FIC: Rewind Forward (D1) 51/63

[reposte]

Title: Rewind Forward (51/63)
Author: Ociwen
Rating: NC17 (eventual)
Disclaimer: Konomi owns all.
Summary: Niou, meet Yagyuu.
Author's Notes: Spoilers for everything.



Yukimura goes home with his mom. As much as he was gung ho for practice, he nearly collapsed in the showers and Sanada and Yanagi had to help him walk to his mom's car in the parking lot.

The Nationals are in two weeks.

Niou has no idea how Yukimura thinks he'll be playing with the rest of the team by then. He shakes his head and frowns. Isn't there more to life than tennis…?

Like Yagyuu, for instance.

Niou looks out of the corner of his eye. Yagyuu is dressed and doing his tie. Niou just loosens and tightens his when he needs to-saves effort, saves time. He looks down at his own, hanging loose and limp on his shirt, which clings to his arms, still damp from the shower. Yagyuu's hair is perfect, parted and wet and dark, plastered to his scalp. It's tempting to step closer and sniff it, sniff Yagyuu's woodsy deodorant and the faintest bit of smoke too, and sweat and whatever that Yagyuu-ness is that drives Niou insane, that makes him masturbate at night and dream about being pushed to his knees in a cryptomeria forest and told to suck cock.

Niou shivers. His hands shake on his locker door. He swallows.

A cell goes off-standard ringtone number two, which is Yagyuu's, of course. He flips it open and says hello. The look on his face tells it all when his lips purse and his nostrils flare. He touches his glasses. "Yes Mother, I understand," he says. Niou's figured out enough about Yagyuu to know that particular tone of his voice is hollow and stiff. Once he would have assumed it was polite. Now, he knows better.

Yagyuu's jaw is tight, too, and his ear moves, just a shade, when he bites down harder and says, "Fine. Bye."

Niou looks away and finishes weaving his belt through the loops of his pants. Jackal whistles and stuffs his iPod headphones into his ears. Marui and the wonderchibi start to arm-wrestle and Yagyuu closes his phone.

"Guys wanna go out still?" Jackal asks.

Kirihara nods, his eyes big and wide like a dog's. He practically wags his tail at his senpais. Marui says, "Yeah, duh, same place as usual."

Yagyuu shakes his head. His expression is guarded, his lenses hiding his eyes and the cold, distant pupils behind them. Niou's stomach twists. Yagyuu says, "I have to go-"

"-to my house," Niou finishes.

Yagyuu so elegantly opens and closes his mouth, like a fish in a sushi shop. Marui just shrugs. Jackal nods and the chibi doesn't notice anything strange. But Kirihara does mutter, "Bet Niou-senpai keeps dead bodies under his bed, Yagyuu-senpai…"

Niou waggles his eyebrows. "Maybe, kid." He reaches to ruffle the kid's hair, but Kirihara split-steps out of the way first. Distracting himself from Yagyuu's vacant stare is what Niou needs right now. His insides churn and move. Niou doesn't know why he said that, he just did. Talk before he thinks sometimes-his downfall.

But Yagyuu is just as elegant when his long fingers push his glasses up his nose and he says, "Yes, of course. Our bus should be coming in a few minutes, won't it, Niou-kun?"

He didn't mean for it to go this far. It was just a slip of his tongue, but his foot has been inserted and there's no way to get it out. Niou plays it off, wrapping an arm around Yagyuu's shoulder, inwardly hot at the sensation of Yagyuu's body pressed this close to him. "Dinner date," he says with a smirk.

Marui pops a bubble. "Figures. You're practically a fag," he says.

The insult stings-even though Marui was just joking. A thousand flashing memories rip through Niou's mind, from waking up hard and panting the first time he dreamed of Yagyuu, to throwing himself to Yagyuu's feet and begging forgiveness, to finding condoms in Yagyuu's tennisbag last weekend to kissing him last night. Marui's an idiot, but his joke hits home, a poke between Niou's ribs and the fatty doesn't even know it.

Niou rolls his eyes. "You're a fat fag," he says.

