An Unpleasant and Slippery Experience
He strolled at a leisurely pace across the campus, only slightly annoyed, jacket snug around his body. His hands were in the pockets of his well-fitting jeans and he held his head with an air of confidence. With his designer clothes, he looked out of place walking through the Seishun Gakuen grounds. The mixture of snow and ice crunched under his feet with each precise step that he took as he rounded the corner to pass the tennis courts.
It was a Saturday, the air cold and fresh with the lingering scent of rain, and Atobe Keigo's schedule was uncharacteristically empty. Needless to say he was rather bored. As much as he enjoyed the opportunity to lounge about and do nothing in particular, he found himself growing restless as he roamed the halls of his mansion. He considered his options. He could call a couple of the other regulars, but he didn't want to seem desperate to them. He called them for a lack of anything better to do – on a Saturday, of all days – he wouldn't live it down for quite some time. He would still likely hear muffled snickers even after laps had been assigned. The students of Hyotei Gakuen, in all honesty, could be ruthless when the mood arose.
So, naturally, he had phoned Tezuka – they had a date planned for the following day, but Atobe saw no reason why they couldn't do something spontaneously -- not once, but twice, and Atobe had been greeted by the other boy's voice mail both times. And when Atobe had been forced by his sheer boredom to call Tezuka's house phone, he had been promptly informed by Tezuka-san that her son wasn't home at the moment, and could she take a message? Thus accounting for Atobe's aggravation.
This had all led up to Atobe embarking out, much to his driver's confusion, to Seigaku. On a Saturday. Because really, where else would his boyfriend be? Even when the courts were covered in a layer of ice that might cause one to break an ankle by merely trying to walk on it, let alone play tennis, Tezuka was still cooped up inside of a classroom making plans and training schedules for his team. He was a dutiful captain, and on the verge of being overly so. Even Atobe could plainly see the line between his tennis team and personal life, and he supposed that he would have to be the one to point it out to Tezuka, because really, this was too much.
As he neared the side entrance to the school that he had been seeking, he noticed another figure leaning against the building, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He saw red hair curling out from underneath a hat as he came closer, vaguely recognizing him as a regular. No, now he remembered him clearly; he was the more experienced half of the make-shift doubles pair that had shamed Oshitari and Mukahi. However, he couldn't quite place a name with the face. Kikuyama, or something. Either way, perhaps he could point him in the direction of Tezuka.
He reached the shorter boy and stopped just before him. He didn't say anything, instead only standing there in somewhat of a grand fashion. The redhead had his eyes focused on his bright blue shoes that moved up and down, head bopping slightly and lips mouthing the words to a song. The snow beneath the soles of his shoes matched the beat of the song.
When the song had seemingly ended, and the other boy moved his hand to the mp3 player in his pocket, he finally realized the presence in front of him. He looked up to Atobe, blinking, and a mixture of recognition, surprise, and displeasure was evident on his face. Atobe was well aware that, even with his current relationship with their captain, he was not favored among the Seigaku regulars. They were as loyal to their captain as he was to them, and Atobe would not be easily forgiven.
"Atobe," he said, more accusing than inquiring as to his presence. A smirk was the only reply of the person in question. After examining him from head to toe, the redhead asked, "Can I help you?" It was clear that he was trying very hardly to choke down his hostility, and not entirely succeeding.
"I was hoping that you might be able to," he replied unperturbed. He ran his fingers through his hair; the dampness in the air wasn't doing anything for it. "I'm looking for Tezuka."
"He's in a meeting with Oishi," the other boy told him, lips curling into a pout before he caught himself and replaced it with his previous unfriendly expression.
"Do you know when they might be finished?"
The redhead shook his head no.
"Mn. How like Tezuka to be expectedly boring," he commented, more to himself than to the other boy.
"Nya, it's just like Oishi too!" the redhead exclaimed, lips forming a pout once again. Apparently he had trouble staying angry for any lengthy period of time, especially when he was bored. "And we were supposed to go sledding together, too!"
