[oshigaku] Proposal

Proposal
[A tenipuri oshigaku fanfiction][PG-13, a couple of swearwords][slash]
Disclaimer: Consider it disclaimed, boys of tenipuri are not mine, etc, etc.
Summary: Gakuto, on the subject of Oshitari Yuushi, forever, and quitting tennis.
Notes: My first tenipuri oshigaku fic. Go easy on me! Betaed by my darling htenywg, and thanks to dystopiarcadia for pointing out bad-typo.


Proposal
7th December 2005

*

More often than not, Gakuto found Yuushi extremely hard to fathom.

They weren’t that close off the tennis courts, not like Shishido and Ohtori, who were so close they were practically joined at the hip. Sure, they talked, they sometimes ate together at recess, crammed together for end-of-years, but Gakuto had his own life, which included playing arcade games and Playstation and listening to bubblegum pop. Oshitari, on the other hand, had his life, which included classical music; being an honor student and having every girl who saw him fall at his feet.

Nope. Definitely not close.

It wasn’t all that surprising anyway. Yuushi had always been worlds apart from Gakuto. His family had money, his father was a well-esteemed surgeon, Yuushi was all set to go to medical school and follow in his footsteps. It was effortless, really, picturing Yuushi twenty years down the road. Rich, successful, attending those dances with a beautiful wife on his arm, clasping a glass of champagne with long graceful fingers. Those fingers wouldn’t have changed one bit.

And that vision had no place for Gakuto in it, even though he knew every inch of those fingers, how Yuushi gestured when he spoke, elegant and forceful. How they looked wrapped around the handle of a tennis racket, strong and proud and always waiting behind Gakuto. How they felt on his back when Yuushi helped him stretch, the easily intimate gestures of a partner, of a friend.

God, sometimes Gakuto just hated Oshitari. Hated playing doubles with him, hated being around him, because each and every time was a painful reminder that he was in every way inferior. Every fucking way. Nobody would doubt that Yuushi was obscenely talented. Hyotei’s tensai, always; even Atobe acknowledged as much. And it wasn’t easy to be recognized as talented in Hyotei, simply because talent was so abundant at Hyotei that it all became relative.

And relative to Oshitari Yuushi, Gakuto always felt like absolutely nothing. Playing doubles with Yuushi sometimes made him feel like he was being patronized. Yuushi could have had a singles position any time he wanted, no questions asked. Sakaki-sensei would certainly have allowed it, and yet Oshitari Yuushi had, in his second year, opted to play doubles instead, without even explaining his choice. And not only had their coach agreed, he had decided to let Yuushi choose his own partner.

The buzz had been huge at that time, Gakuto remembered. Everyone had wanted to play with Oshitari Yuushi. Except Gakuto. He hadn’t been particularly devoted to tennis at that time. Tennis had been something he played for fun. It had been his potential as a gymnast that had gotten him a scholarship to that so-coveted Hyotei Gakuen (ah, the wonders of talent-scouting), and it naturally, it had been gym that had been his first priority.

Until, of course, Yuushi had convinced him otherwise, simply by walking up to him one day after practice – people all around, Gakuto’s friends looking at Yuushi curiously – and asking, ‘Mukahi-kun, would you mind playing doubles with me?’

As far as proposals went, that one had been extremely unromantic. Gakuto had been on the verge of refusal, a million and one reasons flashing through his mind – who the hell are you, I don’t play doubles, I’m not that great at tennis, why pick me when everyone else wants you so much – but Oshitari Yuushi wasn’t the kind of person you could refuse easily, not when you were face to face with him and there was that steady regard trained on you, focused and intensified by those rimless glasses. Yuushi’s gaze had always been capable of terrifying him.

Gakuto’s friends had been oblivious to his quandary, back-slapping him, congratulating him in mixed tones of jealousy and awe, and in the end, Gakuto brought himself to say yes, stuttering and blushing like a girl, and hey, if it didn’t work out, he could always call it off, right?

Wrong. Dead wrong.

Gakuto had never been as committed to anything before, and he rather felt that he never would be again. With Yuushi – sure, there’d been cooperation, enough for them to play a reasonable doubles game like any other pair, but nothing special, no love-at-first-sight kind of flame. Just normality, and a distance between the two of them that Gakuto felt, and at that point, it had felt insurmountable. He had been on the verge (again, always the verge but never over the cliff, never never once had he actually said it, said anything worth saying, said what he should have) of telling Oshitari that sorry, he just didn’t think they would make a really good pair, but Yuushi had congratulated him on a great practice and said that he’d meet him for practice later, he’d be waiting at the court.

