A/N: For those reading Rising Ambitions – I know, I know, you're all waiting for my update on that story, too. TT^TT I'm sorry I'm so slow with that; I'm in a stagnant phase with my muse for that story right now, but not to worry, I definitely will add a new chapter to RA soon, too.
Thank you to all those who reviewed, once more – I love all my readers, hehe. I'll be replying soon privately to all the reviews that were given to the last chapter by signed-in readers! 8)
As always, I'd love to hear your feedback on this next chapter. 8D
WARNING: Some bad language coming up in this chapter. Sorry! 3:
Disclaimer: I do not own PoT.
Nanao sat one bright Thursday afternoon in her usual corner of the library – this time, however, surrounded by a mountain of books that even exceeded her usual amount. If one ventured closer to the girl, one may have been able to hear it: the frantic flipping of pages, the rapid scritch-scratches upon paper. The desperation in the air was palpable.
Her math class had a test tomorrow, and despite all of her attempts, Nanao couldn't begin to understand the concepts introduced in this chapter. It wasn't usually like this of her to have difficulty with this particular subject. Math was one of the subjects she usually did decently in, and though she may not score perfectly on tests, she could, for the most part, effortlessly understand the material taught in class.
This chapter, however, had pushed her on a particular stump that she couldn't seem to overcome.
Her hands twitched with the longing to flip open her phone, to call Atobe and ask for help, or to even text him a few problems. But then, she remembered that she was angry at him – or was supposed to be – and with a stubborn line along her lips, shoved her phone deep into her backpack.
Nanao turned back to her textbook with renewed determination.
It crumbled quickly when she read the next problem.
"You'll have wrinkles by the time you hit your twenties at this rate, Suzuki-san."
Nanao's eyes shot upwards at the smooth, amused voice, and she felt the familiar rush of heat to her cheeks when she found Oshitari looking down upon her piles of books. He held yet another romance novel tucked under an arm, and without waiting for Nanao's hello, sat himself in the seat across from her. Nanao forgot to say hello at all when he offered a small smile at her.
"Please, don't mind me. I'm simply passing some time by reading."
Nanao blinked, then, and attempted a smile of her own. "Oh- hi, Oshitari-kun."
Oshitari chuckled. "Hello to you too."
Nanao forced her attention back to math, despite the unsettling delight at the boy's presence. She found, however, that the current problem had her so confused that she couldn't even comprehend what it was asking her to do at all-
"Do you by any chance need some assistance?"
Nanao looked up and found Oshitari peering across the table at her open textbook and notes. After a moment's pause, she nodded vigorously, and Oshitari laughed again, quietly. Nanao decided that she quite enjoyed hearing his laugh.
"Here – I'll show you how to solve it."
Nanao was a girl who was used to do everything on her own.
In fact, until Atobe Keigo had come along, she'd never had a tutor for a single subject, nor had she ever asked a fellow student to clarify things she didn't understand, either. Nanao was the type of girl who preferred to attempt to solve things on her own without really relying upon anyone; besides, it wasn't as though she needed constant assistance on her academics-
-well, except Greek, but that subject was the exception to every rule when it came to Nanao.
But when Keigo had entered her life with his dramatic flair and over-the-top involvement in every aspect of her days, she'd grown frighteningly used to his help. It was hard, nowadays, to muster up the same determination she'd always had before when figuring out a particularly hard problem on her own.
Still, though – this felt nice, Nanao almost smiled to herself, as she watched Oshitari's hand write neat numbers across her page. Ah, he had such elegant handwriting, too.
Every once in a while, her eyes would flicker up to his face, almost entranced by the attractive features he found there. She always looked away before he had a chance to catch her staring, though, because that would be embarrassing.
And Oshitari-kun was such a good tutor, too – his knowledge on all the concepts was second to none, really, and he had a great ability to break it down into easier ideas and steps for her to follow along.
With Keigo, he'd only ever rolled his eyes at her and sniffed "I simply cannot fathom why this question is so hard, commoner."
Of course, he'd always pick up the pencil anyways and show her how to do it, but Oshitari's impossibly gentle teaching was so much nicer. Especially because it was Oshitari.
"…and that's when you carry this variable over onto this side-"
Nanao snapped back to attention.
"If you wanted to help her so bad, I don't understand why you couldn't have simply helped her yourself."
