s shoulder and relaxed again. “Your hair is wet. Is that spit?”
Making a low, disgusted sound, Gakuto nudged Jiroh, though he didn’t attempt to push him away. He’d never admit it, but having Jiroh this close to him made him feel safe, comfortable. He wondered, as he watched his captain and his partner play, if Jiroh ever felt anything similar as a result of Gakuto’s proximity. He doubted it. Jiroh didn’t seem the type to think about those sorts of things. Unlike Gakuto, who thought about having other boys sit next to him like this on a daily basis.
“Gakkun?”
Gakuto nudged Jiroh’s knee with his own. Jiroh nudged back. Neither of them acknowledged it verbally. “What?”
“Oshitari and Atobe-buchou are flirting with each other.”
Gakuto nudged Jiroh again, harder this time, and it was not the intimate touch of before. “Shut up, they are not!”
Stifling a yawn, Jiroh made a soft, humming sound when Kabaji shuffled past, not even pausing when he tousled Jiroh’s curls a little. Gakuto didn’t comment, no matter how creepy he thought it was.
“They are, too. Look. Keigo always does that little hair flippy thing when he’s being flirty.”
Distracted away from his jealous rage for a moment, Gakuto arched a brow. “Keigo?”
Jiroh nodded, unperturbed. “Mm. And Oshitari knows it, too. See how he’s smiling? That means he doesn’t mind that Keigo’s flirting and his smile is how he flirts back.”
Fingers curling into fists at his knees, Gakuto frowned, eyes narrowed. “Yuushi smiles at me like that all the time.”
“Yes, but you don’t flirt with him like Keigo’s doing right now. Watch them, Gakkun - it’s like a dance.”
Stupid Yuushi. Why didn’t he ask Gakuto to dance? “You’re the only one who calls Atobe ‘Keigo’,” Gakuto pointed out, tone heavy with innuendo.
Jiroh shrugged. “And I’m the only one who calls you ‘Gakkun’ and you’re the only who calls Oshitari ‘Yuushi’ and Shishido is the only one who calls you ‘shrimp’ behind your back.”
Gakuto sat up, indignant. “That shrimp called me a shrimp?”
Jiroh tugged a strand of Gakuto’s hair. “Hush. There’ll always be somebody taller than you, silly.”
Gakuto frowned. He didn’t like the way this entire conversation was going. Yuushi and Prince ‘Keigo’ were flirting in front of everyone, Shishido had been talking smack behind Gakuto’s back, Kabaji had a crush on Jiroh and Jiroh was making too much sense, no matter how nonsensical he sounded.
“Why doesn’t Yuushi notice me, Ji-chan?” Gakuto asked softly, all traces of hostility absent just this once. “He has to know that I like him.”
Jiroh was silent for a long moment and Gakuto eventually glanced down, sure the other boy had drifted off to sleep again, only to find those soulful brown eyes staring up at him. Gakuto swallowed, almost blushing when Jiroh didn’t look away. “You should follow Keigo’s example, I think,” he murmured, meeting Gakuto’s eyes when Gakuto couldn’t seem to notice anything but Jiroh’s pale lips.
“Follow…how?” He asked, nudging Jiroh’s knee gently once again.
Jiroh nudged back, even more gently. “Take the offensive. Let him know you like him. Maybe he wants to be wooed?”
Gakuto frowned. “Wooed? That’s ridiculous - he’s far too aggressive to want that.”
Jiroh still hadn’t looked away. “Everybody wants that, Gakkun. You shouldn’t put people into categories like that. It never works.”
Gakuto fell silent, then, and Jiroh turned his head, pressing his mouth against Gakuto’s sleeve. His breath was hot. Gakuto glanced down at him, unable to focus on Oshitari quite the way he felt he should. “What do you suggest, Ji-chan?”
Rubbing his mouth against Gakuto’s sleeve, Jiroh looked up and smiled impishly. The tension, almost as soon as Gakuto had become aware of it, suddenly dissipated. “Bring him flowers?”
Gakuto snorted. “The only flowers that shameful whore would be interested in is a daisy chain and there’s far too few of us to pull that off.”
Jiroh blinked, considering this for a moment and then he smiled, snuggling against Gakuto’s side. “That’s an interesting thought, though. Don’t worry, Gakkun - he’ll notice you eventually. How could he not?”
His friend’s words would echo in Gakuto’s head long after practice had ended and, so consumed as he was by the odd feelings he was experiencing, Gakuto missed the way Atobe glanced over at the two of them, expression pensive.
