Chapter 8

"I cannot believe you're making me do this," Shishido muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and wishing he dared loosen his tie. At least this was Hyoutei, and the chairs in the auditorium were comfortable rather than being the cheap stackable type used by most schools. They could have been the plushest, most well padded chairs in the world and he still would have felt uncomfortable, though.

"You asked for our help, and we're giving it to you," Atobe informed him sardonically. "Stop fidgeting, it's not like we're asking you to sit through some sort of excruciating torture. The Hyoutei orchestra is one of the best student orchestras in the city, if not the country. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy yourself." When Shishido gave him a sceptical look, Atobe smirked and gestured at the shorter boy between them. "If Jirou can stay awake for this, surely you can sit still for it."

"He'll be asleep by the end of the first action, or movement or whatever it's called," Shishido predicted, making Atobe chuckle and Jirou frown at him.

"I will not! I like music," the smaller boy protested, but his eyelids were already starting to droop. When Shishido snorted at him, Jirou sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I do. Wake me up for Ohtori-kun's part, at least? I don't want to miss it."

"We will," Shishido assured him, sighing and slumping back into his own seat. "And I know I asked for your help, but this wasn't exactly what I had in mind. What am I going to accomplish by coming to the stupid concert?"

"You show him that you still care enough about him to be interested in something that matters a great deal to him," Atobe replied tartly. "Something which isn't particularly to your own tastes, but which you are willing to attend precisely because it matters to him. Now hush, they're going to start."

Indeed, the various random (and not terribly melodic) noises produced by an orchestra warming up had ceased, and the lights around the auditorium were starting to dim. The chatter among the audience died off as people settled into their seats with a last rustle of paper. Shishido slumped a little further into his own chair, crossing his arms over his chest and trying not to scowl.

It wasn't that he didn't like music, though he certainly didn't understand why people claimed to see images or entire stories in a bunch of notes strung together. And it wasn't that he didn't want to see Ohtori, because he did, and he loved hearing the younger boy play.

Honestly, it was mostly that he'd developed a severe dislike for Amano, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. They hadn't exactly spent a great deal of time together, or really any since their 'discussion' in the library, but whenever they saw each other in the halls sparks flew. Which was a bit of an odd sensation, since the pianist was almost always in Ohtori's company, and the tall junior was being as icy as ever towards Shishido.

It hadn't taken much for Shishido to figure out that his first step needed to be an apology. A damn sincere one, at that. He wasn't naive enough to think that would be enough, but it might at least get Ohtori speaking to him again.

There was no way in hell he was going to do his groveling in front of Amano, though. He needed to get Ohtori alone, and considering the younger boy was pulling the same tricks Shishido had used to avoid him, that was proving to be damn near impossible. He didn't think attending the concert was likely to garner him an opportunity, but Atobe had insisted that if he wanted Ohtori to believe he was sincere, he had to attend.

As the first notes of the piece swirled up and out around the audience, Shishido tried to set his worries aside and just listen. He wanted to be able to honestly tell Ohtori later that he'd enjoyed the piece, at least.

He'd always thought it was just a little pretentious that Sakaki tended to have the orchestra play the pieces he'd written, instead of the usual classical stuff. After all, if the guy's music was all that good, he'd remarked once to Ohtori after listening to a practice, why was he still a high school music teacher and tennis coach?

Ohtori had laughed and said that while Sakaki was certainly no Mozart or Beethoven (whoever they were), his music was fairly well suited to the level of the orchestra and did have the advantage of being able to showcase whoever was most talented among the students at the time.

Which, Shishido was once again reminded as the music picked up and the strings came in, was Ohtori and Amano this time around. The sweet strains of the lead violin soared up above the main theme, a poignant descant to the rest of the orchestra. The students were up on the stage rather than down in the pit since this concert was for them alone, and Shishido stared at Ohtori as the younger boy threw himself into his music.

He was hardly even aware of the piano line coming in and racing to catch up to the violin in a brief struggle for dominance. Then the fight was over, and they were flying together, supporting and encouraging each other to new heights. Shishido realized he was holding his breath only when his chest began to burn, and he released the air as quietly as he could.

