Requested by Ato. Hello, Ciel, Meadow.
Warnings: Eh. Just beware.
Note: I really, really, found this weird to write. Not even for a solid reason, I just think maybe I was too nice to Ryoma. Whatever.
Age.
It's not a big deal to you. It doesn't bother you. Ryoma is a big boy and he's more mature then half of the third years you've encountered. Even the one's on your team.
Admittedly, there are times when you think about it He is on some kind of other level, despite the gap of age, that you can never hope to reach. No matter how high you jump, he is always higher. No matter how fast you run, he's already at the finish line. If you weren't you, you would find it frightening.
Birthday.
"He doesn't look happy." Fuji states, watching Ryoma side-step a ready-to-hug Kikumaru. Oishi is behind them rolling his eyes at an amused Momo. You shrug. He probably wasn't. But then-
"When does the brat look happy?"
The tensei raises an eyebrow. But cocks his head after a few seconds. "I'll give you that."
Close.
You come across them in one of your rooms. Fuji had made some vague comment about Tezuka being gone for awhile with a, I-know-something-you-don't-know smile. Needless to say, you had to go investigate.
It takes four seconds for him to see you. His eyes are already open, but he's at an awkward angle from the door. Tezuka is kissing him tranquilly, though his posture is distinctly uncomfortable. You make no noise when Ryoma's gaze finds your frame leaning on the doorway.
The gold of his eyes say, this is what you get. The way his lips curve into a smirk that isn't funny or mean, but powerful, say-
You're never going to be good enough.
And, after you leave, you think that you might never understand who he really is.
Dark.
You straighten when he enters your room after the party has cleared out. It's late and you're too exhausted for anything remotely concerning him. But he turns the light off. The night veiled version of him is as stunning as the morning one. It's probably the exact same for you.
"Is there a reason you're still here?"
He intensifies, so suddenly it dizzies you. "Play a game with me."
"At this time of night?" You sound as confused as you feel. "Go home, Ryoma."
"Not that kind of game, Monkey King."
Somehow he is pressing you against the wall with his hand in your hair and his mouth playing with yours. He tastes like cinnamon. Tezuka. You pull away but his grip is tight and you wince back into him until its back where it started.
"I don't forgive you." You inform him, but he just laughs and he's tearing you apart and if you look you know you'll have nothing left. Fingers wind their way under his shirt, raking so hard you hope he bleeds. Every second is a pitter patter of daydreams and nightmares under your eyelids.
"Keigo. Keigo. Keigo." He repeats quietly in a way that has you forgiving, giving in.
When you are finished, pliant in each other's space of time, you tell him, "I won't forget."
Empire.
You pride yourself on ownership, on being in control of everything. Every situation, every person you know, is yours. And they are like chess pieces. You move them when they're needed, defend when they are not.
Frank.
You are an honest person. It's one way you and he are alike. It's your best weapon, your most trusted defense.
But he is dangerously physical. He doesn't hurt with words, but with actions. Subtle eye contact with people he specifically knows you do not approve of. Squeezing an elbow or a shoulder too tight, too long, when you say/do something he does not like. He knows that he can get a reaction out of any little thing. In five seconds you are asking forgiveness for something that isn't even your fault.
That- that frightens you.
Grass.
Someone shouts out of the blue, "Leaf fight!"
Everyone is running around in the park dumping clusters of leaves on random body parts. Shishido is chasing after Otori, trying to wrestle him to the ground. You keep close to the tree, musing on how Shishido would probably rather be pounding him into the ground.
"Hey, Monkey King. Look up."
Mistakenly, you do. Red, gold, brown leaves fall from the tree landing on your person. Ryoma is sitting on a branch, laughing at your misfortune (So is Jiroh, if your hearing is correct) and though you are sputtering, cursing, you think that this is something you want to remember for a long time.
Heaven/ Hell.
With him, you're not entirely sure they're not the same things.
Intense.
He's pale. The white walls of the bathroom almost completely wash him out. It's bright in your eyes and you are watching him lose something.
"I'm so sorry." He apologizes and he means it.
Joke.
"What do you call a fish with one eye?"
You tilt your head to the side in question. He smiles, cheeks squishing together rather adorably. He looks monumentally proud of himself.
"Fsh."
You laugh.
Lose.
