Games to Love
By Kelsey
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis belongs to people that can afford lawyers. I'm only borrowing the characters to relieve a little of their UST. Think of it as charity service!
Warnings: None really, unless shounen ai makes you twitch.
Notes: This fic starts off with very mild angst (it's Momo and Ryoma, for heaven's sake!) and quickly descends into fluffy romance. The title is a rather silly play on the "Six games to love" phrase so often heard when Ryoma is concerned. ^^ Inspired by the revelation in one episode that Momo had a crush on a girl in his class. Well, not for long... ^_~
---
It was a beautiful day, and all was not right in the world.
The wrongness was there in the extra second it took him to get to the ball, the slight extra exertion it took to return a serve, the single instant of hesitation before he knew where the ball would land.
All in all, it was not Echizen Ryoma's best day.
He let the others' chatter wash around him as he changed back into his school uniform, oblivious to the occasional worried glance they cast in his direction. Ryoma being quiet was a common occurrence, but normally he was at least aware of the world around him. This detached, numb behavior wasn't like him at all.
"Ryoma-kun, do you want to come see it with us?" Kachiroh asked, determined to return his friend to his normal self.
Ryoma blinked. What had they been talking about? Some American movie that had turned out to be a huge hit... When was the last time he'd seen a movie?
Then again, when was the last time he'd cared to see a movie?
"He hasn't even been paying attention," Horio said, rolling his eyes. "I don't think he wants to."
The mild irritation he felt at such an assumption was quickly swept aside by worrying about his sudden decrease in tennis ability. He couldn't think of any rational explanation for it, any reason whatsoever. No muscle strains, sprains, cuts, bruises, broken bones, sudden illnesses, lack of sleep, poor nutrition... He took care of himself. He didn't even have any allergies! And he'd been playing tennis for eight years, taught by a master of the sport. It didn't make sense. He finished changing, not noticing the silence of the other three.
"Oi, Echizen!" came a familiar voice as the group of freshmen exited the school grounds.
"Momo-chan-senpai!"
"Momo-senpai," Ryoma answered in his usual monotone, made all the more flat in the face of the older boy's exuberant one.
Momoshiro smiled and ruffled Ryoma's hair, wondering if he'd get a rise out of the boy if he did it enough times. "Echizen, I won't be able to eat with you today, either." His smile grew wider with unadulterated glee. "I've got another date!" Striking a dramatic pose, he exclaimed, "Seigaku's star tennis player is single NO more!" He opened one eye to see if this speech had any effect on his stoic teammate.
One eyebrow rose. "Oh."
He sighed. Well, you already knew the kid could care less about you, Momo, he scolded himself. That's why you decided to find someone else in the first place! As much as he had -- and still did, not that he wanted to admit it -- cared about the brat, he was tired of moping around for someone completely indifferent to his every effort. Not like he'd been overly subtle or anything.
"Momo-chan-senpai has a girlfriend?" Horio asked, blinking. "I thought that Seigaku regulars devoted all of their passion to tennis! That they were so focused on it that they didn't have time for any other love!" He shook his head, tsking. "Momo-chan-senpai is a disgrace." He glanced over at his silent companion. "Echizen, you're better than that, right?"
Ryoma's expression was unreadable. "Aa."
I give everything I have to tennis, he thought with uncharacteristic fierceness. I practice until my arms ache. I never hold back.
So what's throwing my game off?
* * * * *
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
"Hey kid, whatcha doing?"
Thunk. "Nothing." Thunk.
Echizen Nanjiroh sighed and tucked his latest magazine into his sleeve. "Dinner's been ready for an hour," he said nonchalantly, noting the tension with which Ryoma gripped the racket. The kid had obviously been practicing since he got home from tennis practice... Odd, he usually knew when to stop for the day.
"I'm not hungry," Ryoma snapped, irritation surfacing. He didn't need his father seeing him in this condition of top of everything else! Even if it took an entire night of practicing, he was going to fix this strange affliction. He could feel blisters forming despite his calluses, but a good bandage would eliminate the problem.
Ryoma steadfastly ignored the little voice in his head telling him he was being stubborn to the point of ridiculousness.
Nanjiroh shrugged. "Guess I'll have to wait for you," he sighed, pulling out the magazine. When the rhythmic thunks started up again, he grinned to himself and began to rustle the pages as loudly as possible without it being too obvious.
Thunk. Thunk.
Rustle.
Thunk.
Rustle. Rustle.
"Can't you go somewhere else?!" Ryoma asked at last, unable to ignore it any longer. This required minute concentration and his father was interrupting it with his stupid magazine with its stupid girls in swimsuits! They weren't even attractive anyway, what a waste of time...!
Ryoma blinked once, twice, and let the ball fall to the ground.
"Finally decided to come in?" Nanjiroh looked at the blank expression on his son's face, puzzled. His expression became decidedly evil as he saw what the boy was staring at. "I think you're a little young for her, kid!" he exclaimed, gleeful at the opportunity to get a response out of his entirely too quiet son.
Not attractive. Not at all. Ryoma's palms began to sweat. I can tell they're pretty, but that's it.
That's it.
Why...? No, it can't be that.
"Now, every boy at your age goes through this. It's perfectly normal, but you'll have to buy your own magazines, not to mention hide them from you're mother..." Nanjiroh's somewhat misguided attempt at 'The Talk' was abruptly cut off as its recipient bolted past, slamming the door shut on his way in. His footsteps upstairs made thumping noises clearly audible even from outdoors.
"Kids these days," Nanjiroh sighed.
Upstairs, Ryoma lay sprawled on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling without seeing it. Not attractive, not at all, not attractive, not at all, played over and over in his mind, a malicious chorus, a revelation for which he was both unwilling and unprepared.
