Soo… not all that much to say about this story except that I can't believe I did this to Oshitari and Gakuto.
Warning: yaoi, language, fluff, mention of "fucking" (mostly Atoji mention), character death (cries)
Pairings: Oshitari/Gakuto, Atobe/Jiroh, and Oshitari/Atobe FREINDSHIP!! I can't pair those two together for anything more together when I HATE that pairing. Not sure why, but I do.
Disclaimer: I don't own these lovely characters. And—if I did—I'd only put more yaoi in it than it already has… and I'd somehow mention Gackt and Hyde and 'Vanilla' and 'Speed Master' any chance I get! –fangirls-
Please read and review, nya! ^_^
Lights off. Glasses abandoned at his side. School blazer thrown carelessly onto his bed. Oshitari Yuushi sat unmoving against his couch, arms wrapped loosely around his legs as he stared into the glowing blue screen of the TV.
Lips parting slightly, his tongue darted out to wet his dry lips only to realize that it was useless, as his mouth was also dried.
His eyes hurt, he was tired, he wanted to sleep, and yet, he couldn't sleep for when he tried he would see that red, fiery hair. That hair that bounced as the boy had done, that just screamed pay attention to me, I'm special, which was what Oshitari had thought the first time he laid eyes on him.
Oshitari would see those striking, dark blue eyes hidden beneath dark lashes as they teasingly stared up at him, almost smirking in amusement. They would shine, and Oshitari's heart would feel a spark go straight through it. Those eyes that seemed to pierce him happily every time they looked at him.
Arms that always wrapped around his waist, being too short to reach his neck without either jumping or causing one of them discomfort. Muscled arms from the acrobatics and the tennis, arms that always reached out for him.
Legs that held him upright, that let him jump and nearly fly into the air. That wrapped around his waist and held him rather possessively. Legs that could bend in ways some would rather not think about and for uses that would seem rather inappropriate.
That lithe waist that teased Oshitari as the redhead's shirts rose up or fell down. The hips attached to them that moved seductively towards him. The throat firmly attached to his head that made Oshitari want to attach his own lips to them, and bite, and lick, and tease, and suck.
But his favorite part that he would see would be those plush, pink lips that parted to utter words, to send out gorgeous laughs, that belonged to Oshitari Yuushi and him alone.
He missed the soft and rough kisses, the licks and the nibbles, the sounds that came from that mouth at his ministrations. Oshitari could close his eyes and barely hear them anymore, the memories starting to slowly fade away.
Everything was disappearing against his will, the sound, the smell, the taste, and the feel, the emotions that built up inside him every time his eyes wandered to the small boy.
Oshitari was having trouble remembering the little details of Mukahi Gakuto. How his blue eyes seemed almost grey when either angry or shocked, how only a soft pink tinge would appear on his cheeks when he was embarrassed, and the sound of his name coming from those lips; "Yuushi!"… It was fading.
And only the videos helped him remember.
~::R e w i n d::~
*~An O s h i t a R iX Ga k u t o F a N f I c Ti o n~*
By: x S a d I s t x F u j I x
"Shishido-san," said Choutarou's nervous and unsure voice. "Are you sure we should be doing this? This is wrong!"
"He did the same to us; we need to get him back!" Shishido fought to keep his voice at a whisper.
"Shh, Choutarou, it'll be fine, if Gakuto gets angry, I'll take the blame as it's the truth."
Choutarou gave his reluctant agreement before the two of them quietly entered the club house. They crept softly into the back, stopping just around the corner of the redhead and tensai.
"Yuushi! Stop that!" Gakuto laughed, squirming against his boyfriend's chest.
Oshitari's lips parted into a smirk as he just furthered his torturous ministrations on the older boy. "No chance, Gakuto. You deserve to be punished." He stated in playful cruelness as he pushed the redhead onto the couch and pushed up his shirt, tickling him harder.
Gakuto's face flushed a dark red and he panted heavily. "Please stop!" he begged, continuing to laugh. "I'll give you a blowjob!"
There was some quiet choking behind the camera but fortunately—or unfortunately, depending on how you viewed it—the two further into the room didn't hear.
The sixteen year old tensai paused and sat back onto his knees, appearing thoughtful. "A blowjob, huh?" he smiled. "I may just have to take you up on that offer, Gakuto."
Smirking, the redhead sat up, placing his small hands on either of the younger boy's legs. "I bet you do, Yuushi. But…" he began, tugging lightly on Oshitari's school tie. He whispered, "I can give you so much more than that."
As their lips met, Shishido turned the camera away slightly. "Oh geeze, you two, why don't you go do that in your room or something and not on the club house couch?"
