Disclaimer: I own very little.
A/N: Dedicated to my dear, dear kurosakikoi, who is one of the finest friends a person can ask for. Thank you, love -- you truly are the Eiji to my Oishi.
In Oishi's opinion, girls with glasses were cute. He wasn't sure why, but there was something about glasses that appealed to him. This was hardly a secret among his friends; Fuji even often teased him that if Tezuka had been a girl, he would have been the ideal girlfriend for Oishi. Oishi just laughed and said that he did like Tezuka but only as a friend, not that there was anything wrong with him.
Eiji didn't wear glasses.
Though he hardly enjoyed the teasing, Oishi did have to admit, somewhere deep inside, that he was quite a maternal person. He cared for everyone around him, and he worried about them all – quite excessively, too. All the worry stressed him, but he couldn't help it; it was his basic nature. Considering how much he worried for his friends, it was obvious he would worry even more for someone he was in love with. Unless the person was careful and responsible, never getting into trouble, Oishi would probably go crazy with worry.
Eiji was easily excited, careless, and always looking for more trouble.
Had anyone been curious enough to ask Oishi about his preferences in terms of hair, it would have been easy for him to answer the question. He was fond of the basic Japanese black hair, and found carefully styled, elegant hair more attractive than messy hair, however styled and calculated the mess might have been.
Eiji's curls were half natural and half styled, always just a bit out of place like a headful of bright red flames.
As far as eye colour went, Oishi had no clear preference, but he had to admit that most of the eyes he found attractive were dark brown or black. Perhaps he was just that traditional, he supposed, drawn to the stereotypical Japanese features.
Eiji's eyes were big and slightly feline in shape and very clearly blue, dark though they may have been.
Being the responsible person he was, Oishi valued success in school, believing it to be a sign of both intelligence and a hard-working nature.
Eiji's grades were sometimes bad, sometimes tolerable, sometimes abysmal enough that Tezuka threatened to drop him from the regulars.
Regardless of which features of appearance or personality one were to address, Oishi's ideals were always completely different from Eiji. For a friend, this was naturally just fine, but for a boyfriend, the case was quite hopeless. They were about as different as two people only could be, like night and day in a way that made them a formidable doubles pair as they completed each other but apparently incompatible as lovers.
But then, Oishi never did see Eiji as hair or eyes or even personality. What he saw was Eiji, who played best with him, who understood him without a word, who helped him do the impossible and enter Synchro at will.
It didn't matter that the eyes looking into his were blue, that he had to worry for Eiji's sake day in day out, that the hair spread over his chest as they lay in silence was red like drops of blood on pale skin.
Because this was Eiji, and to Oishi, Eiji was the one he loved.