Oishi returns to the galley where everyone is starting to clean up after lunch. He steps up beside Momo and throws himself into washing the dishes, scrubbing with a determination that he usually reserves for tennis.
Momo finishes putting away the cups, and leans in to ask a quiet question,
"Is Eiji-sempai ok?"
"Ah, yeah…" Oishi murmurs, distracted, "Yes, yes, he's fine. He just needs a bit of rest. That's all."
He squeezes more green detergent into the sink and takes another plate, scrubbing and scrubbing so as to clean off more than just the food scraps.
It doesn't help.
It doesn't help, because in his minds eye Eiji is sprawled half-naked across a mattress, with wayward red hairs clinging to his sweaty brow and his hands on himself, one down his boxers and one caressing his breast, pink and flushed and biting his lip in pleasure. And, oh god, dangerous heat is pooling in his stomach and below again, he can't turn around, and he shouldn't have come back, he should have taken a quick break on the deck to recover from the image but he didn't because he was panicking and he's still panicking now.
With shaking hands he throws open the little window above the sink but the cool air that wafts into the room offers little respite.
Oishi's always known he's been attracted to Eiji. It's just the way Eiji is. Eiji is a livewire, a person-magnet, people drawn to his energy no matter where he chooses to flit to next. He's lovely. He's also close to Oishi in a way that Oishi never expected, somehow simply human and refreshingly genuine in a way Oishi never expected he would be.
Oishi daydreams about it all the time, pleasant thoughts during class, the sharing of their space, their things, secrets, ideas… daydreams that merge into and twist around reality because they're like that anyway, so close together, sharing. It's the other part of Oishi's dreams that are less clearly defined, that which is inspired by the view of Eiji's back, for instance, from the back of the court… the way Oishi can trace his spine from the glimpse of skin below Seigaku tee as he jumps, up and up over sweat-soaked cotton, all the way through to the delicate tangle of red curls that cluster at the base of his neck. That, or Eiji's mouth, which is incredibly enticing apon finishing a glass of iced tea, or the way his shirt rides up over the smooth skin of his stomach when he flops over onto Oishi's bed to complain about this, that or the other. All of this adds up into an unconscious display of casual sensuality that Oishi can't help but notice more and more.
Subconsciously he dreams about it; what would kissing Eiji feel like, he wonders, mouth twisting into a stupid smile as he finishes his maths homework. Maybe he'd do it in the clubhouse, or quickly on the way home from school… or maybe it would be Eiji kissing him, because Eiji's the one who jumps on his back all the time, maybe alone in his room or at a festival under the stars or in the middle of the courts at the Nationals, where their friends and family and teachers and peers can see how much he loves just being with this person…
Idiot, he thinks, still smiling, and moves on to question 12.
More recently it's been a little more complicated. More and more it's a question of what Eiji's abs would feel like, with his hand under his singlet, or kissing more than just Eiji's lips… its always been alright, though, because Oishi knows how to separate this part of his dreams from reality, just idle daydreams, not much more.
At least he did until just over five minutes ago, when Oishi Shuuichiroh was confronted with the most beautifully erotic image of his adolescent life.
Oishi thinks he knows exactly how Eiji was feeling, now, as he sits at the table and tries not to fidget. Seigaku are putting the finishing touches to their recollections of something that is now very irrelevant to Oishi, and he pretends to read his statement over and over while his mind resides elsewhere.
He's not as flushed now, thank goodness, he's managed to cool down a bit, but it hasn't stopped him from worrying. Eiji still hasn't returned, is he ok?
Of course he is, he thinks, he's probably just as embarrassed as you are.
Oishi and Eiji have never talked about their bodies very much. Oishi wonders if he's overreacting… he's heard the boys talk in the locker room, crude discussion about body parts and their functions, girls and boys, desire and shame. Momo and Arai joke and jibe about it all the time, and it's never bothered him before. That's because attraction's not a part of it, he realises with sudden clarity, and he's back to square one because Eiji's flushed and sweaty in his head again and his heart is thumping just as hard as it did when he thought Eiji was dead.
