Chapter 7

Shishido couldn't remember ever being more miserable in his entire life. Not only did the temperature in the area drop about ten degrees any time he and Ohtori happened to run into each other in the halls, but Jirou and Atobe weren't speaking to him either. Jirou just gave him big soulful eyes and fled any time Shishido got near, like he was afraid Shishido would start yelling at him again. And Atobe was treating him like something that needed to be scraped off the bottom of his shoe.

It made for some extremely uncomfortable classes, that was for damn sure. Shishido and Atobe were both in the 3-1 class, as was Oshitari; Jirou and Mukahi were in 3-2, though if Jirou hadn't slept through half his exams last year Shishido was fairly certain all three of them would have been in the top class together. But Atobe and Shishido had chosen to sit next to each other at the start of the year, and now they were stuck with the arrangement.

Not like he'd never fought with Atobe before, or with Jirou for that matter. They'd had some pretty spectacular fights in the past. But he'd never been on the outs with both of his friends at once before, and not having anyone to talk to or hang out with was slowly driving Shishido to distraction.

After the first week, studying at home in his room had started to draw concerned inquiries from his family about why he never went out any more. Since the absolute last thing he wanted to do was try to explain what was going on, Shishido had taken to retreating to the school library after classes were done, doing his studying in the quiet atmosphere there.

Of course, given his state of mind, he wasn't getting a hell of a lot of studying done. As October headed rapidly towards November, Shishido's grades continued to slip. At this rate he'd be lucky to pass the ascension exams, let alone keep his marks high enough to be able to play on the tennis team, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

Still, he continued to make the effort, because what the hell else was he going to do? Go home and stare at the walls and brood? Find an indoor court where he could play, when even looking at his racquet drove home how very much he'd managed to screw things up?

He'd lost count of the number of times he'd started to call Ohtori. He wasn't even sure what he'd intended to say when his partner - former partner - picked up. Apologize for being such an idiot? Yell at him for putting Shishido into such a damn uncomfortable position? Beg and plead for things to go back to the way they had been?

He never made it to the last number, though. A couple of time he'd tried using the speed dial button, but he always hung up before the call connected. Once, just once, Ohtori's voicemail had kicked in before Shishido could hit the disconnect button. At the sound of the younger boy's voice Shishido had flung the phone away from him so hard it shattered against the wall.

At least his parents had accepted his excuse of dropping the phone and accidentally stepping on it. He hadn't told them about it until after he'd spent the afternoon and evening locked into his room, crying, though. Considering he could probably count on the fingers of one hand the number of things that had ever driven him to tears, that was saying a lot.

That moment had marked the low point of the whole mess. After that Shishido mostly just felt numb, like he was running on automatic. It was as if he was walking around in a daze, speaking when spoken to, but otherwise not interacting with anyone around him. For the most part people left him alone, perhaps sensing that poking at him might bring an extremely unfavourable reaction. As long as he could cling to this odd detachment, he could ignore the feeling that he was bleeding out inside.

The two weeks before his party when Ohtori had seemed to be avoiding him had shown him how important the younger boy had become in his life, but now that there didn't seem to be any chance of recovering their friendship, it felt oddly like part of Shishido had been destroyed along with it. He winced any time he thought about it like that, because it sounded far too much like something out of one of those horrible romance novels Oshitari was always reading, but it was true. You didn't have to be in love to love someone, right? And your best friend could be as big a part of your life as your lover. Ohtori had been all that to him, and more.

Maybe if he could have poured his troubles out to Atobe and Jirou, he would have been able to lance the painful wound before it had a chance to fester. But since neither of them was speaking to him, all he could do was shove the hurt down inside until it wasn't quite so painful, and hope it would go away if he ignored it long enough.

In the end, though, the event that shocked him out of his odd apathy came from a totally unexpected source.

He was studying in the library as usual, trying to force himself to concentrate on the essay he was supposed to be writing. History was usually his favourite subject, but even it had lost its shine for him now. He'd written and scratched out half a dozen opening paragraphs in his notebook when someone speaking suddenly from behind him made him jump.

"You really are an unmitigated asshole, aren't you?" The voice was low and only vaguely familiar, and full of seething anger and hatred. His heart pounding, Shishido turned in his chair and stared at the speaker. Furious silver eyes stared back at him, narrowed with the same emotions that had been in his words.

Shishido finally found his voice. "Excuse me?" he sputtered, cursing his bad luck. Of all the people he absolutely didn't want to run into under any circumstances, Amano was second on the list. Though from the sounds of it, this might not have been a coincidental meeting. "Shouldn't you be in music practice?"

"Half the orchestra has the stomach flu that's going around, including Choutarou," the pianist replied. "Sakaki cancelled practice. And you heard me. Do you want me to put it in smaller words for you so you'll understand?" Silver eyes mocked him. "You're an utter bastard. A jerk. A heartless, unfeeling cad. Want me to keep going?"

