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Satisfaction

Chapter 10

By Miki

Ootori elbowed Shishido and nodded his head in the direction of the bench at the side of the court.

Shishido looked in the direction that Ootori was pointing, and blinked in surprise.

Jirou was sleeping.

On Kabaji.

"What do you-" Ootori began asking.

"No idea," Shishido answered quickly, eyebrow raised.

He was used to Jirou's habits; he slept 90 percent of the time Shishido saw him. It was amazing he managed not to fall asleep on court sometimes. Sleeping on Kabaji was just a variation of the usual sleeping on a bench.

Still, it was kind of…

They both watched as Jirou rolled onto his side, mouth opening.

"Don't you think we sh-"

"C'mon, hurry up," Shishido grumbled, ignoring Ootori's protests and tugging at his shirt roughly.

They didn't have that much time today, and he really wanted to get in a decent amount of practise with Ootori.

"Y-Yes, Shishido-senpai," Ootori answered quickly, casting a final glance back at Jirou and Kabaji as he followed Shishido to the free court.

He hoped nothing was wrong with Jirou. He'd looked quite pale this morning and he hadn't even perked up once practise had started.

Ootori wondered if he should ask Jirou about it later.

(S)

"How are you, Yuuta?" Fuji asked, one hand holding the telephone to his ear, the other flicking through a magazine.

"Fine," was the extent of Yuuta's response, and Fuji let the magazine go and sat down on his bed, feeling as though this was going to be a longer conversation than he'd anticipated.

"Just fine?" he enquired, willing his brother to elaborate.

Yuuta didn't though, repeated himself and then clearing his throat awkwardly. "Um… Why are you calling, Aniki?"

"I only have one brother, Yuuta. I need to make sure you're in perfect working order," Fuji smiled.

"Er…"

"I hope Mizuki's treating you well."

Yuuta thought back over the week's events and decided Aniki didn't need to hear about any of them.

And definitely nothing involving boxers.

"Same as usual," he replied gruffly, restless and hoping to finish the call quickly.

Fuji frowned. "Is he still wearing those purple shirts?"

Yuuta opened his mouth. "Huh?"

"They're bad for your eyes, Yuuta. You should try to avoid looking directly at them or you'll be exposed to bad taste."

Yuuta stared at the wall, mouth open, eyebrows looking like something Picasso would be proud of. "Huh?"

Fuji elaborated. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to spend so much time with Mizuki, Yuuta. You might catch his bad habits."

Yuuta grimaced. "I don't. I mean, I don't have Mizuki-san's bad habits."

Fuji smiled, watching Yumiko duck her head in his doorway and signal to him.

Dinner was ready.

"What colour are your underpants today, Yuuta?" Fuji smiled.

"Purple," Yuuta answered without thought.

There was a long silence.

"Aniki," Yuuta frowned, as he realised what his brother had just asked.

"See what I mean, Yuuta?"

(S)

"Jirou," Ootori smiled, sitting down next to the sleeping lump and prodding his shoulder lightly.

Jirou gave a little snort and rolled over.

Ootori couldn't help but marvel at his skill in not rolling off the bench, though that didn't stop him from prodding the boy again.

It took a few minutes, but Jirou finally opened his eyes and stared blearily at Ootori.

"Hmmm?"

Ootori smiled, staring down at him.

"What time is it? Is it time to leave yet?" Jirou yawned, rubbing at his cheek.He'd been sleeping at a funny angle, and his neck felt like it had a kink in it now. He wasn't sure, but he felt like he had pressure marks on his face too.

Maybe that was why Ootori was looking at him so strangely.

"It's only four…" Ootori said, with a slight shake of his head.

Jirou nodded and sat up with a little difficulty, swinging his legs over the side of the bench to slump forwards.

There was a kink in his back too.

"Are you okay?"

Jirou blinked, and gave a confused nod. "Am I not okay?"

"You seem really tired today," Ootori explained, and fiddled with his water bottle in his hands. "Anything you want to talk about?"

Jirou stretched, arching his back.

The kink was still there.

Ootori waited for a moment, but there was no reply.