Eiji comes out much later, when everyone is relaxing on deck in the dusk of the evening. Oishi's never seen Eiji's face tainted with so much shame before, and it makes his gut twist and churn, as do his memories.
Eiji smiles sheepishly and doesn't quite meet his eyes.
"Oishi…" he says, softly, so that no one else can hear. Whatever else he has to say is cut off, a little too quickly.
"Hey… it's ok, it's ok," Oishi says, too enthusiastically, "It's ok, right? I mean, everyone does it and you're… I mean, it's a really stressful time for everyone and we all…"
"I'm an idiot, huh." Eiji says, and something between them feels so wrong, so disconnected that Oishi's face falls, mirroring Eiji's crestfallen expression. He has to do something, he thinks, and touches Eiji's hand briefly, not too long because otherwise it'd feel wrong and uninvited. Oishi cringes inwardly because that, too just reinforces this awful feeling… it never felt wrong holding Eiji's hand before. Eiji seems to know this too, judging by the way he tenses, and Oishi touches him again, risking it, anything to get their connection back.
"It's ok," He says, face flushing. "I'm really sorry for just barging in without even knocking. I can't even imagine what it'd be like falling over the edge of a massive ship like that."
Eiji's lips twist into a sad little grin. "No. Stupid Oishi. I'm stupid. I'm just… do you… do you forgive me?"
"Of course," Oishi murmurs, but he's thinking of Eiji again, the flushed-and-panting Eiji, trying to reconcile the two in his head.
"Really?" Eiji asks. "Oishi… I'm really sorry."
"Ah, no, don't be," Oishi replies, but he can't hold Eiji's hand for much longer. Eiji's so close, he's blushing, it'd be so easy to draw him near, feel him pressed flush up against his body…
When Momo approaches them with a cautious grin and asks if they want to join him in a game of cards, Oishi seizes the excuse and draws his hand away in a flash.
Oishi can't ever recall feeling this aroused.
It happened once, on a school excursion to the mountains when he was younger. He'd only realised a while into the piece, the vibrations on the bus and the warm air wafting slowly from the heating vents lulling him into a state so pleasant that it would have made a fond memory had he not been so embarrassed by the fact he had to sit with his bag over his lap for the rest of the journey.
That was different, though.
This is fierce, and sharp… having discovered the lack of two kings and an ace in his deck of cards, Momo suggests a game of snap to counter his original offer of poker, and Oishi's heart leaps up his throat every time his hand crashes down over Eiji's.
It's the one time he wishes they weren't so in synch.
Eiji's pressed up against his side as they sit at the galley table, he wonders why… of course, Eiji's bound to be feeling insecure and wanting reassurances. In any other instance Oishi would feel completely prepared and willing to give them, but this one time, in this surreal state he wishes Eiji would sit opposite him, away from him so he isn't aware of every inch of Eiji's thigh pressed against his own.
Snap!, and this time Eiji's hand lands over his, and he sucks in a sharp breath at the feeling of rough palm over knuckles and hyper-sensitive skin.
"Ah, sorry Oishi!" Eiji says, with an apologetic smile, misinterpreting. "Not quick enough!"
"It's ok," He says, smiling back, trying not to shift in his seat.
It's torture, it really is. Oishi thinks of offering Taka-san help with preparing dinner, but he's not entirely sure he'd be able to walk without everyone noticing his awkwardness. Already it's uncharacteristic of him to sit and play and let everything else bustle around him but he just can't, it's hard not to think of anything but the uncomfortable heat between his legs and the way Eiji smells of clean boy beside him (he must have showered) and the way Eiji is trying so hard to be normal, to connect to him again.
The one thing blocking the connection is something that Oishi doesn't want Eiji to find out.