His racquet hits the ground with a clatter. His hands are on his knees and he can't stop grinning. You just come over to his side. Roll your eyes. No part of you is even remotely upset.
"Good game." You concede. He shrugs.
"I know." The arrogant little- "Let's go out."
"Excuse me?"
He shakes his head, his entire being is pleased. "You heard me. Let's go out. Tomorrow."
The arrogance, the knowing gleam. He isn't nervous because he knows you are going to agree. He knows he has won. It rubs you wrong, and right. What is it about him that appeals? You're so alike.
"You did win." You consent, without really doing so.
"And I'll keep winning." He promises, leaving the courts without a backwards glance. You stand there for a moment. Then nod. It's not something you can do anything about.
Marvel.
There is something very ugly about how beautiful Ryoma is.
No.
Is the answer you give, every time he asks if you want to break up.
Open.
You sit down next to him. He bunches into himself, tightly enclosing his face into his knees. But you can still see him. Even when he's hiding.
"I'm sorry." He says again. You wish you didn't believe him.
"I know."
Queen.
While you are the king, undeniably, it is jolt to realize that Ryoma just might be the most be the most important piece.
Reason.
"I don't understand. I've never been anything but faithful to you."
Ryoma spreads out on the bed, stares up at the ceiling. "I don't know why I like to hurt you."
Maybe you get it. Maybe it makes sense. Maybe he likes to hurt you because he knows that no matter how deep the cut is, no matter how many times he reopens the wound, you will always heal and you will always let it go.
But, again, you never forget.
Sex.
You are young, as is he. There's still a lot for you to learn. If it's bad, if it's not working out and you'd rather just talk about tennis, then it's not your fault. It's not his fault. Not everything has to be about sex.
But there are times when he knows the right places to touch and the right things to say and you go into it equally. Together. And every time it happens, every time you touch him, a part of you stays with him.
Temple.
You lean over, rearranging the hand over his hip, and kiss his forehead. He stirs. There is sleepy dust in the corners of his eyes and it makes you smile.
He studies you. "Why do you do that?"
"Whatever are you talking about?"
"Kiss me there." A finger thumps your skin. "On my head."
You've never thought about it. It's a reflex, something you just do. But, why? You shrug and even when you continue on to other things you can see the stretch between his eyebrows that still wonders.
Umbrella.
He stares at you, baffled, but suddenly, he is under the protection of the umbrella too. He doesn't say anything for the rest of the walk, and neither do you. It is just enough to be.
Vengeance.
As your getting ready, Ryoma creeps up behind you. There is something in his expression that unidentifiable, unrecognizable. You don't know this person. The thought shocks you enough that you avoid his eyes in the mirror.
"Keigo," He leans against the door casually. He's more callous when he isn't trying to be. "Have you ever wondered what kissing Tezuka would taste like?"
Wish.
You wish for a lot of things. Not things that can be bought. Things that can't be sold.
You wish you were older because it's all still flying over your head. You wish Ryoma would never stop smiling at you. You wish you were richer. You wish people still did things that they did when they were a child. Pure, innocent, things.
You understand it. Not everything can stay the same. And wishes are pointless. They change as well. And your good enough, you are better. Sometimes, though, it's nice to think that things could be the best.
X.
The weirdest thing you have ever caught yourself thinking is that you would never like to be the X in the alphabet; balanced, strict, and always crossed together with something else.
Yes.
"There's something wrong with me."
"I think," You touch his hair. And this is the last time you will feel it like this, feel him, like this. You are already another place; he is already in another world. "There's something wrong with everyone."
Zeus.
Its years later, when he is with someone and you are with someone, that he talks to you. He isn't much different, but he has changed in all the right ways. He doesn't want to hurt you. He doesn't want to hurt anyone. You're not sure he ever did.
"I figured something out." He says and he is wearing a smile that sings of a secret.
"Hmm?"
"You act like the whole world is yours, but, you're secretly a big softie."
You blink at that. Ryoma leaves, then, going back to redheaded cheeriness. You touch your clothes, lightly. Remember the way blue lightened when you were wrestled into them. It's the sky, you realize now. The only thing bigger then them was the sky.
Everyone was still on the ground.
Let me get back to you after I write the OT6 shot where Ryoma is a druggie.
I aim to make you guys nervous every time I update.
There yet? ;)