The two then stood there in silence for the minutes that followed, Atobe having to repeatedly smooth down his hair because of the wind that apparently didn't want him to look presentable for his boyfriend, and the redhead eventually slid down against the wall to crouch beside two plastic sleds. He was once again nodding his head to the rhythm of his music, but he looked decidedly less enraptured with it then he originally had. Atobe watched him with a vague disinterest.
The boy looked to the ground, and then to the swaying trees, and then to the tennis courts, and then back to the trees, and then to Atobe, before returning his gaze to the ground. He eyes flickered up to Atobe once more, and this time he was wearing a devilish grin, and he lifted himself to stand against the brick wall.
"Hey, Atobe—"
"Atobe-sama, to you."
"…Atobe," the redhead repeated as if he hadn't been interrupted, "Do you wanna go sledding with me, since we're both waiting for our boyfriends and all, and it doesn't seem like—"
"No," Atobe replied curtly. As a fourteen-year-old heir to a massive fortune, he didn't do things like sledding. It was far beneath him.
"But it'd be really—"
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
The redhead pouted, crossing his arms over his chest and sliding back down to the ground, muttering something under his breath. Atobe's ears caught scattered words, among them being things like "stuck up" and "diva" and "prick".
Atobe frowned. He was not a prick.
As small children scampered around him, yelling in high pitched voices and throwing clumps snow, Atobe decided that he must have been temporarily insane to have agreed to this. His original plans for a quiet, romantic date had somehow morphed into spending the day feeling ridiculous and cold with a hyperactive teenager.
"This is stupid," he proclaimed, hands on his hips and nose in the air, "Ore-sama's leaving." As he turned on his heels to make his exit, he lost his footing on a patch of ice and fell flat on his ass. Beside him, the redhead fell too, on his knees and clutching his stomach in laughter. Atobe glared daggers at him. He pushed up with his hands, and managed to partially erect himself, but the slick ground once again betrayed him, and he was back to where he started. This only caused the other boy to start laughing even harder. Atobe decided then and there that if he was bruised because of this, he would sue the redhead for everything he was worth, albeit it very little compared to the fortune his family already had, because really, it was the principle of the matter.
When the other boy had finally stopped laughing and had helped Atobe to his feet, the heir wiped off his jeans with leather-gloved hands and turned to leave. A hand grabbed his shoulder and he nearly slipped again.
"Nya, Atobe, don't chicken out now!" the other boy pleaded. Atobe looked around; if little children could manage to do this, then so could he. He had merely gotten off to a rough start. Really, how hard could it be?
They started towards the small hill, if it could be called that. It was most likely manmade, but there was enough of an incline for a decent ride down. And, of course, enough of an incline to make the trek up in these conditions rather difficult. Having rained after snowing, the ground was almost entirely ice, and that combined with the strong wind, keeping one's footing on flat ground was difficult enough, let alone while walking – or attempting to walk – up a hill. Atobe watched as Kikuyama tucked the sled under one arm and used his other hand as an aid to half crawl up the hill. He tentatively started up, pressing one foot firmly into the ground, and then the other. So far, so good. One, two, three more steps. Okay, he could do this. Four, five—and that was when he lost it and executed a perfect face plant. He cursed under his breath and into the snow. Had Kabaji been there, he could have been carried up the hill. But because his original intent had been to spend the day with Tezuka, he had gone alone, and was now left to his own devices in the middle of what felt like Mount Fuji.
After six more attempts to leave and four additional face plants, Atobe finally made it too the top of the hill, cheeks red, breathing ragged, and jeans thoroughly soaked.
"You should have worn more practical shoes," the redhead told him from where he sat on the ground.
"As if I anticipated this," Atobe retorted, placing his sled down next to the other boy and settling himself on it.
"Ready?" he was asked.
Atobe glanced down the hill and weighed his options for a moment before responding, "Not especially."
"Oh well," was the last thing that he heard before he felt himself being pushed down the slop. He started slowly, gradually gaining speed, and then he was veering to the side, and before he knew it, he was no longer on the sled and instead tumbling on the ground, and then, once again, on his ass. He closed his eyes and massaged his forehead with his dripping fingers. The leather was surely ruined.