Dinner is even worse.
When Oishi finally brings himself to stand, and get some cups to help set the table, Eiji is there beside him like his own shadow. Eiji follows him when he refills his bowl with rice, Eiji is constantly and surreptitiously making sure that his glass is full and he's having enough to eat.
There are so many people together in the room, it's hot and stifling and making him panic. One of them's going to notice soon, notice how he can't look Eiji in the eye because all he can think of is how badly he wants to cram his partner up against a wall and kiss the life out of him.
He's too polite to make an early exit, so he sits through what seems like an eternity of panic and desire, trying not to choke when Eiji absentmindedly reaches over to adjust his collar.
When they switch off the lights and slide under the blankets of their respective beds, Oishi anticipates sweet respite in the form of privacy and sleep. It doesn't come.
The room is absolutely silent, but Oishi feels electricity thick in the air, thrumming through his own body. He can just hear Eiji breathing, but only just… what he can't hear his mind supplies for him from his memories, and he is not going to move, he is not going to twist his body and fidget, he's going to will this ridiculous arousal away and hopefully forget about it, and things will go back to the way they used to be.
Yeah, right.
Waves of panic rise and abate within him, each more intense than the last, and he fears with a sort of dread and urgency that he can't stave this off forever, his body is going to surrender for him and he shuffles and turns in a determined effort to lay still and fight it off. He spreads his legs and lies flush against the mattress, cheek pressed hard up against the pillow, breathing through his nose… he twists onto his side and bites the side of his cheek in an attempt to will away the intense feeling. The third time he catches himself rhythmically moving his hips in search of friction, he grinds his teeth and balls his hands into fists, screwing his eyes shut. He can't let Eiji become aware of this, no matter what.
It's when he realises that his hand, traitor that it is, has stolen down his body to move between his legs that he throws off his blankets, bolts for their shared bathroom and slams the door behind him.
-----
Eiji's first thought is that Oishi must be sick, because he's positive Momo didn't cook their chicken properly because half of it was still pink… not that it's Momo's fault, he was just trying to help.
Eiji's second thought is that he wishes his hearing was as good as his eyesight, because something's going on in there, and he notes his own feelings with mild interest. For some reason he's not worried at all but overwhelmed with an incredible curiosity, it's almost as if he knows exactly what he's going to discover. He pads through the dark space, over narrow beams of moonlight that line the floor through the blinds, and softly opens the bathroom door.
Oishi is making sounds like he's never heard him make before.
His eyes and nose are buried in the crook of his elbow, his whole body slumped against one arm that's supporting him against the wall. As Eiji's eyes adjust to the blue darkness he makes out more and more of the curious scene… the sheen of light from the sweat on Oishi's neck and arms, the boxers crumpled in messy folds around his ankles. Oishi's trembling, head bent as if in pain and he's trying so hard to be quiet, taking little breaths that are shallow and choked and uneven. He's stifling little moans and he's working himself so oddly, so strangely, yet in a way that's so uniquely Oishi that Eiji can't help but be completely and utterly fascinated.
So intrigued, even, that he ignores Oishi's horrified gasp when he turns around, discovered, and ignores the single protest Oishi makes before he presses his whole body up against Oishi, against the wall and just stares at him, noses millimetres away.
He stands there shivering, pressed into Oishi, thigh to thigh, breast to breast. Oishi's only wearing a singlet and boxers so Eiji can luxuriate in the heat radiating off his body, the feel of fine hairs when their naked legs brush, Oishi's ragged breathing.
A thousand expressions flicker over Oishi's face in those few seconds, it's like Eiji's looking straight into the source of that raw feeling he's been catching glimpses of all day. Fear, panic, hurt, arousal, want… suddenly the channels of communication between them are thrown wide open, a tide of suppressed emotion conveyed through a single intense gaze. All Eiji's feelings tumble over one another in their haste to be expressed, he fists his hands in Oishi's singlet as he gasps.