The banter is the usual, the same as ever, but inside, Niou's body is tense and taught. He's on edge as they all walk to the bus stop; he tries to be collected and keep his steps light, keep his head cocked to the side when, really, Niou can't stop the rising fear of rejection from his teammates if they knew.

Nobody rejects Sanada, a little voice says in the back of his mind. And everyone knows that he's over the moon for Yukimura…

Niou frowns. He's not Sanada and he doesn't want to be. This thing with Yagyuu, he wants it private. It's too close to his heart to expose. The fear of it makes his chest swell with a lump, pushing up into his throat and making it hard to breathe. The air is choked with the metallic taste before a storm and the wind blows, whooshing through trees and whipping up the ends of their hair. Niou's rat tail blows to the side of his face and sticks. He pushes it back.

They make perfect timing for the bus-not the one that goes closest to home, but the one that stops near the expressway conbini, maybe a ten minute walk beyond that if he cuts through the alleys and the park by the neighbourhood shrine.

Yagyuu climbs on with him. They stand near the doorway. The bus is packed with students from nearby schools, primary school chibis all the way to the professional-looking grad students with briefcases and Prada purses who go to one of the local universities.

Niou sighs. "I was only joking," he says.

Yagyuu hums. He blinks. For a beat, Niou thinks that Yagyuu didn't realize that, but then a slow smile spreads across his lips. "We were at my place last night," he murmurs. The bus rocks; it must be changing lanes, but there are so many people, Niou can't see out the windows. He can't see anything except the tennisbag smushed in his face.

He sighs. There's no reason for Yagyuu not to come over. After all, it's just desserts for all the times he showed up at Yagyuu's. Still, Niou bristles at the thought of his family eating with Yagyuu again. It didn't kill him the first time, but the nauseous feeling creeps back into his stomach. Puri!

The bus is uncomfortable. His sides hurt from the laps. The back of his neck is starting to get sweaty from all the new people getting onto the bus and the constant moving, the constant squeezing past him, pushing Niou into Yagyuu's tennisbag again and again and again.

With another sigh, Niou closes his eyes. He reaches for his phone and dials. His mom picks up.

"Can…my friend come over for supper again?"

Her eager response makes Niou's stomach churn more. But at least his dad is working late tonight and his sister has cram school. Two less meganes to embarrass him.

They get off at the stop near the conbini. The light has grown darker and at least now Niou doesn't need to squint through the sun, like he did during gym class and practice. His eyes and forehead still hurt from that. He fakes a yawn to hide the shaking he feels inside. He's not nervous, just…

Inwardly, Niou shakes his head. Shoulda thought first and talked after, he thinks.

Yagyuu doesn't seem to mind. He looks up and frowns, just the one side of his mouth. "It'll rain soon," he says. The clouds seethe and groan, dark patterns swirling above their heads. The insects have stopped and there is nothing but that quiet din before a shower, as if the world holds its breath and waits for the rain to start. The air stirs, hot gusts blowing over Niou's body as they walk. The traffic goes by-intermittent cars and then a rattling train, tatan tatan tatan against the tracks. The elementary school play ground is empty. A swing moves back and forth, like a scene from a ghost story, an invisible child pushing it.

Niou shivers. He's in no rush to get home, but somehow, he suspects he left his umbrella in the closet of his bedroom, buried under a stack of comics or dirty clothes. Yagyuu's pace is easy and relaxed, in step with Niou. Niou glances to the road-side shrine near the ditch and he blinks.

The last time Niou was there, he was praying for Yagyuu to like his family. The hot memory flushes his cheeks. Niou ducks his head, cocking it to the other side. His sneakers scuff on the pavement. The grass in the ditch swishes and the pine trees groan, heaving and swaying. A pair of crows flies up out of the furry branches and disappears into the black clouds.

