K.Will - My Heart Beating
Title: Signs
Pairing: Koyama/Tegoshi
Rating: PG
Summary: AU. Koyama’s not about to let a window get in his way.
Notes: A big thank you to my beta for both the beta and the hand-holding.
The waiter is small and slim, with wide eyes and a petite mouth, but broad, athletic shoulders. He’s staring out the window of the café across the way and one story up from Koyama’s gym, straight at Koyama.
It’s more of a leer than a stare, Koyama thinks when he notices. When Koyama catches his eye, the waiter licks his lips and gives him an exaggerated wink, tapping a hand against his upper arm, then pointing it at Koyama and giving a thumbs up. The look, overall, is outrageous.
It goes well with the long, curly blond wig, girly makeup, and maid costume the boy is wearing. If it weren’t for the broad shoulders and the fact that Fridays are “Maid Friday” at the butler café across the way, Koyama may have mistaken him for a girl.
Still, he’s cute, and Koyama is weak to flattery. He waves and flexes, earning another thumbs up. Then, on a whim, he signs, “Hi, I’m Koyama. What’s your name?”
But the boy just tips his head and makes a confused face. Koyama sighs and waves it off, smiling. After flashing a smile in return, the boy turns and goes back to work.
Koyama goes back to the gym the next day, even though he doesn’t normally go on Saturdays. He takes a spot in front of the same window, but the waiter never appears.
He’s there on Monday, however, this time in more normal café waiter attire. Koyama is pleased to note that the boy is even prettier sans makeup, though he has something of an awful perm.
This time, the boy waves and hesitantly signs, “Hi, I’m Tegoshi.”
Tegoshi. It’s an odd name. Wondering if he’d learned the signs wrong, Koyama signs back slowly, “Tegoshi?”
The boy grins and nods. “Tegoshi.”
Well, then. “I’m Koyama. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you.” The boy grins again, looking quite proud of himself, then waves and gets back to work. He stops to wave a few more times that evening before Koyama goes home. Koyama tries to ask how old he is, but just gets another confused look.
Koyama is in love. Further sign language conversations have been stilted and rushed, but he now knows that Tegoshi is 23 and likes to play soccer.
Shige laughs at him about it. “You’re in love with a guy you’ve only seen through a window, and all you know is his name, age, and hobby, and that his part-time job involves a lot of sweet-talking girls?”
Koyama pouts at him.
“Well, I guess he must like you back if he’s learning sign language just to talk to you,” Shige continues. “You must be made for each other.”
The last sentence is a bit too snide for Koyama’s liking, so he kicks Shige under the table.
“He wouldn’t give me his phone number, though.”
Koyama deflates at the memory. He’s pretty sure that Tegoshi misunderstood and thought he wanted to call that minute, while Tegoshi was at work. He hasn’t stopped coming to the window to greet Koyama since that event, though, so maybe it isn’t a lost cause.
If only it weren’t a butler café, Koyama would just stop by. But it is, and Koyama is a guy. Worse, he’s just begun a job as a reporter. He resigns himself to asking Tegoshi to meet him when he gets off work, the next time they see each other.
Unsurprisingly, the question is beyond Tegoshi’s still-shaky sign language comprehension. There’s nothing he can do but wait for Friday, by which time Tegoshi will have decoded the message.
When he gets a call from work on Thursday night, telling him he’s being sent on a trip to Ogasawara the next morning, he’s frustrated. He’s even more frustrated to learn that he’s not going to be back until Wednesday.
He spends the beginning of the twenty-five hour boat ride wondering if Tegoshi will agree to meet him after work next time, and if Tegoshi missed him today. Kept awake by his frustration at missing his chance today, he makes his way to the deck of the boat and stares in awe.
Back in grade school, he remembers being told that the light pollution in the city makes it hard to see the stars. That had been a huge understatement, he discovers. He’d seen the stars from the mountains, but even that must have been too near the city lights. Now the sky looks almost uncomfortably crowded.