Oishi cries a little, soft low sounds that show just how much he's struggling to keep it all under control as well. It's at that moment that gazing isn't enough, and Eiji darts his hand downwards in search of heated flesh while he slides his mouth over Oishi's parted lips.
He cries a little back at Oishi, and sparks and tingles fly the length of his spine.
Eiji doesn't really know what he's doing, but everything is faster and more intense than anything he had expected. Oishi's legs tremble as Eiji moves his hand on and over him in time with the strong strokes of his tongue inside his mouth. They're both shining with sweat now, but still Eiji keeps going, pressing as much of his body against Oishi's as humanly possible, ferociously kissing him, stroking him, shuddering as Oishi moans and tries to kiss him back through the pleasure. It's wet and messy and inexperienced and hot, and they're still looking at eachother even though the intensity is nearly unbearable. Eiji can tell that Oishi's nearly at the end when he suddenly breaks the gaze and buries his face in the crook of Eiji's neck, whimpering. He clutches at Eiji's back and presses with urgency into Eiji's hand, abandoning any last pretence of control. Eiji reads the signals, takes Oishi's lips in a final messy kiss that has them both groaning into eachother's mouths. He then grips, strokes, once… and holds Oishi as his knees buckle and his head cants to the side with a cry.
They sink, clutching at eachother, slowly, slowly, crumpling together onto the cold linoleum floor.
Oishi sits there for a while with his eyes closed, struggling for breath.
"Eiji," He says, in a voice that's hoarse and low. It's evident he's never heard himself sound like that, as he clears his throat and struggles to sit properly, backing himself into the wall as if he might dissolve into it if he tries hard enough.
"Eiji." He tries again, but it's so soft, Eiji has to struggle to hear the next part.
"Why did you do that?"
Eiji stares. "Didn't you want me to?"
"Yes… I mean no, no, I didn't mean… I can't… Eiji, you can't just…"
Oishi's body language is all strange and wrong, he's curling in on himself in a way Eiji's never seen. Eiji doesn't like it, it makes him feel sick, like his stomach is trying to crawl out of his throat, and he doesn't like that feeling either. His face shuts down, mouth forming into a hard line and he sits back on his haunches.
"It felt good, right Oishi? It's what you needed, right? Then that's all that matters, isn't it, then that's all that…"
"No it's not!"
The sudden interjection takes Eiji completely by surprise.
"It's not all that matters, Eiji! How can you just… just…" Oishi's voice cracks, and he stares determinedly at the light fittings, blinking furiously.
"You can't just go and do that, and then not… not…"
"Not what, Oishi? Do what? Touch you? You're not making yourself very clear!"
"I'm not making myself clear? Eiji, you… you… you just…can't say nothing and then…"
"If you didn't want me to do anything then you should have said!"
Eiji notices his voice cracking too, like his cool façade and he starts to panic as well. "You've been touching me all day, Oishi, you've been following me everywhere and standing so close to me and looking at me all the time…"
"I was worried about you, I could have…"
"…when really I was fine, you were overreacting Oishi, you always overreact! You're such a… "
"I could have lost you!"
Eiji's never heard Oishi crying before, not this kind.
His shoulders are slumped and tears are dribbling down his cheeks, and Eiji feels hot prickling at the back of his own eyes.
"You m-mean far more to me than just… this… ah… sorry…"
Oishi rubs at his eyes in an effort to compose himself. Eiji can't help but go to embrace him, forgetting about the sweat and the mess and the tears. Oishi allows their limbs to tangle together, slumps against Eiji's shoulder and just cries and cries and cries.
The sweat is drying cold on their skin. Eiji presses their bodies together to keep warm, sniffling a little himself, feeling the sobs wracking Oishi's body lessen in frequency until all that's left is an armful of shivering young man.