Gakuto skipped gym practice that afternoon.

And they’d gotten better and better, and Gakuto only realized it when his gym coach asked him why he’d been skipping activities, and the only answer he could give was, ‘I’ve been playing tennis with Oshitari Yuushi.’ The coach wasn’t happy – he had to give him all, what did he think he could accomplish by being so half-hearted? Sorry, Gakuto promised. He would cut down on the tennis and be serious about gym.

But he always quailed when it came to telling Yuushi it’s over, go find another partner, I’m sorry, forgive me, we’re still friends, right? He couldn’t, and worse, Gakuto realized he didn’t want to. There was a thrill in improving, in seeing the results of their work pay off from match to match, a thrill that equaled flying on the parallel bars of doing wild cartwheels and bouncing madly on the trampoline. And it was wonderful to see the genuine delight in Yuushi’s eyes, it was wonderful to be able to hug him and be happy about their latest victory.

So Gakuto didn’t change a thing. He tried to attend gym regularly but that was impossible, and Gakuto knew better than to make unreasonable demands of his own body. So he let gym fade into the background, applying greater and greater effort to tennis even as people soon eclipsed him in the gymnastics club.

Acrobatic play. The Moon Salute. It amused him, gave him pleasure to take skills that were common to any gymnast worth their salt and turn it into something applicable on the courts, something that wowed people and made Yuushi smile at him with unconcealed pride.

They were doubles one by the end of second year, and things were greater than ever for Gakuto as they continued to go undefeated. Maybe it was worth it. He had made the right choice, after all, changing focus from gym to tennis. And besides, it wasn’t as if he’d given up gym entirely, anyway, right?

And then, just a week ago, they’d lost to Seigaku and Gakuto had been abruptly treated to a rude awakening on just how much he depended on Yuushi. He wasn’t the only one capable of acrobatic play (even if he was still better than Kikumaru, bloody hell), and he didn’t have the physical stamina to cope with long games. He’d be crap at singles, without someone ready behind him to catch his falls and slips, literally and metaphorically. He’d never make pro tennis, certainly not as a singles player.

And Yuushi wouldn’t be with him forever.

It was only then that Gakuto realized just how stupid he’d been to turn his back on gym, derailing his own career – possibly for good. It would take ages to get back into proper form even if he’d been careful not to lose it all, and that was assuming that they’d still want to take him in after his lack of commitment. Gakuto thanked his lucky stars that Hyotei was an elevator school, that he still had high school here, rather than having to go somewhere else after junior high. No school with a passable gym club would allow the lack of qualifications on his part, no former record at all. Maybe there was still a chance (the coach knew and liked him and believed he had potential), no matter how small.

Great.

Now all that was left was to tell Yuushi.

*

He told Atobe first, composedly explaining the reasons why he felt he had to do this. Atobe had been disapproving but had said something typically egoistic that basically meant that the great ore-sama would not deign to interfere in Gakuto’s personal decision. Gakuto had muttered a couple of empty platitudes about ‘I’m sure you’ll be able to find a replacement for me easily’ and fled, his carefully typed official resignation letter shoved at his buchou – ex-buchou, now – to give to Sakaki-sensei.

He rather felt it might be better to tell Yuushi after everything had been settled, so he skirted the practice courts, guilt gnawing at him with the thought that Yuushi was waiting patiently for him at the courts, waiting for him to show up so they could start with the warm-up. They never started without each other, but Yuushi would have to, from now on.

He tried the office, but no luck; apparently the gym coach wasn’t in school that day so practice was cancelled. For a moment, Gakuto wanted to rush back to the dorms and grab his racket. Yuushi always forgave him when he was late. It would be okay, Atobe wouldn’t mind if he changed his mind – if Gakuto was lucky he hadn’t told Sakaki-sensei – all he needed to do was –

No. Gakuto’s mind ground firmly to a halt, his footsteps slowing down accordingly. No. Not this. He’d wasted junior high already, and if he wasted high school that would be it. He could just see his life as a pencil pusher in some boring firm – probably one of Atobe’s, that family had a finger in just about every pie, cake and confectionery you could care to name – wasting it nine to five each day, stuck in some dingy little apartment in Tokyo paying a ludicrous rent and watching late-night porn and living on instant noodles. No. That wasn’t the sort of life he wanted. And if turning pro gymnast meant escaping that kind of life, and if quitting tennis was a prerequisite for gym, then he would quit tennis.