The next morning, Jiroh didn’t show up for school.
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Gakuto was restless. He was restless and preoccupied and was annoyed with himself for being unable to pinpoint the reason. Surely Jiroh’s unexpected absence wasn’t enough to cause this sort of unrest in him - his friend was probably just sick or something normal like that. Doubly suspicious was the way he couldn’t seem to focus on the fit of Oshitari’s shorts or the way his partner leaned in close to speak to Atobe during lunch. Palm flat against the wall, the taller boy hovered over Atobe, coaxing small smiles and hushed words from his captain. As he wandered past, mind on whether or not Jiroh would need Gakuto to gather his missed schoolwork for him, he bumped into Oshitari who, in turn, bumped into Atobe and pinned him to the wall at his back.
Mumbling an absent apology, Gakuto continued on his way, deciding that taking Jiroh his books and assignments was something that a good friend would do. And he was Jiroh’s best friend - wasn’t he?”
He thought about it all the way to Jiroh’s house - their friendship and the three years that had passed since they’d met. It occurred to Gakuto that since he’d never actually told Jiroh that they were best friends, there was still the possibility that Jiroh didn’t know. It was strange, too, that until Gakuto had developed the rather inconvenient crush on Oshitari, he and Jiroh had never actually discussed crushes - girls or boys. Gakuto had always just assumed that he would love a boy someday, mainly because - when he was five - he’d wanted to marry his best friend, Shun. Jiroh, however, had never expressed an interest in anyone and, though so many people admired Jiroh, he never indicated a preference for any of them.
Well…with the exception of Fuji Shuusuke, and Gakuto preferred to think of that as just a simple case of hero worship. But Gakuto had noticed the way Atobe seemed to turn a blind eye to any transgression Jiroh might commit and it was hard to ignore the way his voice changed, softened, when he was speaking to Jiroh.
Inexplicably, Gakuto grew angry, kicking at a pebble on the sidewalk while he trudged along, laden with enough schoolwork and textbooks for three sick Jirohs. It wasn’t fair - Atobe got everything. He got the life that Gakuto could only dream of, the popularity that Gakuto would rather die than admit an envying. He snared the attention of the only boy Gakuto had coveted in a very long while and he seemed determined to have Jiroh, too. Gakuto growled. Prince Atobe would steal Jiroh away over Gakuto’s dead body.
By that time, Gakuto was stomping along the sidewalk, wishing all manner of embarrassing social situations upon Atobe Keigo, and it was with a force he hadn’t really intended that he pounded on Jiroh’s front door.
After a moment, during which time Gakuto stood on the front steps and marinated in his own hateful thoughts, the door opened slowly and Jiroh appeared - all tousled curls and sleepy eyes. He smiled that soft, genuine smile that always told Gakuto that his friend was glad to see him and pressed his nose against the glass of the screen door. “Oi, Gakkun. What are you doing here?”
Gakuto shook his bag, wondering why he felt the need to yell at Jiroh for muddling his thoughts all day. “Duh. I brought your homework. What’s wrong with you, anyways? Are you sick?”
Pushing open the door, Jiroh held it open for Gakuto, who ducked in without hesitation. “No, I’m fine. What’s wrong with you?”
Hefting the bag and scowling, Gakuto found himself noticing Jiroh’s baggy t-shirt and the way it bared his collarbones and the delicate curve of one shoulder. Gakuto stared, mind wandering even as he tried to gather his thoughts into some form of coherency. “Uh…what? Oh. Nothing, Ji-chan. Nothing’s wrong with me. I just thought you were sick or something. I guess I was worried…or something.”
A slow, bright smile lit Jiroh’s face and he launched himself at Gakuto, hugging him tight around his waist and knocking his friend backward. The weight of the bag at his back combined with the force of one excited Akutagawa Jiroh was too much for Gakuto to withstand and when he tumbled backward with a startled yelp, he took his friend with him.
Sprawled on top of Gakuto and grinning happily, Jiroh smacked a wet kiss on Gakuto’s cheek. Gakuto frowned and tried to wipe it off. “Jeez, Ji-chan. You trying to kill me?”
Jiroh giggled. “Of course not. I’m trying to kiss you.”
So saying, he leaned in again and pressed another kiss to the corner of Gakuto’s mouth. This time, Gakuto remained still under Jiroh, eyes wide. “W-what?”
