A/N: Hello, hello! I finally got around to updating again! Ahh, life has been so terribly busy – I'm so sorry, my readers. And again, and again, thank you so, so much, to all the reveiwers out there – it seriously provides a lot of motivation for me to continue writing, even when I can't find the muse. I'm uploading this chapter really late at night, so I'm going to sleep, now – but tomorrow morning, I shall add replies to all the lovely reviews you guys left me!

Please review again for this chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own PoT.

One could, in Oshitari's opinion, call him a lover of women – elegant women, beautiful women, charming women, strong women, weak women; women, after all, were divine creatures. Long, slender limbs and supple skin and just adorable personalities – god, he loved women. What pleased him most of all, though, was a girl in love; forget hair products and makeup and clothes, a girl in love was the prettiest thing of all.

The idea of love was something that Oshitari quite enjoyed exploring – it gave him an odd little fascination, a little something to tinker with in his otherwise mundane days. That was one of the reasons he enjoyed his silly little romance novels. They were brilliantly amusing, really, and allowed him to enjoy a hobby while taking on the appearance of a patron of the arts.

Not that Keigo ever appreciated his cultured taste. Pft.

To be honest, he wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting, when he'd half bulldozed Keigo into a 'fake relationship' with Suzuki. It was entertaining, for sure, but- he could consider it as a lab experiment, he supposed, 'just to see what would happen.'

As pretty as girls were when they were in love, it was only when the love was real – and though Keigo was loved and adored by many, Oshitari had never found a single one of them pretty at all. He'd been Keigo's friend for years; one of the privileged few who were privy to the great Atobe Keigo-sama on a real, human basis. He was Keigo his laughably egotistical, frighteningly adept friend who had an adorable love for his dog and a childish rivalry towards notable tennis players. He was Keigo, the friend who left far too many openings for Oshitari to poke fun at.

He wasn't Keigo, the idol – the idol that he was, to perhaps, most of the world.

Oshitari thought Suzuki was a bit daft, but quite an intelligent, levelheaded girl in her own rights; she was often starstruck by Atobe – but that was normal. She was awed, but she didn't take it to fangirling excess, and she certainly knew where her academic priorities lay. Above all, she was genuinely honest – it could be chalked up to a tasteless level of bluntness, but with her, one could be sure that she wasn't veiling any witty, dual-natured insult beneath her comments.

Oshitari could appreciate a person like that – and he thought it might serve Keigo well to befriend a girl who was like that. Someone who was…ah, what was the phrase? Ah, ah – down-to-earth. That was it.

Of course, Oshitari didn't know if Suzuki would eventually fall for Atobe, too – and, as much as he loathe to feed Keigo's ego, it really was hard not to fall for him as a girl. But, at the very least, he could feel assured in the fact that if she did ever come to like him, it would be because he was Keigo, not 'Atobe Keigo-sama.'

And that was enough for Oshitari to continue to encourage this little play. (That, and he thought it was quietly hilarious whenever Keigo pulled one of his gestures that left the silly girl gaping).

Nanao wasn't in her first relationship with Atobe – that is, if one even considered it a relationship. Nonetheless, like many other teens, she'd had at least one boyfriend before, not to mention the few dates she'd gone on with boys who had asked. She'd held hands before – she'd even been kissed before.

She didn't like Atobe, not really; she found him attractive (who didn't?), and thought he was incredibly alluring at times, but it didn't mean she liked him. Nanao loved with her head and heart, and not her eyes – she always dreamed that the day she really did fall for someone, it would be someone whose mere presence made her happy enough to laugh.

Still, though. Despite her lack of romantic inclinations towards the boy, and her former experience, she still felt a little flop in her chest whenever his arm brushed hers, or when he linked their fingers together loosely.

Before, they hadn't really even thought to do such things – holding hands, hugging, standing close together. But, as it turned out just a week ago, it seemed as though the girls around campus were watching them under extreme scrutiny. It couldn't be helped, Nanao supposed. It was Atobe.

Nonetheless, people had found it weird that they seemed so disgustingly platonic with one another – and even then, a distanced, polite sort of friendship, as one might regard someone they had only befriended a month ago. Well, that was the honest nature of their relationship, but people had to believe that they were dating.

So now they'd fallen into a pattern of holding hands and hugging and sitting close together until their shoulders brushed – it was all methodical and precise, calculated gestures. But Nanao still felt a little self-conscious from time to time, and it still felt a little awkward and uncomfortable at times, but-

She forgot about the awkwardness and discomfort a lot, nowadays, because she'd come to find Atobe's conversation quite fascinating. He was cultured from countless trips abroad, and was always, always well-informed on current events – this, coupled with his sheer eccentric personality lent itself to some of the most engaging talks she'd ever had the pleasure of partaking in.