He might not feel magic in music, might not see the pictures and stories, but even he couldn't be completely unmoved by this. He didn't know if Sakaki had truly outdone himself, or if Ohtori and Amano were just that damn good, but he privately didn't think the Hyoutei orchestra would ever be able to top this performance. The two juniors were putting everything they had into it, and it was... breathtaking.

When it was over, Shishido found himself on his feet applauding with everyone else, his hands stinging with how hard he was clapping. His breath was still a little tight in his chest, and he couldn't stop staring at Ohtori as the silver-haired boy stood, bowing to the audience to accept the accolades. Shishido was vaguely aware that Amano was doing the same over at the piano, but all his attention was fixed on the glowing, ecstatic look on Ohtori's face.

Beside him Jirou was bouncing and shouting his own cheers, the sound of his voice all but lost in the thundering ovation. Atobe was standing and clapping as well, though he appeared somewhat less swept away by the experience than his two friends. Well, as he'd been telling them on the way to the concert, Atobe had been exposed to the best music and musicians in the world since he was a child, so perhaps this was somewhat less impressive to him. It didn't matter to Shishido... all he really cared about what how it had made him feel, and the triumphant look that was still plastered on Ohtori's face.

By the time the applause began to die down and people in the audience started talking, Shishido finally felt like he was able to breathe normally again. "Wow, that was so awesome," Jirou was exclaiming, eyes wide with as much excitement as he evidenced during only the most difficult tennis matches. "Atobe, Shishido, did you hear that? Wasn't that fantastic? Wow, they're so amazing! I knew Ohtori-kun was good, but I didn't know he was that good, did you? Wow!"

Laughing, Atobe reached out and ruffled Jirou's hair. "Calm down, Jirou. Yes, they were quite excellent, especially Ohtori and Amano. But we're not on a tennis court, and people are starting to stare."

Jirou's voice had carried even in the muffled acoustics of the audience area, designed to minimize the interference of crowd noise. Shishido looked back at the stage, expecting the sound of the familiar excited voice to have drawn Ohtori's attention, but to his dismay the junior was nowhere to be seen. He'd evidently been one of the first to leave the stage; as had Amano, Shishido noted with a sigh. So much for catching his former partner while the pianist was busy with his adoring fans. He'd been sort of hoping Amano would be the egotistical type and hang around basking in the attention and praise, but no such luck.

"I'm going backstage," Shishido announced, mouth set in a stubborn line that dared either of his two friends to tell him it was a bad idea. "I need to talk to him, damn it. To tell him how good that was, if nothing else."

"You'll hardly be able to get him alone," Atobe warned him with a raised eyebrow. "There will be musicians and well-wishers everywhere, and he and Amano will probably be staying together for pictures and such."

"I don't care," Shishido insisted. "You know what? Fuck it. At least in public he won't be able to make as much of a scene, and maybe it'll help me corner him where he can't get away." And maybe, if he could bring himself to do it, debasing himself in public would get through to Ohtori that he was deadly serious about making amends. He'd done as much to get his spot back on the team. Was his best friend and partner worth any less?

"Good luck, and tell him I thought he was wonderful," Jirou said, still grinning from ear to ear. "We'll wait outside for you - three's a crowd, and all." He blinked, and tilted his head. "Except there'd be four of us, if we all went back there. What does four make?"

"Two people too many," Atobe answered, as Shishido snorted in amusement. "Just be careful you don't push too far, Ryou. He's not going to forgive you all at once, assuming he forgives you at all."

"Small steps, I know," Shishido agreed. "I can handle it. I'll see you guys outside."

He started edging his way out of the row, sidestepping people who were slower to gather their things to leave. He stepped on more than a few toes, he thought, but he just muttered absent apologies and kept going. He wanted to get back there before Ohtori was totally overwhelmed with other well-wishers, or worse, before he left entirely.