I don't want to think about it. I can't think about it. This is the last thing I need, more things to interfere with my tennis game.
He paused.
Is that what's been bothering me?
* * * * *
Ryoma's first thought upon waking up and seeing the late hour was, Sunday. No school.
His next was, Wait, when does tennis practice start?
Ten minutes later, Ryoma was hurtling down the sidewalk, a piece of toast in his mouth and his tennis bag clutched in one hand. His sneakers pounded against the concrete, sound rhythmic and comfortably familiar in his ears, moving in time to his heartbeat. This was the perfect synchrony that had been missing for the past few days, the feeling of being at home in his own body. He continued sprinting, losing his troubles in the simple joy of physical exertion. He didn't have to think about last night, yesterday, because time did not matter.
"You late too, Echizen?"
All it took was a single misstep, and Ryoma crashed into the ground, knees and palms scraping painfully against the sidewalk. Momoshiro hit the brakes, almost falling himself in an attempt to get off the bike as quickly as possible.
"You all right?" the second-year asked, wincing at the bleeding scrapes. Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Ryoma's wrists, inspecting his palms. "Echizen, what have you been doing? You just opened up all these blisters! You really need a Band-Aid, but I don't have anything." Momoshiro thought hard, but came up with nothing. "Unless you want to use my socks..."
"That would defeat the purpose of keeping out infection," Ryoma said dryly, his usual smirk in place despite the throbbing in his hands. It was... nice, being fretted over, though he'd never admit it.
The other boy blinked at him, then let out a surprised laugh. "Should have known it'd take more than a few cuts and bruises to upset you. C'mon, you can ride on the back of my bike. Just hold onto me and try not to fall off, you've got enough injuries to worry about. They'll have bandages at practice." He frowned, looking at Ryoma's hands. "You're gonna bleed all over my shirt," he mourned.
Ryoma shrugged. "So take it off," he replied, then felt heat rush into his face at the suggestion. It seemed like a plausible, efficient solution, but what if Momo-senpai thought that he was implying something else...? And, come to think of it, why did he care?
No. He is not blushing. I'm hallucinating, Momoshiro told himself firmly, refusing to consider the implications of a blushing Echizen Ryoma. "Eh, don't worry about it," he said with his usual cheerfulness. "Mom won't mind once I explain it to her, and I have an extra shirt in my locker somewhere."
Ryoma seated himself behind Momoshiro, holding on as lightly as possible for minimal staining. Despite the breeze on his face, his entire body felt feverish, and the pleasant fluttering in his stomach that he experienced so often around Momoshiro had erupted into a swarm of butterflies. His mind was a welter of confused emotions, so jumbled together that coherent thought was all but impossible. He knew that he didn't want to ruin his senpai's shirt. Distracted with a storm of physical sensation, he shifted his hands from place to place, focusing on how much it stung. He didn't want to feel anything else, or puzzle out what those feelings meant.
Is he trying to get me to fall off?! Momoshiro shrieked inside his mind, swerving at the last moment to avoid a telephone pole. Steering was rather difficult with a cute little brat groping you! He gulped. He's not doing it on purpose, so it shouldn't mean anything. Think about your girlfriend. It was just too bad that he couldn't even remember the girl's name with Echizen's hands moving across his torso.
Somehow they made it to practice in one piece. Grabbing Ryoma's wrist, Momoshiro hauled the boy to the nurse's office, tossing an explanation to the rest of the team over his shoulder. If they thought to ask why both boys' faces were such bright shades of red, they decided against it.
"You'll have to ask Inui if you can practice at all today," Momoshiro scolded as he rummaged through the first aid kit. "I know you're supposed to fight through the pain and all that, but not if it'll only make things worse." He swabbed disinfectant over the scrapes, ignoring Ryoma's startled yelp. "You'll probably have to drink a gallon of vegetable juice, but I, for one, am not letting you get your hands on a racket."
"Momo-senpai..."
"Don't try to talk me out of it! I know what's good for you!"
Ryoma sighed and held up his hands, so wrapped in gauze that they resembled a mummy's. "I can't even bend my fingers, so how can I play?"
* * * * *
Ryoma eyed the glass of juice warily. Its murky green depths seemed to absorb sunlight rather than reflect it, and he swore that steam rose from the surface. Upon learning of the condition of his hands, Inui had spent the entire morning testing experimental formulas on the hapless boy. Fortunately, most of his taste buds ceased functioning after the third glass or so.
Maybe Fuji-senpai will drink this, Ryoma mused, knowing of the upperclassman's strange like for the juice. Then again...
"Almost finished with that, Echizen?" Inui asked, without looking up from his notebook. His pencil flew across the paper, calculating the percentage of improvement from last week's Sunday practice.
I could always spill it and pretend it was an accident. Ryoma tipped the glass slightly so that a few drops splashed onto the table. He turned pale when the liquid hissed, stripping the table of its paint.
If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was trying to kill us.
"Practice dismissed!" came Tezuka's voice, quite possibly the most welcome sound Ryoma ever heard. Snatching his bag, he made a headlong dash out of the court, stopping only when Inui was out of hearing range. He skidded to a halt a moment too late, crashing into someone.
"You've gotta be having a growth spurt or something," Momoshiro said with amusement, looking down at him. "It's the only explanation for the sudden clumsiness."
Ryoma's face went pink and he scuffed the toe of one shoe against the ground, unable to summon his normal smirk to mask his emotions. "Are you going to walk home with me today?" he blurted, then cursed his stupidity. He had his bike, of course he wouldn't walk.