At the feeling of the first drops of rain wet on his skin, Niou starts to run. The rain comes all at once, in a rushing downpour, a sudden wash of water dumped from the clouds above, blurring the world into a rainy, grey oblivion. Niou turns to glance back over his shoulder, to tell Yagyuu to hurry and come with him down this alley, not the main rain, when a hand suddenly wraps around his wrist. Niou is pulled back by Yagyuu's strong hand as the fingers dig into his skin, warm and solid and a little sweaty.

"Here," Yagyuu says. He's already got an umbrella out. A clear one, with rain pellets dripping down the dome.

Niou closes his mouth. He feels like a fool. Of course Yagyuu would be prepared-he always is. Niou swallows a thanks and just falls back, lets Yagyuu walk up beside him and move his umbrella to cover the two of them. It's a tight fit. Niou's bags get in the way and his left arm is wet where the umbrella doesn't cover. He's so close to Yagyuu their arms brush, the hairs sticking up, charged with an electric current. It's the same feeling when Yagyuu kissed him, that tingle running all over his body. Niou breathes through a wave of pleasure that wracks his body in paralysis. His cock swells. His chest constricts. His mouth goes dry and his scalp twitches, his hair standing up all over his body, from his pubes to the back of his neck.

"It's this way," Niou mumbles. He pushes into Yagyuu to make him turn right down the alleyway. The rain pings on the tops of metal-roofed sheds and parked cars, almost like Marui's post ball. Niou cringes, but at the same time, the sound is nice, refreshing. He can't hear his own breathing over the rain, but he can feel Yagyuu. He's warm and comfortable, although their arms stick together, all clammy and sweaty. Niou closes his eyes, wondering what it would be like to be pressed skin to skin from head to toe against Yagyuu's body. Another rush floods his body and he has to bite his lip to keep from moaning. The pleasure would be intense, he knows that much.

If Yagyuu is willing to go that far, that is. Niou exhales. He has no idea and he's too afraid to push the limits with this, too afraid to ask. Yagyuu is the gamemaker. The loss of control is scary. Niou pulls back from Yagyuu. The umbrella shakes rain onto his shoulder. He stiffens.

In the silence of the rain, Niou could say something. The mood isn't tense, but Niou feels it inside, a tension building up in his belly as he and Yagyuu walk, as their tennis bags bounce into each other, as the umbrella moves and jiggles over their heads when they go up the steps towards the canal. He could say a hundred, a thousand things, to say nothing significant or something earth-shattering. He could tell Yagyuu thanks for sharing his umbrella, he could tell Yagyuu that being kissed by him was the best thing that ever happened in his life.

Niou stays quiet. His throat is filled up with an uncomfortable lump. It's supper time and he's hungry. He's wet and sticky-but now, however, cold. If anything, his skin burns from Yagyuu's touch.

The canal is speckled with rain droplets, bursting open on the surface. The air smells fresh, a little like chemicals but in the good way before the worms start to crawl out and crawl underfoot. The flowers in pots outside gates open up to the water, drinking it up the way Niou drinks up Yagyuu's presence, leaning into him just enough to feel his body, sighing into Yagyuu's breathing, walking in perfect tune.

"Aa, this is your street," Yagyuu says. Niou looks up. It is his street, but it looks the same as the rest: lights shining out from houses into the gloomy grey, cement fences and metal gates, hanging vines and little white cars.

He nods. "Yeah."

At the gate, Niou steps out from under Yagyuu's umbrella. The rain slides down his face, plastering his hair, sticking his clothes to his body, everything is wet and uncomfortable, but in the first moment, of the rush of water against his skin, cooler than the atmosphere, the tension almost leaves his body.

Almost, but not quite.

Yagyuu rushes up to the doorway behind Niou, holding his umbrella above Niou's head as he opens the doorway. A blast of cold air conditioning greets them, icy on Niou's wet skin. He shivers. Yagyuu shakes out his umbrella and sets it in the stand. They peel their shoes off and Niou just shrugs when Yagyuu asks where he should put his bags. Niou always dumps his in the hallway. Yagyuu hesitates, biting his lip for a moment, before doing the same thing.

"So long as your parents don't mind, Niou-kun," he murmurs.

"It's cool," Niou says.