"You don't have to," he smiled. "If you want to, I mean…"

There was definitely something funny about Jirou lately. Come to think of it, there was something funny about Atobe too.

Ootori took a sip of his water and was about to stand up when Jirou tugged on his shirt and pointed to the middle of his back.

"Er…"

"Right there," Jirou grimaced, and Ootori blinked. Jirou still looked half-asleep, and his half-asleep-rambles tended to be incoherent.

"Er… what's right here?" he asked, putting a hand on Jirou's back where he pointed.

"… in my back… press…" Jirou mumbled, and Ootori had to lean down to hear the words, having no idea what Jirou was on about or if it was even supposed to make sense.

Five minutes later, the kink in Jirou's back removed after convincing Ootori to push on his back rather hard, Jirou was rambling again.

Ootori realised he'd said that Jirou could talk to him, but this wasn't quite what he'd imagined.

"… And then he said that he might just like the cheese, and I asked him which cheese he liked, because the last time we went out, he ordered the cheese platter, you know, and he left the fetta and he said the blue cheese was too sharp, and he said he wasn't talking about that sort of cheese. But then, if he wasn't talking about that sort of cheese, I don't know which sort of cheese he was talking about… I thought Atobe liked French cheese, but he said it wasn't French cheese; it was Japanese, and I said that Japan didn't make that sort of cheese, and he said it did, and that it didn't matter where it was made because he didn't want to think about it, and then after that he started talking about rats instead…"

Jirou paused and looked at Ootori, who nodded.

Nodding was good. It meant he was listening.

"I didn't think Atobe liked rats either, and he said he didn't, so I was right. But then he kept talking about this one rat who liked the cheese he liked, and I asked him which cheese again, because it's really confusing talking to Atobe about cheese… Lately he's been talking about cheese a lot…"

Jirou slumped down, staring dolefully across at the courts. Tonight he'd have to remember to turn off his mobile before he went to bed. All this thinking about cheese and mice was tiring him out, and he really wished Ootori had a solution.

Ootori usually knew what to do about these things.

"After that I couldn't sleep," Jirou finished, yawning again and sitting up again. "I don't like rats much…"

Ootori nodded.

"What do you think?"

Ootori nodded.

(S)

Atobe sighed as he looked over his homework.

It was rather annoying that Kabaji wasn't here. As a result, Atobe had had to write his essay himself – he'd much rather have dictated it and have Kabaji give his hand a workout – and now his wrist was sore.

It was all fine and well to have a tired wrist after a round of tennis, but having a tired wrist after a round of modern history was rather displeasing, and made him think he ought to point out to his teacher that not everyone had hours a day to slave over these sorts of trifling things.

His mood probably wasn't helped at all by the fact that he'd been contemplating telephoning Yuuta and still hadn't, not even after staring at his phone on and off for about an hour.

Jirou's advice had been odd, to say the least.

Of course, he knew that it was probably silly of him to insist on relating Yuuta to a block of supermarket cheddar and Fuji to a mouse. It probably wasn't a great idea to relate Mizuki to a rat either, because Jirou apparently didn't like rats and hadn't been very useful on the subject.

It would have made more sense to explain everything to Jirou as it actually was. But Atobe didn't want to do that. For some reason, it would make things feel… different.

He didn't know how, but it would.

Flipping his phone over on his desk, Atobe glanced at the screen. He'd already decided he wouldn't call Yuuta until at least Saturday, he reminded himself. But then again, if he waited until Saturday and then called, Yuuta might have already made plans with Mizuki…

Atobe sat back in his chair, putting his fingers to his forehead.

That wouldn't do. Yuuta wouldn't forget about seeing him on Sunday, and if he had, then he'd make time for him. Ore-sama was more important than Mizuki, after all. Yuuta would have to be stupid to choose Mizuki over him.

Atobe smirked, realising that he had to be right. There was no way Yuuta would forget they already had plans for Sunday. Satisfied, he picked up his history homework and stacked it, pulling out his English textbook instead.

A moment later, he shut his textbook and stared determinedly at his telephone.

When he thought about it, he actually wasn't entirely sure that they'd reached a concensus about Sunday. Yuuta had said he was free, and Atobe had said… What had he said? He couldn't remember anymore. It was always possible that Yuuta hadn't thought any more of it…

Atobe twitched, eyeing his telephone again.