He's definitely blushing. But what does it mean? "Actually, I have another date today," he replied, watching for a reaction. He wasn't disappointed. Ryoma scowled, flush deepening. True, he wasn't a smiley sort of person, but there was no reason for him to stare so murderously at his shoelaces. Guess I better call Kyoko and hope she wants to do something.
"Oh." Ryoma's fists clenched involuntarily, and he bit his tongue in an effort not to cry out at the sudden pain. "Where are you taking her?"
Momoshiro thought fast and named the first activity that popped into his head. "To the movies. We're gonna see Spider-Man." Great, he had to pick a movie he'd already seen, and a few days ago at that. He'd really liked it, but the subtitles got annoying to read after a while and he didn't want to sit through it again, but if it was the only way to figure out how Echizen felt about him...
The movie title jogged something in his memory. Ryoma frowned, trying to get it to come clear in his mind. Something about the other day...
Ryoma-kun, do you want to come see it with us?"
"He hasn't even been paying attention," Horio said, rolling his eyes. "I don't think he wants to."
"I--I'm going to see it, too," Ryoma said. "Maybe I'll see you there."
Momoshiro blinked, then began to grin. "Maybe."
Uncaring, huh? More like slow to pick things up!
* * * * *
She was blonde.
Ryoma gritted his teeth. Blonde. He had no idea why this fact bothered him so, only that the sight of the girl's fair hair irritated him like nothing else. It might have had something to do with the fact that she was resting her head on Momoshiro's shoulder as he paid for their tickets.
"You gonna pay or what?" asked the cashier, indicating the bag of popcorn on the counter.
As Ryoma paid, Horio noticed the happy couple and exclaimed, "Look who's over there! OI, MOMO-CH--"
"Shut up!" Ryoma hissed, clapping a hand over Horio's mouth. At the others' confused expressions, he said the first thing that came to his head. "We shouldn't interrupt Momo-senpai's date." No, you're just going to spy on it, his brain observed gleefully.
Fortunately, the other three boys seemed to accept his hasty lie. "I guess we shouldn't let him see us, then," Kachiroh said, thinking out loud. "Momo-chan-senpai would feel like he had to stop and talk to us."
Oh, thank God. Ryoma breathed a sigh of relief that Kachiroh had been the one to broach the subject. If he'd done it, then they might get a bit suspicious...
Suspicious about what?
Never mind, Ryoma replied to the annoying little voice in his head, watching as the others finished purchasing their snacks. He risked a glance over at Momoshiro and his date, shooting the girl a look normally reserved for bullies on the tennis court. What was she doing, hanging onto him like that when they'd only been seeing each other for a week?
"Ryoma-kun, let's go sit down."
Still glancing over one shoulder, Ryoma sat down in the theater, and wound up spending all of the previews craning his head, trying to see over everyone's heads and find the upperclassman. Why did he have to be so short? He finally found them, three rows in front. Momoshiro had an arm draped around the girl. Casually, like he'd been doing it every day for all of his life. Irritation rose up inside Ryoma, irritation that bordered on downright anger. Sickening, a distraction, no one else could even enjoy the movie! (Ignoring the engrossed state of the people next to him. What did they know?) This had to be stopped!
Unable to look any longer, Ryoma's gaze fell on Horio's bag of M&Ms.
With a smirk, he picked it up, judging the distance between his seat and Momoshiro's hand with his usual pinpoint accuracy. Blocking out the noise from the movie, he held the candy up, drew his arm back, and threw.
At the strangled yelp that resulted, his smirk grew wider. That is, until he noticed that Momoshiro hadn't removed his arm. What was wrong with him? He threw another M&M, and still no result. Momoshiro turned around, looking ready to kill, and Ryoma felt somewhat gratified. He directed his attention towards the movie, putting on his most innocent face.
When he looked again, the arm was still there.
This is idiotic, Ryoma thought, as he continued to pelt Momoshiro with M&Ms at random intervals. And childish. Another M&M. And I should stop. Another M&M, and he watched with immense satisfaction as the arm finally withdrew. The girl hadn't even noticed the barrage of candies.
Mission accomplished, Ryoma leaned back in his seat, only to discover that he'd missed at least the first twenty minutes of the movie and had no idea what was going on. Oh, well, it wasn't like he wanted to see this anyway. He closed his eyes. Too bad he understood the movie dialogue, otherwise he could have let it lull him to sleep.
A hand closed around his wrist, pulling him out of his seat and into the aisle. Momo-senpai, his brain informed him, recognizing the feel of his grip and the sweeping butterfly sensation that came with it.
Momoshiro hauled him all the way down the aisle and almost out the door, stopping behind the wall designed to keep the light out whenever anyone had to exit. He looked quite put out, to say the least, and Ryoma saw with some guilt a few red marks on the unfortunate target of his attack.
"What the hell are you doing, Echizen?" he snapped, grabbing the younger boy by the shoulders.
Ryoma scowled and fired back, "What are you doing, dragging me around like that? I didn't do anything to you!"
"Oh, so someone else was chucking candy right and left?!"
"Guess so," he lied, with a shrug of his shoulders. "What makes you think it was me?" He tilted his head to one side, summoning his best puzzled expression.
Oh, damn, the kid's just too cute, Momoshiro sighed to himself, feeling the anger dissipating already. He's lying through his teeth, but he's really cute while he does it. He grinned. "One of your shots missed, Echizen. Thought you'd like to know."
"I did not miss!" Ryoma exclaimed indignantly, pride overwhelming common sense. He felt his cheeks go red as Momoshiro began to laugh. "All right, so I did it," he admitted, voice sulky. "You were distracting everyone else from the movie."
"Ah, you're just jealous," came the teasing reply.