It's cool in the house. Niou shivers, his skin prickling with goosepimples. Supper is nothing special, but he's still on edge. He's subdued at the table, sitting in silence, more or less, and watching Yagyuu bow his head and apologize for not bringing a gift. His mother shakes her head and says no, it's nothing, she's sorry that there's only rice and curry tonight when Masaharu has a special guest here.

Niou cringes at that. He looks at his mother and clicks his tongue. Way to make it sound even gayer, he thinks. But inside, deep down, somewhere, his insides warm a bit. Yagyuu is special to him. Sitting beside Yagyuu at the table, having their knees brush when Yagyuu leans forward to hold out his bowl for more rice, having Yagyuu laugh at his brother's lame questions about molecules and the science center in Odaiba-has Yagyuu-kun ever been?-it makes Niou feel good, too, at the same time.

For so long he'd been afraid of his family being megane dorks, for so long he'd worried about what Yagyuu would think when, really, Yagyuu doesn't think too much of it. His face softens when Niou's mother offers him more food. His eyes roll back over the top of his frames when he eats the curry. "It's so good!" he says. He gushes. Niou never heard Yagyuu gush once over his own mother's food. The woman Niou thought was perfect, the same woman who never really wanted Yagyuu in the first place.

Under the table, Niou touches Yagyuu's leg with his fingertips. They're numb at the ends, but the feeling of Yagyuu's damp pants and the warmth of his body seeps through. Niou closes his eyes and chews a mouthful of beef curry, breathing through his nose. Yagyuu moves his leg closer, tapping Niou's foot with his own. Niou's slipper falls off onto the floor and slaps the linoleum gently.

"Do you need help, Niou-san?" Yagyuu asks. Rain sluices down the kitchen window, but the curtains are motionless. The world is dismal and grey, darkening to black with each ticking second. It's the holidays now, but there is a sense of weight on Niou's shoulders, not just because Yagyuu is here again, but the upcoming Nationals too. The clouds seem to cry for them, portend to something dark.

If they were to lose again, with Yukimura…he would be crushed. Niou doesn't know how Yukimura would react to losing. He doesn't want to know. He wants everything to be right again, now that Yukimura is back, now that Yagyuu is his friend-his…something more-

But still, knots of nervousness tie up his stomach. Niou belches and curry taste, slightly more sour than before, fills his mouth. He swallows it back down. His mother tells Yagyuu that it's fine. She puts on her apron and smiles. The sides of her eyes crinkle, her glass slip down her nose.

"Thank you for being his friend, Yagyuu-kun," she says. "You're the best to thing to ever happen to Masaharu."

Niou's face burns. He opens his mouth to tell his mother off, to tell her to shut up and stop being lame, but his voice is caught. Yagyuu nods and smiles, but his eyes are hooded when Niou gets up enough gumption to look at him. Niou scowls-the only reaction he can do to save face-and stomps off to his bedroom.

Yagyuu follows without a word. He closes the door behind them when Niou walks up to his window. He presses his hand to the glass pane. It's foggy along the edges, and cool from the air conditioning. The door clicks and he can hear Yagyuu's footsteps creaking on the floor, walking up to him. Niou sighs. He swallows the thick, woolen lump in his throat, but it only grows worse when Yagyuu touches his arm. Niou leans back. Something stings the corner of his eyes.

The intimacy is terrifying. Niou tries to shake his head, to shove Yagyuu off. His body flushes, hot and cold, like a fever. The rain pounds harder on the window, but it still only taps the quiet between them. The room is stuffy all of a sudden, coming down around Niou like a cage and he can't stand it. He cranks the window open and the wind pulls it further with a gust of wet rain against his face. Niou lets the rain bounce off his skin, slide down his cheeks and collect on his chin.

Then Yagyuu closes the window. "You'll get your floor wet," he says.

Niou turns heel and flops back onto his bed. The springs of his mattress creak. Yagyuu fixes the curtains and dabs at the rain on the window sill with his handkerchief, which he folds up neatly afterward.