This was just getting ridiculous, he told himself, annoyed that he was letting something so trivial distract him.

He didn't have time to act like this. He was wasting his time, and he was sure if he just phoned, he'd find out it was all for nothing.

(S)

Yuuta tossed his phone in the air and caught it.

He should really call Atobe.

But he didn't really want to.

He sighed, tossing the phone again, carelessly catching it and tossing it back up with a flick of his wrist.

Maybe if he dropped it, he'd have an excuse then.

Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch.

"Yuuta?"

Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch.

"Yuuta?"

"Huh?"

Akazawa looked down at him. "What are you doing there?" he asked, obviously referring to Yuuta's position on the ground.

"Er… Thinking…" Yuuta answered, and shoved his phone into his pocket.

Akazawa shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned back against the wall next to Yuuta.

"Want to talk?"

Yuuta shook his head.

"It doesn't have something to do with Atobe… does it?"

"What?" Yuuta looked up at him so quickly, he nearly hit his head on the concrete wall.

Akazawa gave a wry smile. "I thought so."

(S)

"Atobe."

"Um… Atobe-san…"

Atobe held his phone away from his ear for a moment, staring at the number on the screen.

"Yuuta," he scolded, putting the phone back to his ear, "hasn't anyone ever told you how to talk on the phone properly?"

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment, and Atobe imagined Yuuta was frowning.

"Look, you don't have to sulk over it," Atobe drawled, leaning back in his chair. "I'm telling you for future reference."

"I'm not sulking," Yuuta insisted.

There was an awkward silence for a moment as Atobe waited and Yuuta hesitated.

"Well anyway, I'm glad you called. I was about to phone you about Sunday."

Yuuta still didn't reply, and Atobe frowned.

That fluttery feeling was returning to his chest, and he didn't like it. He tapped his fingers on the desk, drumming them on the thick wooden surface in an effort to ignore the feeling in his chest.

"Mm… Well… The thing is…" Yuuta blurted out, sounding like he had something to say and didn't know how to say it.

Atobe's fingers paused in their movements.

Something about Yuuta's voice told him he wasn't going to like what he was going to say.

"Actually…"

"What?"

"I can't meet you on Sunday," Yuuta blurted out.

Atobe stared blankly at his wall for a moment, his mind taking a moment to process Yuuta's words.

Couldn't meet him on Sunday? What was Yuuta talking about? "What do you mean, you can't meet on Sunday?" he demanded quickly, his fingers resuming their nervous tapping on the desk.

"I have to go home."

Atobe frowned and picked up his pen, flicking it back and forth between his fingers again. "But you-"

"I wasn't going to," Yuuta explained, "but I haven't been home much lately… and anyway, I'll be back on Monday."

"Can't you-"

"Sorry…" Yuuta cut him off, leaving Atobe no room to argue.

He flicked his pen irritably, not knowing what to say.

Both boys were silent for a moment, and when Yuuta spoke again, he sounded hesitant.

"Um… If it's okay-"

"It's fine," Atobe snapped, and then slumped. He put his hand to his face, leaning his elbow on the desk and closing his eyes.

He hadn't meant to do that.

"Well… Okay," Yuuta mumbled awkwardly.

Atobe heard him saying his goodbye and then heard the clack of the phone call being cut off. He put down his phone on his desk, and ran both his hands through his hair, flopping back against his chair.

He hadn't meant to snap. But what was Yuuta doing going home when they'd he'd already said he was free on Sunday? Atobe stood up from his chair, a feeling of annoyance and restlessness filling him.

He'd been waiting all week for Sunday, and now it wasn't going to happen.

(S)

"Atobe?" Jirou yawned. "If this is about rats again, I don't-"

"It's not," Atobe snapped, and Jirou blinked.

"It's… not?"

"I…" Atobe hesitated. He hadn't actually thought about what he wanted to talk to Jirou about before he'd dialled the number.

It had been almost an automatic response, and now that he realised it, it was rather a scary thought.

"Atobe? Are you okay?" Jirou asked quietly.