Atobe looked up from his novel in his position draped across his couch. Incredulity lit his eyes, and Oshitari wanted to roll his own – he could smell the beginnings of denial from across the room, already. And true to his expectations, Atobe protested: "I don't want to help her," he protested, an almost affronted tone seeping into his words.
Oshitari raised a brow.
Atobe sniffed.
"I merely mentioned in passing that perhaps she needed some assistance with the math test tomorrow, Yuushi," Atobe insisted. A moment's pause, then: "I don't want to help her."
Right. Right.
During after school practice that same day, Atobe had waltzed up to Oshitari thirty minutes into the session, an all-too feigned look of nonchalance in his gaze. "The math test is tomorrow," he murmured coolly, and gazed upon his perfectly manicured hand.
Oshitari had hummed in response, eyes still absorbed in his textbook.
"I think I saw Nanao in the library just now."
"Mm."
"She was studying."
"Doesn't she always?"
Oshitari had yet to look up from his book, but he had already begun to sense that there was more to this conversation than Keigo simply having a spontaneous desire to reiterate everything he'd seen that day to Oshitari.
"She looked like she needed help."
Oshitari's lips twitched once, imperceptibly. He kept his eyes on his book still, though he knew that Keigo was staring at him out of the corner of his eyes; Oshitari always liked to consciously deny Keigo when the other boy thought he was subtly implying for Oshitari to go do something.
What was the fun in that?
Instead, Oshitari liked to play ignorance, until Keigo finally gave up in exasperation and near-screamed his order at him.
"I'm sure she'll figure it out," Oshitari murmured, and flipped a page.
"I don't think she would – not alone."
"Pity."
Oshitari could feel Keigo's exasperation in the air.
"Maybe a gentleman should help her."
Oh, how precious. Keigo really did need to work on his idea of what subtle was.
"I would, if I'd the time, Keigo dear. I've tennis practice, however, and afterwards I'd be much too tired to be of any academic assistance at all."
Finally, Atobe snapped, and half-flung the book from Oshitari's grasp onto the bleachers beside them. An irritated twitch had appeared upon his brow.
Oshitari looked up with innocent surprise. "What's the matter?"
Atobe almost growled at him.
"Just go."
Oshitari barely kept a smile at bay.
"But practice-"
"Just go. We don't need you here right now."
"Are you sure-"
"Yuushi, if you don't leave the courts right now, I'll forcibly drag you by your damned hair-"
"Going, going, dear."
Keigo had, in his own roundabout 'subtle' way, told Oshitari to skip the rest of practice to ensure that Suzuki-san knew the material well enough for tomorrow's test.
He often liked to pretend that he was the king in his own land of delusions, but Oshitari knew that Keigo always cared for his friends even when they weren't asking him for anything. He was the boy who would deliver notes of missed lectures and a personal maid to cook and look after his friends if they missed school due to illness. He remembered every birthday, anniversary and special date even better than he did historical facts, probably, and Oshitari was quite certain that if he were in serious trouble, the one person he could always count on to be there was none other than the diva himself.
And though they'd had the spectacular fight, Suzuki had already taken her place as a friend to Keigo.
Keigo always made sure his friends were looked after.
It was endearing, really, and the way that he tried to act as though he didn't care at all was even more adorable. Though if Oshitari ever used either of the words to describe him, Atobe was likely to throw a fit.
Oshitari leaned his head on his hand, and raised wry brows at Atobe.
Why be so stubborn if he was going to look after her, anyway?
"God, you're stupid."
Atobe, at the seemingly unprovoked insult, made an affronted noise in the back of his throat.
Oshitari laughed.
"Even thinking about it pisses me off – who the fuck was she, anyway? Annoying bint; we ought to have jumped her, or something."
"Dude, I think I've seen her around the courts; she was Atobe's girlfriend, I think."
"Shit, what?"
"Do you think she told him about what happened?"
"I don't know- shit. Would she?"
"Wouldn't he have already booted us if he found out about what she said?"
The two boys from the library discussed things – a bit too loudly for such a private conversation – in the boys' locker rooms. One leaned against the row of lockers, and the other sat in front of him, hands clasped, on the bench.
"I didn't even know Atobe had a girlfriend. And, god, she's such a queer little bitch."
"Yeah. He made that big announcement, remember?"
A snort. "What a pompous ass."
"Very pompous." A new voice joined the conversation, and the two boys jumped. Heads swiveled, eyes fearful, towards the source – and the two's hearts plummeted simultaneously.