He froze for a moment, confusion making his mind whirl. "Me? Jealous? I'm not -- I don't -- That's not -- Momo-senpai--"
Taking advantage of the younger boy's bewilderment, Momoshiro decided it was now or never, leaned over, and kissed him.
His mind cried Get away, get away but Ryoma, always so in tune with his body, could feel that this was exactly what he wanted, what he had been wanting for... how long? For ages and ages, it seemed, but that wasn't important. Momoshiro's mouth was warm and his hands were hot on his back and he couldn't think and that little voice in the back of his mind was wondering Why didn't this happen sooner, why? and otherwise he couldn't think and it didn't matter, it just didn't matter. His arms went around Momoshiro's neck and it felt right and he fit there perfectly.
A few long moments later, Momoshiro forced himself to break off the kiss, realizing that a crowded movie theater was perhaps not the best place to make out -- at least when it you had another date. He observed the dazed expression on Ryoma's face with no small amount of satisfaction. It hadn't been the most romantic of circumstances for a first kiss, but it happened and wow had the sparks flown.
"So you were jealous," he said, tapping Ryoma on the nose.
Ryoma, for his part, was at a loss for words, a rare occurrence. He'd just kissed a guy -- and a loudmouth like Momo-senpai! -- behind a wall in a movie theater and he simply couldn't bring himself to move from this spot. How did people deal with this kind of thing? He'd never been any good with people, much less this type of interaction! He was only in perfect control on the tennis court, where love was just a score and he didn't have to feel a million different emotions at once.
So he covered his confusion with a smirk, looked up, and replied, "How could I, when you'd much rather be here with me?" He said it to be flippant, and with some surprise realized it to be truth. Momo-senpai wants me to be with him, more than anyone else. He spared a passing moment of pity for the blonde, then dismissed it with, Well, too bad for her.
"Echizen, it isn't polite to gloat."
"I suppose."
"You're going to break the poor girl's heart, you know."
"Not my fault you went out with her," Ryoma said with some venom. Momo-senpai could have kissed him weeks ago and saved them both a lot of trouble! If he was such a big expert on feelings, let him do the work.
Well, maybe he could help out a little. Ryoma stood on his tiptoes and tilted his face up for another kiss.
"Are you finished yet?"
Momoshiro's girlfriend -- ex-girlfriend, Ryoma corrected himself, triumphant -- stood in front of them, cheeks burning bright red with anger. "I knew you were trying to forget about somebody else, I just knew it!" she cried, barely able to keep her voice down to avoid the attention of those watching the movie. "Momo, why'd you even bother with me?"
Any feeling of triumph evaporated. He might be a little arrogant, but cruel had never been a part of his personality and he didn't like to see people upset.
Momoshiro, to his credit, looked absolutely miserable about the whole affair. "Kyoko, I'm sorry, I just--"
"You just wanted someone else all along," she snapped, shooting the pair a look that quite possibly could make small animals drop dead in their tracks. "Geez, as if it wasn't obvious before today! I just... thought we could have fun..." Her voice trailed away sadly, and Momoshiro and Ryoma exchanged panicked looks. What if she started to cry?
There was a long silence.
"Echizen, wait outside," Momoshiro finally instructed, gently unhooking Ryoma's arms from around his neck. "I'll walk you home after I talk to Kyoko."
Ryoma opened his mouth, ready to protest, but shut it again when he saw the expression on the other boy's face. Realizing that apologies were best conducted in private, he walked out of the theater.
* * * * *
"What took you so long?" Ryoma demanded the instant he saw the upperclassman. He'd been waiting outside for twenty minutes! What could he possibly have had to say besides "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested"?
Momoshiro grinned. "Nice to see you too, Echizen. Let's go."
"You're avoiding the question."
"You're cute when you're jealous."
Ryoma shot him a glare. "I am not jealous. Who else could put up with you for so long? You're loud and obnoxious and not all that bright."
"I am, am I?" But he still looked as cheerful as ever, not at all bothered by the younger boy's sharp retort. "She's only a friend, Echizen. I wanted to forget about you, so I just decided to ask out the girl in my class I liked best."
"Hn."
"I've known her since grade school, so I figured she'd be understanding. And she was, really, though she did have every right to get mad. But we're fine now."
"Hmph."
"Echizen!" Momoshiro exclaimed, beginning to panic. "You're not mad at me for apologizing to her, are you? Nothing happened, I swear!"
"I'm not mad." In spite of himself, he smiled. Really, Momo-senpai was just too easy to get all worked up. "Just teasing."
"...You're a horrible brat, you know that?"
Ryoma shrugged at this, the smile becoming his accustomed smirk. Not only had he learned several interesting new things today, he'd restored his body's normal balance. Guess unrealized longing from afar is even worse than what Momo-senpai had to go through. His smirk grew wider, remembering Kyoko's angry face. Well, maybe not.
"Momo-senpai?"
"Hmm?"
"How... how long?" He looked down at his shoes, knowing he wouldn't have to explain what the question meant. Momo-senpai could be dense sometimes, but he did have an uncanny talent for guessing what was on his mind.
"When I first saw you!" At Ryoma's glare, Momoshiro laughed and said, "Just kidding. I don't know when it first started. When we got to be friends, I guess. There's something about you that doesn't let a poor guy forget about you."
Ryoma tried his best to control the color rising in his cheeks, but failed miserably. Momoshiro smiled at this.
They continued their walk to the Echizen residence in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. But somewhere around the halfway marker (Momoshiro had a good memory for direction, if little else), Ryoma slipped a bandaged hand into his, and suddenly their destination didn't seem nearly far enough away.
