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. ♥]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[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. ]

[They said it'd be like they were never gone.

His hands slow to a stop. His fingers dig into the back of Niou's shirt.

They said —]

Six months.

[He's growing to hate that figure, six months.

And now there's a lump in his throat that he can't seem to swallow.]

I'm —

[Sorry. He can't say it aloud.]

[ He can hear the tightness in Yagyuu's voice, and it makes him want to pull away just as much as it makes him want to move closer. In the end, he stays where he is, but he brushes Yagyuu's bangs back, touches his face without looking him in the eye, like a guilty, adulterous lover. ]

Hey, whatever. [ His voice is soft and dark, completely devoid of its usual sharp, bright edges and lively drawl. ] It's not your fault. It's still not your fault.

[ It's just a reminder: it's no more Yagyuu's fault this time than it was the first time. It's not Niou's fault that he left, either, and he's not about to apologize. He wouldn't know where to start. ]

[Some part of him knows that he shouldn't blame himself for this, but it's always been Yagyuu's habit to guilt himself for things that couldn't possibly have been in his ability to control, but that he thinks he should've nonetheless. It was his fault, somehow, when Yukimura was confined to a hospital bed and he had no answers for how to fix it. It was his fault the last time, when he was six months late and just barely managed to make his appearance in time to patch up Niou's cracks.

It should be his fault this time, and he almost lets it crash down on his head, the guilt, but this time around there's something else, too. He's grown, whether he realizes it or not, and he's learned from his mistakes (some of them), and maybe, just maybe, instead of drowning in regret, he can make a difference he can control, instead.

Like leaning into that hand on his face, instead of flinching away.]

I should've told you, the last time I saw you. Waiting too long...it's my fault, for that.

[ He still wants to get away — it's all this sincerity that's getting under his skin — but some irrational part of him thinks that if he does, he'll disappear.

So before he does, he leans up haltingly and presses a kiss to Yagyuu's lips. It isn't frantic or aggressive; it isn't even passionate to begin with. He just kisses him, maybe apologetically, maybe resignedly, but definitely lovingly. There's no more appropriate word for it. ]

[Maybe it's not so irrational — or if it is, it's an irrationality they're both believing in at the moment. When they'd all started leaving, one by one, Yagyuu'd called Akaya home in a fit of that same irrationality, secretly afraid he'd be next and trying to convince himself that so long as he never looked away, they'd never be able to go.

This kiss is different from the others. And somehow it's not worse or hollower than those others from the lack of passion in it, but it is...different. It's not them the way he'd define them if ever he were called on to try.

But maybe it's what they both need right now, them or not.

His hand finds its way to the tie holding Niou's hair in place and gently slide it free, releasing the strands so he can comb his fingers through them.]

[ Any other time, he'd have protested his hair being free to get in the way, but for now, he finds it's not so bad to let Yagyuu run his fingers through it. It's a much more intimate gesture than he'd normally allow, and in that respect, it suits the moment: this is a lot of what they wouldn't allow (themselves, each other) before Niou left. They're making up for it now.

When they pull apart, they don't do so gasping for air or scrabbling for control. The kiss just tapers off, and Niou actually looks Yagyuu in the eye, quiet and contemplative. ]

... The kids are watching us, you know.

[Frankly, he likes Niou better with his hair tied back anyway, but reaching for it that way — it felt important, somehow, like it was a thing he ought to have done at that point, and Yagyuu's trying hard not to second-guess himself right now.]

Grandkids.

[...On the other hand, some things never change, and his capacity to say something incredibly stupid at the worst possible time is one of them.]

Missing you got in the way of giving full and proper devotion to Lady. In Lady's opinion, anyway.

[But then he seems to quiet again, himself, and holds Niou's gaze with a small measure of pleasant surprise.]

But you haven't told me why the ghost and Atobe. Those weren't your usual tricks, unless your Illusion's gotten much better in the time since I last saw you.

[ Niou catches Yagyuu's eyes and shrugs, looking just as surprised, if a bit more emphatically so. He rubs the back of his neck and makes a helpless gesture with one hand. ]

I guess I got an upgrade. I mean, it's been six months, so I coulda gotten better, but—

[ He hesitates. This is going to sound batshit no matter how he explains it, but on the other hand, they're standing here in the middle of a pile of foxes and five feet from a giant Venus flytrap with eyes. How much weirder can it get? ]

... I had this dream — maybe. Maybe it wasn't a fucking dream, but I definitely went to sleep right before it — and it was a classic tunnel of light kinda thing, but the guy at the end of it was pretty much absolutely not fucking Jesus. He was wearing skinny jeans and a t-shirt with some kinda English on it, I don't remember, and he had some pretty gay hair. He told me to call him 'sensei.'

[ Niou doesn't bother looking at Yagyuu to try to gauge his reaction. He takes a step back, instead, shoving his hands in his pockets. ]

And he said he needed me for the next chapter, whatever the fuck that means, and then bam, I was a ghost. Seems like my Illusion got bumped up a notch.

[It's not like there's really much to gauge about Yagyuu's reaction, really; granted, he's living in a world of biologically implausible pocket monsters that hatch from eggs and give loyalty to trainers from what are apparently hundreds of different parallel universes (many of which do not appreciate tennis), but this, what Niou is describing?

Yeah, okay, that's pretty batshit. And that's coming from a guy with the hots for himself who regularly pretends to be his doubles partner.]

You're suggesting you saw some sort of...divine being, who bestowed some sort of heightened power on you to improve your illusion overnight?

[A pause.]

...Utterly implausible as it sounds, I suppose that could explain Yukimura-kun's tennis.

[Pause.]

And Tezuka-kun's.

[Pause.]

And Fuji-kun's.

[Pause.]

And Seigaku's first-year's.

[Pause.]

...Do you suppose that's also where Atobe-kun got his Hyoutei chant, somehow?

[ Niou listens to each conclusion with a little nod. It all sounds perfectly legit as far as he's concerned. ]

It's gotta be. No way does a douchebag like that have an actual fanclub that size without some kind of hokey gay Jesus handing it to him.

[ Niou's always been a little jealous of Atobe's fanclub, truthfully. Maybe when he sees this 'sensei' again, he'll make some demands. ]

[You know, as farfetched as it sounds to believe some kind of hokey gay Jesus is handing out tennis favors...well, it would answer that nagging conundrum of how the hell Seigaku won those damn Nationals...

...and why everyone is obsessed with Tezuka-kun for some reason...

Okay, you know what, suspension of disbelief. He'll buy it.]

If it is such a person, at least he seems to be favoring you lately? I don't recall ever having a dream like that, myself.

[Speaking of jealous.]

[ Niou shrugs. It's not like he needs new tricks up his sleeve; they'll only serve to drive him further apart from the Yagyuu back at home. They're already two steps off of each other. ]

You'll get your turn. Or maybe the you back home already has.

In the meantime, I'll favor you, too.

[He considers a minute, then reaches for Niou's face in deliberate imitation of Atobe's earlier movement, confident enough that he looks like he knows what he's doing, but gingerly enough to be batted away without protest on a moment's notice.]

022 | Goldenrod City | Video / Action;

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

i'm not even sorry

consider me dead of lulz

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)