Happy spring, everyone!
Title: Nothing to lose
Recipient's name: The entire gosh-darn community!
Pairing(s): Ohtori/An, Ohtori/Shishido, Various
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ohtori has a lot to learn about love. A serendipitous meeting with Tachibana An gives him the courage he needs to be true to his heart.
nothing to lose
or
Ohtori and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day
The sun was setting on the most debilitating humiliation that Ohtori Choutarou had ever experienced and - adding insult to injury - Shishido-san wasn’t shuffling along at his side the way he might have been if Ohtori hadn’t been such an impulsive idiot.
And Ohtori knew that he deserved it. Trudging along the sidewalk - head bowed, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts - his chest tight with the knowledge that he could not undo what was already done, Ohtori couldn’t imagine how he’d anticipated any other outcome.
Their playful rally finished, Shishido-san had dropped his racket and bent, hands resting on his knees as he panted for breath. The look Shishido-san flashed Ohtori then had given him hope and, before he could think better of it, he’d been touching Shishido-san’s shoulder and then his neck and when he’d brushed Shishido-san’s cheek with the backs of his fingers, awareness had returned with a vengeance.
“…the hell? Choutarou?! What are you doing?”
Shishido-san’s reaction had been all the answer that Ohtori required and when the awkward confusion had passed, Ohtori had seen no other option but to run. That Shishido-san had called him back before he’d even put twenty feet between them had not mattered. Ohtori’s humiliation was complete and he knew that nothing would ever be the same between himself and Shishido-san again.
Shishido-san’s words - the tone of his voice - rang in Ohtori’s ears and he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up to block out the rest of the world. Already he knew that going home was not an option as his Mother would likely meet him at the door, take one look at the expression on his face and question him relentlessly until he caved and - in a sniveling, embarrassing display of broken humanity - revealed that he had, in fact, confessed his shameful, one-sided love to Shishido Ryou right on the heels of one of the best practices they’d ever shared. That Shishido-san had not returned his affections was a travesty rivaled only by the knowledge that Ohtori had desecrated the courts with his presumptuous, homosexual fawning. And Atobe could never, ever find out.
He passed by his usual bus stop, bright red hood effectively concealing his identity, with no real destination in mind. He couldn’t go home, but neither could he spend all evening out alone without first calling his Mother. He’d be grounded for a month and there would be no tennis…
No tennis. No Shishido-san. No Atobe-Buchou and his damnable insight (though, to be fair, Atobe-Buchou’s insight was something to be admired and revered). Perhaps being grounded was Ohtori’s only saving grace. Perhaps he’d just stay out all night. Perhaps he’d wander into one of the seedier parts of town - the ones Gakuto bragged about visiting when Ohtori knew he never really did - and simply vanish. Victim to some awful, unspeakable crime and wouldn’t Shishido-san be sorry, then? And his Mother, too, for wanting to ground him when his heart had been so thoroughly shattered. So pitiful were his thoughts, so maudlin and dramatically, pathetically comforting that the sounds of kids’ voices rising in rally and trainers slapping against concrete and that beautiful, familiar sound of a tennis ball bouncing over a net only to be slammed back in the direction from whence it came had barely begun to register before one voice shrilled above all the others to cut into Ohtori’s private, miserable wallow.
“Hey, watch out!”
He turned, too late, emitting a decidedly unmanly squeak when the tennis ball - no more than a yellow blur by the time Ohtori became aware of it - whacked him right between the eyes.
And down he went.
+++
Eyes wide, mouth open - breath caught in her throat as she watched, helplessly - Tachibana An felt certain that the tall boy in the red hoodie was going to crack his head on the pavement and split his skull while they all watched. And it would be her fault.
When he landed hard on his backside, though, lifting one hand to touch his forehead in an obvious, dazed attempt to get his bearings again, An knew that he wasn’t going to die. Such was her relief that she wasted no time in hurrying across the court, pushing open the gate to bound down the steps.
“Oh god, are you okay?” she asked, dropping to a crouch before Ohtori, framing his face with her small, cold hands in an attempt to force an acknowledgement. For a moment, when he blinked, still wobbly, An was afraid that she’d knocked him cross-eyed and how was she to explain that to this poor boy’s parents?
“I’m so sorry, really, I am,” she went on, pushing back his hood to get a better look at the damage she’d inflicted. There, in the center of his forehead, was a round, red, rapidly swelling knot. It wasn’t attractive - but he was.
“How many of me do you see?” she asked, figuring that as long as he didn’t have any double vision, he would be okay. “Can you look at me?”
Glancing up and wincing for his trouble, Ohtori met the girl’s eyes. “Just one?”
She laughed, pretty eyes narrowing in amusement, and patted Ohtori’s cheek. He winced again.
“Oh! Sorry, sorry,” she murmured, quick to soothe him with the flat of her palm in the strangest sort of caress Ohtori had ever received. Barring family, it was the only caress he’d ever received and that knowledge made him lightheaded. Or maybe that smack in the head had done more damage than he’d previously assumed.
“Oi, An-chan,” a boy called - gruff and petulant and trying to hide it. “He’ll live. Didja get the ball?”
The girl turned, voice harder than when she’d spoken to Ohtori, and yelled over her shoulder, “Forget the ball, Kamio-kun! He might really be hurt!”
Kamio.
Ohtori shook his head - didn’t he know a Kamio?
“Kamio?” he murmured, touching his forehead and hissing when he pressed too hard. “Fudomine’s Kamio?”
The girl - An-chan - smiled at him, releasing him to rock back on her heels. “That’s right. Do you remember us?”
He nodded lightly, some part of him wanting her cool touch on his face again - her hands had felt nice. Comforting. “Aa. I’m Ohtori of Hyoutei.”
She was silent for a moment, smile fading - clearly, there was no love lost between Fudomine and Hyoutei, though Ohtori could have guessed as much - but then she smiled again. “Ohtori-kun. You’re a ways from home, aren’t you?”
He nodded miserably, head beginning to pound in perfect accompaniment to the ache in his chest. “I suppose I am.”
The girl stood, hand out to Ohtori and there was something in the set of her jaw, the tilt of her head, the way she held herself so composed and so confident that immediately put Ohtori at his ease. Here was no spoiled, pampered debutante. Here was a girl who would do as her instincts dictated, regardless of how her actions might appear to others; the way she’d tended to him was proof enough of that.
“Well, Ohtori-kun. Since I doubt you’re in the mood for a friendly match at the moment, you’ll have to let me treat you to a parfait.” She grinned, fingers closing around Ohtori’s when he finally took her hand.
“Why would you do that?” he asked. A girl treating a boy? What kind of school was Fudomine?
Planting her feet, she tugged to haul Ohtori up and when he stood before her - over her - she smiled up at him. Her barrettes caught the waning sunlight and the sudden sparkle hurt Ohtori’s eyes. But she had a sweet smile and there was more than just a hint of challenge in her eyes. Ohtori wondered why no other girl had ever been able to catch his attention the way this one did.
“I have to make amends, Ohtori-kun,” she said, as though it should have been obvious. “I could have killed you, you know.”
He blushed, rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think anyone’s ever died from a tennis ball to the head,” he said - gently so as not to insult her. She was just a girl, after all, and girls had very fragile, sensitive feelings.
“Fair enough,” she allowed. “Maybe I just want to share a parfait with you, ne, Ohtori-kun?”
Ohtori blushed again and glanced up to catch a vaguely familiar red-haired boy scowling at him from the gates above. After a moment, another boy joined him, fair of face with long, dark hair and while he didn’t scowl, he lay one hand on Kamio’s shoulder in silent support. Ohtori began to feel more than a little uncomfortable.
But then the girl squeezed his hand and Ohtori realized that she’d never let him go.
“O-okay, then,” he managed, wondering how long he would have to hold her hand and why he wasn’t happier that she was. Would he have to wait until she let go first? Shouldn’t he be glad that she hadn’t? Wasn’t it detestable of him that he thought she’d look cuter with a blue ball cap perched atop her smooth, shiny hair?
“You can call me An-chan,” she said, releasing his hand - finally - to bend over and sweep up the tennis ball that had rolled dangerously close to the curb. Over her shoulder she grinned, her hair swinging to brush against her cheek. “Everyone does.”
+++
In the end, Ohtori could find no real reason - or any reasonable activity, for that matter - that would allow for him to stay out all night and earn him his parents’ wrath. As it turned out, he really had no interest in giving up tennis or hiding from anyone. Ohtori Choutarou was not a quitter.
He’d spent nearly an hour with An in the little confectionary, listening to her talk about school and tennis and her brother. It occurred to Ohtori, as he watched An-chan polish off the parfait that he’d only taken a few bites of, that she talked about her brother almost as much as Ohtori wanted to talk about Shishido-san. That she was proud of him could never have been called into question and while she spoke of all of her brother’s teammates fondly, there was no mistaking her absolute adoration of Tachibana Kippei. Ohtori wondered why his own sister didn’t seem to care for him even half as much but, distasteful as such a thought was, realized that he was thankful that she didn’t. That would be creepy.
Outside on the sidewalk again, they stood, facing each other, and Ohtori felt as though he should say something - do something - to express his enjoyment of the time they’d spent together. Seldom was he presented with the opportunity to spend time with a girl and not have to worry about keeping up appearances or possibly giving her the wrong idea; encouraging her when it had not been his intention at all.