Since he wasn't in the least reluctant to use elbows and judiciously applied force to get him through the crowds, he made it to the 'green room' area in good time. The place was swarming with music students putting away their instruments, family members come to dote on the students, and various assorted other people. Cameras were flashing everywhere, and he heard reporters trying to shout questions to Sakaki who was holding court in the center of the room.

No matter where he looked, though, he couldn't spot Ohtori. He tried asking a few of the students, but they just shrugged and shook their heads, saying they hadn't seen him since he and Amano had left the stage.

He was just about ready to give up, glumly concluding that the two stars of the show had made an early escape for some reason, when he happened to overhear a snippet of conversation between three girls that caught his attention.

"Where'd the lovebirds go? Everybody's asking for them," one of them grumbled as she cleaned her clarinet. Shishido felt his heart clench oddly at her choice of words; given the context, it wasn't hard to figure out who she was talking about. Gods, did Ohtori and Amano actually advertise their relationship? Granted, musicians were kind of expected to lean in that direction, but admitting it was another thing entirely!

"Who knows?" one of the other girls replied, rolling her eyes. Shishido did his best to blend into the crowd behind them, wanting to know more about what the other musicians thought of Ohtori. "Downstairs to the practice rooms, probably."

"Do they think the rest of us don't know what they're up to when they vanish like this?" the third giggled, twirling a cleaning rod in her fingers. "Seriously."

"I think the question is more, 'do they even realize anybody else exists'," the second one snorted.

"Only when we miss a note!" the first put in, laughing. "And then brrr, watch the temperature drop! I'm not sure which of them is worse; Ohtori's nicer about it, but he's better at the Ice Prince act than Amano. They're welcome to each other, I say. Anyone else would be frozen solid in a week."

"I don't know, I think it's an awful shame," the third sighed. "They're both so gorgeous. And Ohtori's not as bad now as he was at the beginning of term. More like the way he was last term."

"Didn't I hear he had a thing going with someone in the tennis club last term?" the first asked, eyes shining. Shishido's breath caught as he realized they had to be referring to him. The music students thought he and Ohtori had been together? Was he the only one who hadn't known about his partner's crush on him?

"Nah, I think that was unrequited," one of the others answered. "He was definitely nicer last term, though. Wonder why? You'd think actually getting some would make him happier."

Shishido's nails were digging into his palms, and he had to bite his lip to keep from interrupting as the third girl leaned in towards the other two. "Well, I heard he had a really nasty break-up fight with the guy in the tennis club, and that's why Amano's so protective of him," she murmured, making the other two giggle. "Michiko told me he was totally heartbroken."

"So what's he doing with Amano, then?" the first asked. "He seems pretty happy to me."

"I guess he got over the first guy," the other shrugged, and they all giggled again. "Considering the way he and Amano are always..."

Shishido had heard enough. Swallowing the bile that was threatening to rise, he all but stormed out of the music room and down the hall. He didn't particularly want to hear about whatever it was that Ohtori and Amano were 'always...', nor did he want to think about it. Jirou's confession that he occasionally thought of Shishido that way had made Shishido re-evaluate a lot of the things that he'd believed had bothered him most about Ohtori's orientation, but that didn't mean he wanted to hear details!

He could make his apology to Ohtori later. The concert was traditionally held on the last day of the fall term; surely at some point in the next few weeks Shishido would be able to corner the junior at home to talk to him. Hell, he might even be able to enlist Ohtori's family's help, if he told them he was trying to make up for a fight he'd had with their son. For now, the only thing he wanted was to escape out into the cool night air, find Atobe and Jirou, and go home.

Unfortunately the halls were crowded with people, and everyone was talking about the two stars of the show. No matter which way he turned there were clusters of people blocking the halls, and he couldn't escape the repeated reminders of his former partner and the junior's boyfriend. Frustrated with his inability to get anywhere, he finally turned and took one of the side halls that led to the stairs. He could cut across on another floor and avoid the crush of people, then get out of the school on the other side.

