ketchup (ketchupblood) wrote in ironman7, @ 2007-08-26 21:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | ketchupblood, prince of tennis, week 1: prompt 6 |
Prince of Tennis (Chitose/Shiraishi) [week 1 - prompt 6]
Title: Lover's Spat
Author: ketchupblood
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1,000
Summary: The boys make up.
Forgive me if I seem unkind, you've got your troubles, I've got mine.
When Chitose got to school that day, the girls started whispering like they always did. If anyone asked, he would have told them what they were saying—it's not like they ever talked about anything else—but no one asked. He wouldn't see Kenya until practice since their classes were on opposite sides of school and Shiraishi was still pointedly ignoring him. Not that they really would have asked anyways. They knew what the girls talked about too.
His teachers were surprised to see him in class. Their school was special; students didn't have to actually show up for class unless there was a test, so long as their test scores remained in the top ten percent. Chitose almost always came in second, now that Koharu had left for Tokyo, though sometimes he managed to pull above Shiraishi and get first. Needless to say, he didn't go to classes often.
He regretted going as soon as the first class starts. The teacher started off by lecturing on the Meiji period, going over things that he had just helped Miyuki with on her homework. He looked out the window until she called on him and then, not used to letting his attention wander, he has to ask where they're reading. She gave him an annoyed look and then he read the section out loud, amidst the giggles of his classmates. As he sat, he saw Shiraishi smirking at him.
Then lunch came and he didn't even know where he should be eating. He would normally have eaten with Shiraishi, but that was impossible for the obvious reasons. That also meant that he couldn't go to the tennis courts or to the roof, because Shiraishi could be at either of those places, and Oshitari was probably with Shiraishi. Which left eating with Gin, who was probably already finished eating and already studying again, or Konjiki, who would be plotting the complicated murder of his very obviously missing boyfriend. Or eating alone, which was perhaps worse than any of those.
Sighing, he decided that he might as well try the rooftop. Shiraishi tended to take things out on the tennis courts, so he was more likely there than on the rooftop anyways. As luck would have it, Chitose was wrong. Shiraishi was on the rooftop, about five feet from his lunch, kicking at the wall while Oshitari watched.
"...and then he has the nerve to come to school and act as if he had every right to be here when he doesn't even bother opening his book until the teacher asks him." Shiraishi was saying, "And he has to look so nonchalant and reads the useless thing and pose for every girl in the class..."
"That's nice, Shiraishi. Can I take your dumplings?" Oshitari pointed to Shiraishi's abandoned lunch.
"Go ahead. I'm not hungry anymore."
Chitose wanted to tell him that he needed to eat, especially if he was going to practice as hard as Chitose knew he was going to. Coming from him, though, that advice might well have the opposite effect and besides, Shiraishi didn't seem to know he was there.
"Thanks." Oshitari grabbed the dumplings and dumped them into his own lunch box.
"I mean, he doesn't have time to call and tell me that he's too busy to come to the regional finals, but he has time to just sit in class and stare at nothing?" Shiraishi stopped kicking at the wall and started punching it—Chitose really wanted to stop him, then. "We lost to some second-rate team by default."
Chitose did feel guilty about that, but Shiraishi should have known. He couldn't play on the day of his aunt's funeral. Only an idiot would have expected him to show up.
"You know, you don't have to turn a team thing into a lover's spat." Oshitari bit off half of a dumpling. After he finished chewing he continued, "It's not always so personal, you know."
Shiraishi glared at him for a moment. "Shut up, will you?"
"Whatever. I'm going to talk to Gin or something. You just stay here and keep feeling sorry for yourself." Oshitari carefully packed up his lunch and got up. "It's really pathetic, you know."
"Shut up, Oshitari."
"Yeah. Creative aren't you?" Oshitari opened the roof door and froze for a second before rushing through and letting it close behind him. "What are you doing here?"
"Well, I was kind of hoping that Shiraishi was killing little tennis balls right now and the roof was empty." Chitose drawled.
"Whatever." Oshitari walked away, then. "Just don't let your little spat affect the team, okay? I want to win as much as Shiraishi does."
"I know." Chitose said, but he wasn't sure that Oshitari heard him. Then he turned his attention back to Shiraishi, who was still cursing to himself and kicking at the chain link fence that encircled the rooftop. Which was probably really not safe, since the fence was rusted and probably more than twenty years old already.
"You shouldn't do that." Chitose doesn't know why he was out here, talking to Shiraishi, when he had already made it clear that he did not want to see Chitose again. Ever.
"Fuck off."
"I don't care if you're going to be pissed at me, but if you kill yourself in the process I'm gonna be pissed as hell, you know."
"Fuck. Off."
"I'm serious, alright?"
Shiraishi stared at him. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"I told you. My aunt's funeral was that day."
"You didn't tell me you wouldn't come." He didn't stop staring.
"Are you slow?" Chitose felt like hitting something too, right then. Shiraishi could be a complete idiot sometimes. "How could I have gotten there in time to play?"
"You should have told me."
Chitose sighed heavily. "Fine. Alright? I should have told you. I'm sorry. Stop being such a baby."
"We could have won."
"We'll beat them at Nationals, okay?"
Shiraishi just looked at him. "Fine. But you have to show up. And no quitting again."
"Fine." Chitose pointed to Shiraishi's half finished lunch—probably Oshitari, he thought. "Eat something. We're gonna be practicing our asses off later, right captain?"
"I'm not captain."
"Vice-captain."
Then Shiraishi smiled. "Fine." He pointed at Chitose's unopened lunchbox, which he had forgotten was still in his hand. "Eat."