Tachibana An was different. She was secure in herself and her own activities and her own life; she didn’t seem at all like the sort of girl Ohtori was used to. The kind of girl who pined over boys and obsessed over having a boyfriend, the kind of girl who cared too much about everyone else’s opinion and not her own - the kind of girl who would never pick up a racket and run off to challenge the boys to a game.
Ohtori had felt comfortable talking to her, had enjoyed her chatter and her laughter and the way she met his eyes when she spoke to him. But he hadn’t unburdened himself to her and he knew that he never could. Not to her, not to anyone.
It occurred to him, in a rather sudden surge of inspiration, that An-chan could very well be the answer to all his problems. Shishido-san clearly preferred girls and Ohtori knew well enough how girl-crazy the rest of the team was. He knew, as bad as these sorts of thoughts always made him feel, that he would never be normal unless he tried.
He liked An-chan. Perhaps she would be the one who made his effort worthwhile. It was for that reason - and that reason alone - that he bowed to her on the sidewalk and didn’t care if it was lame. He only stuttered once when he asked for her number and she pretended not to notice his blush.
He promised to call her the next day and she smiled, bright in the gaudy, neon lighting, and Ohtori wondered idly if he would tell Shishido-san about her. Then he remembered that Shishido-san probably wouldn’t want to talk to him, anyway.
He touched her hand before he said goodbye. She stood where she was and watched him until he was out of sight. Then she smiled.
+++
The next morning saw Ohtori rising well after ten a.m. and, surprisingly enough, no one had seen fit to awaken him before he’d been ready. He stretched, feeling languid and slumberous still, and smiled to himself when he remembered the wonderful dream he’d enjoyed the night before. Shishido-san had taken off his hat to run his hands through short, messy hair and he’d smiled his welcome when he’d caught Ohtori staring. This time, there had been no misunderstandings - there had been no right or wrong. There had just been himself and Shishido-san and all the feelings that such proximity always roused in Ohtori. Before the dream could reach its natural, much-anticipated conclusion, however, An-chan had made an appearance - complete with cherry-red lips and dark, knowing eyes - and Ohtori had come awake with a sudden rush of arousal and guilt.
In his dream, An-chan had been twirling a cherry stem, the berry beneath it ripe and chilled, and when she’d bitten into it with small, even teeth, she’d smirked at Ohtori. It wasn’t until later that he realized she’d been wearing a blue ball cap.
+++
He stared at the LCD screen for at least five minutes before moving to push the first button on his phone. By the time he’d entered the rest of the number, he’d committed it to memory.
They made plans to meet at a movie theatre near her house, for which Ohtori was grateful. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted by anyone he knew and risk opening himself up to all manner of embarrassing questions. He needed to figure things out for himself before he would be able to discuss them with anyone else - not that he had any intention of discussing his current situation with anyone, anyway. If he turned out to be as gay as he suspected he might, he would likely spend the rest of his life attempting to conceal it. Talking about it was not even in the realm of possibilities.
Ohtori’s sister commented on his liberal use of cologne over breakfast. Declining to respond, he had helped himself to another slice of melon and kept his head down. He should have known that she wouldn’t give up so easily.
“You got a date with Shishido-san, Choutarou?” she asked, voice deceptively light and interested. “You sure do smell nice.”
Ohtori blushed, stomach immediately tightening in protest and he lay the fruit on his plate again to wipe his fingers on the napkin in his lap. “No,” he finally said, rising to his feet to put his plate in the sink.
“Oh?” she countered, one brow arched in question as she watched him move about the kitchen. His movements were stiff, stilted, too quick - he was hiding something. “Where are you going, then?”
At the doorway, he paused, glancing back at his sister without bothering to conceal the hurt in his eyes. Sometimes he could withstand her teasing - like when Shishido-san was still a part of his life. Now was not one of those times.
“I’ve got a date,” he told her and, when he opened the door, he added, “With a girl.”
+++
“This is a dumb idea,” Kamio groused, wishing he had a good enough reason to elbow Momoshiro in the side. “Tell me again why we’re doing this?”
Squeezing a tube containing a substance that suspiciously resembled yoghurt into his mouth, Momoshiro slurped audibly. That he even bothered to lick his lips before he began speaking was boon enough for Kamio - Momoshiro was a pig.
“Because, idiot,” he began, managing to sound knowledgeable when Kamio knew better. “If you’ve been replaced by some Hyoutei fancy-pants, don’t you want to know now while you still have a chance to do something about it?”
“Do? If she likes some other guy, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
Behind them, Ryoma sighed, kicking at pebbles along the sidewalk and wishing he’d stayed home. He’d had every intention of sleeping late, enjoying a late breakfast and then calling Buchou to suggest a match or two. Or three. Or until the sun went down and Nanjiroh yelled at him about wasting the outdoor lights. Of course, Nanjiroh would only interrupt long enough to ruin Ryoma’s time with Tezuka since as soon as his Buchou left, he’d find a reason to thoroughly trounce Ryoma before allowing him to slink off to bathe. His dad was a real bastard, sometimes. Ryoma smirked, thinking about him.
“Eh, Echizen?”
Ryoma glanced up, having been tuning the two of them out. “Huh?”
Momo groaned his exasperation, elbowing Ryoma and knocking his cap askew. “I said, a girl likes to know that Attention Is Being Paid, don’t you think? If Kamio-kun wants to keep his girlfriend, he has to show her that he’s man enough to muscle in and be the boss.”
Straightening his cap, Ryoma grunted. Momo-senpai was much taller than him; Ryoma wished he’d stop elbowing him in the head. “Yeah, whatever,” he said. Ryoma didn’t know anything about keeping girlfriends and he didn’t care. They couldn’t keep up with him on the court, so what good were they?
Kamio rubbed his face, making a rather frightening, impatient sound. Ryoma fell back a little more - he didn’t want to walk that close to anybody who made noises like that.
“Why do I listen to you? You come up with the dumbest ideas in the world and I always end up looking like an idiot.”
Momo rolled the tube all the way up in an attempt to squeeze the last bit of strawberry-flavored substance from within it. “Pfft. You look like an idiot whether you listen to me or not.”
Slurp
The conversation went downhill after that. Or rather, Ryoma decided, Momo-senpai rolled up his sleeves, spat into his hands and pushed it downhill. The bottom line was that now Kamio and Momo were yelling at one another and Ryoma had begun to suspect that the day was not going to end well. And so he turned around and went home. He didn’t offer any farewell - he didn’t think either of them deserved one.
+++
Ohtori fidgeted when he was nervous. Standing in front of the Cineplex with two tickets in his jacket pocket and his heart pounding somewhere in his throat, he couldn’t remember ever having felt so unsettled and out of sorts in all his life. He quickly amended that, however, with the exception of all those times when he snuck little glances at Shishido-san in the clubhouse while he changed clothes. That didn’t make him feel out of sorts, though. That just made him feel horny.
He shook his head to clear his traitorous thoughts, though, and smiled nervously at some of the people who walked past him on their way into the theatre. Old ladies and single women and women with their children - they all received Ohtori’s sweetest, friendliest smiles. He didn’t smile at couples or at boys - that would only lead to trouble - and imagined the tickets bursting into flames inside his pocket if he held onto them for too long.
An-chan didn’t keep him waiting for long and when Ohtori finally spotted her, he lifted his hand in a casual wave and forced his best smile. She was dressed in a knee-length blue skirt and a white sweater and her barrettes glinted in the sunlight as they had the day before. Ohtori was caught between excitement and dread.
“Ohtori-kun,” she greeted, reaching to take his hand. “I’m sorry you had to wait.”
Shrugging his shoulders, but not shrugging her off, Ohtori continued to smile at her. “I didn’t wait long, it’s no problem.”
They were silent for a moment until Ohtori realized that he should say something to let her know he was happy to be in her company. “You look pretty, An-chan.”
Smiling brightly, she squeezed his hand and tugged him toward the door. “So smooth, Ohtori-kun. That makes me pretty lucky, ne?”
He blushed - his compliment had been sincere - and followed her inside and toward the concession stand. “I - I don’t know, An-chan.”
Towering over An-chan as he did, rummaging through his pockets for money while she perused the menu on the board overhead, Ohtori felt ungainly and unattractive. He couldn’t help wondering why An-chan seemed interested in making time with someone like him when the Fudomine boys were better looking and seemed more her type. Maybe this whole thing was a joke and - after he’d sufficiently revealed himself for the novice he was - she and her friends would all share a laugh at his expense. He watched her, though, as she contemplated one snack over another and felt a little guilty for thinking such uncharitable thoughts. An-chan was not that kind of girl, Ohtori was certain of it.
“Please. Order whatever you’d like,” he said, trying to keep his voice down for some reason that he couldn’t quite comprehend.
Turning a little, she beamed up at him and wound her arm through his to snuggle against his side for a moment. Ohtori broke out into an immediate sweat.
“Ohtori-kun. You’re a good date - why don’t you tell me what you like the best and we’ll share?”
Not anticipating that she would consider his preferences before ordering, he very nearly requested nachos until he reminded himself that nacho-breath wasn’t a good thing when sitting close to a girl. Shishido-san never seemed to mind, but that was probably because he had nacho-breath, too.
“Popcorn? And a coke?”
She smiled at him, but didn’t speak right away. Ohtori imagined that she would want something sweet, too. Girls liked sweet things.
“Some candy, too? Your choice.”
She nodded, pointing to some fruity, gummy candies that Ohtori knew would get stuck in his teeth but would have covered up his nacho-breath. He didn’t like popcorn all that much, really.
He paid for their snacks and didn’t miss that An-chan only held one straw. He supposed it didn’t matter since they’d shared a parfait yesterday. She’d even licked his spoon at the end. Remembering it made Ohtori’s stomach pole-vault.