Snarling, Shishido half rose from the table, fists clenched. "Where the hell do you get off..."

"D'you know he cried himself to sleep for a week straight?" Amano interrupted him, eyes flashing and hands clenched in fists of his own. "And that was the first time, when he just thought you didn't give a rat's ass about him. I won't even go into how he's reacting now that he thinks you actually hate him, because if I start thinking about it I'm going to punch you out. And frankly, you're not worth getting into trouble over."

The image of Ohtori crying himself to sleep, coupled with the memory of the tall boy's red-rimmed eyes at Atobe's, was enough to make Shishido collapse back into his seat. His breath left him in a rush of pain, but he struggled to keep his expression neutral. "I missed the part where this is any business of yours?" he growled, using anger to cover the hurt.

"Oh, it's very much my business," Amano assured him, moving closer so he could lower his voice to ensure they weren't overheard. "He's my boyfriend, and if you think I'll stay out of it when someone is hurting him this badly, you're very much mistaken."

The air that had left Shishido was now refusing to return, and he stared at the pianist in shock. There had been part of him that suspected, had maybe even known, but... to just hear him say it out loud like that...

"If you don't care about your own reputation, you might at least think about his," he finally snapped, hiding his clenched fists in his lap so Amano wouldn't see the way he was shaking. "You can't go around saying shit like that!"

"You already know, and if you were going to tell anyone you'd have done it before this," Amano asserted, his voice cool as he stared down at Shishido. "I suppose I should be grateful you're not quite that cruel. Or are you saving it to blackmail him with later?"

Without even being aware that he was moving, without even realizing he intended to move, Shishido was up out of his seat and had Amano's collar fisted in his hand, pinning the smaller boy up against the bookshelves. There was no fear in those silver eyes, only fury to match Shishido's own.

"Don't you dare insinuate that I would ever do something like that to Choutarou," Shishido snarled, fighting the urge to plant his other fist into the smug bastard's stomach.

"Why not?" Amano jeered, the effect of his words in no way muted by the slightly choked sound in his voice. "You've already devastated him in every other way that matters. If you actually gave a damn about him, you wouldn't have hurt him so badly."

"You don't know a gods-damned thing, so shut your mouth," Shishido growled, tightening his fist and lifting Amano another inch. "Or I'll fucking well shut it for you. Why the hell did you come here?"

"To let you know what a good job you'd done of hurting him," Amano taunted, still unperturbed. "Since avoiding him is such an important part of your method, I figured you might want to hear how well it was going..."

This time Shishido cut him off with a punch. Some vestige of restraint kept him from striking the pianist himself; instead he smashed his fist into the bookcase, impacting with the books and sending several of them flying off the shelf. "What's the matter, am I hitting too close to home?" Amano asked softly, eyes narrowed. "I'd almost think you were suffering from a guilty conscience, Shishido."

"Shut the fuck up!" Releasing the younger boy abruptly, Shishido staggered back, nursing his hand. The knuckles were split and bleeding sluggishly, but the pain was just a counterpoint to the crushing agony in his chest. "Just get the hell away from me! Go comfort him, I'm sure you've been more than happy to do that. If you come near me again, I'll kill you, hear me?"

Slowly, deliberately, Amano straightened his uniform jacket, staring Shishido in the eyes the whole time. "You know what the most pathetic part of all this is?" he said softly, venom laced through his tone. "I think you really do love him. You're just too stupidly in denial to see what's in front of your own face, and too plain old stupid to take a good thing when it's offered to you."

Gaping at him, Shishido couldn't even begin to find words to deny his ridiculous accusations. Okay, yes, he'd admitted to himself that Ohtori meant more to him than just about anyone. And he was still taking a hell of a lot of cold showers, as per his earlier resolution. But...

Taking a step forward, Amano lowered his voice further. "You know what else?" the pianist murmured. "By the time you actually admit to yourself what you really want, it'll be too late." Another step forward, and it wasn't until Shishido ran into the table that he realized he'd been backing away.

"In fact," Amano continued doggedly, "it's already too late." Another step, and now he was up in Shishido's face, and Shishido's hands were white-knuckled on the edge of the table to keep him from collapsing. "You had your chance, plenty of chances, and you threw them all away. He's mine now, and you can't have him back." Satisfaction and something more dangerous glittered in the younger boy's eyes.

"And if you ever, ever hurt him again," the long-haired boy all but whispered, "I will personally turn your life into a living hell. I've given him what you couldn't - I love him, and I won't let anyone hurt him. Certainly not you."

Without waiting for Shishido's response, Amano turned and stalked off, flipping his hair over his shoulder in an uncaring gesture. For a long moment Shishido remained frozen against the table, his thoughts in chaos, heart pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to come up through his throat.

