usedlaserbeam | 022 | Goldenrod City

022 | Goldenrod City | Video / Action;

[So here's an idyllic scene for you: Yagyuu, back in Goldenrod City (wait a minute, how did he get to Goldenrod, he was just in Cerulean a minute ago—) and hanging out in the grass near the Tennis Haus, which has miraculously recovered from the wear and tear it took from the influx of garbage for this temporary weekend and looks as spiffy and well-kempt as ever. The paint job is clean, the grass is trimmed, the tennis court is spotless, and Yukimura's garden is flourishing — and currently inhabited by one rather large levitating man-eating plant, scaring off humans and animals alike who might try to trespass into the domain it's guarding.

And then there's Yagyuu himself, surrounded by a veritable swarm of seven Eevees, one Espeon, one Umbreon, and one Flareon, all of whom are happy and rambunctious and look like they may very well pick him up and carry him off if he should happen to let his guard down.

(Somewhere in the background, a Slowpoke duct-taped to a skateboard with model rocket engines attached to it goes hurtling by, making a noise that sounds suspiciously like eeeeeeeeeeeed.)

Needless to say, Yagyuu is a little perplexed.]

...Ah. How did I—

[But then he looks down again, and double-takes, because those seven Eevees have all just evolved in the blink of an eye, and he is now sporting two Flareons, a Vaporeon, a Jolteon, a Leafeon, a Glaceon, two Espeons, an Umbreon, and one very dopey Eevee who seems to have failed at evolving in general.

He's almost afraid to look away from them again, for fear that more of them might crop up.]

...It's going to be one of those days again, isn't it.

[OOC: COME HIT HIM UP! Anytime, anywhere, he's in Goldenrod by the Haus but he can easily move wherever you'd like him! COME TO ME, FOURTH-WALLERS, I WANT YOU IN THIS POST. ♥]

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[ Niou glances up, and though his expression is hard to make out amidst the play of light and glow, he appears to be surprised, as if he didn't expect Yagyuu to recognize him, or maybe even see him.

Scratching the Carnivine under the chin, he speaks conversationally, pretending he doesn't know that Yagyuu's totally petrified. ]

Did he have this when I was here? I don't remember.

[ His voice still has that hollow reverb to it, even when he isn't making stupid ghost sounds. ]

[No, Audrey II doesn't remember who this is, but she certainly likes the attention, and so she rustles her leaves with pleasure as she allows this to happen.

Meanwhile, Yagyuu's still frozen in place, and he hasn't stopped staring.]

You know I can hear you.

[But with how quietly he says it, the words a little raspy in a mouth that's long since gone dry, it's hard to tell if that's more directed at Niou or at himself.]

Yeah? [ Niou looks up from the affectionate plant and cocks an eyebrow at Yagyuu. ] I was talkin' to you.

[ He pulls away from the Carnivine and ambles in Yagyuu's general direction, shoving his hands into his pockets and letting his shoulders hunch. Four feet from him, he stops. ]

[As he approaches, most of the Eeveepile perks up to watch him, but only Lady and Aya light up with recognition, edging to the front of the pack to flick their ears and wag their tails in silent greeting.

They're taking it better than Yagyuu is, certainly, whose instincts are still going ghostghostghost while another part of his brain is going mineminemine.]

It's. [He swallows.] She's mine, not Yukimura-kun's. I thought—

[Well, it's hard to say what he thought, when he seems to be having some difficulty stringing two coherent thoughts together at the moment.]

Will I someday warrant a simple "Hello, good to see you" as a greeting, Niou-kun?

What fun is 'hello, good to see you?'

[ Spotting the crowd at Yagyuu's feet, Niou drops into a crouch and beckons them with an outstretched hand and a click of the tongue. He doesn't look up when he speaks. ]

Cute little entourage. Do they fill the void in your heart and the space in your bed, baaaaby?

[Now, Lady, Lady remembers Niou, even from back when she was only an Eevee and her trainer was still carrying her around in a nest made of his jersey because he loved her too much to let her walk. She also remembers that Niou is the reason her trainer stopped paying the appropriate amount of attention to her when he abruptly disappeared, and also the reason that Phantom suddenly became interested in that Persian, thus yielding the mess of grandkids currently surrounding her. So really, her feelings on this matter could go either way on the subject —

— except that there's a part of her that loves him, too, and that's the part that has her going bounding over to greet him with far less dignity than she normally employs.]

