Advanced happy birthday!
Title: (Un)romantic
Pairing: Tegomassu
Rating: PG
Summary: Massu realizes how their so-called relationship isn't like what couples hope for. Tegoshi is a romanticist. Go figure. I'm no good at this summary-thing.
Author's Notes: Written for yuukarin . Advanced happy birthday! 8D
It shot through him like an arrow in the hands of the most renowned archer. Those words were unexpected, if not unwanted. His hands trembled at every passing second of awkward silence. Neither of the two looked away from the other’s eyes, Massu’s gaze more aghast than hateful-suiting for a man aware of his mistakes.
Tegoshi closes the space between them, and tilts his head for a chaste kiss. This is one of their usual nights, with bad movies and sweet kisses.
“Tego-“ Massu starts, sharply avoiding the other man’s lips. “Tegoshi.” He shifts his gaze away, then walks straight into his room.
He lies in bed facing down, eyes closed and lips pursed in thought. The overly cliché movie left him guilty with sentiments of their relationship. He clenches his hand as he realizes that just like that insensitive leading man, he has not done anything over the years (in their case, three months) to show his love. Just like that man, he has not been there for Tegoshi. And Massu does not like the thought of empty confessions, of unaffectionate embraces, and of tasteless kisses. He does not want another man to have a taste of Tegoshi’s lips; not when he can have them for his own. For once in his life, Massu wants to be selfish.
Tegoshi enters the room wordlessly, and lies in bed, arms tangling with his. “Good night, Massu.”
Massu hums to himself as he contemplates. He curls and uncurls the singer’s hair in his index finger. He synchronizes his breathing with the rise and fall of Tegoshi’s chest. The wheels in his head refuse to stop turning, and the more his sentiments come to him, the more he realizes that their relationship isn’t going anywhere.
He doesn’t fall asleep that night.
The following day, he spent all three hours of his total breaks making little notes of sweet pick-up lines. His personal favorite is ‘you are the pork to my gyoza’. Technically, the pork is in the gyoza, but maybe he’ll just leave it like that. Not because of its ulterior meaning, though. He’s no perv. (He didn’t even get it until Maru pointed it out.)
When they eat later that night, Tegoshi pauses for a while after seeing one of the said notes is exposed after lifting his glass off the table for a sip of refreshing beer.
“You know, you didn’t have to write it like that. If you wanted gyoza so badly, I think the convenient store’s still open,” Tegoshi says with a smile. “And I’m not your teacher, so you don’t need my permission to go out.”
“What?” Massu says instinctively, mostly because he might have heard it wrong, and partly because he was staring at the shimmer in the other man’s lips. Traces of tangy salsa are all over his luscious lips, and it’s really distracting.
He lifts himself from his seat, and walks over to Tegoshi to see the note. He sighs.
“--- --- --- pork - my gyoza”
Massu thinks he has bad luck. How can God-sama or something be so cruel when the only bad deed he’s done is a crime in fashion? He gets cynical over time, when his other notes were also inadvertently disregarded by his lover-one was stuck to his sole (oh the irony.) and another was used to throw chewing gum.
He thinks he’ll give this one up, and just go to bed. At least the bed can catch his tears, and not look sad. If he’d cry in front of Tegoshi, he’d have to face his pouty lips of doom.
He hears Tegoshi giggle outside, and he thinks those variety shows better be really funny, cause they can make him smile more than Massu can. Since when was he ever so pessimistic anyway?
This time, he falls asleep even before Tegoshi comes in, and so he doesn’t notice the way the other man grinned, and the way his forehead is filled with marks of cherry lipbalm.
And he doesn’t hear it when Tegoshi says, “Leave it to me.”
The next time Massu sees himself, he notices how swollen his eyes are, and how red his forehead is. Must be from sleeping faced down. He loosens up after a sip of warm tea, but it turned out to be coffee after closer inspection. As if things weren’t turning bad enough for him, he loses his wallet, too. He bumps his head on the wall, but that was no accident. He just thought that this was a really bad dream, like that of the bear incident.
He shudders.
What is intriguing to him is that the same coffee-tea mix-up situation happened everyday for a whole week, and nobody seems to believe him when he says that. They’re clearly not paying attention to the details here; they just brush him off and smile like they’re idols (which is true, but they don’t have to act like that in real life too, right?) even when he’s obviously troubled by the situation, and the worry is evident in his face, specially with his wobbling lower lip and tearing eyes. The best response he’s gotten so far is an embrace, except everyone did the same thing-save for Koyama who pinched his cheeks and hugged him.
“That’s so like you, Massu!” Tegoshi chimes, when he overhears Massu’s rant to yet another unlucky victim of the man’s capricious attitude, not unlike a teenage girl in her first experience of PMS.
At this, he blinks.
“T-t-tegoshi,” he awkwardly starts. “I’ll s-see you t-tonight.” He ends. Then he realizes that he almost revealed their relationship. “Oh, oops.”