Finally he collapsed back into his chair, lowering his head into his hands as he shook with reaction. His numb protection had shattered irretrievably, and everything came crashing down on him at once. How could he have been so damn stupid? How could he have hurt Ohtori so badly? Amano was right about one thing at least; Shishido'd had a chance to fix this, several chances, and all he'd done was hurt Ohtori more.

The pianist had made one major miscalculation, though. In shocking Shishido out of his apathy, he'd also awoken the same determination and fighting spirit that had made Shishido the first person in Hyoutei's history to win his way back onto the Regulars. Yeah, he'd needed Ohtori's help to do it, but that just made it all the more imperative that Shishido find some way to fix this, to make it up to his friend. He owed Ohtori so much.

What the hell difference did it make if Ohtori was gay? Sure, it was a little weird to think about the younger boy thinking about him like that, and sure, the whole thing still bothered Shishido more than he wanted to admit. But Ohtori was his partner, and his best friend. Wasn't that more important?

Grabbing his books, Shishido shoved them into his bag and all but bolted for the door. Atobe had been right, it wasn't like him to run from his problems, but that was exactly what he'd been doing. Well, no more. He was going to face this the same way he faced everything else; with a stubborn refusal to give up and admit defeat. If this mess was all his fault, then he was fucking well going to take responsibility and do something about it.

Jirou's mother let him in with a smile and a comment about how she hadn't seen much of him lately. Shishido started to make an excuse, then remembered his new resolution to start admitting it when he'd screwed up, and instead told her that he'd gotten into a fight with Jirou. The fact that her smile didn't waver in the least told him she already knew - and also that Jirou had probably forgiven him a long time ago, because if the sleepy boy had still been actively upset with him, his over-protective family wouldn't have even let Shishido in the door.

He made his way up the stairs to Jirou's room, not bothering to knock. He knew from his friend's mother that Jirou was alone up here, which meant he was either asleep, or had music turned up really loud on his headphones in an attempt to keep himself awake enough to study. Or both. Either way, he wasn't going to hear Shishido knocking.

It wasn't like it was the first time he'd just strolled into Jirou's room, but he felt a little uncomfortable doing it when things were still so awkward between the two of them. At least Jirou was awake; the other boy's back was to the door as he sat at his desk, and his chin was propped in one hand, but his pen was moving over the notebook and his head was bobbing slightly in time to the beat.

Reaching out, Shishido flipped the switch next to the light switch. It controlled the power to the socket the stereo was plugged into, killing the music instantly. It was the easiest way anyone had found to get Jirou's attention when he was listening to the music; if you went up and touched his shoulder he tended to jump half a foot in the air in surprise.

"Huh?" Startled by the sudden silence from his headphones, Jirou jerked upright and dropped his pen. "Is it dinner already?" Turning, he caught sight of Shishido, and his quizzical expression became apprehensive. "Oh, Shishido. Did you come to yell at me some more?"

"No, dumbass," Shishido couldn't help but snort, grinning weakly at his friend. "I came to apologize, and ask you for help."

"Apologize?" Jirou blinked at him, and Shishido nodded. "And ask for help?" Shishido nodded again. "But, Shishido," the other boy looked thoroughly bewildered, "You never apologize or ask for help."

"I asked Choutarou for help once," Shishido corrected him, and Jirou's eyes widened in understanding. "And I learned an important lesson about it, then. So now I'm asking you."

"You're really not mad at me for interfering any more?" his friend asked cautiously, obviously not trusting this new peace offering entirely. Shishido shook his head.

"I swear," he said. "And I really am sorry for blowing up at you, I know you were just trying to help. Forgive me?"

"Of course," Jirou said it like he shouldn't have even needed to ask. Shishido felt some of the tension he'd been carrying around melt away with that simple agreement, and he sighed. "Have a seat," Jirou invited him, gesturing. "Tell me what's up?"

Shishido chose to sit on the edge of the bed, since he knew from previous experience that all of the other furniture in Jirou's room was horribly uncomfortable. It was deliberate; it didn't prevent the narcoleptic from falling asleep eventually, but it did keep him awake longer. "You already know most of it," he said. "I need to get over this stupid phobic reaction. And then I need to figure out a way to make it up to Choutarou."

"He might not forgive you now, you know," Jirou pointed out softly, turning in his chair to rest his chin on his hands on the back of it. "You hurt him pretty bad, Shishido."

"Yeah, I know," Shishido admitted painfully. "And if he won't, well... I guess I can't blame him. I fucked up royally, didn't I?" Jirou nodded solemnly, and Shishido sighed again. "But even if he won't forgive me, maybe I can at least make it stop hurting so much for him. But first I have to be able to face him without freaking out, damn it!"

"It really bothers you that much?" Jirou looked at him curiously. "Just knowing that he's like that, even if he's gotten over you? You never said anything about Oshitari and Mukahi..."