He produced their tickets and followed the usher’s direction along the hallway toward the theatre in which their movie would be shown. He didn’t hold her hand, laden down with snacks as he was, and for that he was grateful. When she scooted into the last row of the theatre - tucked away in the corner - Ohtori’s palms began to sweat. A lot.
She stood aside, motioning him inside and he slid into the seat against the wall without hesitation. Sitting down beside him, she sidled up close when she pushed the armrest up so that there were no barriers between them. She stabbed the straw into their soda and held it up for him to sip from. The lights had not gone down - Ohtori felt as though everyone in the theatre were staring at him.
“You look nice, too, Ohtori-kun,” she murmured, head tilted beguilingly as she offered the drink to him.
He leaned in, sipped from the straw even he knew he’d never be able to swallow past the enormous lump in his throat, and met her eyes over the cup. She was pretty - really pretty - and sincere and everything that Ohtori knew he should want.
He closed his eyes and drank deep.
“Ohtori-kun?” she said, after a few moments. He settled back in his seat and balanced the bucket of popcorn on his knees.
“Yes?”
“Are you all right? You seem…distracted.”
He blushed, glad that the lighting was low and that she couldn’t see the way she affected him. “I’m fine. I’m fine, really.”
She parted her lips, as though to protest or perhaps to question him further, but the lights went down and she fell silent. Ohtori took a deep breath, knowing that the trial had truly just begun. There, in the dark, much would be expected of him.
After a few moments, his eyes began to adjust to the darkness and he glanced around in an attempt to orient himself to his surroundings. The theatre wasn’t packed and there were enough empty seats between occupied ones for Ohtori to make out the number of couples inside the theatre. The movie An-chan had wanted to see was a typical date movie - Ohtori should have known that there would be plenty of couples there. He began to relax, even if only marginally, and - feeling suddenly optimistic - scooped up a handful of popcorn.
An-chan seemed interested in the trailers and advertisements and Ohtori munched his popcorn quietly, hoping that her attention would remain on the screen before them for the duration of the movie. If she started sneaking expectant little glances at him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his breakfast down. And then he’d have to move to Kyoto or something equally horrifying.
Glancing around still, Ohtori froze when his gaze skidded to a halt on a couple not even four rows ahead. The girl was as tall as the boy and it was difficult for Ohtori to make out which was which from the position they were in. The one on the right had a delicate profile and flippy hair and was leaning his/her head on the other person’s shoulder and so Ohtori felt it was safe to assume that that one was the girl. She tipped her chin up, slid an arm around the boy’s shoulders and closed the distance between them. The boy hesitated only for a moment before touching the girl’s face and leaning in to press his mouth to hers. After only a few hesitant, explorative kisses, they were wrapped tightly around one another, kissing and sucking and tangling fingers into hair.
Ohtori’s underwear felt a bit more constrictive for the shameless floorshow he was being allowed to witness and he quickly averted his eyes.
To his left, there were three people passing a bag of popcorn back and forth and when the screen brightened, Ohtori blinked rapidly and attempted another look.
Mukahi-kun?
Failing to school his expression, Ohtori gaped when he realized what - and whom - he was seeing. There, sandwiched between Oishi and Kikumaru of Seigaku, was Mukahi Gakuto. With one arm around Kikumaru and the other around Oishi, Mukahi opened his mouth from time to time to allow one or the other of his companions to feed him a few pieces of popcorn. He licked Oishi’s fingertips once and tipped his head back when both boys leaned in to nuzzle first one another and then Mukahi.
Ohtori suspected that his bones were about to liquefy. Or else he was scant moments away from pissing himself. Either way, it was all going to end in tragedy.
Glancing away - willing to look at anything other than what his gaze continued to land on - he spotted an older couple sharing a bag of popcorn and speaking quietly to one another. Ohtori smiled, grateful for a bit of normalcy and something cute enough to take his mind off of the fact that he’d wandered into a den of iniquity masquerading as a movie theatre, until the old man wound his hand in the old woman’s ponytail and tugged her head back when he leaned in to take a piece of popcorn from her lips. Shocked enough to want to look elsewhere, Ohtori’s stomach turned when he recognized the old woman as Seigaku’s coach and it was all he could do not to nudge An merely to make certain that he was not hallucinating when - from the seat just next to the old man - a small voice hissed, “Sensei, is there anymore popcorn left, desu?”
Horrified, Ohtori quickly attempted to turn his attention to the film that he’d paid to watch, when he found himself unable to resist another glance at the couple a few rows in front of him.
He watched the couple he’d noticed before, eyes widening when the boy lifted the armrest to push his girlfriend back against the seat. They kissed for long, hot moments and Ohtori realized that he could no longer see their hands. And then the light caught the boy’s glasses and the lavender poet’s shirt the ‘girl’ had on and Ohtori slumped down in his seat. It was clear to him, now, why his captain was always unavailable on Saturdays and why Mukahi spent Friday nights with Oshitari and somehow managed to be away all the next day.
In that moment, when Ohtori was certain that he was about to suffer apoplexy, An-chan lay her small, cool hand on Ohtori’s arm and rested her head against his bicep. It dawned on him that he had no idea as to whether or not she was enjoying the movie - he hadn’t watched even five full minutes of it, himself - and he turned his head just enough to catch her gaze.
“Do you like the film?” he whispered, fingers tightening on the bucket of popcorn when she leaned in to get a handful. Her lips were close to his and were shiny with butter and swollen from the salt. Ohtori’s chest tightened.
“It’s okay,” she answered, fingers splayed against his arm when she leaned in a little more. “You can kiss me, Ohtori-kun. If you want to.”
He could kiss her. If he wanted to. He couldn’t touch her, though, as he was responsible for holding the popcorn. He licked his lips, preparing to point this out to her, when she suddenly smiled and tilted her head. She closed her eyes. Ohtori trembled.
“An-chan,” he whispered, seconds away from crushing the container he held.
“Ohtori-kun,” she answered, voice soft and light, and Ohtori squeezed his own eyes closed tightly when he tilted his head and touched his lips to hers in a hesitant, uncertain, feather-light kiss.
She hummed her approval and rested one hand at his shoulder when she parted her lips to encourage more of the same and Ohtori felt as though his head were spinning. He kissed her again, lips clinging a bit this time and Ohtori rather liked the taste of butter and salt on her mouth. It made the kiss interesting instead of merely terrifying.
She breathed against his lips, hand fisting around the material of his jacket, and before he could respond - not that he had any real idea of how he was expected to respond - he jumped back, startled when two boys hurried past him. One of them wore the Rikkai tennis jersey draped over his shoulders and was dragging the other - a tall, broad one with a ball cap on - down the aisle and toward the exit.
Ohtori watched the door close behind them and he heaved a great sigh, tipping his head back to rest against the seat. What a nightmare this whole thing was. Any minute now he would wake up and Shishido-san would be texting him to get a game going and his sister would bang on the door and tell him to get his lazy ass out of bed and his Mother would come in and ask him if everything was all right, all while pretending not to notice the pictures of Ohtori and Shishido-san taped all along the edges of his mirror.
But it wasn’t a dream and, in his heart, Ohtori knew it. When An-chan spoke to him, whispering his name - her concern for him evident in the tone of his voice, he sat up straight in his seat and faced her. He had to tell her - had to be honest about himself if he could not be honest about who had already taken his heart.
“An-chan. I’m sorry…”
Over her shoulder, seated the next row over, just across the aisle, sat Kamio of Fudomine and Momoshiro of Seigaku. He blinked, taken aback when he realized that they were staring at him.
Momoshiro wouldn’t have noticed his captain making out with Ohtori’s captain or his own teammates making time with Ohtori’s teammate because he was already spying on Ohtori.
Face flushed, stomach in knots, Ohtori pushed the popcorn into An-chan’s lap and stammered another apology when he stumbled out into the aisle to beat a hasty retreat to the exit.
He didn’t stop when he reached the lobby, but kept going until he reached the sidewalk. Glancing around wildly, making sure that nobody was watching and nobody would question him and that he could end this horrible disaster of a day as he had begun it - alone.
Turning away, crumpling the ticket stubs inside his pocket to fling them along the sidewalk, Ohtori cursed under his breath and wished he’d had the confidence, the certainty to handle the situation in a manner more befitting a gentleman. An-chan didn’t deserve such mistreatment - she deserved someone much better than Ohtori.
“Ohtori-kun.”
He turned back toward the theatre, blushing when he took in the sight of Tachibana An standing at the curb, hands in her pockets, brow smooth and unworried.
“An-chan, I…” he began, wanting to make it right, but knowing that to do so would be an even bigger lie than the date itself. “Forgive me, please. I just…I wanted to…”
She shook her head, holding her hand out to him as she’d done before and Ohtori found himself just as tempted to take it.
“Will you come with me, Ohtori-kun? Just for a while?”
This was it, Ohtori suspected. She’d take him home to Tachibana Kippei, who would likely beat the snot out of him for using his sister the way Ohtori clearly had. And wouldn’t he deserve it? Truly?
He took her hand, nodded miserably and he let her lead the way.
+++
The little café was nearly empty and still An-chan chose the most private table she could find. She sat Ohtori down and patted his shoulder, instructing him to wait for her while she got the both of them a drink.
When she returned, she set a mango fruit smoothie down before Ohtori while she sipped her bubble tea. Ohtori sipped until his brain froze and he had to stop and rub his temples - anything to postpone this discussion.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Ohtori-kun?” she asked, voice light.