Then he sits down on Niou's bed, too. The sheets are messy. His mother didn't make the bed this morning. Niou's pajama pants are balled up in the corner by the wall, probably crusty with come from another wet dream. Yagyuu sits between them and Niou, preventing Niou from chucking them into his closet instead.

Rain drips down the drain pipes running along the side of the house. It sluices down the window, the droplets catching the city lights and reflecting it, like diamonds, into Niou's dim bedroom. Niou is cold. He shivers, then sighs on his side as he stares out his window, at the wall. His shoulder is turned to Yagyuu and his body dips into the mattress as Yagyuu lies down next to him. It's intimate. It's a bit scary as their arms brush. Niou closes his eyes-he's hard, swollen and hot in his underpants. It would be easy in this grey darkness to slide a hand between his legs and cup his balls, rub his cock through his pants. But he won't. There is a cacophony in the silence: the rain dribbling down the roof, his heart beating doki doki all the way up into his throat, blood rushing through his ears.

Carefully, Niou rolls onto his other side, his left side. He swallows, but the nervousness only grows as he leans down, leans closer, lower and lower onto Yagyuu's chest until his weight finally settles. Yagyuu does nothing. Confidence grows. Niou presses his cheek to Yagyuu's collar. With cold fingers, he reaches out over Yagyuu's shirt to touch him. The rise and fall of Yagyuu's breathing is even and calm, even when Niou splays his palm, pressing his nervous, sweaty hand to Yagyuu's chest.

Am I allowed to do this?

Yagyuu keeps breathing. Niou moves his fingers a bit, making circles soft and slow, testing the edges of his comfort zone. In his fantasies, he was more direct, he was more confident and knew what he wanted to do. In reality, touching Yagyuu like this as they lay together, sides pressed, makes knots twist tighter inside. It makes Niou harder too.

Kissing once might have been a fluke. Niou's good at reading expressions, at seeing things, but in the dark, he can't see much of anything. Yagyuu's face is still, his breathing smooth and he doesn't move. There's nothing to read, except the warmth of his body, then the shift of his arms.

Niou freezes.

Something touches the back of his neck. Niou winces, shrugging his shoulders up in an unconscious reaction. Fingertips dance along the skin at the base of his scalp and he has to bite back a moan to save face. Yagyuu touches his neck, rubbing the skin in a mirror of what Niou was doing before. Underneath Niou's palm, he can feel something hard. Yagyuu's stiff nipple. His eyes go wide and he looks up, just as Yagyuu tugs his rat tail, pulling the elastic away.

When Yagyuu tosses the elastic aside and runs his hands through Niou's hair, spilling it over the back of his neck, Niou gets it. His mouth parts in surprise. The feeling of someone combing his hair like this, of fingertips running over his scalp, of Yagyuu shifting and inching over, moving until they are face to face on Niou's pillow-it's soothing and just…good. Niou swallows hard. His body falls into Yagyuu's touches, his eyes shut and he can't stop the sigh escaping his lips.

"Yagyuu…"

Two hands hold Niou's head, urging it up until their lips meet. Niou breathes into Yagyuu's kiss, tasting their supper and the wetness of Yagyuu's tongue sliding over his when he opens his mouth wider. Tingles and electric shocks flash through his body. Yagyuu's hands are harder on his scalp, fisting his hair and pulling Niou to the right angle, but his lips are easy, his tongue languid as he plays with Niou. Niou pushes back-he's not on offense, but he's not defense either. Yagyuu pushes and Niou moves closer, moving his lips and moving his hand to Yagyuu's side, up to Yagyuu's armpit, hot and damp like the rest of his body.

He's numb between the legs, but their mouths are hot. Yagyuu's kisses burn. He pulls back and his hand moves lower, to the back of Niou's neck. He plays with the ends of Niou's hair, twisting the strands around. Yagyuu's eyes are huge right now, staring back at Niou as he takes Yagyuu's glasses off for him. The arms catch on his ears and Yagyuu blinks faster. Niou mumbles an apology. He's no good at taking megane off.