The next few days are a constant succession of wonder. He sees dolphins and whales, and turtles laying eggs on the beach at night. By the end of the trip, the only thing that keeps him from being completely depressed about going back to Tokyo, with its crowds and pollution, is the prospect of getting an answer from Tegoshi.
After the long boat ride back he’s tired, but he heads to the gym, disoriented enough from the trip that he’s forgotten it’s still Wednesday. It takes twenty minutes of staring up at the window across the way for him to realize his mistake.
But when it’s finally Friday, he still doesn’t see Tegoshi. At first he’s just frustrated, assuming Tegoshi got sick with really bad timing.
Monday, there’s still no Tegoshi in the café window. Thinking maybe he’d switched shifts, Koyama goes to the gym Tuesday, too. Again, there’s no Tegoshi.
He goes every night that week, but doesn’t see Tegoshi once. By Sunday he’s sore all over and quite disappointed.
Shige laughs at him on the phone, but he brings Koyama ice cream, anyway.
Koyama tries to get him to go to the café and ask after Tegoshi. Shige tells him to do it himself.
“But I have a reputation to uphold!”
“You’re a reporter, not a celebrity,” Shige growls. “And it would be creepy for me to do it.”
As he goes longer and longer without a single glimpse of Tegoshi, Koyama is increasingly tempted to go over and ask about him. But then he gets a call from Shige.
“I was at your butler café today,” he says. “For an article. I asked about Tegoshi, but the manager says he left a few weeks ago. Said he’d gotten a new job, but whenever anyone asked where, he’d just laugh and say they’d find out in a few months.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Koyama groans.
“I don’t know. They said he seemed really happy about it. Maybe he got scouted for a TV show or something.”
Months later, Koyama knows the cast list of every single new show to come on TV, as well as every upcoming movie, and there isn’t a single Tegoshi anywhere on any of them. His friends keep trying to set him up on dates to distract him.
In early January, two weeks after the New Year celebrations have drawn to a close, his boss comes to his desk.
“You’re collaborating with the sports department on a special on the new members of the Yokohama F. Marinos,” his boss says.
Koyama blinks. “Soccer players? Why?”
It’s not really within his corner’s usual theme of reporting on hard-working average people, though he’s sure soccer players work hard.
“Masuda said one of the new players asked if you could do a story on them. And people are still excited from the end of the season, so we thought we might as well. It might attract new viewers.”
Koyama perks up at that. He has a fan! He doesn’t get many of those.
Masuda is a short sports reporter with an adorable smile that has boosted female viewership of their sports corner to new highs. He meets with Koyama a day ahead of time to plan and go over what they can find of the players’ background information.
Koyama stares at the list of names Masuda hands him. Then he rubs his eyes and stares again. He laughs in disbelief.
“Hey, I heard someone on the team asked for me to do this?” he ventures.
Masuda blinks. “Yeah. Tegoshi, I think it was. He’s pretty good. Kinda full of himself, though.”
“Do you know him?” Masuda adds, probably wondering about the silly grin on Koyama’s face.
The next day, he’s barely made it onto the field when a pair of hands slips over his eyes.
“Guess who?” says an unfamiliar but somehow entirely appropriate voice, young and teasing.
“Tegoshi Yuya,” Koyama says, as the hands start to drag him somewhere. He goes along with it.
“Aww, you cheated. You weren’t supposed to know!” Tegoshi laughs, letting go.
Koyama blinks and looks around. They’re under the stands, out of sight from everyone else.
“It’s my job to-“ he starts, but he’s interrupted by Tegoshi grabbing his shoulders and tugging. He bends down a little, and is rewarded with Tegoshi’s lips on his. It’s sort of unprofessional, maybe, but Koyama wraps his arms around Tegoshi’s waist to support him and kisses back, just for a minute, before people come looking.
As they sneak back out onto the field, Tegoshi slips Koyama a folded-up piece of paper, telling him to open it later. Koyama forgets about it until that night, when he gets home and realizes he never got Tegoshi’s number.
Hoping it will have contact information, he slips the paper out of his pocket and unfolds it to find a row of patterned dots.