"Eiji," Oishi murmurs hoarsely, pulling back, "I don't want it to… did you really mean it, you know, about it being all that mattered, because I couldn't…"
Eiji puts his hands on Oishi's cheeks and turns his face to look into his eyes.
"Oishi. I wouldn't do this with anybody else. Only you."
Oishi swallows.
"You mean more to me than any of this… you know," He says. "I… didn't want it to be like this. If it was ever… like this. I wanted to show you properly. I… didn't want it to be just… me."
Eiji's eyes turn unexpectedly bright, and he ducks his head to hide it, laughing a little.
"We're so stupid, Oishi, look at us. Sitting like two idiots freezing in the corner of the bathroom."
Oishi laughs a little too, wiping his eyes.
"Look, let's go back where it's warm. Here, we'd better get you cleaned up, Oishi…" Eiji reaches over to grab a roll of toilet paper, tearing off a portion to give to his partner, who looks mortified.
"Oh Eiji, oh god, I'm so sorry, this is…"
"What? It's only… you know. It's fine. A million little sperms all dancing around on your-"
"Eiji!" Oishi looks aghast, snatching the paper from Eiji, but can't help a twinge of a smile threatening to play around the corner of his mouth.
When they're both clean and changed, and in the warmer space of the bedroom, they stop to look at eachother, hesitating, expecting.
"Do you want to…?" Eiji asks, looking suddenly vulnerable, holding up one corner of his blanket.
"Do you?" Oishi finds that he doesn't need an answer.
It's a new sort of negotiation now, as they work out whose arms go where and who cuddles who, but after the initial awkwardness it feels just as natural to Oishi as holding Eiji's shoulder, it feels just as normal to Eiji as touching Oishi's hand. Oishi remembers where they are, in unfamiliar territory, remembers what happened only a day or so ago and draws Eiji closer to him. The proximity still makes him tremble, as do the hiccupy after-tremors of tears.
Tingles are still dissipating and dissolving throughout his body, and he tries hard not to think of what just happened in the bathroom, the simultaneous feelings of guilt and elation are too hard to reconcile. All he really wants to do is go home, he realises, back to where they feel safe and normal, and where Eiji won't be looking pale and tired.
Eiji kisses his cheek, quickly, before he rests his head against Oishi's breast.
The next morning Momo knocks on the door on his way to the kitchen.
"Sempai, breakfast time!"
Oishi wakes up comfortably, warm and rested after a deep, dreamless sleep. It takes him a while to realise just what is curled up against him, his arms around another soft body, knees interlocked and toes touching. He opens his eyes and studies the pale face of the individual dozing centimetres away from him.
It feels like dawn, or heat, or a balloon inflating inside his chest and up his throat, any number of cheesy metaphors that would do little to describe the incredible happiness he suddenly feels… it's wrong, he thinks, but he can't stop the stupid grin that refuses to be wiped from his face. Eiji shifts, makes a rumbling noise in the back of his throat and slowly cracks open bleary blue eyes. He smiles instantly at Oishi smiling.
"What?"
"I'm just… really… nothing," He replies, forgetting not to stare.
Eiji makes a little movement, drawing his head closer and then hesitating. Oishi waits a little, unsure, before he slowly, slowly closes the gap, anticipating Eiji moving away.
They move their mouths against eachother's, softly, eyelids fluttering closed, delighting in the feel of their bare legs and chests pressed gently together. Oishi touches his top lip to Eiji's, slowly, tilting his head to stroke, caressing… until Momo bangs on the door a second time, clearly having been sent by the rest of the crew to wake them.
"Coming, Momo!" Eiji yells hoarsely, grinning, but looking at Oishi with something different in his eyes, deeper and darker, insecure.
"Eiji," Oishi says, and the smile fades from Eiji's face.
"We'll be ok,"
"Yeah," Eiji replies, looking into Oishi's eyes for a good long while, before he cracks a true, cheesy grin.
"After we have breakfast, anyway."