Breaking away from Oshitari, Gakuto stood and glared at him. "Ryou," he stomped over. "What are you doing?" he glanced down, eyes widening. "You did NOT just do what I think you just did, did you?"
Oshitari merely linked back into the couch and crossed his legs, smirking, obviously not minding. "Gakuto," he called. "If Shishido is into voyeurism, I don't mind, I'm always up for new things."
Shishido choked and tugged on Choutarou's arm. "Uh, let's go Choutarou, I think we got them back enough."
But before the camera went off, Gakuto's voice said, "Thanks Yuushi for making me think of doing it with him. That just totally ruined the mood."
Smiling fondly, Oshitari happily remembered back to that time. He and Gakuto had been too overly hormonal teenagers.
Just as hormonal as Atobe and Jiroh, if not more so.
"Where'd you get that?" Gakuto asked Jiroh curiously as the volley player walked over to him.
"Shishido," there was a clear smile in his voice. "He was more than happy to lend it to me."
Gakuto threw his head back and groaned. "Was there a tape on it when he gave it to you?"
"Maybe," he answered in a sing-song voice.
"Did you watch it?"
"Hmm, yeah, I totally enjoyed it, Gakuto. Got off on it. Totally hot."
Gakuto gaped at him. "Jiroh!"
Said boy laughed from behind the camera. "I'm just kidding! But me and Kei-chan really had a lot of fun making comments about it. Who knew you two were so… I don't know, but you seemed to really enjoy being with him on my couch."
"Your couch…" his voice trailed off before his eyes widened and his nose scrunched up in disgust. "Sick, I was going to have Yuushi fuck me on a couch that Jiroh's probably been fucked on by Atobe hundreds of times."
"Maybe not that many…"
"Oi, Jiroh!" Atobe called from across the court.
"Gomen, Kei-chan!" he turned back to Gakuto. "Okay, a hundred times then."
"JIROH!" Atobe turned a slight red.
"Gomen… maybe it wasn't all fuckings."
Jiroh huffed. "Sorry, Kei-chan!" he whispered. "He's just angry 'cause I wouldn't let him put mini-Kei-chan anywhere near me last night."
"JIROH! GET OVER HERE, NOW!"
He chuckled against his will. So maybe Atobe and Jiroh (or at least Jiroh… why did that sound weird?) were hornier than them. Most people would bet the opposite, and they'd be losing a lot of money.
As the next one started, Oshitari found himself frowning.
Rolling his eyes, Gakuto hid his face in his boyfriend's chest. "Jiroh," came his muffled voice. "You are getting too attached to that camera."
"This is fun though! Maybe I'll make movies!"
Gakuto glanced warily at him, stepping closer to Oshitari. "What… kind of movies?"
Oshitari chuckled, wrapping his arm tightly around Gakuto's bendy waist. "Gakuto, I think it would be better if you don't ask those sorts of questions. Who knows how many videos Jiroh and Atobe already have."
The blonde behind the camera laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know. But no, not those kinds of movies. I'm not a slut you know. Anyways, onto the point of this video. You two need to tell each other your feelings!"
"What?! Jiroh, why do you want a video of that sort of thing?" Gakuto fought from turning red.
"You two are the only people left. Me and Kei-chan did it, so did Ootori and Shishido, even Taki and Hiyoshi did it! Kabaji, well, he's a special case. So come on! We need a video of this! It's our last year before we graduate!"
Oshitari smiled softly down at the blushing acrobat, leaning against the lockers, and tugging on the red hair. "I don't mind, Gakuto. It's not like nobody knows about us."
Gakuto looked away and gave a forced huff, but Oshitari could tell that he was happy as his lips twitched upwards into a small smile. "Fine," he relinquished. "You first.
Spinning Gakuto around so that they were facing each other, the tensai brought a hand up to the side of his face, slowly caressing it as it trailed down his neck and chest. The older boy's lips trembled and he swallowed, barely repressing the urge to throw his thin arms around the blue haired teen's neck and kiss him soundly.
"You and everyone else know how I feel about you. I've not said it, but I think it is rather obvious, don't you?" his voice was quiet, nearly purring, seduction tingeing his voice. "But, if there was ever a time to say it, I do think it's now, what's more romantic than catching my confession on video? On tape? To be everlasting?"
His lips turned up, and he bent down, mouth hovering just next to his ear, hot breath sending shivers down Gakuto's spine.
"I love you, Gakuto. I'm in love with you. Forevermore will I be, and everlasting will you be mine and I yours. Nobody else's." He whispered, his romantic side taking the peak of its height in his words.