Pairing: Koyama/Tegoshi
Rating: PG
Summary: AU. Koyama’s not about to let a window get in his way.
Notes: A big thank you to my beta for both the beta and the hand-holding.
Click to viewThe waiter is small and slim, with wide eyes and a petite mouth, but broad, athletic shoulders. He’s staring out the window of the café across the way and one story up from Koyama’s gym, straight at Koyama.
It’s more of a leer than a stare, Koyama thinks when he notices. When Koyama catches his eye, the waiter licks his lips and gives him an exaggerated wink, tapping a hand against his upper arm, then pointing it at Koyama and giving a thumbs up. The look, overall, is outrageous.
It goes well with the long, curly blond wig, girly makeup, and maid costume the boy is wearing. If it weren’t for the broad shoulders and the fact that Fridays are “Maid Friday” at the butler café across the way, Koyama may have mistaken him for a girl.
Still, he’s cute, and Koyama is weak to flattery. He waves and flexes, earning another thumbs up. Then, on a whim, he signs, “Hi, I’m Koyama. What’s your name?”
But the boy just tips his head and makes a confused face. Koyama sighs and waves it off, smiling. After flashing a smile in return, the boy turns and goes back to work.
Koyama goes back to the gym the next day, even though he doesn’t normally go on Saturdays. He takes a spot in front of the same window, but the waiter never appears.
He’s there on Monday, however, this time in more normal café waiter attire. Koyama is pleased to note that the boy is even prettier sans makeup, though he has something of an awful perm.
This time, the boy waves and hesitantly signs, “Hi, I’m Tegoshi.”
Tegoshi. It’s an odd name. Wondering if he’d learned the signs wrong, Koyama signs back slowly, “Tegoshi?”
The boy grins and nods. “Tegoshi.”
Well, then. “I’m Koyama. Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you.” The boy grins again, looking quite proud of himself, then waves and gets back to work. He stops to wave a few more times that evening before Koyama goes home. Koyama tries to ask how old he is, but just gets another confused look.
Koyama is in love. Further sign language conversations have been stilted and rushed, but he now knows that Tegoshi is 23 and likes to play soccer.
Shige laughs at him about it. “You’re in love with a guy you’ve only seen through a window, and all you know is his name, age, and hobby, and that his part-time job involves a lot of sweet-talking girls?”
Koyama pouts at him.
“Well, I guess he must like you back if he’s learning sign language just to talk to you,” Shige continues. “You must be made for each other.”
The last sentence is a bit too snide for Koyama’s liking, so he kicks Shige under the table.
“He wouldn’t give me his phone number, though.”
Koyama deflates at the memory. He’s pretty sure that Tegoshi misunderstood and thought he wanted to call that minute, while Tegoshi was at work. He hasn’t stopped coming to the window to greet Koyama since that event, though, so maybe it isn’t a lost cause.
If only it weren’t a butler café, Koyama would just stop by. But it is, and Koyama is a guy. Worse, he’s just begun a job as a reporter. He resigns himself to asking Tegoshi to meet him when he gets off work, the next time they see each other.
Unsurprisingly, the question is beyond Tegoshi’s still-shaky sign language comprehension. There’s nothing he can do but wait for Friday, by which time Tegoshi will have decoded the message.
When he gets a call from work on Thursday night, telling him he’s being sent on a trip to Ogasawara the next morning, he’s frustrated. He’s even more frustrated to learn that he’s not going to be back until Wednesday.
He spends the beginning of the twenty-five hour boat ride wondering if Tegoshi will agree to meet him after work next time, and if Tegoshi missed him today. Kept awake by his frustration at missing his chance today, he makes his way to the deck of the boat and stares in awe.
Back in grade school, he remembers being told that the light pollution in the city makes it hard to see the stars. That had been a huge understatement, he discovers. He’d seen the stars from the mountains, but even that must have been too near the city lights. Now the sky looks almost uncomfortably crowded.