"If you're so focused on winning, then why did you allow Shishido-kun back on the team, then?"

"Wrong."

Nanao looked up, eyes widened. "…What?"

"You, girl, are wrong." Atobe punctuated the statement by flicking the tip of her nose, and Nanao's expression wrinkled as she scrunched her nose in response; she frowned at him, before letting go of his hand to nurse her wounded flesh.

"Why?"

"I don't focus on winning – Hyotei focuses on merit alone."

Nanao silently appreciated the fact that Atobe seldom used the words 'Ore-sama,' now.

"I gave Ryou a second chance, because he'd earned it. Those who work for a position, and succeed in gaining the skills needed for it, are redeemed in my eyes."

She stared a little bit longer at the burgeoning smirk across his lips.

"Because what's important isn't your ability. It's your willingness to work for it – because that shows me that you can be that much greater."

Nanao blinked, lashes casting fluttering shadows across her pale cheekbones underneath the bright sun.

Nanao arrived at the Atobe library that Saturday at two o'clock, as Keigo had demanded, in order to gather research for their project. When she arrived at the manor, she had tried to tell the household staff that she could find her way to the library alone by now, only to have the elderly butler chuckle at her before lead her there anyway. Nanao peered around for a sign of Keigo, but then the butler told her that he was engaged in a meeting with his father.

So, Nanao was left alone in the library, and had sat down with the intention of reading one of the books, perhaps, until Keigo was free.

And then she'd found the note he'd left on the table they usually sat at: Don't think of slacking because I'm not there, Nanao. Ore-sama expects you to be able to translate the next ten pages of the Iliad by the time Ore-sama is finished talking with father.

Nanao wanted to cry.

But then she realized that he'd berate her for wasting time with tears, and with a sigh, she pulled herself off the sofa to go search for Greek translation books.

Atobe often liked to call Oshitari 'the shadow that he didn't want.' The two spent almost every day in some form of contact with one another, whether they wanted to or not; and Oshitari, when he found himself with free time, wandered into the Atobe estate upon whim in order to search for more romance novels to whisk away. Besides. It irked Keigo that many of his household staff members adored Oshitari's presence, and Oshitari liked whatever pissed Keigo off.

And he knew that Keigo loved him, no matter the harsh words he often said.

On this bright Saturday, when he'd slipped into the Atobe library, he'd expected peace and quiet. What he found, instead, was Suzuki, with a messy flurry of papers in a wide arc about her at the table, a tower of books at her side. My, my – the sight of Suzuki Nanao in full-study mode was something to behold, he mused in mild amusement; she even had large, thick glasses perched on the edge of her nose.

It seemed, by the amount of notes her hand was taking at the moment, that the studying was going smoothly. That is, if one ignored the expression of stark frustration on her features, and the fact that a quick glance belied that most of her translations were, as expected, wrong.

The fact that Keigo was not present, coupled with the pitiful Suzuki, gave Oshitari an easy analysis of the current situation at hand: Keigo had been called in for one of his spontaneous meetings with his father, and he'd left without a second thought as to his other obligations – but not before leaving an order for the all-too obedient girl to study.

Oshitari had found that Suzuki had a surprising tendency to grow a backbone at the most unexpected of times, and quelled much too easily at others. But above all, she never failed to follow a command to study. It was a little pathetic, and a little funny, to be honest.

He couldn't help the chuckle that slipped from his lips.

At the sound, Nanao's head shot up, eyes wide, hopeful that-

Ah. It wasn't Atobe. With a sigh, her shoulders slumped in half disappointment, though she was happy to see Oshitari-kun, too. She'd just hoped that it would be Keigo, so that they could work on the project, and she could stop studying for Greek translations that weren't even official assignments.

Oshitari raised a brow. "I'm terribly sorry to disappoint."

Nanao flushed at the teasing comment, and raised her hands to shake them frantically. "Oh, no, I'm sorry," she rushed to say. "I was just hoping that I could stop studying translations if it was Keigo," she sighed again.

Oshitari laughed, and moved forward to take a seat across from her. He took a cursory glance at the text she was currently working on, and with an elegant hand, flipped her notebook over to read her attempted translations. Nanao watched with an expression that couldn't be described as anything but one of someone who'd given up completely.

Oshitari almost chortled at the translations on the page.

It should be illegal to be this terrible after two and a half years of study at the subject.