Later he would never be sure if he'd honestly forgotten what the girls had said, or if it was some imp of the perverse in his subconscious mind that made him go down the stairs instead of up. The lower floor was as deserted as the upper ones would have been, just rows and rows of doors, placed much closer together than was normal for classrooms.

The placement of the doors puzzled him for a moment as he walked, until he remembered; these were the small, soundproofed individual practice rooms for the music students, not classrooms. The thought jogged his memory at the same time that he heard the sound of people murmuring from the door nearest him, and he froze.

Practice rooms. Ohtori and Amano. The 'lovebirds'... and what did the rest of the orchestra think they were up to when they disappeared? Shishido really didn't want to know, but neither could he seem to convince his feet to move as the murmuring turned into a soft moan.

The door nearest him was open just a bit, though there was no light inside. The only illumination came from the dim lights in the hall where Shishido was standing, throwing most of the room beyond into deep shadow. When the occupants spoke again, this time Shishido was able to make out the words.

"We shouldn't be doing this." Shishido couldn't mistake that voice for anyone but Ohtori, even lowered and with an odd edge of strain in it. "They're going to come looking for us. I thought I heard footsteps."

"If they were looking for us, they'd have been calling our names," Amano replied, his voice a silky murmur in the darkness. "That's why we left the door cracked, remember? So we'd hear them if they called for us. Relax, Choutarou. I didn't hear anything, and even if there was someone out there, it was probably just some of the others looking for a private place to celebrate. Same as us."

"Kazuya..." the warning note in Ohtori's voice was swallowed by a sudden gasp, and another moan. Shishido's eyes were starting to adjust to the gloom, and he could make out the dim outlines of two people inside the room, pressed up tight against the wall. The barely open door gave him an odd view, since he was only able to see a thin strip of the two boys, but he could see enough to figure out what was going on, more or less.

The taller body was leaning against the wall like it was the only thing holding him up, and the shorter one was clinging to him like a leech. Given that Amano was even shorter than Shishido, it wasn't hard to tell who was who. The pianist shifted, and Shishido finally realized what was making Ohtori gasp like that; Amano had his hand down the other junior's pants.

Heart leaping wildly in his throat, Shishido told himself to run, get the hell out of there, or at least back up quietly and retreat until he couldn't hear them any more. Let alone see them. Not only was this so utterly none of his business, but the last thing he needed was to re-trigger his phobic reaction by actually getting an eyeful of the two in action.

He'd taken one cautious step backwards, not wanting to make noise and alert them that he was there, when Ohtori gasped again and shifted. The change in position put his face partly into the dim light from the hall, and Shishido froze again. He told himself it was just because he was afraid movement from him would attract Ohtori's gaze, but the truth was Ohtori's eyes were closed and he obviously wasn't paying attention to anything much other than what Amano was doing.

Which was... ohdeargods, he was unzipping Ohtori's pants, pulling them down far enough to free Ohtori's cock, and now Shishido could see his pale hand moving over the paler flesh. Ohtori had thrown his head back, an expression of tortured bliss on his face as he clutched at the wall and Amano's shoulders.

Another step, and Shishido was pressed against the wall beside the door. At least that meant he wasn't an obvious silhouette in the hall lights should one of them happen to glance over, and now he could keep edging backwards and out of sight without attracting attention. Except his feet weren't moving. Why weren't his feet moving?

"C'mon, Choutarou, I want to celebrate," Amano was whispering slyly. "We've earned it. You were so incredible up there. We were so incredible. Let me make you feel as good as it made me feel to play with you like that." Ohtori moaned again, louder this time, a tacit invitation for Amano to continue that the pianist didn't hesitate to act on.

It took everything Shishido had to tear his eyes away from the expression on Ohtori's face. He was going to look away damn it, not down, he was not looking down hewasnotlooking...

Fuck. Shishido bit down hard on a whimper of his own, tasting blood spilling into his mouth from where one of his teeth had pierced the flesh of his lip. All right, yes, he was looking down and he was totally fixated on watching the way Amano's hand was sliding slowly over the taller boy's cock and he was reacting to the sight in a rather visceral way.