The next few days are a constant succession of wonder. He sees dolphins and whales, and turtles laying eggs on the beach at night. By the end of the trip, the only thing that keeps him from being completely depressed about going back to Tokyo, with its crowds and pollution, is the prospect of getting an answer from Tegoshi.
After the long boat ride back he’s tired, but he heads to the gym, disoriented enough from the trip that he’s forgotten it’s still Wednesday. It takes twenty minutes of staring up at the window across the way for him to realize his mistake.
But when it’s finally Friday, he still doesn’t see Tegoshi. At first he’s just frustrated, assuming Tegoshi got sick with really bad timing.
Monday, there’s still no Tegoshi in the café window. Thinking maybe he’d switched shifts, Koyama goes to the gym Tuesday, too. Again, there’s no Tegoshi.
He goes every night that week, but doesn’t see Tegoshi once. By Sunday he’s sore all over and quite disappointed.
Shige laughs at him on the phone, but he brings Koyama ice cream, anyway.
Koyama tries to get him to go to the café and ask after Tegoshi. Shige tells him to do it himself.
“But I have a reputation to uphold!”
“You’re a reporter, not a celebrity,” Shige growls. “And it would be creepy for me to do it.”
As he goes longer and longer without a single glimpse of Tegoshi, Koyama is increasingly tempted to go over and ask about him. But then he gets a call from Shige.
“I was at your butler café today,” he says. “For an article. I asked about Tegoshi, but the manager says he left a few weeks ago. Said he’d gotten a new job, but whenever anyone asked where, he’d just laugh and say they’d find out in a few months.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Koyama groans.
“I don’t know. They said he seemed really happy about it. Maybe he got scouted for a TV show or something.”
Months later, Koyama knows the cast list of every single new show to come on TV, as well as every upcoming movie, and there isn’t a single Tegoshi anywhere on any of them. His friends keep trying to set him up on dates to distract him.
In early January, two weeks after the New Year celebrations have drawn to a close, his boss comes to his desk.
“You’re collaborating with the sports department on a special on the new members of the Yokohama F. Marinos,” his boss says.
Koyama blinks. “Soccer players? Why?”
It’s not really within his corner’s usual theme of reporting on hard-working average people, though he’s sure soccer players work hard.
“Masuda said one of the new players asked if you could do a story on them. And people are still excited from the end of the season, so we thought we might as well. It might attract new viewers.”
Koyama perks up at that. He has a fan! He doesn’t get many of those.
Masuda is a short sports reporter with an adorable smile that has boosted female viewership of their sports corner to new highs. He meets with Koyama a day ahead of time to plan and go over what they can find of the players’ background information.
Koyama stares at the list of names Masuda hands him. Then he rubs his eyes and stares again. He laughs in disbelief.
“Hey, I heard someone on the team asked for me to do this?” he ventures.
Masuda blinks. “Yeah. Tegoshi, I think it was. He’s pretty good. Kinda full of himself, though.”
“Do you know him?” Masuda adds, probably wondering about the silly grin on Koyama’s face.
The next day, he’s barely made it onto the field when a pair of hands slips over his eyes.
“Guess who?” says an unfamiliar but somehow entirely appropriate voice, young and teasing.
“Tegoshi Yuya,” Koyama says, as the hands start to drag him somewhere. He goes along with it.
“Aww, you cheated. You weren’t supposed to know!” Tegoshi laughs, letting go.
Koyama blinks and looks around. They’re under the stands, out of sight from everyone else.
“It’s my job to-“ he starts, but he’s interrupted by Tegoshi grabbing his shoulders and tugging. He bends down a little, and is rewarded with Tegoshi’s lips on his. It’s sort of unprofessional, maybe, but Koyama wraps his arms around Tegoshi’s waist to support him and kisses back, just for a minute, before people come looking.
As they sneak back out onto the field, Tegoshi slips Koyama a folded-up piece of paper, telling him to open it later. Koyama forgets about it until that night, when he gets home and realizes he never got Tegoshi’s number.
Hoping it will have contact information, he slips the paper out of his pocket and unfolds it to find a row of patterned dots.