Nanao frowned. "It's not that bad-"

"You're right."

Nanao smiled, pleased.

"It's worse."

Nanao let out a long-suffering sigh. Oshitari decided to take pity, and took up one of the many pens strewn across the table. He clicked it with practiced efficiency.

"Here – why don't I help you," he murmured coolly, leaning in to get a better view of the Greek book.

"Wait- really?"

"Pay attention, Suzuki-san; I do hate tutoring those who ask me to repeat things."

"Oh, right-! Sorry."

When Atobe found the two precisely three hours later, Nanao was in mid-laughter, eyes bright with amusement; Oshitari, from across her, offered yet another witty quip from one of the many books he'd read. The laughter paused when Nanao noticed Keigo, whereupon she gave a cheerful wave, and lifted her notebook to reveal the lines of translation.

Atobe walked over, and patted Nanao on the head once, twice, as one might a dog. And then, he turned to Oshitari. "You seriously need to stop entering my house like it's yours."

Oshitari offered a smile. "But, my dear Keigo – what's yours is mine, and what's mine is mine, isn't it?"

Atobe paused, before- "Do shut up, Yuushi."

In the days to follow, Nanao found herself stood up by Atobe a total of four times. The first time, it hadn't been so bad; he'd called a few hours before the arranged time, with the mild apology that his father wished to speak to him about one thing or another. Nanao didn't mind, really.

The second time, they'd been about to meet for coffee at a well-frequented café by Hyotei students. Nanao had gotten there, actually, a few minutes early, and had sat herself down at a pretty table by the window. Just as she placed her order for a cup of tea, she received a text: Sorry; father handed me a few business documents to go over.

Nanao, with pursed lips and a wry expression, had pocketed her phone, and made to get up – only to find Oshitari standing beside her, an ever-present, small smile on his lips. "Do you mind if I sit, Suzuki-san?"

Nanao blinked. "Ah- sure; I was just about to leave."

Oshitari smiled. "Ah, but your tea is here already," he murmured – and indeed, the waitress arrived with a tray. Nanao bit her lower lip. "Why not join me for tea?"

Nanao managed a hesitant smile. "Okay."

The third time, it was actually after school; Keigo normally dropped her off at home, not without making a big show of opening the door for her to step inside (girls really swooned at that). That particular day, though, she'd walked to the gates, only to find Atobe's glaring limousine a missing presence. Confused, she glanced around-

-and just then, a smaller limousine that Atobe's pulled up slowly in front of her. The back window rolled down, and Oshitari's smile beamed from within. "Do get in, Suzuki-san," Oshitari murmured, as though she were supposed to get into his ride.

"Ah- I thought Keigo was-"

"Keigo left school early today, because his father wanted him to attend a shareholder's meeting for some experience; he asked me to give you a ride home."

Nanao faltered for a moment. "…Oh. I could just phone home to send a ride, then-"

Oshitari stepped out of the car. "Don't be silly, Suzuki-san; it's no problem at all. I'm used to cleaning up after Keigo, after all."

The fourth time she received Atobe's flurried message of 'Sorry – father's asked me to take care of a small problem,' Nanao simply sighed and pressed in another contact on her phone. Twenty minutes later, Oshitari arrived, a book in hand and an amused smile on his lips.

"My my, Suzuki-san – it does hurt to be Keigo's replacement," he murmured, in that flat voice of his. Nanao laughed, and shifted over so that he could join her on the park bench.

Around them, the shrieking laughter of children joined in with the barking of small puppies and dogs. For a moment, Nanao took the time to breathe in the scent of flowers and grass, and basked in the warm sunlight. A bright, orange butterfly flitted by.

"Sorry to be of trouble like this all the time; I just wanted to ask you a question today, though."

Oshitari, who had already opened his book to the place he'd saved, murmured a "It's alright," as his eyes scanned the text.

"I just- It's a little weird, but- I was just wondering what Keigo-kun's relationship with…his father, was."

Oshitari closed his book softly. He leaned his back against the bench and tilted his head back, until Nanao could easily trace the curve of his prominent adam's apple, the slope of his neck; and for a few moments, they sat in still silence, with nothing but the wind filling in the emptiness between them. Nanao licked her lower lip tentatively. Finally, she turned slightly to face Oshitrai. "Uhm- I mean, if it's something sensitive, then I think I've overstepped my bounds-"

Oshitari tilted his eyes, too, so that he could glance at her. Nanao stopped at the amused smirk on his lips. "Your bounds? You're his girlfriend, aren't you?"

At that, Nanao flushed a deep red. "That's not what I meant-"

Oshitari chuckled. "Kidding."