"Of course," came Atobe's typical response, and Jirou sighed.

It sounded as though Atobe was in a bad mood, and really, it wasn't fun to talk to people when they were in bad moods.

"What are you doing?" he asked calmly.

When he was younger, he'd learnt that he usually needed to get his mind off whatever he was annoyed about before he could think clearly again. Counselling aggravated tennis captains wasn't really on his resume, but he was starting to think it should be.

"I'm in the bath actually."

Jirou blinked. "Oh. Are you having fun?"

Atobe frowned. Of course he wasn't having fun. He wasn't in the bath because he wanted a bath. He was in the bath because it was better than being in his room and thinking aggravating thoughts.

Jirou took Atobe's silence for a 'no'.

"Do you… want to talk about it?"

Atobe flicked his finger at a large mound of bubbles.

"No."

"Oh…"

"Well, yes, of course I want to talk about it," Atobe snapped suddenly, surprising Jirou. "Isn't that what telephones are for?"

"Okay…" Jirou blinked. "I'm listening."

Atobe brought his knees up to his chest and sat still.

"Is it about the cheese?"

Atobe smiled a little. He put his hand to his head as he imagined the expression on Jirou's face.

Honestly, the boy could be so silly sometimes.

Atobe didn't know whether it was because he slept so much that he didn't absorb the things that happened around him, but sometimes he really seemed as though he was entirely disconnected from reality.

"There is no cheese."

"What do you mean, there is no cheese?"

"I mean exactly what I say, Jirou. There is no cheese." Atobe repeated.

"Oh."

(S)

"Yuuta?"

Mizuki opened the door and walked into Yuuta's room, blinking at the mess he encountered. Yuuta was sprawled across his bed, his books dropped on the floor next to him and his desk scattered with papers. He held an English book in his hand, though he didn't seem to be reading it.

"You know it's dinner time, don't you?" Mizuki demanded, annoyed he'd had to come and fetch Yuuta.

He couldn't let his players skip meals though. Sustenance was essential for growing bodies.

"Yeah," Yuuta mumbled and turned his head to face Mizuki.

Mizuki looked at Yuuta's bedside table, and realised he still hadn't replaced his clock. He supposed it was possible to get by without one, since Yuuta did have a mobile, and on occasion, Mizuki had seen him wear a watch which meant that he did own one.

But lately Yuuta had been late and early for all sorts of things. Dinner today wasn't the first time this week that Yuuta had nearly missed a meal.

It made Mizuki think there was something else bothering Yuuta apart from his lack of alarm clock.

"Well hurry up then," Mizuki said, shaking his head and walking back toward the door. "Akazawa was asking about you before."

"He was?" Yuuta asked anxiously, sitting up quickly.

"He said you'd asked him about leaving early on Saturday."

Yuuta looked away guiltily.

"I don't suppose you want to leave early because you're going home to see your brother," Mizuki asked, watching Yuuta through narrowed eyes.

"Er… Well, that was the plan…" Yuuta admitted. "Nee-san asked me…"

Mizuki suddenly smiled, walking back across to the bed and standing in front of Yuuta.

Yuuta cringed.

Mizuki's hair smelt like lemon detergent.

Lemon fresh dishwashing detergent.

"Yuuta."

"Mizuki-san?"

"Why is it that you've never once invited me to your house?"

"Mizuki-san…" Yuuta smiled awkwardly. "Why would I…?" He trailed off, feeling like it was unwise to say exactly what he was thinking.

"Because," Mizuki chuckled, "I'm your one and only manager, Yuuta. Don't you feel it would be beneficial for me to get to know your home environment intimately?"

"How… How intimately do you mean?"

(S)

Atobe felt like a prune. He looked like a prune too, so it was lucky that there was no one around to see him.

He felt as though he'd taken a week's worth of baths all at once, and certainly he'd been in there long enough for that.

His homework sat unfinished on his desk, and he dropped his phone on top of it, not caring what his teachers were going to say tomorrow.

The bad aftertaste of his disagreement with Yuuta still remained, but at least he'd decided already what he was going to do about it.

Now he just had to decide what he was going to wear.

Life was full of tough decisions.

.tbc.