The light glinted off the pair of glasses. "Keigo is very arrogant, I agree," Oshitari carried on, cheerfully, casually. He leaned against the lockers, and when he opened his eyes, his deadly expression was anything but casual.
The two shivered.
"Ah- Oshitari- how long have you-"
"We thought everyone else had gone-"
Oshitari smiled. "Oh, no. Keigo and I stay after practice to organize some matchups, you see."
A pause. Both boys freeze.
"Atobe-buchou?"
"Yes?"
Said person appeared gracefully behind Oshitari, usual smirk on his lips, a lethal glint to hardened blue eyes. "Ore-sama is here."
He had been here, since the end of practice, with Oshitari, in the back of the locker rooms. They'd been quietly perusing necessary documents together, and when they'd heard the door opening for the two third-year players (Haruno Chiaki and Sakagi Ginta), they'd simply gone on with their reading silently. And, well, one couldn't blame them for overhearing the conversation that the Chiaki and Ginta had carried on on the assumption that the room was empty, could they?
And they'd heard quite some interesting things, indeed.
Oshitari could almost sense the fear in the air, laced sharply with pinpoints of anger, courtesy of the boy standing behind him.
Atobe was used to the so-called 'haters.' Oshitari so detested that word, seemingly having been borne of pop culture and permeated throughout everyday social language – but Atobe used it strangely often, and it seemed perfectly fitting to label the two boys in front of them, now.
For all of Atobe's massive popularity, there had always been a small handful of those who simply hated Atobe for the sake of hating him. After all, nobody in the world was universally loved, and whether it be out of jealousy, or simply irrational distaste, there were people who didn't like Atobe all too much. Most of them had the sense to keep quiet about it, though, and feigned to love him, anyway, in fear of his almighty fans.
Keigo had a way of making people love him – to the point where many would willingly risk their own selves to clear out those who didn't like him.
He never let himself be so much as ruffled by those who didn't like him, as far as Oshitari had seen.
Ah, but.
They'd mentioned Keigo's 'girlfriend,' and Keigo didn't play well with those who bullied his friends.
Oshitari didn't care quite as much, but because Keigo did, he did, too.
Keigo tilted his head to the side, nose slightly upturned, eyes shining dangerously and looking fearsome at such an angle. "Talk."
The tone of his voice left no room for discussion – at all.
"We- we're sorry, buchou, we didn't mean that you were pompous, we just-"
Atobe rolled his eyes, and a sneer decorated his lips – Oshitari's glance flickered his way. Ah, he hadn't seen that one in a while.
"Ore-sama wasn't talking about that, commoners."
Haruno and Sakagi froze, eyes wide, fright pooling in their depths – alongside confusion.
"What happened with Nanao?" It didn't even sound like a question, really, with the unmistakable dredges of a command in the way Keigo spoke the words.
"Did Ore-sama ask for a summary, or did Ore-sama demand a verbatim transcript of the conversation?"
Oshitari watched with delighted amusement as the two boys squirmed with horror. They'd been in the locker rooms for nearly an hour, now – and approximately thirty minutes ago, Atobe had made one disconcerting call on his phone; presently, all the regulars had assembled, haphazardly fixed throughout the area.
Gakuto lounged in a strange, leg-over-shoulder position on the bench. He always sat like that, really, but Haruno and Sakagi didn't know that, and their horrified expressions at Gakuto's threatening leer from such a position made Oshitari tremble as he kept back the laughter.
Choutarou seemed to be trying his best to look scary but failed miserably; every few minutes, he'd turn his back to the two third-years to be able to undo the heavy frown he'd kept on his features. His face hurt from being scrunched into such an unfamiliar expression for so long, and he massaged his cheeks tenderly.
Shishido didn't really have to do anything at all, given his naturally intimidating appearance that came in quite handy, now.
Kabaji, well- Kabaji was the walking nightmare of Hyotei to anyone who didn't know him well enough to realize that he was just a softie. And nobody dared to get to know him well. (Present regulars excluded).
Jiroh was asleep. Oshitari hadn't expected much of the boy, anyway.
Oshitari found that he had quite an effect on the two boys even when he simply smiled, much to his delight. Atobe did mutter something about uncanny smiles and creepy geniuses, but Oshitari felt that he didn't have a right to criticize anyone for being scary at the moment, given that he was the orchestrator of this frightfest to begin with.