They certainly take up enough of it.

[The rest of the crowd, following Lady's lead, go running over a minute later, leaving Yagyuu wavering. He hates this feeling, the urge to act and the constraint of something else holding him back, and hates even more the nonchalant game that he still refuses to lose.]

But as a substitute, they're a rather poor one.

[ Niou is only momentarily distracted by the attentions of the Poképack, smiling and ruffling ears. There's something in Yagyuu's tone that won't let him ignore him much longer.

With a final, gentle scratch under Lady's chin, he rises to his feet and looks at Yagyuu, his ethereal form flickering, lending colour to his face for a second before he's back to light and lines. It's harder to keep hold when he's faced with the expression Yagyuu's wearing, so much less guarded than it should be. It makes Niou glance away again, across the yard. ]

Yeah, well... you can't expect 'em to love you like I do.

[ There's nothing any less tongue-in-cheek about that remark than usual; it's every bit as ironic and off-the-cuff as anything else he's said since he arrived, but in Yagyuu's current state, Niou won't be surprised if he takes it to heart, or at least takes a second to doki before he can answer.

Stupid. ]

[There. Right there.

That's the moment of spark to the waiting keg of gunpowder, the starting gun that sounds the beginning of the race; that right there is the moment when instincts and terror abruptly get quashed under the much more insistent urgency of Niou being back, being here, regardless of what form he's taken, and yes, deep down he knows they're only words, that it's just another of Niou's games the way it always is, but they're also words he hasn't heard in so long, a tone he hadn't realized just how much he'd been aching for until he's finally been given it again.

And to think, it hasn't even been six months.

He closes the distance between them in purposeful strides, shoulders drawn up, looking for that inch of height advantage in a way that's so instinctive, so familiar.]

That's not something I'd expect of anyone. There's no one like you, Niou-kun.

[Except me. But they both know that already, don't they.]

[ Despite himself, Niou tenses as Yagyuu approaches, and he can feel himself slipping, flickering again. He struggles with it, but it's impossible when he's also trying to prepare himself for whatever batshit stupid thing Yagyuu's about to do, like hug him or kiss him or punch him or—

In a last-ditch effort to reclaim control, he lets go and

smirks.

In the time it takes Yagyuu to blink, Niou is gone altogether, replaced by none other than Atobe Keigo, as ghostly as his predecessor, but fading fast into corporeality. ]

No one like him? Please. There are at least two of you.

But there's no one— [ with a flourish— ] like me.

[And he actually recoils, coming to a halt so fast his shoes skid a little in the grass, face actually draining of color because at a distance and as Niou, he could handle it, but this — the sudden shift, the reality of what he's faced with, the abrupt presence of Atobe — it's too much, and fear wins out over his self-control.

Strangely, it's not just his fear of ghosts, this time. There's something much more terrible added into it here, because he knows intimately how Niou works all his tricks, and he can't for the life of him (ha ha, it's funny) explain this one.]

What—

[What the shit is even happening right now.]

[ Now that Yagyuu's on the defensive, he needs to stay that way. Atobe takes the two long-legged strides needed to close the distance between them, folding his arms as he comes to a stop. He leans in close. ]

What? Speechless? I do hear I have that effect on people.

[And for the time it takes him to process the stimuli in front of him, the events that have taken place, he is on the defensive. He's disoriented, afraid, confused, with his mind reeling from too many possibilities and not enough answers. But Yagyuu has also always had a knack for rationale and mental gymnastics, for shutting out the world in favor of focusing on a single concept he wants to be true, and once he's surrendered that initial skirmish, it's a knack that comes back to save him.

He may not know what this is, what's happening, but Atobe is looking more solid now, less frightening, and Yagyuu knows how to react to an invasion of his personal space and dominance, if nothing else. Who this is, what this is, he doesn't know — but it looks like Atobe, and that's how he'll respond.]

Speechless isn't synonymous with impressed.