"I try not to think about them too hard," Shishido cut in dryly, shuddering. "I don't want to know. And that's different, damn it. What they do with each other is their choice; it doesn't have anything to do with me. Choutarou was thinking about me that way, Jirou!"

"It's not like he's the first person ever to have a crush on you," Jirou said, amused. "You used to get girls confessing to you all the time, when you still had long hair. Does it really make that much of a difference that he's a boy? It's not like he expected you to do anything."

"Yes! No. I don't know." Frustrated, Shishido raked a hand through his hair. "Maybe it would be different if he were a girl, but... he's my partner, Jirou. Closer to me in some ways than you and Atobe, maybe. It's just weird."

"So it's just because he was so close to you, that makes it weird?" Jirou asked, and Shishido nodded. "Are you sure?" the smaller boy persisted, and Shishido gave him an odd look. "What if it'd been me?"

"What if it had been you what?" Shishido said blankly. "What if it had been you that Choutarou had a crush on?"

Jirou shook his head. "No. What if it had been me who confessed to having a crush on you?" He waited expectantly as Shishido tried to process that idea.

"But... you don't!" Shishido sputtered, stymied by the very idea. Then he gave Jirou a horrified look. "Do you?" Dear gods, that was all this mess needed, another heart getting broken.

"No, no," Jirou assured him hastily. "I like you and all, but not like that. I'm just saying, 'what if'." Then he grinned impishly, the expression both Shishido and Atobe had learned to be wary of because it usually meant their sleepy friend was about to convince them to get into some kind of trouble. "Though I probably wouldn't say no if you wanted to experiment. But that's beside the point."

"Whoa, hey, wait a minute," Shishido broke in, shocked. "Jirou, you... you..."

"Kinda," the other boy admitted guilelessly. "I dunno, I like girls well enough. But I still wouldn't say no." He tilted his head and looked back at Shishido. "Does that bother you?"

It should have, shouldn't it? Jirou was just as close to him as Ohtori had been. So shouldn't he have been reacting the same way? Slowly, Shishido shook his head. "I dunno. I guess maybe it's the same as with Oshitari and Mukahi - it doesn't involve me, so I don't really care." He gave his friend a sharp look. "Just be careful, okay? You could get really hurt if people found out."

"I know," Jirou assured him. "Not like you even knew, is it? But we're supposed to be worrying about you, not me. How would you have reacted if I'd confessed to you?"

Shishido tried to picture it, and failed. Finally he shook his head. "I just can't imagine it," he admitted. "Hell, Jirou. It's like trying to imagine Atobe confessing to me. I know you don't feel that way about me."

"All right, what if I just told you that I'd thought about you that way sometimes?" Jirou tried again. When Shishido looked at him askance, he shrugged and answered the question he could see in Shishido's eyes. "A few times. It's not a big deal. You and Atobe are the people I spend the most time with, and you're both really hot. Why wouldn't I?"

"I am so never going to be able to watch you sleep again without wondering if you're dreaming about me, you do realize that?" Shishido muttered, looking away uncomfortably. Geez, did Jirou really have to tell him that? Bad enough that he knew about Ohtori...

Only, thinking about Jirou fantasizing about him didn't bring on the same kind of reaction that finding out about Ohtori's crush had. It was kind of like poking at a sore tooth; it gave him a bit of a sour feeling in his stomach, but there was a sort of repulsed fascination at the idea as well. And, as Atobe had said before, he found he was just a little flattered to know that Jirou thought he was hot.

Why didn't it bother him as much? Jirou was arguably closer to him than Ohtori had been. Did it make that much of a difference whether the fantasies had been based on romantic desire or just pure lust and hormones?

Was it just that he'd spent so much time obsessing over Ohtori's feelings for him that he'd sort of numbed himself to the idea of a male friend thinking of him that way? Maybe. But the moment he considered the idea in terms of Ohtori instead of Jirou, that horrible shivery feeling returned to his stomach, twisting him in knots.

"All right, what the fuck?" he burst out, baffled. "It bugs me, but not as much. Why doesn't it bother me as much if it's you, damn it?"

"You've been thinking about it a lot, haven't you?" Jirou asked softly, his voice neutral and carefully not judging. "About him. About him thinking about you. Am I wrong?"

Shishido wanted to deny it, but he couldn't lie. Not to Jirou, not when he'd asked his friend to help him. "Yeah. Obviously, or I wouldn't be such a mess now. So?"

"So maybe the part that bothers you isn't how he feels about you," Jirou shrugged, looking back at him calmly. Shishido stared at him, suspecting where this was going and not entirely sure he was going to be able to argue it. Jirou gave him a sympathetic smile, and concluded, "Maybe what really bothers you is how thinking about how he feels about you makes you feel."

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