Nanao quelled into silence once more.

"It's not sensitive – it's just been so long since I've had to put my thoughts into words on the particular subject. I was thinking."

"…Oh."

"I think- well, it's hard to ever put the dynamics of a relationship into words, don't you think?" Oshitari took another moment to organize his words. "But in the simplest sense, I suppose…Keigo simply has an overwhelming desire to impress his father – there's only one man in the world who could have Keigo bending over backwards to impress, you know."

Nanao hummed in response – and in that moment, she felt as if she understood the sentiment more than anything else she'd ever known about Keigo. After all, she- Well. The two stood in starkly different circumstances, actually; perhaps she didn't know, she amended.

Still. She felt an odd familiarity to Oshitari's words.

"And Keigo-"

And Keigo is far too obsessed with his father's desires to realize that he shouldn't give have the shite he does to his father's impractical whims, but he's always been stupid when it came to his father.

But Oshitari didn't think it was quite his place to say so to her – nor did he think Keigo would appreciate his ramblings.

So instead, he offered another smile to Nanao, before brushing a stray leaf that had tangled itself into her hair.

Nanao, eyes wide, stared – and for a moment, forgot that she'd called him to ask about Keigo.

Sometimes, it felt as though Nanao were in a fake relationship with Oshitari-kun, instead of Keigo (and yes, there were many things wrong about that one sentence alone). To be sure, she only held hands and hugged Atobe, but there were times when she saw Oshitari more than she saw Atobe, if only because he was such a busy person, that he cancelled their plans a lot. And when he did, Atobe often sent Oshitari in his place – who showed up with that ever-present smile, a witty quip, and a romance novel tucked neatly under one arm.

Oshitari made her feel much more at ease than Keigo ever did – he was more…normal. Of course, he, too, had his severe eccentricities, but they weren't too bad, so long as Nanao was careful not to allow the conversation to tangent into talk about romance novels. He was quiet, but full of interesting conversation, and he was, in fact, the perfect gentleman. He didn't, like Keigo did, relish in pointing out her failures while crowing about his own achievements.

Together, they studied for literature exams and sipped tea at the nearby café, explored hole-in-the-wall bookstores and spent a few peaceful hours at the park, indulging in the simplicity of silence. She actually quite enjoyed his company, Nanao noted – he was calm and muted, though not without a wonderfully unique personality of his own.

And as of late, she felt an unfamiliar fluttering in the pits of her stomach whenever she saw him around, that only increased rapidly when he turned to greet her, or speak to her.

Even now, as she sipped quietly at the can of soda he'd conjured for her while fetching his own at the vending machine per her request, she couldn't help but to glance at him every once in a while. He sat across from her at the lunch table, and beside her, Keigo tossed insults back and forth with Mukahi-kun; Keigo's arm draped comfortably, familiarly, across her shoulders, and Nanao's head leaned towards Keigo, as she'd developed a habit of doing.

"Well, you're a Monkey King," Gakuto sniffed.

"How dare you bring up that name here," Atobe murmured, an irate edge to his words.

Nanao idly wondered what this entire 'monkey' business was about – she'd been hearing that nickname for a while, but every time it came up, Keigo's face turned an unattractive shade of purple, and she'd lost her chance to ask about it.

"Well it's true," Gakuto huffed.

"Don't ruffle his feathers so, Gakuto," Oshitari murmured, and one hand reached out to brush softly through his partner's dark red hair. Gakuto only stuck his tongue out at Oshitari – who missed it, with his eyes still lost in the text of his latest book.

"Quite silly, aren't they? Suzuki-san?"

Oshitari's eyes rose to meet hers – and in surprise, Nanao fumbled with the can, only to drop it on the table. The aluminum can clattered onto its side, and the bubbly contents fizzed its way off the side of the surface; for a long moment, all boys at the table stared at her in silence.

Gakuto was the first to react, bursting into laughter; Shishido's curses as the soda dripped onto his pants followed soon after, along with the soothing ramblings of Choutarou. Oshitari offered an amused chuckle, and Atobe flicked her on the forehead.

"Silly girl," he murmured, and Nanao flushed.

"She's a terrible handful, that girl," Atobe tsked.

Oshitari lifted a brow at him from across the table, his own teacup pressed lightly against his lips. "Suzuki-san?"

"No, your great grandmother," Atobe's dry response met amused ears.

"Sarcasm is terribly unbecoming on you."

"Pointless questions make you seem positively imbecilic."

"Stop with the flattery – I blush."