By Kelsey
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis belongs to people that can afford lawyers. I'm only borrowing the characters to relieve a little of their UST. Think of it as charity service!
Warnings: None really, unless shounen ai makes you twitch.
Notes: This fic starts off with very mild angst (it's Momo and Ryoma, for heaven's sake!) and quickly descends into fluffy romance. The title is a rather silly play on the "Six games to love" phrase so often heard when Ryoma is concerned. ^^ Inspired by the revelation in one episode that Momo had a crush on a girl in his class. Well, not for long... ^_~
---
It was a beautiful day, and all was not right in the world.
The wrongness was there in the extra second it took him to get to the ball, the slight extra exertion it took to return a serve, the single instant of hesitation before he knew where the ball would land.
All in all, it was not Echizen Ryoma's best day.
He let the others' chatter wash around him as he changed back into his school uniform, oblivious to the occasional worried glance they cast in his direction. Ryoma being quiet was a common occurrence, but normally he was at least aware of the world around him. This detached, numb behavior wasn't like him at all.
"Ryoma-kun, do you want to come see it with us?" Kachiroh asked, determined to return his friend to his normal self.
Ryoma blinked. What had they been talking about? Some American movie that had turned out to be a huge hit... When was the last time he'd seen a movie?
Then again, when was the last time he'd cared to see a movie?
"He hasn't even been paying attention," Horio said, rolling his eyes. "I don't think he wants to."
The mild irritation he felt at such an assumption was quickly swept aside by worrying about his sudden decrease in tennis ability. He couldn't think of any rational explanation for it, any reason whatsoever. No muscle strains, sprains, cuts, bruises, broken bones, sudden illnesses, lack of sleep, poor nutrition... He took care of himself. He didn't even have any allergies! And he'd been playing tennis for eight years, taught by a master of the sport. It didn't make sense. He finished changing, not noticing the silence of the other three.
"Oi, Echizen!" came a familiar voice as the group of freshmen exited the school grounds.
"Momo-chan-senpai!"
"Momo-senpai," Ryoma answered in his usual monotone, made all the more flat in the face of the older boy's exuberant one.
Momoshiro smiled and ruffled Ryoma's hair, wondering if he'd get a rise out of the boy if he did it enough times. "Echizen, I won't be able to eat with you today, either." His smile grew wider with unadulterated glee. "I've got another date!" Striking a dramatic pose, he exclaimed, "Seigaku's star tennis player is single NO more!" He opened one eye to see if this speech had any effect on his stoic teammate.
One eyebrow rose. "Oh."
He sighed. Well, you already knew the kid could care less about you, Momo, he scolded himself. That's why you decided to find someone else in the first place! As much as he had -- and still did, not that he wanted to admit it -- cared about the brat, he was tired of moping around for someone completely indifferent to his every effort. Not like he'd been overly subtle or anything.
"Momo-chan-senpai has a girlfriend?" Horio asked, blinking. "I thought that Seigaku regulars devoted all of their passion to tennis! That they were so focused on it that they didn't have time for any other love!" He shook his head, tsking. "Momo-chan-senpai is a disgrace." He glanced over at his silent companion. "Echizen, you're better than that, right?"
Ryoma's expression was unreadable. "Aa."
I give everything I have to tennis, he thought with uncharacteristic fierceness. I practice until my arms ache. I never hold back.
So what's throwing my game off?
* * * * *
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.
"Hey kid, whatcha doing?"
Thunk. "Nothing." Thunk.
Echizen Nanjiroh sighed and tucked his latest magazine into his sleeve. "Dinner's been ready for an hour," he said nonchalantly, noting the tension with which Ryoma gripped the racket. The kid had obviously been practicing since he got home from tennis practice... Odd, he usually knew when to stop for the day.
"I'm not hungry," Ryoma snapped, irritation surfacing. He didn't need his father seeing him in this condition of top of everything else! Even if it took an entire night of practicing, he was going to fix this strange affliction. He could feel blisters forming despite his calluses, but a good bandage would eliminate the problem.
Ryoma steadfastly ignored the little voice in his head telling him he was being stubborn to the point of ridiculousness.
Nanjiroh shrugged. "Guess I'll have to wait for you," he sighed, pulling out the magazine. When the rhythmic thunks started up again, he grinned to himself and began to rustle the pages as loudly as possible without it being too obvious.
Thunk. Thunk.
Rustle.
Thunk.
Rustle. Rustle.
"Can't you go somewhere else?!" Ryoma asked at last, unable to ignore it any longer. This required minute concentration and his father was interrupting it with his stupid magazine with its stupid girls in swimsuits! They weren't even attractive anyway, what a waste of time...!
Ryoma blinked once, twice, and let the ball fall to the ground.
"Finally decided to come in?" Nanjiroh looked at the blank expression on his son's face, puzzled. His expression became decidedly evil as he saw what the boy was staring at. "I think you're a little young for her, kid!" he exclaimed, gleeful at the opportunity to get a response out of his entirely too quiet son.
Not attractive. Not at all. Ryoma's palms began to sweat. I can tell they're pretty, but that's it.
That's it.
Why...? No, it can't be that.
"Now, every boy at your age goes through this. It's perfectly normal, but you'll have to buy your own magazines, not to mention hide them from you're mother..." Nanjiroh's somewhat misguided attempt at 'The Talk' was abruptly cut off as its recipient bolted past, slamming the door shut on his way in. His footsteps upstairs made thumping noises clearly audible even from outdoors.
"Kids these days," Nanjiroh sighed.
Upstairs, Ryoma lay sprawled on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling without seeing it. Not attractive, not at all, not attractive, not at all, played over and over in his mind, a malicious chorus, a revelation for which he was both unwilling and unprepared.