Even if the reproach in Yuushi’s eyes would break him.

He headed back to the dorm with the intentions of packing his tennis stuff – all the better to throw it away – but doing that proved to be harder than expected. So he decided to try doing homework, and that turned out to be just as disastrous. So after he’d written that four squared was eight for the fifth time, Gakuto just gave it up and flopped onto the bed, staring at the bare ceiling. Atobe would have told Yuushi by now. Yuushi hadn’t come, which would mean that he had accepted Gakuto’s resignation, and that thought was accompanied by relief, but at the same time, regret, and last – worst – a little bit of resentment.

At least Yuushi wasn’t resisting his decision: after all, it had been hard enough for Gakuto to make it. But at the same time, the fact that Oshitari Yuushi could just... let him go, just like that, as easily as throwing away a worn out pair of tennis shoes – it rankled, and the force of his disappointment was almost physical. Maybe it was. Maybe that was why his head was throbbing, which was making his eyes ache. Maybe a nap would help. Sleep was good.

The doorbell rang. That was followed by a series of insistent raps on the door. It woke Gakuto from troubled, sweaty sleep with his hair plastered untidily to his face, sticking in some places, his uniform crumpled and the tie loosely askew. He stumbed blearily to the door. Sleeping hadn’t helped. He only felt more exhausted – like after a grueling game of tennis – no, don’t think like that anymore –

He was so intent on waging war on himself that it never occurred to him that standing outside his door would be Oshitari Yuushi.

There was a moment – just a moment, where Gakuto took in Yuushi’s appearance – oddly flurried, though nothing was out of place, those lovely eyes absolutely serious –

‘Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?’ was all that Gakuto could think of.

‘I told you yesterday, Gakuto, I had a seminar to attend today, so I was going to miss practice,’ Yuushi replied, familiar, tolerant exasperation in his voice, and oh, Gakuto hated him more than ever, hated him for this, hated him for the ache and the feel of his voice, familiar and – and – loved – damnit –

‘Then why–’

‘Atobe texted me,’ Yuushi replied, taking a small step forward and holding the handphone screen up so Gakuto could read the message.

‘Your little fool of a partner is quitting tennis.’ That was Atobe all right, blunt and incisive and utterly tactless.

‘I came straight back,’ Oshitari continued, still not taking his eyes off Gakuto. ‘Would you like to tell me why, Gakuto?’

‘Won’t the teachers be mad at you for leaving the seminar early?’ Gakuto asked instead.

‘It won’t kill them. Don’t change the subject, Gakuto. What’s this about, Gakuto? If it’s about Seigaku–’

‘Not just that, Yuushi.’ The admission was quiet, subdued, and Gakuto let his gaze fall away from Yuushi as he stepped back, further into the room, suddenly confused. It had been easier by far – not easy, but certainly not this difficult – to explain it to Atobe. It had sounded so reasonable then, so why, why, why was Gakuto’s carefully thought out logic crumpling in the face of Oshitari Yuushi’s steady, quiet gaze?

Gakuto sat numbly on the bed as Yuushi closed the door wit a silent, final ‘click’ then came over to sit by him, one hand – those fingers and the warmth, damnit – coming to rest gently on this thigh. Gakuto repressed a shudder that he was pretty sure Yuushi felt anyway – bloody hell, was Yuushi doing this on purpose? Playing Gakuto –

‘Will you tell me what’s wrong, Gakuto?’ and that voice, slow and smooth with that Kansai purr, oh, Gakuto loved the way he sounded, like melted sunlight, how could he refuse Yuushi? He stuttered badly all the way through his recital of the reasons he was quitting tennis – how he wasn't good enough, how he would never play singles professionally, and Yuushi knew that that was the important thing in a pro tennis career, and so on. Nothing personal. (Maybe if he said that enough times he would believe it too, but why was he so nervous, damn, he had no reason to be this nervous, like explaining to a parent why you’d failed an exam, and waiting for that mixture of disappointment and regret, and bloody hell-)

And worse, throughout it all Yuushi just sat by him and nodded understandingly, the outline of his hand burning through the thin plaid of Gakuto’s school pants, lines of fire traced on hypersensitive skin, and Gakuto wanted nothing so much as to cry, or hit something, anything to get a reaction out of Yuushi, damnit!

‘Is that all, Gakuto?’ he finally asked even as Gakuto fell silent.