Hiyoshi stood directly in front of the third years, racket drawn close to his head, arm outstretched, one leg raised in his traditional martial arts position. "Gekokujo-"
Haruno and Sakagi let out noises from their throats that were suspiciously close to shrieks. Before the youngest member had a chance to launch another ball at the captives, Haruno stammered out: "W-W-Wait. I think- I think I've got it-"
Atobe sighed laboriously, allowing it to draw out to a lengthy breath – as though this were all terribly tiring for him. "This will be your twelfth attempt to get it perfect," he murmured.
Indeed. The two boys could hardly feel their stomachs, with all the tennis balls they'd taken-
"O-Okay. S-So, we came over to the table, and sat down, and-"
"You were taking too long, so I've come to fetch you – you turtle."
Nanao's eyes lifted, widened, at the drawl; when her eyes confirmed that it was indeed Atobe standing in front of her, her jaw promptly dropped.
"I understand the sheer awe you are feeling in my presence at the moment – but do try to keep your mouth closed. One wouldn't want flies swarming into your mouth."
Nanao continued to stare dumbly.
Atobe arched a brow. "Well? We've a project to work on, if you've forgotten."
Nanao's lips closed and parted, as she attempted to draw up words to say. She failed. Miserably.
Atobe let out a long-suffering sigh. He bent down slightly to pull Nanao up by the arm from her seat at the school's library; with his other, he picked up her book bag and slung it over one shoulder. "Ore-sama grows old waiting for you to catch up mentally."
And finally, Nanao seemed to jolt onto the fact that Keigo was here, speaking to her, as though nothing were wrong at all. For a split moment, she considers growing angry over this – that he didn't apologize, but simply acts as though nothing has happened at all.
But then, Nanao caught the small edges of a smile on Atobe's lips, and couldn't help her own expression from morphing into a bright smile as she beamed back.
She guesses that she doesn't need an apology from Atobe, not really. After all, she didn't want to apologize, either, and she was okay if he was okay.
Keigo slings a comfortable, familiar arm across her shoulders. Nanao drapes her own arm around his shoulders, too, though it makes her uncomfortable because his shoulders are so broad, and he is so much taller than she is.
Atobe almost snorts a laugh because nothing ever escapes his notice, and he's noticed her awkward gait since having to tiptoe to reach his shoulders, and Nanao pinches Atobe's side lightly.
They walk in silence for a moment, before Nanao feels Keigo squeeze her shoulder softly, once.
Nanao smiles.
They were okay.
"…"
Silence reigned for a while in the locker rooms. And then, Atobe motioned with a careless wave of his hand. Kabaji fell forward to nudge Haruno and Sakagi towards the door once; the two need no further encouragement, and scrambled over one another in order to escape the hell they'd somehow entered.
More silence.
Oshitari glanced at Keigo. His lips twitched as he felt the overwhelming urge to lean over and say "I said so," but he knew that Keigo would probably slap him if he did so, so he remained perfectly quiet, too.
The silence was finally broken by Shishido, who grunts a "Who'd have known that she had some guts, after all?"
Gakuto laughed.
Shishido gave him an odd look at his ability to even shift slightly in the position that he was in.
"…That idiot," Oshitari heard Atobe finally say, quietly, to himself.
But Oshitari catches the small twitch in Atobe's own lips, before he breaks out into the smallest of fond smiles.
"Are you two still going to be children about this?" Oshitari dared to ask-
-and was promptly rewarded by a fierce glare.
"Ore-sama was not being a child-"
"Yes, dear."
"Fuck you, Yuushi."
"Oh my. Really, so soon? And you haven't even taken me to dinner yet, darling-"
"Kindly go to hell."
"Only if you'll be there with me, my dearest."
"You'll be in a deeper level of hell than me."
Oshitari laughed. "But you'll be in hell, too?"
A dry look from Atobe. "We're all damned to a special hell after his life - no sense in pretending otherwise."
Oshitari laughed even louder.
Atobe lay upon his favorite sofa, sunken into the red cushions and a novel in one hand - an actual piece of literature, mind you, not the pointless trash that Yuushi so enjoyed. Said person was seated on the carpeted floor across the tea table from him, beside a quietly laughing Nanao; the three were, as usual, in their haunt in the Atobe library.
Atobe looked up, curiosity piqued by the strange giggles Nanao seemed to be experiencing.
What he found caught his interest long enough for him to lay the book gently down on his chest. His attention now flew to Nanao and Oshitari. Oshitari murmured one of his natural witty quips, and Nanao laughed, eyes bright and lips upturned into a pretty smile. Atobe felt the beginnings of a smile lift onto his own lips as he arched a sly brow.