I don't want to think about it. I can't think about it. This is the last thing I need, more things to interfere with my tennis game.
He paused.
Is that what's been bothering me?
* * * * *
Ryoma's first thought upon waking up and seeing the late hour was, Sunday. No school.
His next was, Wait, when does tennis practice start?
Ten minutes later, Ryoma was hurtling down the sidewalk, a piece of toast in his mouth and his tennis bag clutched in one hand. His sneakers pounded against the concrete, sound rhythmic and comfortably familiar in his ears, moving in time to his heartbeat. This was the perfect synchrony that had been missing for the past few days, the feeling of being at home in his own body. He continued sprinting, losing his troubles in the simple joy of physical exertion. He didn't have to think about last night, yesterday, because time did not matter.
"You late too, Echizen?"
All it took was a single misstep, and Ryoma crashed into the ground, knees and palms scraping painfully against the sidewalk. Momoshiro hit the brakes, almost falling himself in an attempt to get off the bike as quickly as possible.
"You all right?" the second-year asked, wincing at the bleeding scrapes. Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Ryoma's wrists, inspecting his palms. "Echizen, what have you been doing? You just opened up all these blisters! You really need a Band-Aid, but I don't have anything." Momoshiro thought hard, but came up with nothing. "Unless you want to use my socks..."
"That would defeat the purpose of keeping out infection," Ryoma said dryly, his usual smirk in place despite the throbbing in his hands. It was... nice, being fretted over, though he'd never admit it.
The other boy blinked at him, then let out a surprised laugh. "Should have known it'd take more than a few cuts and bruises to upset you. C'mon, you can ride on the back of my bike. Just hold onto me and try not to fall off, you've got enough injuries to worry about. They'll have bandages at practice." He frowned, looking at Ryoma's hands. "You're gonna bleed all over my shirt," he mourned.
Ryoma shrugged. "So take it off," he replied, then felt heat rush into his face at the suggestion. It seemed like a plausible, efficient solution, but what if Momo-senpai thought that he was implying something else...? And, come to think of it, why did he care?
No. He is not blushing. I'm hallucinating, Momoshiro told himself firmly, refusing to consider the implications of a blushing Echizen Ryoma. "Eh, don't worry about it," he said with his usual cheerfulness. "Mom won't mind once I explain it to her, and I have an extra shirt in my locker somewhere."
Ryoma seated himself behind Momoshiro, holding on as lightly as possible for minimal staining. Despite the breeze on his face, his entire body felt feverish, and the pleasant fluttering in his stomach that he experienced so often around Momoshiro had erupted into a swarm of butterflies. His mind was a welter of confused emotions, so jumbled together that coherent thought was all but impossible. He knew that he didn't want to ruin his senpai's shirt. Distracted with a storm of physical sensation, he shifted his hands from place to place, focusing on how much it stung. He didn't want to feel anything else, or puzzle out what those feelings meant.
Is he trying to get me to fall off?! Momoshiro shrieked inside his mind, swerving at the last moment to avoid a telephone pole. Steering was rather difficult with a cute little brat groping you! He gulped. He's not doing it on purpose, so it shouldn't mean anything. Think about your girlfriend. It was just too bad that he couldn't even remember the girl's name with Echizen's hands moving across his torso.
Somehow they made it to practice in one piece. Grabbing Ryoma's wrist, Momoshiro hauled the boy to the nurse's office, tossing an explanation to the rest of the team over his shoulder. If they thought to ask why both boys' faces were such bright shades of red, they decided against it.
"You'll have to ask Inui if you can practice at all today," Momoshiro scolded as he rummaged through the first aid kit. "I know you're supposed to fight through the pain and all that, but not if it'll only make things worse." He swabbed disinfectant over the scrapes, ignoring Ryoma's startled yelp. "You'll probably have to drink a gallon of vegetable juice, but I, for one, am not letting you get your hands on a racket."
"Momo-senpai..."
"Don't try to talk me out of it! I know what's good for you!"
Ryoma sighed and held up his hands, so wrapped in gauze that they resembled a mummy's. "I can't even bend my fingers, so how can I play?"
* * * * *
Ryoma eyed the glass of juice warily. Its murky green depths seemed to absorb sunlight rather than reflect it, and he swore that steam rose from the surface. Upon learning of the condition of his hands, Inui had spent the entire morning testing experimental formulas on the hapless boy. Fortunately, most of his taste buds ceased functioning after the third glass or so.
Maybe Fuji-senpai will drink this, Ryoma mused, knowing of the upperclassman's strange like for the juice. Then again...
"Almost finished with that, Echizen?" Inui asked, without looking up from his notebook. His pencil flew across the paper, calculating the percentage of improvement from last week's Sunday practice.
I could always spill it and pretend it was an accident. Ryoma tipped the glass slightly so that a few drops splashed onto the table. He turned pale when the liquid hissed, stripping the table of its paint.
If I didn't know better, I'd swear he was trying to kill us.
"Practice dismissed!" came Tezuka's voice, quite possibly the most welcome sound Ryoma ever heard. Snatching his bag, he made a headlong dash out of the court, stopping only when Inui was out of hearing range. He skidded to a halt a moment too late, crashing into someone.
"You've gotta be having a growth spurt or something," Momoshiro said with amusement, looking down at him. "It's the only explanation for the sudden clumsiness."
Ryoma's face went pink and he scuffed the toe of one shoe against the ground, unable to summon his normal smirk to mask his emotions. "Are you going to walk home with me today?" he blurted, then cursed his stupidity. He had his bike, of course he wouldn't walk.