[As once again he's up to his full height, as imposing as possible.]

[ Atobe draws himself up as well, but still falls short by two scant centimeters. All the same, he has a way of looking Yagyuu in the eye that makes it seem like the height difference might be reversed. ]

Maybe not, but Yeeeeahgyuu is.

[ For just that second, Atobe's deep voice is overtaken by a tenor drawl, a violation of vowels and a throatiness that's much more familiar. His haughty expression never changes. ]

[There are three conclusions he can draw from that drawl:

> This is an illusion.
> This is an impeccable illusion.
> For the love of all that is good and holy and tennis, the sound of his name dragged out like that should not ever be allowed to fall from Atobe Keigo's admittedly attractive lips.

It's Niou, it must be, which means that everything else on top of it is simply the trappings, however elaborate, of another trick, another game. There's a certain sort of security in that; it's not as though they've never played out this dance before, Niou holding all the cards and Yagyuu keeping up his poker face as he scrambles to play it blind.

And the thought of the dance makes him think of his own familiar voice work (a little more back, it starts a little deeper in the throat: ah~n), and a radio tower at midnight in August.

His fingers twitch.]

And am I supposed to be impressed?

[And for a flickering, perilous minute, he thinks: and am I supposed to be Yagyuu?]

[ When he reaches up to cup Yagyuu's chin in one hand, even his touch is foreign: his skin is softer, his fingers more proportionate, and there's a ring on his middle finger that wasn't there before, heavy white gold set with Hyoutei's school crest. ]

If I want you impressed, I'll impress you. Trust me.

[ His thumb brushes over Yagyuu's lips before he lets him go, turning his wrist to check his (expensive) watch. ]

Oh... I'm late.

[There's no mistaking the sudden onset of tension in his shoulders as that hand connects, or the unwavering set of his gaze as he allows it without reacting. Niou's affection from Atobe's hand, Niou's voice from Atobe's mouth, and the arrogance of both of them (or three of them?) shifting back and forth—

When that hand retreats, he doesn't let it go unchecked. His own hand snaps out, catching the wrist just above that expensive watch, fingers curling around the fine bones there to hold it steady in a gesture that reads more like a demand.]

Are you leaving so soon?

[ To say he didn't expect this would be an understatement. The hard grip on his wrist absolutely stops his heart, drops the casual insolence from his face, the baritone from his voice and the watch from his wrist, and every last safeguard goes down in flames.

Niou looks up at Yagyuu, wide-eyed and one hundred percent himself, tangibility and all. Now it's his turn to be speechless, for as long as that ever lasts. ]

[That look is the one that gets him every time, and this one is no exception. It's Niou, tricks cast aside, games laid to rest, and with that almost frantic look in his eyes that never fails to hit Yagyuu with a possessive thrill, of triumph and dominance and arrogance and —

...and god, he hasn't seen his partner in so long.

His fingers tighten. It's like he thinks Niou will slip away again if he relents for even a second.]

Are you, Niou-kun?

[As firm as the grip is, there's something velvet lurking beneath the steel of his tone.]

[ He can't help swallowing, and his voice still comes out dry. ]

No sooner than I have to.

[ When the words are out, he swallows again, twice, trying to ease the rasp in his throat, and looks down at their hands. Was it cruel of him to drag it out this long? Maybe. Should it surprise Yagyuu? Not at all. But is he sorry?

... A little.

He twists his wrist to grab onto Yagyuu's in return. ]

[And Yagyuu just looks at him, long and searching, steady gaze behind glinting lenses never leaving Niou's face as he stands there, still and rigid like a perfect gentleman should.

There's a part of him that wants to demand answers. There's another part that's humming with victory and the sound of that sudden uncertainty laced through Niou's tone, wanting to play his own game now, wanting to drag that out as long as possible, because Niou is cruel and he is cruel, too, except that he's always been just a little bit better at it.

He could let go. That'd cut, that'd hurt.

He could lose his temper. That'd rage, inflame.

He could stay ice-cold. That'd come with its own edges.

But what he does is swallow all that back, and temper his conflicting emotions with a recognition that's far simpler — that maybe, like sacrificing his perfect season for the greater good of their future, maybe it's not the wrong answer to sacrifice dominance and pride for the sake of doing something he's ached to for months.