Oh?
What was this?
Something clicked in his mind, mirrored by the gleam of recognition in Atobe's eyes as he continued to watch only Nanao, now.
After several more minutes of laughing and blushing and delight-filled eyes, Atobe sat up slightly. "Yuushi."
Oshitari and Nanao both looked up at Atobe.
"I do believe that you left your phone in the foyer."
Oshitari paused. Both his and Atobe's eyes flitted to Oshitari's phone lying upon the coffee table in front of them. "...Keigo," Oshitari raised a brow.
Atobe raised his in reply. "I believe that I hear your phone ringing in the foyer."
A smile played on Oshitari's lips.
"Is that so?"
Atobe mirrored Oshitari's amused smile. "Yes. Perhaps you should go answer it - it sounds like a call that would take approximately ten minutes."
Oshitari almost laughed out loud.
Again, with Keigo's charming subtlety. "Yes, I do believe I hear it too."
Atobe smirked. "Run along, Yuushi."
"I'll be back in ten minutes."
Oshitari excused himself from the room, then, and Atobe decided that Oshitari was a decidedly charming character, when he wanted to be. He did so appreciate a person who could take a hint and excuse themselves for a few minutes at a time when he hinted that he wanted some privacy with the third party.
Now that he'd sent Oshitari off, Atobe turned to send a sly smile towards Nanao.
Nanao stared back, both brows raised.
"So."
Nanao fidgeted.
"Yuushi's a handsome boy, isn't he?"
Nanao choked. She hadn't been drinking anything. Atobe gazed smugly upon his nails, pretending nonchalance - fuck what Yuushi said, because he was a master at acting and subtlety.
A light that Nanao found far from comforting gleamed from Atobe's eyes as his lips widened into a smile. "Care to share anything with me?"
Nanao flushed a bright red, and suddenly found her teacup terribly interesting. "No, not really," she mumbled.
"Nanao."
She refused to meet his eyes.
"Nanao."
"Look up, you commoner."
At that, Nanao let out a cross between a whine and a groan and raised her eyes to look up at Keigo. "Can't you just let this go," she huffed.
Atobe's smirk widened. "Nanao."
And then, Nanao snapped. "Okay, fine!" she threw her hands in the air, before dropping them unceremoniously back into her lap. "Yes. Yes. I might think that Oshitari-kun is attractive."
"Nanao."
Nanao, if possible, grew redder. "And- And I might like him."
Atobe laughed, delight coloring his laugh, amusement shimmering in his eyes as he shifted so he could fully stare at Nanao. "You are in such deep shit," he laughed.
Nanao, irate, tossed a stray eraser at him. It missed, and Atobe's laughs grew louder, harder.
"Shut up."
"Is that any way to talk to someone who was going to offer up his divine help?"
At that, Nanao froze. She turned wide, disbelieving eyes his way. "You're not serious."
Atobe sniffed. "Why not?"
Nanao paused. "Because. You're you."
Atobe's brow twitched. "Excuse you-"
Nanao's answering laugh entered his ear. "I'm kidding - you're a wonderful person, Keigo-kun."
"Yes, I am. And because I am so wonderful and self-sacrificing, Ore-sama will lend his magnanimous hand in your love ventures to secure Yuushi's affections."
Nanao straightened up to stare, surprised, at Keigo - until the door opened to reveal that Oshitari had returned. "I've returned," he announced, loudly - as if to signal that he was back, and to let Atobe know to stop talking about whatever private discussion he'd held when he'd sent Oshitari away.
Atobe almost sniggered. Right - Yuushi could criticize him about being subtle.
"Phone calls. Terrible inconveniences," Oshitari flashed a casual smile at Nanao.
Atobe sniffed.
A/N: I hope you realized what I did with the repertoire between Oshitari and Atobe at the end, there. Hehe. *snicker* They're terribly charming and smug and subtle, aren't they? LOL.
(For those of you who didn't get it: Atobe and Oshitari both know that Oshitari didn't leave his phone in the other room, and that it's sitting on the coffee table in front of them. Atobe, though, wanted to share a private word with Nanao, so he makes up that Oshitari's phone is ringing in the other room, and Oshitari knows that Atobe's doing it to get rid of him - and Atobe knows that Oshitari knows that he's doing it to get rid of him. Oshitari goes along with it anyway. HEHE.)
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