He's definitely blushing. But what does it mean? "Actually, I have another date today," he replied, watching for a reaction. He wasn't disappointed. Ryoma scowled, flush deepening. True, he wasn't a smiley sort of person, but there was no reason for him to stare so murderously at his shoelaces. Guess I better call Kyoko and hope she wants to do something.
"Oh." Ryoma's fists clenched involuntarily, and he bit his tongue in an effort not to cry out at the sudden pain. "Where are you taking her?"
Momoshiro thought fast and named the first activity that popped into his head. "To the movies. We're gonna see Spider-Man." Great, he had to pick a movie he'd already seen, and a few days ago at that. He'd really liked it, but the subtitles got annoying to read after a while and he didn't want to sit through it again, but if it was the only way to figure out how Echizen felt about him...
The movie title jogged something in his memory. Ryoma frowned, trying to get it to come clear in his mind. Something about the other day...
Ryoma-kun, do you want to come see it with us?"
"He hasn't even been paying attention," Horio said, rolling his eyes. "I don't think he wants to."
"I--I'm going to see it, too," Ryoma said. "Maybe I'll see you there."
Momoshiro blinked, then began to grin. "Maybe."
Uncaring, huh? More like slow to pick things up!
* * * * *
She was blonde.
Ryoma gritted his teeth. Blonde. He had no idea why this fact bothered him so, only that the sight of the girl's fair hair irritated him like nothing else. It might have had something to do with the fact that she was resting her head on Momoshiro's shoulder as he paid for their tickets.
"You gonna pay or what?" asked the cashier, indicating the bag of popcorn on the counter.
As Ryoma paid, Horio noticed the happy couple and exclaimed, "Look who's over there! OI, MOMO-CH--"
"Shut up!" Ryoma hissed, clapping a hand over Horio's mouth. At the others' confused expressions, he said the first thing that came to his head. "We shouldn't interrupt Momo-senpai's date." No, you're just going to spy on it, his brain observed gleefully.
Fortunately, the other three boys seemed to accept his hasty lie. "I guess we shouldn't let him see us, then," Kachiroh said, thinking out loud. "Momo-chan-senpai would feel like he had to stop and talk to us."
Oh, thank God. Ryoma breathed a sigh of relief that Kachiroh had been the one to broach the subject. If he'd done it, then they might get a bit suspicious...
Suspicious about what?
Never mind, Ryoma replied to the annoying little voice in his head, watching as the others finished purchasing their snacks. He risked a glance over at Momoshiro and his date, shooting the girl a look normally reserved for bullies on the tennis court. What was she doing, hanging onto him like that when they'd only been seeing each other for a week?
"Ryoma-kun, let's go sit down."
Still glancing over one shoulder, Ryoma sat down in the theater, and wound up spending all of the previews craning his head, trying to see over everyone's heads and find the upperclassman. Why did he have to be so short? He finally found them, three rows in front. Momoshiro had an arm draped around the girl. Casually, like he'd been doing it every day for all of his life. Irritation rose up inside Ryoma, irritation that bordered on downright anger. Sickening, a distraction, no one else could even enjoy the movie! (Ignoring the engrossed state of the people next to him. What did they know?) This had to be stopped!
Unable to look any longer, Ryoma's gaze fell on Horio's bag of M&Ms.
With a smirk, he picked it up, judging the distance between his seat and Momoshiro's hand with his usual pinpoint accuracy. Blocking out the noise from the movie, he held the candy up, drew his arm back, and threw.
At the strangled yelp that resulted, his smirk grew wider. That is, until he noticed that Momoshiro hadn't removed his arm. What was wrong with him? He threw another M&M, and still no result. Momoshiro turned around, looking ready to kill, and Ryoma felt somewhat gratified. He directed his attention towards the movie, putting on his most innocent face.
When he looked again, the arm was still there.
This is idiotic, Ryoma thought, as he continued to pelt Momoshiro with M&Ms at random intervals. And childish. Another M&M. And I should stop. Another M&M, and he watched with immense satisfaction as the arm finally withdrew. The girl hadn't even noticed the barrage of candies.
Mission accomplished, Ryoma leaned back in his seat, only to discover that he'd missed at least the first twenty minutes of the movie and had no idea what was going on. Oh, well, it wasn't like he wanted to see this anyway. He closed his eyes. Too bad he understood the movie dialogue, otherwise he could have let it lull him to sleep.
A hand closed around his wrist, pulling him out of his seat and into the aisle. Momo-senpai, his brain informed him, recognizing the feel of his grip and the sweeping butterfly sensation that came with it.
Momoshiro hauled him all the way down the aisle and almost out the door, stopping behind the wall designed to keep the light out whenever anyone had to exit. He looked quite put out, to say the least, and Ryoma saw with some guilt a few red marks on the unfortunate target of his attack.
"What the hell are you doing, Echizen?" he snapped, grabbing the younger boy by the shoulders.
Ryoma scowled and fired back, "What are you doing, dragging me around like that? I didn't do anything to you!"
"Oh, so someone else was chucking candy right and left?!"
"Guess so," he lied, with a shrug of his shoulders. "What makes you think it was me?" He tilted his head to one side, summoning his best puzzled expression.
Oh, damn, the kid's just too cute, Momoshiro sighed to himself, feeling the anger dissipating already. He's lying through his teeth, but he's really cute while he does it. He grinned. "One of your shots missed, Echizen. Thought you'd like to know."
"I did not miss!" Ryoma exclaimed indignantly, pride overwhelming common sense. He felt his cheeks go red as Momoshiro began to laugh. "All right, so I did it," he admitted, voice sulky. "You were distracting everyone else from the movie."
