Summary: Summer is ephemeral – moments and people which simply meet and pass. [AU]
Written for the Imagination: Unleashed Kris Kringle 2010 last December for Gelly (The Night Owl is Addicted) with the prompt 'Summer'. I never really imagined myself shipping this and without your request, I would never have been able to see their chemistry. Thank you for introducing me to a new pairing.
Dalliance
Tezuka hates the summer.
He hates how the weather is unbearably hot, and how he is constantly torn between saving the environment and turning on the AC. He hates the feeling of sweating without exerting effort, and he hates the smell of sun-soaked clothes. (Moreso because he is Tezukaand Tezuka can never complain – at least not out loud.) However, what he hates more than summer is the feeling of idleness and unproductivity, which is the reason why he is now outside, ignoring the blistering heat, and on his way to his summer job.
He reaches his 'workplace' soon enough. The temple isn't far, just a few minutes of biking from his house. He unboards his bike and puts on a sunvisor and readies his backpack, before he goes up the stairs.
"Ryoma," the woman who meets him halfway calls out as soon as they reach the Japanese-style house on top, before she starts speaking in English, "your Japanese tutor is here!"
Tezuka repeats the name in his head, and does not even have to wait, as the boy goes down the stairs sleepily, still in what looks like his sleeping clothes.
Tezuka blinks.
"Didn't I tell you to take a shower ten minutes ago?" The mother turns to Tezuka, apologetic. "I'm sorry, Tezuka-kun. I think he overslept."
Tezuka doesn't reply, as his eyes remain on the half-asleep young man, who seems to be a few years younger than him. He watches as he rubs the sleepiness out of his eyes, while scratching his stomach.
"'Morning," the boy – Ryoma – finally greets him.
Tezuka stands on alert. "Good morning," he replies politely, his English stiff. "Please take your time."
Ryoma yawns and nods in thanks, before making his way back up.
A few minutes later, Tezuka is sitting by the small table in Ryoma's room. He tries not to look around, keeping his manners in check. He concentrates on the bowl of sweets, as he mentally goes over his lessons.
The door opens, and the smell of coconuts fills the room. Tezuka tries not to breathe.
"Did I take too long?" Ryoma asks, taking the space in front of Tezuka. He grabs one of the sweets and gnaws at it, as his towel hangs on his damp hair "You came over too early,sensei."
Tezuka stands up, out of politeness. He holds out his hand. "Tezuka Kunimitsu. I'll be your Japanese tutor. I hope we get along."
When Ryoma smiles at him as he shakes the offered hand, Tezuka's heart skips a beat.
He blames it on the summer heat.
"You made a mistake," Tezuka points out, stopping Ryoma from his writing exercises, "over here. Why didn't you work on your assignment, Echizen?" Without waiting for an excuse, he orders him, "Ten pages, now."
It is their third meeting, right after the one with the expressions and numbers.
"Why do the Japanese have so many letters?" the boy groans, but follows the order soon after.
Ryoma masters both sets in the span of an hour. Tezuka looks over him proudly.
"You should've done that last night," Tezuka comments, as he hands him back his paper, "but you learn quite fast. Good job."
Ryoma smirks. "Do I get a reward, sensei?"
Tezuka stops, then stares.
"Like a break, or something?"
He lets out a breath. "Yes," he replies, inexplicable relief flooding him, "yes."
Ryoma stands up, but he doesn't go out. Instead, he walks over to Tezuka's side of the table, bends down, and kisses him on the lips. When Ryoma pulls back, they stare at each other for a while. Ryoma's lips curl into a mischievous smile.
"Thank you, sensei."
Tezuka pushes up his glasses and goes back to the book as if nothing happened. "It's okay," he replies, before giving Ryoma Set #2, which is what they do for the next two hours.
Tezuka blames it on the summer heat.
On their fourth meeting, Ryoma sits next to Tezuka. Tezuka is tempted to pull away. It is hot, and his skin feels sticky from the humidity. However, he says nothing, as they continue with the lesson.
They are starting on kanji now, and Tezuka is not surprised. The boy has an amazing memory, and he picks up quite fast. He can now speak conversational Japanese, and he can understand most complex sentences. He can't help but smile when he remembers when he first started learning English. Tezuka sees a little bit himself in Ryoma, and uses it to justify why he feels so unusually comfortable with him.
"You're smiling," Ryoma says, cutting off Tezuka's thoughts. "It's the first time."
Tezuka glances at him, always ready to engage him in Japanese conversation. "Is it?"
"Yeah," the younger boy continues, "It looks nice." He hands Tezuka Set # 10, and he smirks. "You're blushing, sensei."
Tezuka turns, and checks the paper as calmly as he can.
"It's the heat, Echizen," he replies, marking it with a 100.
The second kiss comes more naturally.