And that was... that was okay, right? Well, no, not even he could convince himself that it was 'okay' to be watching his best friend get jacked off by his boyfriend without the two of them being aware he was there, but... but it was okay that he was reacting. Right? Hell, after more than two months of frustration and endless cold showers, he'd probably be reacting to just about anything overtly sexual in nature. It didn't mean anything...

The rather ineffective attempt at convincing himself flew straight out the window when Amano dropped to his knees and took Ohtori into his mouth. The sounds Ohtori was making would have been enough to shatter Shishido's denial all by themselves, but the part that really struck him down was they way they looked.

Some quirk of fate had made Amano choose to pull his hair up into a high ponytail for the night, nearly identical to the hairstyle Shishido had once worn to play tennis. With the dim light hiding the lack of muscle tone and the green tint to Amano's hair, the junior suddenly eerily resembled Shishido himself, back before he'd cut his hair. Shishido's mind was more than happy to make the jump in imagination, picturing himself in Amano's place, making those soft sucking sounds and forcing those strangled noises out of Ohtori's throat.

The mental image had him so instantly, painfully hard that he throbbed with the force of it, and would have staggered if he weren't already leaning against the wall. Terrified he would make enough noise for the two in the room to notice him and be caught out, he turned and bolted for the nearest practice room behind him.

There were muffled exclamations of surprise and dismay, but Shishido (he hoped) reached the other practice room before the two juniors could gather themselves and their dignity enough to actually look to find out who had been watching them. Thankfully the door was unlocked; if it hadn't been Shishido thought he might have broken it down, or maybe just died of mortification on the spot when Ohtori realized he'd been standing there the whole time.

He slammed the door behind him and leaned against it, his breath harsh in the still air of the soundproofed room. Distantly on the other side of the door he could hear muffled footsteps and a familiar voice calling out, asking if anyone was there, but he knew they probably wouldn't go testing every door just to check. After all, Amano had been more or less right earlier - who else would be down here but someone else wanting privacy?

Unable to bear it a moment longer, Shishido slipped his hand down the front of his dress slacks and curled his fingers around his cock, hissing as the rough callous on his palm dragged against the sensitive skin. He beat himself off at a furious pace, quick harsh strokes that made him grateful for the soundproofing as his voice got out of his control.

It was the memory of a dark head bobbing over pale flesh and darker fabric that drove him; and, he couldn't deny it, his own imagination supplied hazy thoughts of what it would have been like if it had been him and not Amano doing that to Ohtori. What it would have felt like, tasted like... how it would have sounded, to hear Ohtori crying his name in that breathless whimper...

He came hard, stifling his shout with his other hand, not sure the soundproofing would be enough to muffle that. He'd never quite believed all the stupid romantic crap about seeing stars or your vision going white as you came, but he definitely lost track of the world around him for a few moments there at the end. Shuddering with the force of it, panting and whimpering at every tiny bit of sensation on his now over-sensitive skin, Shishido leaned against the door and struggled for equilibrium.

Dearest fucking gods, he'd just watched his best friend getting a blowjob from another guy. He'd just jerked off to a fantasy of his best friend getting a blowjob from him. What the hell was wrong with him?

The shivery sensation in his chest was choking him, and that roiling feeling in his gut was back. Only the sick feeling didn't seem as much like revulsion as he'd always told himself it did. It felt more like fear; the kind of devastating fear he'd felt when Tachibana had utterly destroyed him on the courts, and everything he'd ever believed about the world and about himself had been turned on its head.

That time, it had been the realization that his cocksure arrogance on the courts had been nothing but false pride that had torn him apart. The basis for his entire sense of self-worth, his prowess at tennis, had been stripped from him. He'd clawed his way back up from the depths, remaking himself in the fire of his determination not to remain fallen, but he was a very different person now than he had been then.

Leaning against the door, his fist covered with semen and still wrapped around his semi-hard cock, Shishido's whole body shuddered with dry sobs as he wondered how much of him was going to survive the epiphany this time.

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