“Tell you what?” he mumbled into his smoothie.
“You know what I’m talking about,” she said and, though there was no reproach in the tone of her voice, Ohtori hung his head further. Tears pricked behind his eyelids and he wanted to simply disappear. He wanted it almost as much as he wanted to look this girl in the face and tell her the secret he couldn’t tell another living soul.
He sniffled - hating his weakness, hating himself - and swiped at his eyes with the back of one hand. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
She was silent for a moment and then she set her drink down on the table and rose to stand over Ohtori. He didn’t look up, but she didn’t seem to require it and he startled when she bent to wrap her arms around his shoulders. It was familiar and intimate and Ohtori knew that people would frown on such behavior if they knew just how little Ohtori and An-chan knew of one another. In that moment, though, Ohtori wasn’t sure he cared and he knew that An-chan didn’t.
“Shh, Ohtori-kun,” she murmured to him, rubbing his back and pressing her cheek to his head. “Don’t be sorry.”
Eventually, he lifted his arm to rest his hand at her shoulder and when she hugged him that much tighter, he didn’t bother to hide the tears that ran unchecked along his cheeks.
I’m sorry. I am.
“Ohtori-kun, when you love someone, you tell them. Don’t wait and don’t think of all the reasons why you shouldn’t. You just say it.”
“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t say it.”
She smiled - he could feel it - and bonked her head against his. “Yes, you can. You just tell him.”
He looked up then, teary-eyed and flushed. “How did you know?”
She quirked a brow, ruffled his hair. “Ohtori-kun. I’ve seen you play before. You and your doubles partner.”
She let him go, touching his shoulder just once and he stared up at her as though she had the answers to everything. And who was he to say that she didn’t?
“What do I say?”
Hands on her hips, she tilted her head at him. “How about ‘I like you’?”
He shook his head, wiped his eyes again. He’d given in to a moment of weakness when it had become too much to bear, but he was done sniffling like a wimp. What would Shishido-san say if he could see him now?
“He knows,” he said forlornly. “There’s nothing I can say to make it any more obvious.”
“Then you don’t have anything to lose, do you?”
Considering her words - the look in her eyes and the way her every sentiment was a double-dare in disguise - Ohtori sniffled one last time and took one last sip from his smoothie.
No. No, he really didn’t.
“I suppose not,” he said, getting to his feet to stand somewhat awkwardly before her. “I don’t know what to say, An-chan. This still doesn’t feel right, you know? You’re such a nice girl and all…”
She laughed, rolled her eyes at him. “Get out of here, Chou-ta-rou.”
He smiled, touching her arm when he passed, and pushed the door open. He took off at a sprint and An leaned against the door to watch him go. It was going to be rough for him, she knew, but he was a nice boy with a good heart - he deserved a happy ending. She tucked her hands into her pockets and watched the people pass by on the sidewalk. The gummy candies were still there - she’d just have to eat them herself. Kippei didn’t like candy.
It was as she pushed open the door to step outside that she noticed Kamio and Momoshiro dodging people in the sidewalk - running away from her and toward Seigaku. She shook her head. Boys were weird. She’d begun to suspect that the only straight one in the bunch was her brother. And possibly Fuji Shuusuke, but he was a bit odd, himself.
Taking out the pack of candies, she ripped the bag and glanced around before crossing the street. Just ahead, she saw Sakuno-chan standing on the corner, looking suitably dejected and alone and it was in her direction that she headed. At least this way, she’d have someone worthy with whom to share her candy.
“Oi, Sakuno-chan,” she called. “You’re out all alone?”
Glancing up, obviously startled, Sakuno forced a little smile and bowed respectfully. An had to bite back a smile - Sakuno-chan was just too cute.
“Ah…An-chan,” she said. “I saw Momo-chan-senpai earlier and I thought - well, I hoped - that Ryoma-kun would be…,” she trailed off here, blushing and casting her gaze elsewhere. “Er, that is to say that I thought I might run into Ryoma-kun, also.”
An nodded sagely and smiled a little, walking again and indicating that Sakuno should join her. On the way back to Seigaku, An figured she might as well attempt to explain the facts of life to Sakuno-chan. Boys who played tennis were a breed apart from the rest and unless Sakuno painted a tennis ball on her backside, it was unlikely that Echizen Ryoma would ever give her so much as a second glance.
But that part could wait until after they’d shared a bit of candy and gossip. An had to work for the information she obtained. It was simply the way things worked; Yumiko-san had clued her in on that score months ago.
Slinging an arm around Sakuno’s shoulders, An tipped the bag in her direction. When Sakuno offered her a bashful little smile and reached into the bag for one of the cherry candies, An wondered how Ohtori was faring. She said a little prayer for him - he needed all the help he could get.
+++
By the time Ohtori’s bus reached its destination, he was no longer out of breath and anxious enough to have a heart attack. While it probably wasn’t the best idea to turn up at Shishido-san’s house to force a conclusion, he was not above calling him in an attempt to draw him out a little. They were friends - best friends - and that had to count for something. People didn’t just throw away friendships without first attempting to salvage them, did they?
He decided that no, of course they didn’t.
He ran home, stripping off his jacket to tie around his waist when he got too hot, even running in the chill breeze as he was.
Breathing hard when he mounted the front steps, he banged the front door open a little harder than he’d intended and immediately yelled out an apology to his mother, who was likely preparing for dinner.
“Choutarou?” she called out. “Is that you?”
“Yes, Mom, it’s me. Let me take a shower and I’ll come down and help you.”
On the stairs, he could hear her rattling dishes and then she yelled out to him again. “Choutarou? Can you come here a moment, first?”
He exhaled heavily, turning to trudge down the stairs again. He hoped he wasn’t in trouble - he hadn’t been gone that long, after all, and he’d made it home in time for dinner.
Before he’d even entered the kitchen, he began to talk. He didn’t have time for this mundane nonsense - he needed to talk to Shishido-san. Now.
“Mom, I’ll be back in a minute - I really need to…”
Any ability to speak seemed to desert him when his gaze fell on the boy seated at his table, picking at the bandage on his forehead and trying not to scowl.
“Shishido-san!” he said, eyes wide. There was nothing he could do about the wonder in his voice - seeing Shishido-san sitting there had stolen his breath.
“Choutarou, Ryou-kun has been trying to reach you all day, where have you been?”
Fishing into his pocket, he took out his phone and flipped it open. It wasn’t powered up.
“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, I must have turned it off.”
For long moments he stood, staring at Shishido-san and simply unable to look away. It had only been one day, but it had felt like a million years. A million, bleak, hopeless years in which he’d thought that he would never be able to see Shishido-san again.
“Choutarou,” his mother spoke up, voice sharp and cutting into his thoughts with a tone that indicated that she’d spoken once or twice before.
“Ah, sorry, Mom. What did you say?”
“Go shower and let Ryou-kun wash up. I’ve asked him to stay for dinner since his parents are out of town.”
Ohtori blushed, nodding quickly. “Sure, sure. Shishido-san?”
Shishido-san stood, pushing his chair back into place the way he never did anyplace else, and edged past Ohtori toward his bedroom. They didn’t speak on the stairs and Ohtori hung back a little. As much as he wanted to crowd Shishido-san, he knew it was a bad idea.
Inside the room, Ohtori closed the door and toed off his shoes, not looking at Shishido-san. His heart was beating like a trip-hammer - he had no idea what to say. True to form, however, Shishido-san cut directly to the chase.
“Your sister said you were on a date.”
There was a pause and then he added, “With a girl.”
Glancing up, Ohtori licked his lips in preparation of a decent explanation. He wouldn’t lie. “I was.”
Shishido-san scowled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Well, then what the hell was yesterday all about, Choutarou? I mean, you can’t just…do what you did and then run off to be with some dumb girl. I oughtta kick your ass, is what I oughtta….”
“I told her I liked you, Shishido-san,” he cut in, breathless and apprehensive, but so happy to speak from his heart.
Blushing faintly, Shishido-san tugged his hat down and fidgeted a little. Ohtori smiled and didn’t bother to hide it.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be okay with it,” he said. “That’s way I ran. That’s the only reason I ran.”
After a moment, Shishido-san turned his head, looking out of Ohtori’s window at nothing at all. Finally, he muttered, “I’m okay with it.”
Taking a step forward, Ohtori untied his jacket. He was sweaty and he knew he probably smelled pretty rank, but he also knew that Shishido-san wouldn’t care. “Yeah?” he asked, barely able to contain the emotion that swelled within him. “You really are?”
Sneaking a glance from beneath the brim of his cap, Shishido-san nodded once. “Yeah. I just…I wasn’t expecting…”
Ohtori couldn’t stop smiling, even when he closed the distance between them to squeeze Shishido-san’s shoulder. “I could have said it better, I know.”
Drawing Shishido-san close - unable to believe his good fortune when Shishido-san allowed himself to be led - he slid one hand along his partner’s back and brought him that much closer. Bending to meet Shishido-san’s eyes, Ohtori touched his chin and leaned in so close that there was no mistaking his intention.
Shishido-san didn’t move.
“Let me try again,” he whispered, already tilting his head to press his mouth to Shishido-san’s, who merely rested one hand at Ohtori’s right hip and closed his eyes when he parted his lips in eager acceptance.
With Shishido-san’s name on his lips, he kissed him again. And again. And still Shishido-san didn’t let him go.
For the first time that day, Ohtori didn’t stop to second-guess himself. He knew he finally had it right.