His hand shuffles in the pockets of his jeans, then his jacket, and then his bag. He can’t find his phone. It’s bad enough that his wallet’s lost- his wallet with very, very embarrassing confessions. Now his phone’s lost.
After rehearsals and three and a half futile hours of finding Tegoshi, he decides to walk his way home. The night sky was beautiful, with stars he knows are there, but cannot be seen. Enveloped by the lights of the city, the stars were shunned away from the eyes of the people. Perhaps this is what Massu found so remarkable; stars are far from reach, yet we yearn for them. Like the grains of sand in an hourglass, the stars slowly fade away, yet in a single turn, return to life. This simple existence was beautiful.
People, however, yearn for greater things. Massu doesn’t understand this, but when he looks back, what brought him despair was trying so hard to do something out of the ordinary.
He looks gently at the framework above, and smiles sheepishly; a sign of gratefulness he cannot fully express.
He lazily opens the door, and greets his usual, “Tadaima!” and hears the usual, “Okaeri.”
Maybe their relationship doesn’t have to be marvelous like what newlywed couples and high school girls dream of. He doesn’t expect it to last a lifetime, but surely, like that hourglass; he could look back at these days and relive the simplicity he knows he might not have in the future.
He walks straight onto the couch, and sits contentedly. They snuggle against each other like children in puppy love. The movie’s already playing, and the food is laid out in front of them. Co-tea, is on the table, and luckily for Massu, it seems to be actual tea, with a hint of honey, just how he likes it.
“Massu,” Tegoshi says, as if it’s the first time he’s tasted that sweet name on his lips, “I love you.”
Massu blushes, and somehow spills some of the luckily not so hot tea on his shirt. Tegoshi a-little-too-happily takes it off. Massu plants the cup on the table, and sees his wallet just right there. He reaches for it (Tegoshi seems to like the sight too much) and opens it, to find all his notes untouched.
“Tegoshi, where did you find this?”
“In your pants,” he says with a little edge to his tone.
He turns his back away from Tegoshi, and peeks at one note.
“Your smile is my treasure.” He had written.
“You are my treasure.” Tegoshi had written in reply.
Massu closes his wallet.
“Aren’t you going to read the rest of them?”
“I’m reserving them for our next nights.” Massu says before kissing Tegoshi slowly and deeply.
Tegoshi was the first to pull away. “I should have written more,” he tsks, pouting a little. Maybe he didn’t plan things out too well.
“I’ll write more, you romanticist.” Massu declares, with his chin help up high. “I’m the man in this relationship, afterall.”
He grins.
Thanks for reading! Con-crit and comments are love.
My internet might turn gay later on, so advanced happy birthday!
Pairing: Tegomassu
Rating: PG
Summary: Massu realizes how their so-called relationship isn't like what couples hope for. Tegoshi is a romanticist. Go figure. I'm no good at this summary-thing.
Author's Notes: Written for yuukarin . Advanced happy birthday! 8D
It shot through him like an arrow in the hands of the most renowned archer. Those words were unexpected, if not unwanted. His hands trembled at every passing second of awkward silence. Neither of the two looked away from the other’s eyes, Massu’s gaze more aghast than hateful-suiting for a man aware of his mistakes.
Tegoshi closes the space between them, and tilts his head for a chaste kiss. This is one of their usual nights, with bad movies and sweet kisses.
“Tego-“ Massu starts, sharply avoiding the other man’s lips. “Tegoshi.” He shifts his gaze away, then walks straight into his room.
He lies in bed facing down, eyes closed and lips pursed in thought. The overly cliché movie left him guilty with sentiments of their relationship. He clenches his hand as he realizes that just like that insensitive leading man, he has not done anything over the years (in their case, three months) to show his love. Just like that man, he has not been there for Tegoshi. And Massu does not like the thought of empty confessions, of unaffectionate embraces, and of tasteless kisses. He does not want another man to have a taste of Tegoshi’s lips; not when he can have them for his own. For once in his life, Massu wants to be selfish.
Tegoshi enters the room wordlessly, and lies in bed, arms tangling with his. “Good night, Massu.”
Massu hums to himself as he contemplates. He curls and uncurls the singer’s hair in his index finger. He synchronizes his breathing with the rise and fall of Tegoshi’s chest. The wheels in his head refuse to stop turning, and the more his sentiments come to him, the more he realizes that their relationship isn’t going anywhere.
He doesn’t fall asleep that night.
The following day, he spent all three hours of his total breaks making little notes of sweet pick-up lines. His personal favorite is ‘you are the pork to my gyoza’. Technically, the pork is in the gyoza, but maybe he’ll just leave it like that. Not because of its ulterior meaning, though. He’s no perv. (He didn’t even get it until Maru pointed it out.)
When they eat later that night, Tegoshi pauses for a while after seeing one of the said notes is exposed after lifting his glass off the table for a sip of refreshing beer.
“You know, you didn’t have to write it like that. If you wanted gyoza so badly, I think the convenient store’s still open,” Tegoshi says with a smile. “And I’m not your teacher, so you don’t need my permission to go out.”