"You okay?" a cheery voice asked him, and he looked up to see that damned Kikuyama hovering over him.
"Does it look like Ore-sama is okay?" he questioned in return.
"Hmm," the redhead began, "You look fine to me." He smiled even more widely and offered a hand to help him up. Atobe groaned before grudgingly complying.
On the way up the hill, he managed to fall only twice, but on the way down, he nearly ran into a tree, and had to literally roll off his sled. The next time, he'd crashed into a child, and had been scolded by the brat's parent. During another venture up the hill, he'd lost his grip on the sled, and in his attempt to grab it, he'd fallen forward and proceeded to slide head first all the way down the hill.
When he came to a stop, he rolled over onto his back and fingered the ends of his mussed hair. He had given up long ago on even trying to keep it in anything resembling order. It wasn't long before there was a foot prodding at his side.
"Come on, get up," the ever-present annoyance nagged.
"No. I'm sore, I'm wet, and my ass is freezing," he said, pausing for a moment to think, "I need Tezuka to warm it up for me."
There was a short snort and then a hand pulling at his arm.
The brunette paused as he saw the pair exiting the gates of Seigaku. His smile broadened and he waved to them. He strolled over to them calmly, hands linked behind his back.
"Fuji! How are you?" Oishi asked, his expression just as pleasant as the other's.
"I'm doing well," he replied, and then turned to the taller of the two, "Na, Tezuka, you'll never guess who I saw in the park."
Tezuka raised an eyebrow, but only slightly. "Who did you see?" he questioned.
"Eiji. He was sledding," Fuji answered amiably.
"Ah."
"With Atobe," he added.
The corners of Tezuka's mouth turned up into a rare smile. "Really?" he asked, and Fuji nodded, "I'd pay money to see that."
The tensai's grin didn't leave his face as he turned and began to walk down the sidewalk.
When they reached the park, they saw two familiar figures, both wet, one lying on the ground, and the other one standing over him.
"Get up!"
"No."
"If you don't—"
"What part of 'no' don't you understand?"
"Fine!"
A pause.
"Ow! Owowowow! Let go of Ore-sama's hair!"
"Not until you get up!"
Once again, Tezuka smiled. In fact, he almost chuckled. Fuji turned to him and held out an upturned palm. "That'll be ten thousand yen, please."
Tezuka looked to him, frown back in place and eyebrow raised. "How about ten thousand laps?"
Fuji chuckled. "Going back on your word? Tsk, tsk, Buchou."
The brunette wasn't surprise, or necessarily disappointed, when he was jogging around the edges of the small park.
Atobe ambled over to the dimly lit booth where Tezuka was already waiting for him, attempting to hide his slight limp as best he could. But when his boyfriend inquired as to what was wrong when he slid into the booth with some trouble, Atobe managed to keep his cool as he replied, "The results of training yesterday. I suppose I went a bit overboard, but I'm sure you can understand that."
Tezuka nodded, seeming to accept his answer, and then picked up his menu and began to look it over. They sat there in comfortable silence for a few moments while they decided on their meals, and then Tezuka closed his menu and spoke.
"You know, I saw the funniest thing yesterday," he commented.
Atobe looked at him questioningly over his menu. He always took a long time to decide on his order. "Really?" he asked.
The brunette nodded. "I saw a certain someone lying on his back in the park," he answered.
Atobe's eyes widened, but only for a brief second. He looked calmly at Tezuka. He would swear that the other boy, usually so stoic, was smirking. Running his fingers through his hair, he replied, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Your hair was a mess."
"…We're breaking up."
"Are you sore?" Tezuka asked, ignoring that last comment.
"Very much so."
"Perhaps I can do something about that later."
Yes, Atobe decided that Tezuka definitely was smirking, but with the promise of what was to come, his aching muscles won over his injured ego, and he conceded his defeat, "I think I'd enjoy that."
He smiled and returned to his menu.
End.