Recipient's name: The entire gosh-darn community!
Pairing(s): Ohtori/An, Ohtori/Shishido, Various
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ohtori has a lot to learn about love. A serendipitous meeting with Tachibana An gives him the courage he needs to be true to his heart.
nothing to lose
or
Ohtori and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day
The sun was setting on the most debilitating humiliation that Ohtori Choutarou had ever experienced and - adding insult to injury - Shishido-san wasn’t shuffling along at his side the way he might have been if Ohtori hadn’t been such an impulsive idiot.
And Ohtori knew that he deserved it. Trudging along the sidewalk - head bowed, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts - his chest tight with the knowledge that he could not undo what was already done, Ohtori couldn’t imagine how he’d anticipated any other outcome.
Their playful rally finished, Shishido-san had dropped his racket and bent, hands resting on his knees as he panted for breath. The look Shishido-san flashed Ohtori then had given him hope and, before he could think better of it, he’d been touching Shishido-san’s shoulder and then his neck and when he’d brushed Shishido-san’s cheek with the backs of his fingers, awareness had returned with a vengeance.
“…the hell? Choutarou?! What are you doing?”
Shishido-san’s reaction had been all the answer that Ohtori required and when the awkward confusion had passed, Ohtori had seen no other option but to run. That Shishido-san had called him back before he’d even put twenty feet between them had not mattered. Ohtori’s humiliation was complete and he knew that nothing would ever be the same between himself and Shishido-san again.
Shishido-san’s words - the tone of his voice - rang in Ohtori’s ears and he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up to block out the rest of the world. Already he knew that going home was not an option as his Mother would likely meet him at the door, take one look at the expression on his face and question him relentlessly until he caved and - in a sniveling, embarrassing display of broken humanity - revealed that he had, in fact, confessed his shameful, one-sided love to Shishido Ryou right on the heels of one of the best practices they’d ever shared. That Shishido-san had not returned his affections was a travesty rivaled only by the knowledge that Ohtori had desecrated the courts with his presumptuous, homosexual fawning. And Atobe could never, ever find out.
He passed by his usual bus stop, bright red hood effectively concealing his identity, with no real destination in mind. He couldn’t go home, but neither could he spend all evening out alone without first calling his Mother. He’d be grounded for a month and there would be no tennis…
No tennis. No Shishido-san. No Atobe-Buchou and his damnable insight (though, to be fair, Atobe-Buchou’s insight was something to be admired and revered). Perhaps being grounded was Ohtori’s only saving grace. Perhaps he’d just stay out all night. Perhaps he’d wander into one of the seedier parts of town - the ones Gakuto bragged about visiting when Ohtori knew he never really did - and simply vanish. Victim to some awful, unspeakable crime and wouldn’t Shishido-san be sorry, then? And his Mother, too, for wanting to ground him when his heart had been so thoroughly shattered. So pitiful were his thoughts, so maudlin and dramatically, pathetically comforting that the sounds of kids’ voices rising in rally and trainers slapping against concrete and that beautiful, familiar sound of a tennis ball bouncing over a net only to be slammed back in the direction from whence it came had barely begun to register before one voice shrilled above all the others to cut into Ohtori’s private, miserable wallow.
“Hey, watch out!”
He turned, too late, emitting a decidedly unmanly squeak when the tennis ball - no more than a yellow blur by the time Ohtori became aware of it - whacked him right between the eyes.
And down he went.
+++
Eyes wide, mouth open - breath caught in her throat as she watched, helplessly - Tachibana An felt certain that the tall boy in the red hoodie was going to crack his head on the pavement and split his skull while they all watched. And it would be her fault.
When he landed hard on his backside, though, lifting one hand to touch his forehead in an obvious, dazed attempt to get his bearings again, An knew that he wasn’t going to die. Such was her relief that she wasted no time in hurrying across the court, pushing open the gate to bound down the steps.
“Oh god, are you okay?” she asked, dropping to a crouch before Ohtori, framing his face with her small, cold hands in an attempt to force an acknowledgement. For a moment, when he blinked, still wobbly, An was afraid that she’d knocked him cross-eyed and how was she to explain that to this poor boy’s parents?
“I’m so sorry, really, I am,” she went on, pushing back his hood to get a better look at the damage she’d inflicted. There, in the center of his forehead, was a round, red, rapidly swelling knot. It wasn’t attractive - but he was.
“How many of me do you see?” she asked, figuring that as long as he didn’t have any double vision, he would be okay. “Can you look at me?”
Glancing up and wincing for his trouble, Ohtori met the girl’s eyes. “Just one?”
She laughed, pretty eyes narrowing in amusement, and patted Ohtori’s cheek. He winced again.
“Oh! Sorry, sorry,” she murmured, quick to soothe him with the flat of her palm in the strangest sort of caress Ohtori had ever received. Barring family, it was the only caress he’d ever received and that knowledge made him lightheaded. Or maybe that smack in the head had done more damage than he’d previously assumed.
“Oi, An-chan,” a boy called - gruff and petulant and trying to hide it. “He’ll live. Didja get the ball?”
The girl turned, voice harder than when she’d spoken to Ohtori, and yelled over her shoulder, “Forget the ball, Kamio-kun! He might really be hurt!”
Kamio.
Ohtori shook his head - didn’t he know a Kamio?
“Kamio?” he murmured, touching his forehead and hissing when he pressed too hard. “Fudomine’s Kamio?”
The girl - An-chan - smiled at him, releasing him to rock back on her heels. “That’s right. Do you remember us?”
He nodded lightly, some part of him wanting her cool touch on his face again - her hands had felt nice. Comforting. “Aa. I’m Ohtori of Hyoutei.”
She was silent for a moment, smile fading - clearly, there was no love lost between Fudomine and Hyoutei, though Ohtori could have guessed as much - but then she smiled again. “Ohtori-kun. You’re a ways from home, aren’t you?”
He nodded miserably, head beginning to pound in perfect accompaniment to the ache in his chest. “I suppose I am.”
The girl stood, hand out to Ohtori and there was something in the set of her jaw, the tilt of her head, the way she held herself so composed and so confident that immediately put Ohtori at his ease. Here was no spoiled, pampered debutante. Here was a girl who would do as her instincts dictated, regardless of how her actions might appear to others; the way she’d tended to him was proof enough of that.
“Well, Ohtori-kun. Since I doubt you’re in the mood for a friendly match at the moment, you’ll have to let me treat you to a parfait.” She grinned, fingers closing around Ohtori’s when he finally took her hand.
“Why would you do that?” he asked. A girl treating a boy? What kind of school was Fudomine?
Planting her feet, she tugged to haul Ohtori up and when he stood before her - over her - she smiled up at him. Her barrettes caught the waning sunlight and the sudden sparkle hurt Ohtori’s eyes. But she had a sweet smile and there was more than just a hint of challenge in her eyes. Ohtori wondered why no other girl had ever been able to catch his attention the way this one did.
“I have to make amends, Ohtori-kun,” she said, as though it should have been obvious. “I could have killed you, you know.”
He blushed, rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t think anyone’s ever died from a tennis ball to the head,” he said - gently so as not to insult her. She was just a girl, after all, and girls had very fragile, sensitive feelings.
“Fair enough,” she allowed. “Maybe I just want to share a parfait with you, ne, Ohtori-kun?”
Ohtori blushed again and glanced up to catch a vaguely familiar red-haired boy scowling at him from the gates above. After a moment, another boy joined him, fair of face with long, dark hair and while he didn’t scowl, he lay one hand on Kamio’s shoulder in silent support. Ohtori began to feel more than a little uncomfortable.
But then the girl squeezed his hand and Ohtori realized that she’d never let him go.
“O-okay, then,” he managed, wondering how long he would have to hold her hand and why he wasn’t happier that she was. Would he have to wait until she let go first? Shouldn’t he be glad that she hadn’t? Wasn’t it detestable of him that he thought she’d look cuter with a blue ball cap perched atop her smooth, shiny hair?
“You can call me An-chan,” she said, releasing his hand - finally - to bend over and sweep up the tennis ball that had rolled dangerously close to the curb. Over her shoulder she grinned, her hair swinging to brush against her cheek. “Everyone does.”
+++
In the end, Ohtori could find no real reason - or any reasonable activity, for that matter - that would allow for him to stay out all night and earn him his parents’ wrath. As it turned out, he really had no interest in giving up tennis or hiding from anyone. Ohtori Choutarou was not a quitter.
He’d spent nearly an hour with An in the little confectionary, listening to her talk about school and tennis and her brother. It occurred to Ohtori, as he watched An-chan polish off the parfait that he’d only taken a few bites of, that she talked about her brother almost as much as Ohtori wanted to talk about Shishido-san. That she was proud of him could never have been called into question and while she spoke of all of her brother’s teammates fondly, there was no mistaking her absolute adoration of Tachibana Kippei. Ohtori wondered why his own sister didn’t seem to care for him even half as much but, distasteful as such a thought was, realized that he was thankful that she didn’t. That would be creepy.
Outside on the sidewalk again, they stood, facing each other, and Ohtori felt as though he should say something - do something - to express his enjoyment of the time they’d spent together. Seldom was he presented with the opportunity to spend time with a girl and not have to worry about keeping up appearances or possibly giving her the wrong idea; encouraging her when it had not been his intention at all.
Tachibana An was different. She was secure in herself and her own activities and her own life; she didn’t seem at all like the sort of girl Ohtori was used to. The kind of girl who pined over boys and obsessed over having a boyfriend, the kind of girl who cared too much about everyone else’s opinion and not her own - the kind of girl who would never pick up a racket and run off to challenge the boys to a game.
