I don't own PoT.
Glass
. . .
Every parent wants the perfect child and Atobe prides himself on being the perect child. Tennis captain, school council president, top-notch grades, charming, beautiful and at age fourteen, Atobe Keigo was a budding businessman. Really, if any parent demanded more from a child they would risk being called overambitious. Atobe is, obviously not normal by society's standards and given that he is not your average child, he expects more from himself.
But Atobe is like very other human being - granted, he has a few dozen servants at his every beck and call and he has people who would kiss the ground if he demanded it - has a breaking point. A point where his mind fractures, he relies solely on instinct and hunches and can no longer think shrewdly.
The funny thing is the most human Atobe can get is to forget his desire for money. His butler is half his father and his existence has revolved only around money. Honestly, there was nothing more wrong that the expression "Money can't buy you happiness" because Atobe had everything he had ever wanted and if it weren't for his money, he wouldn't have all those things. Of course, his parents are never around - so what? He doesn't miss this, the maids and servants are paid so obviously they don't miss them and it gives Atobe more freedom than any other fourteen-year-old.
But Atobe is not happy.
Sure, he can fool himself into thinking he is (because we're all masters of deception and happiness is such a foreign concept). He can hide under his dozen cleverly crafted masks, under his flounces and bounces, under his arrogance and aura of perfection. Atobe has desires - they're not related to money, unfortunately - and he looks for ways to fulfil them. Atobe is, when you think about it, just a child, just a kid who really needs guidance and understanding and has been denied that.
Sometimes Atobe is depressed and it's hardly the regular kind of depressed where you cry into your pillows for a few hours and then douse yourself in self-pity while downing ice cream. This kind of depression lingers in the pit of his stomach and gnaws at his heart pathetically, leaving him angry and frustrated for eons - so much so that it nresults in him throwing one of those expensive vases they had imported from China against a wall.
Not that it matters. Money could buy him another fancy vase like that one. Money could buy him anything he wanted. Money could buy him a house the size of Buckingham Palace, money could buy him splendid clothes and delicious food, money could buy him everything he needed, but not what he wanted.
Somedays - when he's really upset; not that he would let anybody know because Atobe Keigo doesn't have 'off' days - he lies down and thinks about it. What is he doing? Living a priveleged, comfortable life and wasting his time? School isn't going to last forever and Atobe hates planning. He can't even think of what he's going to do the next day, let alone what he'll be doing five years into the future. Could money buy him a future? Success?
He wished it could.
And that's where Jirou steps in and magically makes everything better. There's this thing about Jirou Atobe doesn't understand and it's that even though Jirou is rolling in riches - not to the extent Atobe is; Atobe is buired six feet under US one hundred Dollar bills - he isn't vain or narcissistic, he isn't prejudiced or high handed. Jirou is . . .Jirou. Understanding and sweet, innocent and childlike, Jirou is someone Atobe stands to learn an awful lot from. Jirou somehow makes everything worth Atobe's time and Atobe doesn't know how he does it or why he does it.
He's just glad that Jirou is there to gently kiss him when he's too stubborn to admit he has a problem.
Like right now.
"Ne, ne, Kei-chan. You shouldn't worry so much." Jirou chides him softly, crawling over to Atobe's side of the bed.
"Ore-sama is not worried, Jirou." Atobe replies, brushing the tips of the smaller boy's hair away from his own face.
"I can see it in your eyes." Jirou declares in a sing-song manner. He presses his lips to Atobe's cheek and wraps his arms around the taller boy's frame (which is quite a feat, considering Atobe was lying down).
"Ore-sama is not worried Jirou," It was supposed to sound harsh but try as he might, Atobe could never be harsh to Jirou.
"You know what you're really like, Kei-chan? You're like glass." Jirou breathes softly against Atobe's skin into the richer boy's ear. "You're perfect on the outside, but you're not as hard as people think you are. They don't know you as well as I do, Kei-chan. When you look through a window, everything always seems a bit distorted, doesn't it? That's what I see in your eyes."
"Distortion?" Atobe's tone reveals his amusement and confusion.
"Yeah. Just a little bit. But I wouldn't want you any other way Kei-chan." Jirou pulls Atobe closer to him (Atobe never knew the boy had so much strength) and rests his head on Atobe's shoulder, feeling Atobe's thumping heart against his chest. Atobe smiles and returns Jirou's embrace.
. . .
I know this actually sucks. Erm, I relaly can't think of a perfect ending, so for the time being I'm leaving it at this. And this isjust an idea I've been toying with. . .I like this pairing a lot, but I doubt I'm very good at writing it. I tried to keep them in character but, well, you can see they're OOC.