Title: Cheer Up, Emo Kid

Author: Calen

Disclaimer: sooo not mine

Notes: GP is my OTP, and Kikumaru is my favorite character. I can't even conceive of an AU where the following events may be possible. Once again, "plot" bunny spawned by conversations with Eli, though this one is mostly my fault.

Warnings: Contains ridiculous OOC-ness, heartless mocking, extremely suggestive innuendo, conversation of past exploits, and some language. I call this new genre... "dark crack." (I don't do angst, but while this was meant to be funny... it warped itself into disturbing. -.-;)

darkness... sadness... confusion
can i even feel anymore
numbness
the blade is sharp, there is pain as it cuts my wrist
pain. feeling. i am alive, but that is all i feel.
darkness, blacker than the void in my heart
i loved once, or thought i did
but love is not real
does not exist
my heart won't heal
alone... alone...
is it worth it?

Tezuka's left eyebrow twitched as he swallowed his laughter. "Fuji. You're sure about this?"

"Positive. I saw it fall out of his math text, and it's his handwriting." No sadistic grin, no innocent smile, Fuji was all seriousness.

"We had practice yesterday. He seemed just like normal. I didn't notice anything in class either..."

Fuji crossed his arms and leaned against the locker. "We should talk to Inui. He's always collecting data; if anyone noticed, it would be him."

"No," Tezuka looked up from the paper, "no, we shouldn't. I'm not sure we should even talk to Oishi..."

"Talk to me?"

Fuji and Tezuka both turned to the door, startled. Standing in the frame was Oishi, dressed head to toe in black. His tight t-shirt advertised a guitar center long out of business. While he wore his school jacket, he had opted to trade the uniform pants for impossibly tight fitting black jeans. The only contrast to this dark motif was the thin, pale yellow tie knotted loosely around his neck.

"Hm. Well, whatever," was Oishi's apathetic reply to their silence. Dropping his bag, he opened his locker and began to pull out a change of clothes for morning practice. Fuji took note of the many patches on the bag: a red 'X,' something vaguely gothic, band names written in an illegible white text.

"Oishi... you-"

"OHAYOU" Eiji bounded into the club house, more hyper and happy than he had any right to be at this absurdly early hour. "Nya, Oishi, Inui says he researched a new formation for us!"

"Hm. That's nice." Oishi pulled on his warm-up jersey top and without another word walked to the courts. Fuji and Tezuka watched, dumbfounded.

"Wha-- what was that about?" It wasn't often that Tezuka stuttered.

"Oishi seems to have gone emo," Fuji mused. "I never understood people whose lives were so good that they had to create their own teenage angst."

"Oh, Oishi didn't have to create angst," Eiji chimed in happily. "He was just surprised when I told him I'd bottomed for everyone on the team."

Tezuka's eyes widened and he turned away to conceal his blush. Fuji fixed Eiji with a level stare. "I thought we agreed it was better not to tell him about that."

"I couldn't help it" Eiji whined. "He asked me about it before practice yesterday."

The Golden Pair often arrived far earlier than necessary for morning practice. It was the highlight of Oishi's day, sitting beneath his favorite tree with Eiji pressed against his chest, their hands intertwined. That day, though, something seemed to be missing. It nagged at Oishi, until he noticed that Eiji was not wearing his ring. They'd told everyone that their matching rings were "promise rings," a physical manifestation of their vow to go to nationals together. Most of the team, and in fact the school, realized long ago that Golden Pair was as close to married as two fourteen-year old boys could be.

"Eiji, you aren't wearing your ring today?"

"Hoi? Oh, that's right. I was with Taka-san last night, and that ring always makes me feel guilty. I guess I forgot to put it on this morning."

It took a few seconds, but Eiji slapped his hand over his mouth. That wasn't supposed to be out loud.

"Why would you feel guilty about being... with... Taka-san?" Oishi's words slowed as the meaning of Fiji's admission hit him. "Eiji, just how 'with him' were you?"

The redhead looked considerably less ashamed than Ooishi would have expected. "All the way. You aren't around all the time, Oishi. You're the best, but we're still young. It's normal to experiment."

To say that Oishi was flabbergasted would be the understatement of the year. "Ei--Eiji... I... I thought... who else?"

"Mm, everyone on the team. Kaidoh was surprisingly gentle, Ochibi every bit as dominating as you'd expect, Inui-"

"OH GOD. ENOUGH. I had no idea you were Seigaku's team slut. I think I need some time alone." And Oishi stood abruptly and marched toward the club house.

Tezuka closed his eyes and shook his head. Fuji looked at Eiji with an unreadable expression. "You are such an idiot. It's unbelievable, Eiji, that you actually don't realize it yet." Fuji said.

"Perversely, I'm glad you slept with Tezuka. After he developed a taste for topping someone, I was glad to take over. Of course, now what we've got is a real relationship. With, you know, feelings and such. And you are too dense to realize that Oishi loves you and that you. Love. Him."

"Kikumaru. If Oishi is just a good... fuck to you," Tezuka had never felt more uncomfortable in his life, "then you've got to stop stringing him on."

Eiji scrunched his eyebrow, confused. "But. We're supposed to go out with lots of people, right? That's how you know who you like best."

With a sigh and a look of unmistakable pity, Fuji explained. "Yes, that's usually how it works. But not for you. You're Golden Pair. You have matching rings, for god's sake. The only time you're apart is when you are out screwing around. In all the world, there is no one more perfect for you than Oishi." Fuji could have rambled on, had Tezuka not interrupted by shoving a crumpled sheet of paper at Eiji.

"Read this." A man of many words, Tezuka.

As Eiji's eyes scanned the page, he (finally) realized just how serious Oishi had been. Without another word, he bolted from the club house.

Oishi stood on the courts, hands in his pockets, seeming to notice nothing. He couldn't affect boredom any longer, however, once Eiji attacked with a bone-crushing hug. Dammit, Oishi was emo now, he didn't care about things. And he certainly didn't care about people. But Eiji was crying and pulling at Oishi's sleeves and it was all so strange that Oishi had to ask.

"What the hell are you doing?"

There wasn't anything on Oishi's wrists, no blood, no cuts. Eiji sank to the ground, overwhelmed by relief. He couldn't quite look Oishi in the eye. "I read your poem. And when I though that you... that you might have hurt yourself because of me..." he was crying again, "I could never forgive myself. Oishi, I'm so sorry!"

If he thought about it, the decision was easy. Being emo made Oishi disaffected with the world and unhappy because that's what "emo" is, by definition. And Eiji made Oishi happy. Usually. So Oishi did the only thing he could.

"It's all right, Eiji." That was a complete lie, of course, but it would be all right eventually. "As long as you know why all that upset me.

Eiji nodded vigorously. "And it won't happen again, because Oishi is the only one I need."

Still, there was something bothering Oishi. He looked down at his clothes mournfully. "I guess this means it's back to the old me," he pouted. The image make-over had been exciting, while it lasted. But Eiji just threw his arms about Oishi's neck and whispered mischievously,

"Loose the tie. But keep those pants."