Ohtori had felt comfortable talking to her, had enjoyed her chatter and her laughter and the way she met his eyes when she spoke to him. But he hadn’t unburdened himself to her and he knew that he never could. Not to her, not to anyone.
It occurred to him, in a rather sudden surge of inspiration, that An-chan could very well be the answer to all his problems. Shishido-san clearly preferred girls and Ohtori knew well enough how girl-crazy the rest of the team was. He knew, as bad as these sorts of thoughts always made him feel, that he would never be normal unless he tried.
He liked An-chan. Perhaps she would be the one who made his effort worthwhile. It was for that reason - and that reason alone - that he bowed to her on the sidewalk and didn’t care if it was lame. He only stuttered once when he asked for her number and she pretended not to notice his blush.
He promised to call her the next day and she smiled, bright in the gaudy, neon lighting, and Ohtori wondered idly if he would tell Shishido-san about her. Then he remembered that Shishido-san probably wouldn’t want to talk to him, anyway.
He touched her hand before he said goodbye. She stood where she was and watched him until he was out of sight. Then she smiled.
+++
The next morning saw Ohtori rising well after ten a.m. and, surprisingly enough, no one had seen fit to awaken him before he’d been ready. He stretched, feeling languid and slumberous still, and smiled to himself when he remembered the wonderful dream he’d enjoyed the night before. Shishido-san had taken off his hat to run his hands through short, messy hair and he’d smiled his welcome when he’d caught Ohtori staring. This time, there had been no misunderstandings - there had been no right or wrong. There had just been himself and Shishido-san and all the feelings that such proximity always roused in Ohtori. Before the dream could reach its natural, much-anticipated conclusion, however, An-chan had made an appearance - complete with cherry-red lips and dark, knowing eyes - and Ohtori had come awake with a sudden rush of arousal and guilt.
In his dream, An-chan had been twirling a cherry stem, the berry beneath it ripe and chilled, and when she’d bitten into it with small, even teeth, she’d smirked at Ohtori. It wasn’t until later that he realized she’d been wearing a blue ball cap.
+++
He stared at the LCD screen for at least five minutes before moving to push the first button on his phone. By the time he’d entered the rest of the number, he’d committed it to memory.
They made plans to meet at a movie theatre near her house, for which Ohtori was grateful. The last thing he wanted was to be spotted by anyone he knew and risk opening himself up to all manner of embarrassing questions. He needed to figure things out for himself before he would be able to discuss them with anyone else - not that he had any intention of discussing his current situation with anyone, anyway. If he turned out to be as gay as he suspected he might, he would likely spend the rest of his life attempting to conceal it. Talking about it was not even in the realm of possibilities.
Ohtori’s sister commented on his liberal use of cologne over breakfast. Declining to respond, he had helped himself to another slice of melon and kept his head down. He should have known that she wouldn’t give up so easily.
“You got a date with Shishido-san, Choutarou?” she asked, voice deceptively light and interested. “You sure do smell nice.”
Ohtori blushed, stomach immediately tightening in protest and he lay the fruit on his plate again to wipe his fingers on the napkin in his lap. “No,” he finally said, rising to his feet to put his plate in the sink.
“Oh?” she countered, one brow arched in question as she watched him move about the kitchen. His movements were stiff, stilted, too quick - he was hiding something. “Where are you going, then?”
At the doorway, he paused, glancing back at his sister without bothering to conceal the hurt in his eyes. Sometimes he could withstand her teasing - like when Shishido-san was still a part of his life. Now was not one of those times.
“I’ve got a date,” he told her and, when he opened the door, he added, “With a girl.”
+++
“This is a dumb idea,” Kamio groused, wishing he had a good enough reason to elbow Momoshiro in the side. “Tell me again why we’re doing this?”
Squeezing a tube containing a substance that suspiciously resembled yoghurt into his mouth, Momoshiro slurped audibly. That he even bothered to lick his lips before he began speaking was boon enough for Kamio - Momoshiro was a pig.
“Because, idiot,” he began, managing to sound knowledgeable when Kamio knew better. “If you’ve been replaced by some Hyoutei fancy-pants, don’t you want to know now while you still have a chance to do something about it?”
“Do? If she likes some other guy, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
Behind them, Ryoma sighed, kicking at pebbles along the sidewalk and wishing he’d stayed home. He’d had every intention of sleeping late, enjoying a late breakfast and then calling Buchou to suggest a match or two. Or three. Or until the sun went down and Nanjiroh yelled at him about wasting the outdoor lights. Of course, Nanjiroh would only interrupt long enough to ruin Ryoma’s time with Tezuka since as soon as his Buchou left, he’d find a reason to thoroughly trounce Ryoma before allowing him to slink off to bathe. His dad was a real bastard, sometimes. Ryoma smirked, thinking about him.
“Eh, Echizen?”
Ryoma glanced up, having been tuning the two of them out. “Huh?”
Momo groaned his exasperation, elbowing Ryoma and knocking his cap askew. “I said, a girl likes to know that Attention Is Being Paid, don’t you think? If Kamio-kun wants to keep his girlfriend, he has to show her that he’s man enough to muscle in and be the boss.”
Straightening his cap, Ryoma grunted. Momo-senpai was much taller than him; Ryoma wished he’d stop elbowing him in the head. “Yeah, whatever,” he said. Ryoma didn’t know anything about keeping girlfriends and he didn’t care. They couldn’t keep up with him on the court, so what good were they?
Kamio rubbed his face, making a rather frightening, impatient sound. Ryoma fell back a little more - he didn’t want to walk that close to anybody who made noises like that.
“Why do I listen to you? You come up with the dumbest ideas in the world and I always end up looking like an idiot.”
Momo rolled the tube all the way up in an attempt to squeeze the last bit of strawberry-flavored substance from within it. “Pfft. You look like an idiot whether you listen to me or not.”
Slurp
The conversation went downhill after that. Or rather, Ryoma decided, Momo-senpai rolled up his sleeves, spat into his hands and pushed it downhill. The bottom line was that now Kamio and Momo were yelling at one another and Ryoma had begun to suspect that the day was not going to end well. And so he turned around and went home. He didn’t offer any farewell - he didn’t think either of them deserved one.
+++
Ohtori fidgeted when he was nervous. Standing in front of the Cineplex with two tickets in his jacket pocket and his heart pounding somewhere in his throat, he couldn’t remember ever having felt so unsettled and out of sorts in all his life. He quickly amended that, however, with the exception of all those times when he snuck little glances at Shishido-san in the clubhouse while he changed clothes. That didn’t make him feel out of sorts, though. That just made him feel horny.
He shook his head to clear his traitorous thoughts, though, and smiled nervously at some of the people who walked past him on their way into the theatre. Old ladies and single women and women with their children - they all received Ohtori’s sweetest, friendliest smiles. He didn’t smile at couples or at boys - that would only lead to trouble - and imagined the tickets bursting into flames inside his pocket if he held onto them for too long.
An-chan didn’t keep him waiting for long and when Ohtori finally spotted her, he lifted his hand in a casual wave and forced his best smile. She was dressed in a knee-length blue skirt and a white sweater and her barrettes glinted in the sunlight as they had the day before. Ohtori was caught between excitement and dread.
“Ohtori-kun,” she greeted, reaching to take his hand. “I’m sorry you had to wait.”
Shrugging his shoulders, but not shrugging her off, Ohtori continued to smile at her. “I didn’t wait long, it’s no problem.”
They were silent for a moment until Ohtori realized that he should say something to let her know he was happy to be in her company. “You look pretty, An-chan.”
Smiling brightly, she squeezed his hand and tugged him toward the door. “So smooth, Ohtori-kun. That makes me pretty lucky, ne?”
He blushed - his compliment had been sincere - and followed her inside and toward the concession stand. “I - I don’t know, An-chan.”
Towering over An-chan as he did, rummaging through his pockets for money while she perused the menu on the board overhead, Ohtori felt ungainly and unattractive. He couldn’t help wondering why An-chan seemed interested in making time with someone like him when the Fudomine boys were better looking and seemed more her type. Maybe this whole thing was a joke and - after he’d sufficiently revealed himself for the novice he was - she and her friends would all share a laugh at his expense. He watched her, though, as she contemplated one snack over another and felt a little guilty for thinking such uncharitable thoughts. An-chan was not that kind of girl, Ohtori was certain of it.
“Please. Order whatever you’d like,” he said, trying to keep his voice down for some reason that he couldn’t quite comprehend.
Turning a little, she beamed up at him and wound her arm through his to snuggle against his side for a moment. Ohtori broke out into an immediate sweat.
“Ohtori-kun. You’re a good date - why don’t you tell me what you like the best and we’ll share?”
Not anticipating that she would consider his preferences before ordering, he very nearly requested nachos until he reminded himself that nacho-breath wasn’t a good thing when sitting close to a girl. Shishido-san never seemed to mind, but that was probably because he had nacho-breath, too.
“Popcorn? And a coke?”
She smiled at him, but didn’t speak right away. Ohtori imagined that she would want something sweet, too. Girls liked sweet things.
“Some candy, too? Your choice.”
She nodded, pointing to some fruity, gummy candies that Ohtori knew would get stuck in his teeth but would have covered up his nacho-breath. He didn’t like popcorn all that much, really.
He paid for their snacks and didn’t miss that An-chan only held one straw. He supposed it didn’t matter since they’d shared a parfait yesterday. She’d even licked his spoon at the end. Remembering it made Ohtori’s stomach pole-vault.