‘All? What do you mean, all? Don’t kid around, Yuushi, it’s not all, it’s my bloody career we’re talking about–’

‘If that’s all it takes, Gakuto, I promise I’ll be with you forever.’

Gods, he said it with such a straight face, and suddenly Gakuto was furious, the anger boiling out of him, directed at the blue-haired tensai who had ruined his life by making it so bloody wonderful. ‘Don’t make me empty promises, Oshitari,’ he spat, turning away from him, shifting away from his touch. ‘I’m not one of your girlfriends, so don’t lie to me like that, because one day you’re going to give up tennis, and you’re going to become a bloody doctor and marry a pretty wife and have three kids, and there’s no place for me in that, Yuushi, not at fucking all,’ he snarled, all fired up, ready to show Yuushi the door and shove him out, never mind that if Oshitari didn’t want to leave there was no way Gakuto would have the physical strength to throw him out, because damnit, he wanted him gone already, gone and not saying stupid things that Gakuto wanted to believe so badly.

‘You could always be my wife, Gakuto,’ Yuushi suggested mildly, though his tone was belied by the slight gleam in those blue-violet eyes.

For a moment Gakuto didn’t quite understand the sentence. ‘Right, Yuushi! In case you haven’t noticed, law forbids two guys to get married, yeah?’ he shot back sarcastically, only to have Oshitari raise an eyebrow and smirk at him.

‘So if it wasn’t illegal you’d marry me, Gakuto?’

‘Yeah, right!’ Gakuto snarled, but Yuushi had already dropped to the floor on one knee, his hands holding one of Gakuto’s and Gakuto had to laugh, and the angry tension dissipated into nothing as Yuushi looked him in the eye and said, in all seriousness, ‘Marry me, Gakuto.’

‘Shaddup, Yuushi! No way!’ Gakuto yelled, but he was grinning, and so was Yuushi, who refused to relinquish his grip o n Gakuto’s hand.

‘Gakuto, baby, I thought you wanted me to stay with you forever!’ and that was only half-joking, Gakuto could tell when Yuushi was heartfelt about something. ‘Marry me, Gakuto,' he repeated, and Gakuto could see himself in those dark, dark eyes, pinned on him, and Oshitari Yuushi's regard always made Gakuto feel weak at the knees with something he never quite understood - only that it made him feel oddly hot all over, and probably Yuushi knew the effect he was having on Gakuto - "I’ll be good to you.’ And that last line was definitely heartfelt, gods, Oshitari Yuushi knew how hot he was, damnit, and the tension was back, only it was a different kind of tension, hot and anticipatory and a knot tight in Gakuto’s belly, and Yuushi leaned forward and kissed him.

And oh, Gakuto knew Yuushi was a good kisser, he’d seen him around, and there were girls everywhere who swore by Yuushi, almost, but Gakuto fumbled it (it didn’t help that Yuushi was still kneeling and Gakuto was sitting on the bed) and so it was a short, clumsy kiss- a lip-touch, more like, the click of teeth striking at a weird angle – but it was a good one, if only because this was Yuushi kissing him, Yuushi who had promised he would stay with Gakuto forever. In the back of his mind he couldn’t help but know that there’d be problems with that eventually, but the middle of a kiss was not the right time to be worrying about it.

Only Yuushi chuckled, smirking at him, and asked, ‘You don’t do this often, do you, Gakuto?’ And the second kiss was far better, Yuushi rising to his feet and pulling Gakuto flush against him in a solid hug before bringing their mouths together again, this time smoother, sleeker, Yuushi’s tongue slick and wet against his own, mm, Yuushi nibbling on his lip, the pressure of teeth just short of painful, his hands stroking down Gakuto’s back and oh gods, Gakuto didn’t want this to stop, don’t stop, Yuushi, don’t stop –

The phone beeped.

‘I would think you’d have sorted it out by now, Oshitari. Have fun. Tell the little idiot I threw the letter away.’

Yuushi laughed softly as Gakuto sputtered. ‘That’s Atobe for you,’ he murmured, snapping the phone shut and putting it down on the table.

‘What, tactless and rude?’ Gakuto muttered, rolling his eyes.

‘Maybe,’ Yuushi admitted smoothly. ‘But then again, he’s Atobe. And he seems to have let us off practice. Shall we continue, Gakuto?’ he asked slyly, then kissed him again without waiting for an answer. Gakuto’s startled ‘mff’ got lost in between the warm meeting of lips and a soft smile.



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