"It's okay," Yagyuu whispers. "Niou-kun…" he murmurs. He nuzzles the side of Niou's face, pressing kisses under Niou's ear in places that make Niou stiffen and twitch and his cock throbs. He rubs himself on Yagyuu's leg-he can't help it, that spot Yagyuu licks and murmurs things on feels so good and Niou shakes with the effort to keep control of his body. Yagyuu's hands are over his back. Yagyuu's leg is hooking over his and Niou tumbles, stumbles between them. He bites his lip and gasps. Yagyuu's breathe is hot, even hotter on Niou's jaw.

The rain keeps falling.

Yagyuu's hands rub Niou's back, smooth, wide circles over his shoulder blades. Niou touches Yagyuu's side, then, unsure but hoping, he touches Yagyuu's hair. It's soft and light, so unlike his own mop of wax and hair product and fried, bleached, messed up head. Yagyuu says nothing. Maybe he doesn't mind. Niou doesn't mind the downy bits by Yagyuu's ears-they are the softest to touch, to comb with his fingers. Niou can smell the citrus shampoo all around himself, as overwhelming and heady as Yagyuu's kissing.

There is nothing but their breathing, and the wet, sloppy sounds of kissing. The sheets rustle, their clothes stick to damp bodies. Niou stops thinking so much and lets his body go. Dimly, he can hear little moans and he can feel the sighs relax his chest, but his cock, his balls are strained, tight, throbbing. His legs shake. Yagyuu must notice his erection, but he says nothing, he just holds Niou closer, pulling the fabric of Niou's shirt and tilting his head for more.

Kissing twice can't be a fluke. Not when Niou feels the sudden, hot sensation of fingers on the hem of his shirt, lifting it just above his waistband. The first touch of Yagyuu's hand on his belly makes him whimper. He doesn't care-he can't stop the little mewls or the breathy sobs he makes. "Yagyuu," he mutters. He buries his face in the crook of Yagyuu's shoulder. He arches his back and his throat vibrates. Yagyuu keeps kissing him. "God…" he moans.

The rain patters the roof, the window, the metal drain pipes. The mattress creaks as Niou shudders. His underpants are wet. His mouth hangs open, an invitation Yagyuu takes with hard eagerness, kissing him long and deep until Niou can't breathe. Yagyuu's kisses are as smooth and confident as his voice, rich and it makes Niou hum inside. He kisses back, keeping the rhythm they have going, sometimes pushing a bit further, but never doing more than toying at the edges of Yagyuu's comfort zone. Of his comfort zone.

Niou moans into the kisses. When Yagyuu keeps kissing, when Yagyuu bites his bottom lip and sends new ripples of pleasure through Niou's veins, he moans louder. He rubs his dick on Yagyuu's leg. It aches. It pulses, hot and heavy in his pants. Yagyuu's fingertips splay over the back of his neck, digging into Niou's skin and making him open his mouth wider, panting as Yagyuu tugs at his lip between his teeth. This close, his eyes are huge and black, dancing with the glimmering light from the rainy window. In his unfaltering gaze, Niou's body melts into Yagyuu's.

And Yagyuu slings his leg over Niou's hip, more flexible than Niou could have ever imagined. But he can't imagine, he can't think, not really, because with Yagyuu's tongue on his lips, Yagyuu's hands weaving through his hair, and Yagyuu's erection pressed to his hip, Niou's eyes roll back and he falls down onto his mattress.

Yagyuu…

"Yagyuu…" he whispers. He whimpers. It doesn't matter. Nothing else matters, other than the hard, heavy and hot weight of Yagyuu's body and his dick on Niou's body, right where his shirt rides up and bunches. He's dreamed of this. He's thought of this before: do megane dorks like Yagyuu get hard? But he remembers the musty sheets, the regionals, and now this, and he knows. He knows that Yagyuu is real and physical and wonderful. Up this close, it doesn't matter if he wears glasses or not. It doesn't matter if his family is downstairs. It doesn't matter if this is gay and scary and weird because it feels so damned good when their legs start to twine and Niou's socks catch on Yagyuu's shins.