He produced their tickets and followed the usher’s direction along the hallway toward the theatre in which their movie would be shown. He didn’t hold her hand, laden down with snacks as he was, and for that he was grateful. When she scooted into the last row of the theatre - tucked away in the corner - Ohtori’s palms began to sweat. A lot.
She stood aside, motioning him inside and he slid into the seat against the wall without hesitation. Sitting down beside him, she sidled up close when she pushed the armrest up so that there were no barriers between them. She stabbed the straw into their soda and held it up for him to sip from. The lights had not gone down - Ohtori felt as though everyone in the theatre were staring at him.
“You look nice, too, Ohtori-kun,” she murmured, head tilted beguilingly as she offered the drink to him.
He leaned in, sipped from the straw even he knew he’d never be able to swallow past the enormous lump in his throat, and met her eyes over the cup. She was pretty - really pretty - and sincere and everything that Ohtori knew he should want.
He closed his eyes and drank deep.
“Ohtori-kun?” she said, after a few moments. He settled back in his seat and balanced the bucket of popcorn on his knees.
“Yes?”
“Are you all right? You seem…distracted.”
He blushed, glad that the lighting was low and that she couldn’t see the way she affected him. “I’m fine. I’m fine, really.”
She parted her lips, as though to protest or perhaps to question him further, but the lights went down and she fell silent. Ohtori took a deep breath, knowing that the trial had truly just begun. There, in the dark, much would be expected of him.
After a few moments, his eyes began to adjust to the darkness and he glanced around in an attempt to orient himself to his surroundings. The theatre wasn’t packed and there were enough empty seats between occupied ones for Ohtori to make out the number of couples inside the theatre. The movie An-chan had wanted to see was a typical date movie - Ohtori should have known that there would be plenty of couples there. He began to relax, even if only marginally, and - feeling suddenly optimistic - scooped up a handful of popcorn.
An-chan seemed interested in the trailers and advertisements and Ohtori munched his popcorn quietly, hoping that her attention would remain on the screen before them for the duration of the movie. If she started sneaking expectant little glances at him, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his breakfast down. And then he’d have to move to Kyoto or something equally horrifying.
Glancing around still, Ohtori froze when his gaze skidded to a halt on a couple not even four rows ahead. The girl was as tall as the boy and it was difficult for Ohtori to make out which was which from the position they were in. The one on the right had a delicate profile and flippy hair and was leaning his/her head on the other person’s shoulder and so Ohtori felt it was safe to assume that that one was the girl. She tipped her chin up, slid an arm around the boy’s shoulders and closed the distance between them. The boy hesitated only for a moment before touching the girl’s face and leaning in to press his mouth to hers. After only a few hesitant, explorative kisses, they were wrapped tightly around one another, kissing and sucking and tangling fingers into hair.
Ohtori’s underwear felt a bit more constrictive for the shameless floorshow he was being allowed to witness and he quickly averted his eyes.
To his left, there were three people passing a bag of popcorn back and forth and when the screen brightened, Ohtori blinked rapidly and attempted another look.
Mukahi-kun?
Failing to school his expression, Ohtori gaped when he realized what - and whom - he was seeing. There, sandwiched between Oishi and Kikumaru of Seigaku, was Mukahi Gakuto. With one arm around Kikumaru and the other around Oishi, Mukahi opened his mouth from time to time to allow one or the other of his companions to feed him a few pieces of popcorn. He licked Oishi’s fingertips once and tipped his head back when both boys leaned in to nuzzle first one another and then Mukahi.
Ohtori suspected that his bones were about to liquefy. Or else he was scant moments away from pissing himself. Either way, it was all going to end in tragedy.
Glancing away - willing to look at anything other than what his gaze continued to land on - he spotted an older couple sharing a bag of popcorn and speaking quietly to one another. Ohtori smiled, grateful for a bit of normalcy and something cute enough to take his mind off of the fact that he’d wandered into a den of iniquity masquerading as a movie theatre, until the old man wound his hand in the old woman’s ponytail and tugged her head back when he leaned in to take a piece of popcorn from her lips. Shocked enough to want to look elsewhere, Ohtori’s stomach turned when he recognized the old woman as Seigaku’s coach and it was all he could do not to nudge An merely to make certain that he was not hallucinating when - from the seat just next to the old man - a small voice hissed, “Sensei, is there anymore popcorn left, desu?”
Horrified, Ohtori quickly attempted to turn his attention to the film that he’d paid to watch, when he found himself unable to resist another glance at the couple a few rows in front of him.
He watched the couple he’d noticed before, eyes widening when the boy lifted the armrest to push his girlfriend back against the seat. They kissed for long, hot moments and Ohtori realized that he could no longer see their hands. And then the light caught the boy’s glasses and the lavender poet’s shirt the ‘girl’ had on and Ohtori slumped down in his seat. It was clear to him, now, why his captain was always unavailable on Saturdays and why Mukahi spent Friday nights with Oshitari and somehow managed to be away all the next day.
In that moment, when Ohtori was certain that he was about to suffer apoplexy, An-chan lay her small, cool hand on Ohtori’s arm and rested her head against his bicep. It dawned on him that he had no idea as to whether or not she was enjoying the movie - he hadn’t watched even five full minutes of it, himself - and he turned his head just enough to catch her gaze.
“Do you like the film?” he whispered, fingers tightening on the bucket of popcorn when she leaned in to get a handful. Her lips were close to his and were shiny with butter and swollen from the salt. Ohtori’s chest tightened.
“It’s okay,” she answered, fingers splayed against his arm when she leaned in a little more. “You can kiss me, Ohtori-kun. If you want to.”
He could kiss her. If he wanted to. He couldn’t touch her, though, as he was responsible for holding the popcorn. He licked his lips, preparing to point this out to her, when she suddenly smiled and tilted her head. She closed her eyes. Ohtori trembled.
“An-chan,” he whispered, seconds away from crushing the container he held.
“Ohtori-kun,” she answered, voice soft and light, and Ohtori squeezed his own eyes closed tightly when he tilted his head and touched his lips to hers in a hesitant, uncertain, feather-light kiss.
She hummed her approval and rested one hand at his shoulder when she parted her lips to encourage more of the same and Ohtori felt as though his head were spinning. He kissed her again, lips clinging a bit this time and Ohtori rather liked the taste of butter and salt on her mouth. It made the kiss interesting instead of merely terrifying.
She breathed against his lips, hand fisting around the material of his jacket, and before he could respond - not that he had any real idea of how he was expected to respond - he jumped back, startled when two boys hurried past him. One of them wore the Rikkai tennis jersey draped over his shoulders and was dragging the other - a tall, broad one with a ball cap on - down the aisle and toward the exit.
Ohtori watched the door close behind them and he heaved a great sigh, tipping his head back to rest against the seat. What a nightmare this whole thing was. Any minute now he would wake up and Shishido-san would be texting him to get a game going and his sister would bang on the door and tell him to get his lazy ass out of bed and his Mother would come in and ask him if everything was all right, all while pretending not to notice the pictures of Ohtori and Shishido-san taped all along the edges of his mirror.
But it wasn’t a dream and, in his heart, Ohtori knew it. When An-chan spoke to him, whispering his name - her concern for him evident in the tone of his voice, he sat up straight in his seat and faced her. He had to tell her - had to be honest about himself if he could not be honest about who had already taken his heart.
“An-chan. I’m sorry…”
Over her shoulder, seated the next row over, just across the aisle, sat Kamio of Fudomine and Momoshiro of Seigaku. He blinked, taken aback when he realized that they were staring at him.
Momoshiro wouldn’t have noticed his captain making out with Ohtori’s captain or his own teammates making time with Ohtori’s teammate because he was already spying on Ohtori.
Face flushed, stomach in knots, Ohtori pushed the popcorn into An-chan’s lap and stammered another apology when he stumbled out into the aisle to beat a hasty retreat to the exit.
He didn’t stop when he reached the lobby, but kept going until he reached the sidewalk. Glancing around wildly, making sure that nobody was watching and nobody would question him and that he could end this horrible disaster of a day as he had begun it - alone.
Turning away, crumpling the ticket stubs inside his pocket to fling them along the sidewalk, Ohtori cursed under his breath and wished he’d had the confidence, the certainty to handle the situation in a manner more befitting a gentleman. An-chan didn’t deserve such mistreatment - she deserved someone much better than Ohtori.
“Ohtori-kun.”
He turned back toward the theatre, blushing when he took in the sight of Tachibana An standing at the curb, hands in her pockets, brow smooth and unworried.
“An-chan, I…” he began, wanting to make it right, but knowing that to do so would be an even bigger lie than the date itself. “Forgive me, please. I just…I wanted to…”
She shook her head, holding her hand out to him as she’d done before and Ohtori found himself just as tempted to take it.
“Will you come with me, Ohtori-kun? Just for a while?”
This was it, Ohtori suspected. She’d take him home to Tachibana Kippei, who would likely beat the snot out of him for using his sister the way Ohtori clearly had. And wouldn’t he deserve it? Truly?
He took her hand, nodded miserably and he let her lead the way.
+++
The little café was nearly empty and still An-chan chose the most private table she could find. She sat Ohtori down and patted his shoulder, instructing him to wait for her while she got the both of them a drink.
When she returned, she set a mango fruit smoothie down before Ohtori while she sipped her bubble tea. Ohtori sipped until his brain froze and he had to stop and rub his temples - anything to postpone this discussion.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Ohtori-kun?” she asked, voice light.