Gakuto just stared up at him, almost gaping. He blushed and glanced over at the camera before looking up into Oshitari's darkening eyes. "I think anything I have to say will just pale in comparison to that, Yuushi."
Oshitari's laugh relaxed him. "Say it anyway."
He smiled. "I love you, too."
A small sigh was let out from the boy behind the camera. "Kei-chan! Why aren't you ever that romantic?" and it turned to show a startled boy's face as the camera went out.
As the static of the video came on, Oshitari's eyes slowly closed, and his body fell to the side softly, needing sleep.
He was tired.
Oshitari slapped the hand trying to wake him away, closing his eyes even tighter and giving an almost painful groan.
He didn't want to wake. The dream he had been having, it was a nice dream. Oshitari had dreamt that he was floating on a cloud, a short red head sitting next to him, kicking his feet into the air, seemingly not noticing how far the ground was below them.
The tensai had felt happy, happier than he had felt in a long time. So long that the emotion itself was becoming a foreign concept, a language that he didn't understand.
A voice spoke from quietly above him. Wake up, it said.
Oshitari shook his head. How about not wake up?
Wake up, the same voice called out, this time with a commanding tone.
As if he couldn't help it, slowly Oshitari Yuushi's eyes slid open and he blinked up at the silver haired teen kneeling beside him.
"Ore-sama was gracious enough to come wake you from your depression. Jiroh put aside his own to have me help you, so you better listen to ore-sama, or you shall pay those consequences."
Sitting up and leaning against the couch, Oshitari merely stared at him in a bored manner. "I'm not in the mood, Atobe." He looked over to the TV to see that it had gone black, and he mildly wondered how long he had been sleeping for. He felt like he could have slept for days, and—despite the nice dream—that he hadn't slept at all.
Placing a hand over his mouth, he yawned, leaned his head back, and stretched slightly, ignoring the looks being sent his way by his buchou.
"It's been too weeks since the funeral, Oshitari." Atobe stated quietly, sighing as he looked down at the rich carpet. "Ore-sama and the rest of the team have done our mourning, of course, Jiroh is taking it harder than the rest of us besides you, but you are the one out of all of us who really needs to mourn."
He shook his head.
"Mukahi would not want you to be like this. Ore-sama would bet that he also would have been devastated to know that you had not gone to his funeral." Oshitari averted his eyes to the ceiling, ashamed. "If it were Jiroh… well, ore-sama hates thinking about that but, I'll tell you that ore-sama would probably be locked in ore-sama's room right now. But ore-sama still would have gone to his funeral, ore-sama would do a lot of things for his memory, and to try to get over him and move on, yet ore-sama believes to try and get over him would be pointless, as it would be for you, because we won't, ore-sama wouldn't, and you won't.
"But the least you could do, Oshitari, is go see his damned grave." Atobe stated harshly, causing the taller boy to flinch as if he had been burned; his heart giving a heavy, painful thump at the thought of the said grave.
"Atobe," he whispered, staring at him tiredly. "I don't think I could handle it. I don't want to believe…" his voice trailed off for a second. "I don't want to believe." He repeated, arms wrapping around his legs.
Letting out a small puff of air, Atobe stood and walked over to Oshitari's closet. Said boy watched as his buchou pulled clothes out and proceed to throw them at him.
Atobe turned and crossed his arms. "Go take a shower, change into clean clothes. You smell, and if you don't get your ass up within a minute, you will be kicked off of the tennis team. Ore-sama would hate to do it, but ore-sama will, shall that be the case."
Looking down at the clothes, Oshitari pursed his lips and slowly stood, walking over to the door only to stop and turn back towards the Atobe heir. "Fine, but—just so you know, Atobe—I refuse to play doubles with anyone else besides Gakuto."
Atobe stared after him as Oshitari left and quietly stated, "I hadn't expected you to."
Oshitari shrugged his shoulders, burying his hands deeper into his pockets as they entered the graveyard. As he passed through the gates, he came to a halt, closing his eyes for a second and taking a deep breath before going on.
Atobe only stared at his back before slowly following.
As they came up to the monument, Oshitari dropped to his knees in front of it, closing his eyes again, and bowing his head. Gakuto's name… it was difficult to look at.
Dropping down besides his friend, Atobe eyed him and looked at the grave, trying to imagine exactly how he would feel had it been Jiroh instead of Mukahi. He was ashamed to admit that he probably would have been violent instead of being a recluse.
He laid a hand on Oshitari's shoulder, squeezing him, stood and started to walk away. "Ore-sama will leave you."
Oshitari opened his eyes and—when he was sure that his buchou was out of hearing distance—said, "Thanks, Atobe,"
He stared up at the grave, wishing he could press rewind on the recorder.