He pulls him in, a little too firmly to really be called gentle, and puts his arm around him.

I missed you.

That's enough for right now.]

[ The relief that washes over Niou with that one small gesture is almost incomparable to anything he's ever felt. He could say it's like the rush after a narrow victory, but there's not enough adrenaline. It's almost like the feeling of waking up to realize that his nightmares are just nightmares, but that's not as overwhelming as this is. He recalls the memory of being wholly consumed by the news that Yukimura was going to be okay, but he doesn't feel exhausted and tearful in the wake of this moment like he did then.

What he can compare it to is the instant he laid eyes on Yagyuu in Cherrygrove, the way his heart could've burst with the feeling, the way his every muscle relaxed and his mind said in Yagyuu's voice, clearer than ever, Everything's going to be fine. It's exactly like that, right down to the thing lurking in the back of his mind, the realization he refuses to acknowledge: that it's only fine for now, and it could change any minute.

His body relaxes the same way it did then, but this time, his head is on Yagyuu's shoulder and he can put his weight against him, because they're alone and Yagyuu started it, and besides, there's so much more now than there was then.

I missed you, too.

It has to be enough, because it could be all they have. ]

[Niou's not the only one thinking of the past in that moment, but for Yagyuu the thoughts don't stop at Cherrygrove; each passing second seems to bring back another step in the long and winding road they'd followed — the incident in the inn room, the radio tower, the attempt at being Atobe, the uncertainty, the hurt, the small successes and wounding setbacks and the moment when he'd woken up and realized Niou was gone, and how he'd worn his partner's face because it was easier than facing himself, and Rise Kujikawa, of all people, had come to pull him out of it again.

And all he can think is, please, please, let them do it right this time, because this is so rare and precious and fragile, and it might be all they have.

Please, let him get this right.

Even if he's still so unsure of what right really means.

He gathers Niou in and tilts his head to rest it against his partner's, supporting his weight like it's the most natural thing in the world, and takes a minute to do nothing but breathe, slowly, and try to memorize the feeling.

Do it right, Yagyuu. Don't get it wrong this time.]

I'm glad you're here.

[A breath. He remembers.]

Masaharu.

[ The name grabs him by the lungs and he lets out a breath, which immediately strikes him as embarrassing. His heart is doing doubletime to catch up with all the beats it missed while stopped, and his fingers tighten in the back of Yagyuu's shirt. He wants to say 'I'm glad you're here, too,' because that's what you say, isn't it? And he is glad, in a way, since it means they're together. But that's not really all there is to it. ]

I wish we were home.

[ He muffles the words, but moreso the ache in his voice, in Yagyuu's shoulder.

Any romance he'd had with this world and all its curiosities and novelties has long worn off. The faint memories he has of it back home are nothing more than the pain of loss, the feeling of loneliness, and faces he can't remember. He goes to school missing Yagyuu, and he comes home missing him, too, because something's not quite right. Something's not right, but even he doesn't know what it is. He can't remember. ]

[It's the "we" that catches him, that digs in like nails, because it's a painful reminder of how long they've spent in separate places, first Niou and then himself, and it's so frustrating for a pair that fits so well together, so seamless, so flawless, that they might as well be made for each other. The words are muffled but he wouldn't be Yagyuu if he didn't know how to read Niou's nuances, even after months without practice, and he runs his hands up and down his partner's back in slow trails, aiming for contact he hopes is grounding and reassuring.]

How long has it been?

[It's a question he almost hates to ask. How long have I been gone, again.]

[ He finally lifts his head. If they're having a conversation, he's not going to mumble every answer into Yagyuu's shirt like some little kid. ]

Six months or so?

[ It's hard to put a finger on, because all he did was wake up one day after a really strange dream. The dream faded day by day, and there was nothing quantifiably wrong. Sometimes he even forgot about it for a day or two, but then he'd say something to Yagyuu and it just — wouldn't click, or they'd play a match and Yukimura would reprimand them for being off their game. They're always off their game now, and neither of them can figure out how to fix it. It's driving them apart. ]

i know you do ♥

♥

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