“Tell you what?” he mumbled into his smoothie.
“You know what I’m talking about,” she said and, though there was no reproach in the tone of her voice, Ohtori hung his head further. Tears pricked behind his eyelids and he wanted to simply disappear. He wanted it almost as much as he wanted to look this girl in the face and tell her the secret he couldn’t tell another living soul.
He sniffled - hating his weakness, hating himself - and swiped at his eyes with the back of one hand. “I’m sorry,” he said again.
She was silent for a moment and then she set her drink down on the table and rose to stand over Ohtori. He didn’t look up, but she didn’t seem to require it and he startled when she bent to wrap her arms around his shoulders. It was familiar and intimate and Ohtori knew that people would frown on such behavior if they knew just how little Ohtori and An-chan knew of one another. In that moment, though, Ohtori wasn’t sure he cared and he knew that An-chan didn’t.
“Shh, Ohtori-kun,” she murmured to him, rubbing his back and pressing her cheek to his head. “Don’t be sorry.”
Eventually, he lifted his arm to rest his hand at her shoulder and when she hugged him that much tighter, he didn’t bother to hide the tears that ran unchecked along his cheeks.
I’m sorry. I am.
“Ohtori-kun, when you love someone, you tell them. Don’t wait and don’t think of all the reasons why you shouldn’t. You just say it.”
“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t say it.”
She smiled - he could feel it - and bonked her head against his. “Yes, you can. You just tell him.”
He looked up then, teary-eyed and flushed. “How did you know?”
She quirked a brow, ruffled his hair. “Ohtori-kun. I’ve seen you play before. You and your doubles partner.”
She let him go, touching his shoulder just once and he stared up at her as though she had the answers to everything. And who was he to say that she didn’t?
“What do I say?”
Hands on her hips, she tilted her head at him. “How about ‘I like you’?”
He shook his head, wiped his eyes again. He’d given in to a moment of weakness when it had become too much to bear, but he was done sniffling like a wimp. What would Shishido-san say if he could see him now?
“He knows,” he said forlornly. “There’s nothing I can say to make it any more obvious.”
“Then you don’t have anything to lose, do you?”
Considering her words - the look in her eyes and the way her every sentiment was a double-dare in disguise - Ohtori sniffled one last time and took one last sip from his smoothie.
No. No, he really didn’t.
“I suppose not,” he said, getting to his feet to stand somewhat awkwardly before her. “I don’t know what to say, An-chan. This still doesn’t feel right, you know? You’re such a nice girl and all…”
She laughed, rolled her eyes at him. “Get out of here, Chou-ta-rou.”
He smiled, touching her arm when he passed, and pushed the door open. He took off at a sprint and An leaned against the door to watch him go. It was going to be rough for him, she knew, but he was a nice boy with a good heart - he deserved a happy ending. She tucked her hands into her pockets and watched the people pass by on the sidewalk. The gummy candies were still there - she’d just have to eat them herself. Kippei didn’t like candy.
It was as she pushed open the door to step outside that she noticed Kamio and Momoshiro dodging people in the sidewalk - running away from her and toward Seigaku. She shook her head. Boys were weird. She’d begun to suspect that the only straight one in the bunch was her brother. And possibly Fuji Shuusuke, but he was a bit odd, himself.
Taking out the pack of candies, she ripped the bag and glanced around before crossing the street. Just ahead, she saw Sakuno-chan standing on the corner, looking suitably dejected and alone and it was in her direction that she headed. At least this way, she’d have someone worthy with whom to share her candy.
“Oi, Sakuno-chan,” she called. “You’re out all alone?”
Glancing up, obviously startled, Sakuno forced a little smile and bowed respectfully. An had to bite back a smile - Sakuno-chan was just too cute.
“Ah…An-chan,” she said. “I saw Momo-chan-senpai earlier and I thought - well, I hoped - that Ryoma-kun would be…,” she trailed off here, blushing and casting her gaze elsewhere. “Er, that is to say that I thought I might run into Ryoma-kun, also.”
An nodded sagely and smiled a little, walking again and indicating that Sakuno should join her. On the way back to Seigaku, An figured she might as well attempt to explain the facts of life to Sakuno-chan. Boys who played tennis were a breed apart from the rest and unless Sakuno painted a tennis ball on her backside, it was unlikely that Echizen Ryoma would ever give her so much as a second glance.
But that part could wait until after they’d shared a bit of candy and gossip. An had to work for the information she obtained. It was simply the way things worked; Yumiko-san had clued her in on that score months ago.
Slinging an arm around Sakuno’s shoulders, An tipped the bag in her direction. When Sakuno offered her a bashful little smile and reached into the bag for one of the cherry candies, An wondered how Ohtori was faring. She said a little prayer for him - he needed all the help he could get.
+++
By the time Ohtori’s bus reached its destination, he was no longer out of breath and anxious enough to have a heart attack. While it probably wasn’t the best idea to turn up at Shishido-san’s house to force a conclusion, he was not above calling him in an attempt to draw him out a little. They were friends - best friends - and that had to count for something. People didn’t just throw away friendships without first attempting to salvage them, did they?
He decided that no, of course they didn’t.
He ran home, stripping off his jacket to tie around his waist when he got too hot, even running in the chill breeze as he was.
Breathing hard when he mounted the front steps, he banged the front door open a little harder than he’d intended and immediately yelled out an apology to his mother, who was likely preparing for dinner.
“Choutarou?” she called out. “Is that you?”
“Yes, Mom, it’s me. Let me take a shower and I’ll come down and help you.”
On the stairs, he could hear her rattling dishes and then she yelled out to him again. “Choutarou? Can you come here a moment, first?”
He exhaled heavily, turning to trudge down the stairs again. He hoped he wasn’t in trouble - he hadn’t been gone that long, after all, and he’d made it home in time for dinner.
Before he’d even entered the kitchen, he began to talk. He didn’t have time for this mundane nonsense - he needed to talk to Shishido-san. Now.
“Mom, I’ll be back in a minute - I really need to…”
Any ability to speak seemed to desert him when his gaze fell on the boy seated at his table, picking at the bandage on his forehead and trying not to scowl.
“Shishido-san!” he said, eyes wide. There was nothing he could do about the wonder in his voice - seeing Shishido-san sitting there had stolen his breath.
“Choutarou, Ryou-kun has been trying to reach you all day, where have you been?”
Fishing into his pocket, he took out his phone and flipped it open. It wasn’t powered up.
“Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, I must have turned it off.”
For long moments he stood, staring at Shishido-san and simply unable to look away. It had only been one day, but it had felt like a million years. A million, bleak, hopeless years in which he’d thought that he would never be able to see Shishido-san again.
“Choutarou,” his mother spoke up, voice sharp and cutting into his thoughts with a tone that indicated that she’d spoken once or twice before.
“Ah, sorry, Mom. What did you say?”
“Go shower and let Ryou-kun wash up. I’ve asked him to stay for dinner since his parents are out of town.”
Ohtori blushed, nodding quickly. “Sure, sure. Shishido-san?”
Shishido-san stood, pushing his chair back into place the way he never did anyplace else, and edged past Ohtori toward his bedroom. They didn’t speak on the stairs and Ohtori hung back a little. As much as he wanted to crowd Shishido-san, he knew it was a bad idea.
Inside the room, Ohtori closed the door and toed off his shoes, not looking at Shishido-san. His heart was beating like a trip-hammer - he had no idea what to say. True to form, however, Shishido-san cut directly to the chase.
“Your sister said you were on a date.”
There was a pause and then he added, “With a girl.”
Glancing up, Ohtori licked his lips in preparation of a decent explanation. He wouldn’t lie. “I was.”
Shishido-san scowled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Well, then what the hell was yesterday all about, Choutarou? I mean, you can’t just…do what you did and then run off to be with some dumb girl. I oughtta kick your ass, is what I oughtta….”
“I told her I liked you, Shishido-san,” he cut in, breathless and apprehensive, but so happy to speak from his heart.
Blushing faintly, Shishido-san tugged his hat down and fidgeted a little. Ohtori smiled and didn’t bother to hide it.
“I wasn’t sure you’d be okay with it,” he said. “That’s way I ran. That’s the only reason I ran.”
After a moment, Shishido-san turned his head, looking out of Ohtori’s window at nothing at all. Finally, he muttered, “I’m okay with it.”
Taking a step forward, Ohtori untied his jacket. He was sweaty and he knew he probably smelled pretty rank, but he also knew that Shishido-san wouldn’t care. “Yeah?” he asked, barely able to contain the emotion that swelled within him. “You really are?”
Sneaking a glance from beneath the brim of his cap, Shishido-san nodded once. “Yeah. I just…I wasn’t expecting…”
Ohtori couldn’t stop smiling, even when he closed the distance between them to squeeze Shishido-san’s shoulder. “I could have said it better, I know.”
Drawing Shishido-san close - unable to believe his good fortune when Shishido-san allowed himself to be led - he slid one hand along his partner’s back and brought him that much closer. Bending to meet Shishido-san’s eyes, Ohtori touched his chin and leaned in so close that there was no mistaking his intention.
Shishido-san didn’t move.
“Let me try again,” he whispered, already tilting his head to press his mouth to Shishido-san’s, who merely rested one hand at Ohtori’s right hip and closed his eyes when he parted his lips in eager acceptance.
With Shishido-san’s name on his lips, he kissed him again. And again. And still Shishido-san didn’t let him go.
For the first time that day, Ohtori didn’t stop to second-guess himself. He knew he finally had it right.