“What?” Massu says instinctively, mostly because he might have heard it wrong, and partly because he was staring at the shimmer in the other man’s lips. Traces of tangy salsa are all over his luscious lips, and it’s really distracting.
He lifts himself from his seat, and walks over to Tegoshi to see the note. He sighs.
“--- --- --- pork - my gyoza”
Massu thinks he has bad luck. How can God-sama or something be so cruel when the only bad deed he’s done is a crime in fashion? He gets cynical over time, when his other notes were also inadvertently disregarded by his lover-one was stuck to his sole (oh the irony.) and another was used to throw chewing gum.
He thinks he’ll give this one up, and just go to bed. At least the bed can catch his tears, and not look sad. If he’d cry in front of Tegoshi, he’d have to face his pouty lips of doom.
He hears Tegoshi giggle outside, and he thinks those variety shows better be really funny, cause they can make him smile more than Massu can. Since when was he ever so pessimistic anyway?
This time, he falls asleep even before Tegoshi comes in, and so he doesn’t notice the way the other man grinned, and the way his forehead is filled with marks of cherry lipbalm.
And he doesn’t hear it when Tegoshi says, “Leave it to me.”
The next time Massu sees himself, he notices how swollen his eyes are, and how red his forehead is. Must be from sleeping faced down. He loosens up after a sip of warm tea, but it turned out to be coffee after closer inspection. As if things weren’t turning bad enough for him, he loses his wallet, too. He bumps his head on the wall, but that was no accident. He just thought that this was a really bad dream, like that of the bear incident.
He shudders.
What is intriguing to him is that the same coffee-tea mix-up situation happened everyday for a whole week, and nobody seems to believe him when he says that. They’re clearly not paying attention to the details here; they just brush him off and smile like they’re idols (which is true, but they don’t have to act like that in real life too, right?) even when he’s obviously troubled by the situation, and the worry is evident in his face, specially with his wobbling lower lip and tearing eyes. The best response he’s gotten so far is an embrace, except everyone did the same thing-save for Koyama who pinched his cheeks and hugged him.
“That’s so like you, Massu!” Tegoshi chimes, when he overhears Massu’s rant to yet another unlucky victim of the man’s capricious attitude, not unlike a teenage girl in her first experience of PMS.
At this, he blinks.
“T-t-tegoshi,” he awkwardly starts. “I’ll s-see you t-tonight.” He ends. Then he realizes that he almost revealed their relationship. “Oh, oops.”
His hand shuffles in the pockets of his jeans, then his jacket, and then his bag. He can’t find his phone. It’s bad enough that his wallet’s lost- his wallet with very, very embarrassing confessions. Now his phone’s lost.
After rehearsals and three and a half futile hours of finding Tegoshi, he decides to walk his way home. The night sky was beautiful, with stars he knows are there, but cannot be seen. Enveloped by the lights of the city, the stars were shunned away from the eyes of the people. Perhaps this is what Massu found so remarkable; stars are far from reach, yet we yearn for them. Like the grains of sand in an hourglass, the stars slowly fade away, yet in a single turn, return to life. This simple existence was beautiful.
People, however, yearn for greater things. Massu doesn’t understand this, but when he looks back, what brought him despair was trying so hard to do something out of the ordinary.
He looks gently at the framework above, and smiles sheepishly; a sign of gratefulness he cannot fully express.
He lazily opens the door, and greets his usual, “Tadaima!” and hears the usual, “Okaeri.”
Maybe their relationship doesn’t have to be marvelous like what newlywed couples and high school girls dream of. He doesn’t expect it to last a lifetime, but surely, like that hourglass; he could look back at these days and relive the simplicity he knows he might not have in the future.
He walks straight onto the couch, and sits contentedly. They snuggle against each other like children in puppy love. The movie’s already playing, and the food is laid out in front of them. Co-tea, is on the table, and luckily for Massu, it seems to be actual tea, with a hint of honey, just how he likes it.
“Massu,” Tegoshi says, as if it’s the first time he’s tasted that sweet name on his lips, “I love you.”
Massu blushes, and somehow spills some of the luckily not so hot tea on his shirt. Tegoshi a-little-too-happily takes it off. Massu plants the cup on the table, and sees his wallet just right there. He reaches for it (Tegoshi seems to like the sight too much) and opens it, to find all his notes untouched.
“Tegoshi, where did you find this?”
“In your pants,” he says with a little edge to his tone.
He turns his back away from Tegoshi, and peeks at one note.
“Your smile is my treasure.” He had written.
“You are my treasure.” Tegoshi had written in reply.
Massu closes his wallet.
“Aren’t you going to read the rest of them?”
“I’m reserving them for our next nights.” Massu says before kissing Tegoshi slowly and deeply.
Tegoshi was the first to pull away. “I should have written more,” he tsks, pouting a little. Maybe he didn’t plan things out too well.
“I’ll write more, you romanticist.” Massu declares, with his chin help up high. “I’m the man in this relationship, afterall.”
He grins.
Thanks for reading! Con-crit and comments are love.
My internet might turn gay later on, so advanced happy birthday!