The look in Jiroh’s eyes - such happiness - made words difficult for Gakuto and he was silent as Jiroh hugged him again, just laying atop him for a moment. “Ne, Gakkun. I wondered if you’d ever say that to me.”
“Huh? That you’re trying to kill me?” Gakuto exclaimed, somehow unable to keep his hands from curling around Jiroh’s upper arms.
Jiroh only laughed. “Gakkun, you’re so funny.”
With one last squeeze, Jiroh shimmied off of Gakuto and stood, holding out a hand for his friend to take. “Sorry about that,” he said, sheepish. When Gakuto had gained his feet again, Jiroh began dragging him up the stairs, toward his bedroom. “Ne, Gakkun - I have something for you!”
Dragging the bag along behind him, grunting with the effort of getting it up the stairs, Gakuto allowed his friend to pull him along with almost no complaint. “Shit, Jiroh, what’s the hurry? You’re going to make me fall on my face!”
Releasing Gakuto’s hand once they were inside Jiroh’s room, the blond boy flashed a little grin over his shoulder, conveniently ignoring Gakuto’s admonition. “Sit down.”
Dropping the bag unceremoniously, Gakuto flopped down on Jiroh’s bed and watched him as he stood on tiptoes, reaching to the top shelf of his bookcase. He grunted as he stretched and Gakuto smiled to see him shifting his weight from one foot to another in an attempt to lengthen his body. “Close your eyes, Gakkun. It’s a surprise!”
Sighing, quite put out by all the unnecessary production, no matter that he really thought it rather endearing, Gakuto closed his eyes and held out his hands, as he was certain that would be Jiroh’s next request.
“Okay, then. Hold out your…” he trailed off, making a satisfied sound when he saw that Gakuto had anticipated him. “Ready?” he asked, voice lower as he’d moved in quite close.
Gakuto felt the mattress give beneath Jiroh’s weight and he nodded. “Yes, for God’s sake - before I graduate, if you don’t mind.”
Laughing quietly, Jiroh inhaled audibly before making an extended, ridiculous drum roll sound. Gakuto could not roll his eyes as his eyes were still closed - so he settled for a sigh of exasperation.
It was then, however, that he felt the barest weight of Jiroh’s surprise in his hands and he grew still, curious now. “Can I look?”
Jiroh nodded quickly for a few moments before he realized that Gakuto could not see him. “Oh! Yes. Go ahead.”
When he opened his eyes, he sat quietly for a moment, trying to make sense of what he was looking at. He didn’t understand the significance and, apparently, the look on his face plainly said so. He blinked in confusion, in concentration, and licked his lips tentatively. “Um…Ji-chan…?”
Jiroh fairly bounced in place, thrilled with himself. “Do you like it?”
“It’s a daisy chain,” Gakuto deadpanned.
Jiroh clapped. “Sugoi! You knew! Now you can win Oshitari-kun! See?”
Blinking silently, trying to prevent his brain from simply liquefying and leaking out of his ear in his attempt to follow Jiroh’s train of thought. “No, Ji-chan…I really…don’t see. I have no freaking idea what you’re talking about.”
Jiroh pursed his lips, as though it should be patently obvious what he’d intended. He rapped on Gakuto’s forehead, playful. “Helloooo. You said it yourself, ne, Gakkun? ‘The only flowers that shameful whore would be interested in is a daisy chain and there’s far too few of us to pull that off’, remember?”
Gakuto gaped, words completely eluding him. “Yes, but…”
Jiroh pressed on. “I thought it’d embarrass you if I asked the team to help make it, so I stayed home today and made it myself.” He paused, frowning, and glanced down at his hands. “I kept breaking the stems, though, and I got mad and threw two of them away before I finally finished this one.”
Gakuto shook his head, completely at a loss. “Beh. Third time’s a charm.”
Jiroh beamed. “You really believe that, Gakkun?”
Gakuto ducked his head, smiling to himself and trying to ignore the familiar, unsettling warmth in his belly. Familiar because he’d experienced it before. Unsettling because he was feeling it for Jiroh. Glancing up, he nodded absently, still wondering if now was a good time to inform Jiroh that they were, in fact, best friends and that Gakuto had no intention of allowing Atobe Keigo to usurp his place. “Yep. I really do.”
Seemingly thrilled with his answer, Jiroh leaned in, gripping Gakuto’s shoulders and pulling him close to brush a soft, lingering kiss over his lips. “Does that count? It’s the third one today, ne?”