He's boneless, kissing Yagyuu back. Shifting and sighing as Yagyuu makes feather-light kisses on Niou's chin, over his mole and his jaw, fast and hot like his laser, consuming Niou in the burn of this.

Until he hears a knock on his door.

Yagyuu stiffens first. Niou arches up into him and Yagyuu sits up so fast that the mattress squeaks. Niou winces. Yagyuu fumbles around, searching for his glasses and Niou hisses, "There!" He points, but Yagyuu just blinks and shakes his head.

"I can't see!"

"Shit," Niou says.

"Boys?" his mother says through the doorway.

"In a minute!" Niou says. He fishes around for his elastic, but his hand doesn't feel anything on the sheets. He pulls his shirt down-it's ridden up on his stomach, Yagyuu's finger graze the skin as he pulls back and Niou closes his eyes for an instant, reliving the feeling that floods through his body. He shakes it off and squints at his dresser. There, half-folded, Yagyuu's glasses. He hands them to Yagyuu, leaning over makes the mattress groan again. Yagyuu flicks on the lamp and Niou pats his hair down. His face is on fire. He's still hard. Yagyuu's hair is a mess now, cowlicks and finger-combing everywhere.

The door opens before Niou can tell him to fix it.

His mother stands in the frame, holding a tray. As the light adjusts, Niou can see her smiling and her glasses have slipped down her nose enough that he prays fast and furious she can't see the wide-eyes and mussed hair and the rumpled clothes. Yagyuu sits on the edge of the mattress, legs crossed as his back is straight and prim and proper, as if they were playing a tennis game or something equally as innocent.

Niou scratches the back of his hair, fluffing it up. His mother raises her eyebrows. "Were you two…busy?" she asks.

Yagyuu coughs. He looks away. Niou looks away, too, but then a smile crosses his lips. He taps his mole and leans back on his elbows. "Yagyuu's into cosplay," he says.

Yagyuu and his mother look at each other, their eyebrows shooting up into their hairlines so far that their glasses side down in unison. Yagyuu, though, is quicker to save face. As his pushes his glasses back up, he says, "Aa…yes…I enjoy dressing up."

But do you enjoy dressing down, too? Niou thinks. His mother keeps smiling, as if this is entirely normal. No one in his family is into cosplay. His family is entirely boring and lame. She nods slowly.

"I have some melon slices for you," she says. "If you're careful and don't tell father, you can eat in here, Masaharu."

Niou blows at the hair over his eyes. The air conditioning makes it flutter more. "Fine," he says after a moment. His mother nods again. She shuffles inside and hands Niou the tray. He just nods his head, chucking his chin to the doorway until she leaves.

The mood is kinda dead. Niou's shoulders slump. Yagyuu breathes a sigh through his nose. An unspoken 'well…' passes between them and the rain has stopped, though the staccato dripping continues. Time drips. Niou moves, tucking his legs underneath himself as he sets the tray down on his bed. It leans at an angle and the plates slide together, clinking softly.

It's not just melon slices: there are fat strawberries and a few little cookies too. They look like meringue puffs that the fatty snacks on sometimes, only when Niou touches one with his finger, it's hard. The curves of the meringues are tinted brown and the pointed tops slightly too brown. They're homemade, not fancy department food like Yagyuu's mom might buy. A brief flush of shame stains Niou's face. He wants to apologize, to tell Yagyuu he's sorry for his family's homemade lame everything, that he's sorry his mother had to bother them in the middle of…you know!

But Yagyuu just looks at him and smiles. "Your mother is too nice," he says.

"Too lame, you mean," Niou mutters.

Yagyuu clicks his tongue. He frowns. "No," he says slowly, like Niou is a child-or a dumb fuck. "No, she's very kind. These look…" Yagyuu's frown softens into a half-smile. He reaches for a meringue, looks at it for a moment, then says, "These look delicious."

It's Niou's turn to frown.

But the meringues are tasty.

Even better when Yagyuu kisses the crumbs off his lips.