This Chapter Rated: R
Pairing: YuuTari
Disclaimer: not mine, cool? cool.
Oshitari hadn't expected Jirou to break up with Atobe. He didn't think anyone had - Atobe and Jirou were as defined an "item" as Shishido and Ohtori. When he first heard the news (the Atobe butler had come to the Oshitari household to ask for help in matters concerning the young master), his mind immediately traveled to his conversation with Jirou, trying to see if Jirou had given any clues about what he'd been planning to do.
"Is this what it felt like when I left you?" Atobe had invited himself into Oshitari's house and room, and was currently laying face up, arms folded behind his head, on Oshitari's double-sized bed. Oshitari was surprised that Atobe didn't order moving to his room. In fact, he was surprised that Atobe had simply come over, instead of calling to demand Oshitari's presence at the Atobe mansion. It was as well they were in his room though, since he could at least do homework while tuning out Atobe when possible.
"I don't know." How was one supposed to answer a question like that? Everyone reacted differently in these situations. In all honestly, he wasn't quite sure what Atobe was feeling. He wasn't even sure which part of Atobe was hurting more - his heart or his ego.
"I really was sorry." Atobe didn't expect a response, and Oshitari didn't give him one. If experiences were any indication, Atobe didn't need his conversation right now; he just wanted companionship. Oshitari was curious as to why Atobe had come to him in particular; didn't Atobe realize the awkwardness of their position? Maybe, just maybe, Atobe really had felt something for Jirou. He couldn't imagine any other reason why this could affect Atobe so much. No one, except apparently Jirou, would ever leave Atobe - that was a fact in Atobe's mind.
After finishing two calculus problems without hearing any noise from Atobe, Oshitari turned around to see the proud boy motionless on his bed. At some point, Atobe had moved one arm to cover his eyes, and looked for all the world like he was sleeping. Oshitari decided to just leave him alone; he could always sleep in his parents' room if necessary - they were visiting a university in Kansai with his sister for the weekend. When Atobe sniffled slightly, Oshitari figured it'd be OK to pull a blanket over Atobe. As he moved to unzip Atobe's jacket though, the other boy's arm shot up to grab Oshitari's shoulder with a vise-like grip. "Atobe?"
"Yuushi," Atobe murmured, pulling Oshitari down until their faces were barely apart. "Call me Keigo." Oshitari could feel Atobe's words warm on his lips just before their lips met.
He struggled in vain to pull away, but as Atobe's right hand moved to cup his face and his left hand slid down Oshitari's body to pull his waist closer, Oshitari seemed to fall deeper and deeper into a spiraling vortex. He wanted to say something; this wasn't right! But Atobe pushed up his shirt and started playing with the muscles on Oshitari's lower back, and it just felt so good. He wanted this, and perhaps the most surprising part of it all was that it wasn't surprising at all. It seemed natural, if only because it was Atobe.
Atobe deepened the kiss, nudging his tongue between Oshitari's slighty parted ones. Oshitari didn't push him away. Instead, he climbed onto his bed, moving so that his body was covering Atobe's slightly smaller one. He slowly lowered his body until he was resting on his elbows, so close that he could feel the heat rising off of Atobe's body. His hands wrapped around Atobe's head, fingers pressing at the junction of spine and skull, causing Atobe's chin and mouth to press even harder against his own.
They broke apart, both breathing heavily. Oshitari kept his eyes closed, not wanting to see who was in front of him, not wanting to know the truth that lay in front of him. Atobe wasn't willing to give him the time he wanted though. Oshitari could feel Atobe nudging at his collar, pushing away his shirt and replacing the cloth with his mouth, sucking and tonguing at his neck. He rested his jawbone against Atobe's temple. "Keigo!" His voice sounded choked, tortured, as Atobe's hand found its way to where it didn't belong. Far from stopping Atobe though, the use of his given name only seemed to encourage him. Oshitari could feel the drawstring of his pajamas being loosened.
Somehow, he couldn't find words of protest. The rhetoric of logic that normally came so naturally evaded him, and any search attempts in the sheer physicality enveloping him were lost like static shocks in a lightning storm. No other words were spoken for the rest of the evening, civilized language forgotten in favor of more instinctive sounds. The raw light from his desk lamp recorded their forbidden movements on the wall, each frame more ephemeral than the last. There would be neither redoing nor editing in this movie.
Afterwards, as he lay facing the ceiling, Atobe asleep next to him, Oshitari found his mind drawing a blank. He couldn't think. At some point, Atobe turned over and pressed his face against Oshitari's side - he could feel the moisture along the tracks where tears had and were still silently falling. Oshitari could only pull Atobe close, shifting to embrace him, before closing his eyes and trying to sleep. To his surprise, he felt drops of liquid sliding down his own face.
Comments, errors, etc., welcome.