Laying the wreath of wildflowers aside, Gakuto lay one hand on Jiroh’s shoulder. “Why does it need to count?”
Shrugging, Jiroh averted his eyes, obviously reconsidering his spontaneity. “I guess…I guess I just don’t want you to forget about me when you make Oshitari fall in love with you.”
Wanting to laugh, but somehow knowing that he shouldn’t, Gakuto squeezed his friend’s shoulder and leaned in to rest his forehead against Jiroh’s. “Dummy. You’re my best friend.”
Shyly, Jiroh glanced up through his lashes. “You mean it?”
After a moment of hesitation - a moment in which Gakuto was forced to acknowledge the myriad emotions that simple look from Jiroh induced - Gakuto lifted the flowers from the bed and balanced them atop Jiroh’s messy hair. Lips parted in surprise, Jiroh became quite still and Gakuto realized that - for the first time in a long time - he felt peaceful. Relaxed. Accepted. He closed his eyes, framed Jiroh’s face with his hands and bent to kiss his soft mouth. Upon Jiroh’s swift intake of breath, Gakuto lifted his chin, tilted his head and deepened the kiss, one hand shifting to grip the back of Jiroh’s neck.
Jiroh made a soft, entreating sound and, after a moment, slid his hands up Gakuto’s arms to wind around his neck. When Gakuto finally eased back, Jiroh followed, fingers seeking, gaze eager. “Gakkun?”
Grinning, thinking himself a complete dumbass for not being smart enough to see what he’d had all along, Gakuto hugged Jiroh to him. “Mm?”
Nosing at the curve of Gakuto’s neck, Jiroh made that soft, contented sound again and Gakuto felt as though his bones would turn to water.
“I think I should keep these flowers.”
When Gakuto didn’t answer right away, Jiroh continued in a rush. “I mean, not that I want to give myself flowers or anything, but I don’t think you should give Oshitari the wrong idea.”
Gakuto snorted his amusement. Jiroh was pushy and decisive in his own way - he wondered if he were the only one lucky enough to have recognized it. “Good point. It would be wrong of me to steal away Prince Atobe’s boyfriend. Especially since he won’t be having you.”
Jiroh laughed, that light-hearted, silly sound that made Gakuto so stupidly happy. “Deal,” he immediately agreed. “Except…”
Gakuto pulled back, indignant scowl firmly in place. “Except what?”
Jiroh smacked a playful kiss to Gakuto’s lips. “I wish I’d known about all this earlier. I spent all day on those stupid flowers when I coulda been watching TV.”
Gakuto just blinked, looking incredulous. Jiroh shrugged. “There was a Pokemon marathon on all day.”
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
If Gakuto had been unobservant before he and Jiroh had linked pinkies and silently declared themselves an item in front of the entire school, he was even more so now, Oshitari thought darkly.
He watched the two boys, one so blond and carefree, the other so vibrant and intense, sitting side by side - high up in the bleachers - licking candy from each other’s fingertips and laughing over something that only they would find amusing.. Oshitari shook his head. He’d been so certain that Gakuto would be easy pickings that he’d taken his time in that particular seduction and was now, unfortunately, paying the price. Gakuto and Jiroh were inseparable and didn’t care who’s stomachs they turned with their constant canoodling and cooing at one another. Idly, Oshitari wondered who topped the majority of the time and, hopefully, whether or not the two boys would ever consent to a little three-way snuggle.
On the heels of that lecherous, satisfying thought, Oshitari grunted when Atobe elbowed him none-too-gently in the back.
“Do try to keep from salivating all over your jersey, Yuushi. It’s highly unflattering.”
Offering his lover a lazy smile, Oshitari rubbed his back, feigning injury. “Ah, you insult me so, Keigo. When you know that my thoughts are only of you.”
Snorting in derision, Atobe paused beside Oshitari and, certain that no one was watching, grabbed his ass and squeezed. Oshitari’s near-squeak of surprise was incredibly satisfying to Atobe. “That’s very pleasing to hear, Yuushi,” he declared lightly, strolling away from his lover casually, tapping his racket against his shoulder.
Oshitari grinned, watching Atobe Keigo walk away, and when he glanced up at Jiroh and Gakuto again, the two boys were making their way across the top bench. Jiroh walked ahead and Gakuto followed, holding securely to Jiroh’s bag-strap and strolling along as though they had all the time in the world.
Oshitari supposed, with only a twinge of regret for lost chances, that they did.