"Ah, you're just jealous," came the teasing reply.
He froze for a moment, confusion making his mind whirl. "Me? Jealous? I'm not -- I don't -- That's not -- Momo-senpai--"
Taking advantage of the younger boy's bewilderment, Momoshiro decided it was now or never, leaned over, and kissed him.
His mind cried Get away, get away but Ryoma, always so in tune with his body, could feel that this was exactly what he wanted, what he had been wanting for... how long? For ages and ages, it seemed, but that wasn't important. Momoshiro's mouth was warm and his hands were hot on his back and he couldn't think and that little voice in the back of his mind was wondering Why didn't this happen sooner, why? and otherwise he couldn't think and it didn't matter, it just didn't matter. His arms went around Momoshiro's neck and it felt right and he fit there perfectly.
A few long moments later, Momoshiro forced himself to break off the kiss, realizing that a crowded movie theater was perhaps not the best place to make out -- at least when it you had another date. He observed the dazed expression on Ryoma's face with no small amount of satisfaction. It hadn't been the most romantic of circumstances for a first kiss, but it happened and wow had the sparks flown.
"So you were jealous," he said, tapping Ryoma on the nose.
Ryoma, for his part, was at a loss for words, a rare occurrence. He'd just kissed a guy -- and a loudmouth like Momo-senpai! -- behind a wall in a movie theater and he simply couldn't bring himself to move from this spot. How did people deal with this kind of thing? He'd never been any good with people, much less this type of interaction! He was only in perfect control on the tennis court, where love was just a score and he didn't have to feel a million different emotions at once.
So he covered his confusion with a smirk, looked up, and replied, "How could I, when you'd much rather be here with me?" He said it to be flippant, and with some surprise realized it to be truth. Momo-senpai wants me to be with him, more than anyone else. He spared a passing moment of pity for the blonde, then dismissed it with, Well, too bad for her.
"Echizen, it isn't polite to gloat."
"I suppose."
"You're going to break the poor girl's heart, you know."
"Not my fault you went out with her," Ryoma said with some venom. Momo-senpai could have kissed him weeks ago and saved them both a lot of trouble! If he was such a big expert on feelings, let him do the work.
Well, maybe he could help out a little. Ryoma stood on his tiptoes and tilted his face up for another kiss.
"Are you finished yet?"
Momoshiro's girlfriend -- ex-girlfriend, Ryoma corrected himself, triumphant -- stood in front of them, cheeks burning bright red with anger. "I knew you were trying to forget about somebody else, I just knew it!" she cried, barely able to keep her voice down to avoid the attention of those watching the movie. "Momo, why'd you even bother with me?"
Any feeling of triumph evaporated. He might be a little arrogant, but cruel had never been a part of his personality and he didn't like to see people upset.
Momoshiro, to his credit, looked absolutely miserable about the whole affair. "Kyoko, I'm sorry, I just--"
"You just wanted someone else all along," she snapped, shooting the pair a look that quite possibly could make small animals drop dead in their tracks. "Geez, as if it wasn't obvious before today! I just... thought we could have fun..." Her voice trailed away sadly, and Momoshiro and Ryoma exchanged panicked looks. What if she started to cry?
There was a long silence.
"Echizen, wait outside," Momoshiro finally instructed, gently unhooking Ryoma's arms from around his neck. "I'll walk you home after I talk to Kyoko."
Ryoma opened his mouth, ready to protest, but shut it again when he saw the expression on the other boy's face. Realizing that apologies were best conducted in private, he walked out of the theater.
* * * * *
"What took you so long?" Ryoma demanded the instant he saw the upperclassman. He'd been waiting outside for twenty minutes! What could he possibly have had to say besides "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested"?
Momoshiro grinned. "Nice to see you too, Echizen. Let's go."
"You're avoiding the question."
"You're cute when you're jealous."
Ryoma shot him a glare. "I am not jealous. Who else could put up with you for so long? You're loud and obnoxious and not all that bright."
"I am, am I?" But he still looked as cheerful as ever, not at all bothered by the younger boy's sharp retort. "She's only a friend, Echizen. I wanted to forget about you, so I just decided to ask out the girl in my class I liked best."
"Hn."
"I've known her since grade school, so I figured she'd be understanding. And she was, really, though she did have every right to get mad. But we're fine now."
"Hmph."
"Echizen!" Momoshiro exclaimed, beginning to panic. "You're not mad at me for apologizing to her, are you? Nothing happened, I swear!"
"I'm not mad." In spite of himself, he smiled. Really, Momo-senpai was just too easy to get all worked up. "Just teasing."
"...You're a horrible brat, you know that?"
Ryoma shrugged at this, the smile becoming his accustomed smirk. Not only had he learned several interesting new things today, he'd restored his body's normal balance. Guess unrealized longing from afar is even worse than what Momo-senpai had to go through. His smirk grew wider, remembering Kyoko's angry face. Well, maybe not.
"Momo-senpai?"
"Hmm?"
"How... how long?" He looked down at his shoes, knowing he wouldn't have to explain what the question meant. Momo-senpai could be dense sometimes, but he did have an uncanny talent for guessing what was on his mind.
"When I first saw you!" At Ryoma's glare, Momoshiro laughed and said, "Just kidding. I don't know when it first started. When we got to be friends, I guess. There's something about you that doesn't let a poor guy forget about you."
Ryoma tried his best to control the color rising in his cheeks, but failed miserably. Momoshiro smiled at this.
They continued their walk to the Echizen residence in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. But somewhere around the halfway marker (Momoshiro had a good memory for direction, if little else), Ryoma slipped a bandaged hand into his, and suddenly their destination didn't seem nearly far enough away.