It is their sixth meeting. They are taking a break, and Ryoma's mother had just gone out of the room to take out the glasses of Ponta and iced tea. Ryoma is still sitting next to Tezuka, playing with his cat. Tezuka merely sits there, watching, listening to the whirring of the fan, and the soft sound of an English love song coming from Ryoma's stereo ('They're from my mother. I liked them, so I kept them. They build the atmosphere.'). Nothing happens until.
Ryoma turns slightly, as the cat jumps out of his hold. The moment is too quick for Tezuka to react, and he merely freezes, staring. Ryoma, this time, slowly leans in, giving him a chance to pull back. Tezuka doesn't.
Soon, they are an awkward tangle on the floor, and Tezuka lets Ryoma do what he wants. It's the heat, he tells himself again, as he feels skin against skin, tongue against tongue. It's too hot. Tezuka pulls Ryoma to him, his hands somehow finding their way under his shirt and onto the damp skin on Ryoma's back. Ryoma's hands start going somewhere else.
When they hear footsteps, they separate.
"We should really install an AC up here," Ryoma's mother says, as she sees the two boys. "I'll go bring another fan up."
"Thank you," Tezuka says politely, adjusting his glasses. He doesn't look at Ryoma as he takes off his glasses to wipe them, before picking out the next worksheet. He has started to doubt his words, but he says them, anyway. "The summer heat this year is exceptionally... uncomfortable."
Tezuka excuses himself, and goes to the bathroom.
"Ne, how do you write 'like' in Japanese?"
Tezuka's efforts are rewarded – he does not flinch. Outwardly calm, he takes out the kanji section of his worksheets. "We've gone over that before," he tells his tutee, as he gives him another set of kanji. "Today we're studying locations."
Ryoma, disappointed at the lack of an interesting response, plops down on the floor, hands behind his head. "I reviewed that yesterday."
Tezuka raises an eyebrow as he passes Ryoma a piece of paper. "Show me."
Ryoma turns around, putting the paper on the floor and grabbing a nearby pen. Skillfully, he scribbles, and soon, he hands Tezuka his work. He goes back to his previous position.
I like it here, the paper said, with you. The kanji for 'like' is missing a stroke.
Tezuka takes off glasses, and goes over to Ryoma. He kisses him, for the first time.
"You, too, huh?" Ryoma asks, opening his eyes slowly after the kiss, a lazy smile on his face.
"I don't know," Tezuka replies, as he resumes his regular seat, glasses now back on.
"Was that because of the summer heat, too?" Ryoma asks.
"... I hate summer, Echizen."
Ryoma smiles. "'Summer' isn't the same as 'like', sensei. The latter usually lasts longer."
Tezuka is silent for a while, and he stays that way even as the younger boy sits on the opposite side of the table, for the first time in weeks.
The summer doesn't last long, and it ends on the last day of the tutoring.
It is raining, and Ryoma isn't there.
"I'm so sorry, Tezuka-kun. That boy said he needed to go out, and ran before I could catch him."
Tezuka shakes his head and hands her a small booklet. "This is a proficiency test booklet. Echizen has done well." He opens it and shows her his high score. "He's almost as good as the average Japanese." After that, he takes out a sheet of paper. "This is for my CV. Would you mind signing it?"
His mother takes it. "You're planning to study in America?" Suddenly, she is excited. "I'd be glad to sign it! We know quite a lot of people around this area, Tezuka-kun. If you need any help, just ring us up." She writes her name on a small index card, as well as a telephone number.
Tezuka nods gratefully. "And how about Echizen?"
"He told us that he wanted to stay here and study. We just completed his enrollment in Seigaku last week. That's where his father went when he was young."
"I see." Tezuka watches as she finishes signing his paper, and sealing it in an envelope. He takes it, and puts everything in his bag. "Thank you for your patronage." He makes his way to the door, and starts putting on his shoes.
"Tezuka-kun," Ryoma's mother calls, as Tezuka is about to go out. He turns, and sees her at the mouth of the hallway, smiling at him. "My son likes you quite a lot. It would mean a lot to him if you left him a number or an address. I'm sure he'd like to contact you in the future."
Tezuka looks and smiles back, almost sadly. He nods, and goes up Ryoma's room, and almost as quickly – once again without looking at anything – he goes down and leaves.
Hours later, Ryoma will come back to his room and find a note on top of his table, saying nothing but 'Congratulations', along with his proficiency book report.
Tezuka still hates the summer.
He hates how it reminds him of the almost-bare room with nothing but tennis paraphernalia, about coconuts, about English love songs, about a Himalayan, about Japanese worksheets, about cat-like smirks, about kisses-out-of-the-blue, about knowing looks, about tatami mats stained with sweat, about the summer heat and about a boy, even though now, he is on the other side of the world.
Sometimes, when he turns a corner, he expects to see him there, smiling, asking him if the weather's still too hot, or talk to him in Japanese and tell him, I like it here with you.
It never happens.
Memories fade, like summer into autumn.
Two years later, in the middle of working on a report, Tezuka remembers and stays like that for a while, his chest heavy, and his throat tight.
There are things, however, that Tezuka hates more than summer.
And so, he goes back to work.
fin