"As soon as Hyotei is over, I'm filing for a restraining order against your presence."

"You would perish without me."

"Nonsense."

"In any case, I find Suzuki-san's presence quite a nice addition to our usual group – don't you think?"

A pause. "She's silly."

"She's also quite intelligent, if you haven't noticed."

"One couldn't tell from Greek class."

"Mm, yes, her severe lack of proficiency in that class still astounds me."

"It's horrific, really-"

"But, Keigo, you must admit – she's refreshingly honest, isn't she? With her opinions, I mean."

"Yuushi, are you trying to say that I need more people 'refreshingly honest with their opinions'? I got called a Monkey King today by that unruly child raised by heathens-"

"Gakuto's father is in charge of your father's stock investments, Keigo."

"That is of trivial importance."

"Mm."

"She's…alright, I suppose."

A short laugh from Oshitari. "She's already grown on you. I can tell."

"Just shut up."

"I know you too well."

"Shut up."

"Hey, Keigo-kun?"

"Hm?"

"Are you… are you okay?"

Atobe looked up sharply, to find Nanao's hesitating presence from across the table. She had set aside her own homework, and had her small hands folded neatly atop the wooden surface; painfully earnest eyes blinked in careful worry, and Atobe wanted to cover her eyes just to escape from the stark curiosity there.

God, even her eyes were honest.

"Fine. Why?"

Nanao licked her lips. "Because you don't look fine."

Damn her honesty – why couldn't she have the social sense to simply pretend not to notice when it became clear he didn't want to address it? Refreshingly honest, his monkey ass. Atobe regarded her with a level gaze, and waived his hand dismissively. "I said it's fine, didn't I? Return to work, Nanao – your Greek still needs much work."

And then he resumed typing on his own laptop – attempting to go through the large document that he'd prepared for his father's meeting with a business client the other day. A document that his father hadn't even glanced at, but simply told him: "Do it again, Keigo. I've taught you better than this."

At that, he'd have loved to differ – because his father hadn't, excuse his French, taught him bleeding shit. No, everything he knew, he'd learned and sought out on his own. And when he presented a perfected knowledge, his father simply nodded, as though he'd taught his son everything, and it were expected that he would know such things.

His fingers pressed against the black keys a little harder, and the clacks of the keyboard grew a little louder.

Nanao licked her lips again, though didn't make a move to pick up her books. "You're going to break your laptop at that rate, you know," she dared to comment – and when Atobe looked up with the intention of quelling her with a glare, he found such a harmless expression on her features, that his ire faded away into a sigh.

"I'm fine, so just-"

And then, Atobe paused.

"It's just so very irritating, that's all," he finally said – though he regretted allowing the words to slip from his lips soon after.

Nanao, however, tilted her head gently. "What is?"

Atobe considered telling her to shush and resume her Greek studies. But then – what good would that do her, anyway? The language obviously abhorred her, and she was probably cursed by one of the Greek gods or another to fail repeatedly at the subject.

Instead, he took his fingers off of the keyboard, and his glance flickered her way. Nanao continued to stare at him.

"I just- I'd sometimes like to know just where his expectations lie, so that I could ever hope to surpass them. But he never says a word, only expects, so I blindly do everything in the hopes that he would be pleased – but he's only ever found my progress acceptable, despite the fact that the things I've accomplished are nothing short of moving heaven and earth-"

Atobe stopped himself, then, as if only just realizing the words he were saying. He cleared his throat, and resumed typing. His eyes focused on the laptop screen before him.

"Well. Your dad's just silly, then," Nanao murmured – and she said it with such simplicity, with such childish determination, that Atobe couldn't even find it in him to grow irritated over her slandering the name of her father.

Instead, he found a chuckle bubbling from his throat, and he glanced at her with amusement shining from his eyes. Nanao shrugged, and finally, finally returned her attention back to the textbook in front of her. Atobe, too, resumed typing-

-until he felt something nudge his foot softly from under the table.

He lifted his gaze and quirked his brows at Nanao.

Nanao, with her eyes still focused on the book in front of her, murmured with an air of nonchalance: "And you know you're brilliant, so why bother yourself with worrying so much about impressing the one person on earth who wouldn't be impressed even if Zeus himself rocketed out of the sky and shot him with a thunderbolt?"

And this time, Atobe laughed outright; in fact, he laughed so hard, that his fingers slipped and typed the wrong characters onto the word document.

Nanao smiled a small smile, lower lip chewed beneath her upper lip. She continued in her entirely wrong translations of the Iliad.

A/N: So... how was it? Please review, and tell me what you think of this story so far! :)