Rating: Uh, bad language and violence towards children
Summary: Ryoma visits Shiraishi to watch some movies, but Shira's in a bad mood and takes it out on his kohai by shoving him into a bookshelf and knocking him out. :O
Ryoma finished towelling off his hair, tossing the towel into the bin and shouldering his tennis bag with one arm and his schoolbag with the other, heading out of the locker room and towards the bus stop. Digging around in his pocket as he waited for the bus, he finally found the crumpled piece of paper with Shiraishi-sempai's address and the directions outlining how to get there from the bus stop.
The bus came soon enough, and Ryoma watched the streets pass by in the evening sun, waiting until it neared his stop before pulling the cord and hauling his bags down the stairs, glancing at the directions one last time before setting off down the street in what should be the right direction. It didn't take all that long; soon enough he approached the correct address and trekked up to the front door, knocking and waiting for an answer. He sure hoped these DVDs of Shiraishi-sempai's weren't in French or something weird like that.
Shiraishi Aoi, fourteen, tall like his brother, soccer player, sighed and looked up from his homework to stroll over to the door and pulled out the locks before opening the rather dark green door soundly. The light and heat from the outside fanned over his air-conditioned skin, making dyed-black eyebrows twitch in irritation. Why did their house have to face the sun? Did God want them all to go blind?
Shifting his weight from foot to foot, the brown-eyed youth looked at the stranger at his door apathetically. He looked about his age but Aoi couldn't recognize him from any class. "I don't think I know you," the younger said, tone uninterested, "I think you have the wrong house."
Slim eyebrows rose as a thought hit the boy, "Oh, are you selling cookies or something?"
Ryoma stared up at the boy who'd opened the door - definitely not Shiraishi-sempai, but any doubt that he'd gotten the right house disappeared in an instant. The hair color was different, and this one was definitely younger, but he was unmistakably related to Shiraishi. Right down to the attitude.
Ryoma shot him a glare that tried to convey something like WTF I am NOT selling cookies and sighed loudly, hitching his tennis bag a little higher on his shoulder. "M'here for your brother," he said purposefully. "Shiraishi Kuranosuke." Damn, that really was a mouthful when you had to say the whole thing. Ryoma wondered what the boy's parents had been thinking, and concluded shortly thereafter that they probably hadn't been. "You gonna make me stand here all day?" Shiraishi hadn't told him about siblings - or at least, not that Ryoma could actively recall - but hopefully they got along well enough to at least let one another's friends into the house. It was hot out here.
Out of the corner of his eye, Aoi could distinctly see his brother as the university student sauntered down the sidewalk, tugging at his shirt. Ignoring his brother completely, the black-haired boy deadpanned, "My brother doesn't have any friends so why would there be a little boy here to see him?"
"Aoi, you fucktard! Why the hell are you doing?!"
Alas, Aoi underestimated the hearing capabilities of his brother. Still he didn't flinch when Shiraishi started cursing at him. Ah, family bonds.
Oh, just great. Ryoma was about to shoot back some scathing comment about not being a little boy when he heard someone from down the walk a little ways - turning to glance behind, he saw that yes, it was indeed Shiraishi-sempai and no, he didn't look any happier than Ryoma felt at the moment. It looked like at least some part of Shiraishi's life was normal - he apparently fought with his brother as much as Ryoma'd heard siblings were supposed to.
"Bein' an airhead - just in case it wasn't obvious enough that he's related to you," Ryoma replied for Aoi, though the comment was directed more toward Aoi and less toward Shiraishi, for the most part. He leaned against the doorframe as Shiraishi-sempai approached. "Didn't think I'd beat you here."
Shiraishi lifted an eyebrow, jogging up the path to his house. His mood hadn't gotten any better since yesterday; in fact, it had probably worsened if anything. Inviting over Ryoma most likely was not the best of ideas. Though, at the time he had been feeling better after eating something. Going back to classes had reversed the effect of the food doubly.
"I didn't think you'd come running," the brunette mumbled under his breath, shoving his brother out of the way and letting both himself and Echizen in. Taking off his shoes and dropping his bag on of the dark brown couches, the older boy shuffled over to the kitchen, which was attached to the living room, in search of something to drink. "Echizen, want some grape soda?"
... Well, this was new. Ryoma had to admit, he'd never seen Shiraishi-sempai annoyed. But he certainly seemed nothing but, at the moment. Nonetheless, he followed the other into the house, brushing past the other boy and pulling off his shoes, leaving his bags by the front door where hopefully no one would trip on them. Glancing back, he gave the younger sibling a questioning look, but didn't have time to wait for a reply in kind before Shiraishi asked him if he wanted soda.
"Yeah, if you got any," he replied, following the brunette into the kitchen and glancing around as his sempai dug through the fridge. "You're personable today. Fail a test or something?" Ryoma sighed inwardly - he knew he wasn't helping, but what was he supposed to do? Shiraishi had the right to be annoyed at whatever the hell he wanted to be annoyed at. Ryoma didn't really know if it was something Shiraishi would want to talk about any more than he knew if it was something he wanted to hear about.
"Shut..." Shiraishi paused, grabbing two purple cans in one hand and a container of strawberries in the other. Straightening up, he stretched, closing the fridge door with his hip. Staring at the younger boy like he was an idiot, he thrust the strawberries towards him. "Are you stupid? I don't fail tests. And hold these."
Using his now free hand to nab a tub of melted chocolate sitting on top of the microwave, he gruffly gestured his head to the right where the stairs led to the basement. Glancing over to his younger brother who was now avidly watching the world cup instead of doing his schoolwork he scowled. "Don't be a dumbass and do your homework, you retard."
"... Well how'm I supposed to know?" Ryoma muttered, taking the strawberries (what choice did he have?) and following Shiraishi towards the stairs, not bothering to glance over when the other reprimanded his brother. Once they were at the bottom, Ryoma grabbed one of the cans out of Shiraishi's hand and looked around for someplace to set the strawberries, settling for the nearest clean surface. He watched his sempai carefully, almost a little concerned - not that he'd ever show it, that would be stupid, and Shiraishi could more than likely take care of himself, but this was definitely weird.
"So what're you so pissed about? Geez, don't ask me to come over if you're just going to bite my head off," Ryoma said, concentrating on opening the can and taking a drink. "Or are you always this friendly after a day of classes?"
A little 'clang!' vibrated through the partially silent room as Shiraishi slammed his can down on the glass table beside the couch. That had been unintentional and he sort of regretted it. Throwing something down when one was mad always seemed impossibly rude. And now he was even more annoyed and he trudged over to the TV, examining the shelf of movies and shows before picking out 'Suicide Circle'. They'd had it since it had first come out, a couple of years ago, and he still hadn't seen it.
"What the hell? You're pissed off every single time I see you and I don't bitch at you about it, so let me be pissed off and watch the fucking movie," was Shiraishi's scathing reply as he popped in the disc and grabbed the two remotes off the TV before walking back to the couch. "I didn't think you'd come running here the first chance you got."
Ryoma didn't jump, but if he'd been any less prone to hiding just about any feeling behind a mask of half-boredom, he would have. As it was, the half-boredom and partial concern warped into anger now - "I am not pissed off all the time," he shot back - recent events notwithstanding, of course. Who wouldn't be pissed with Yukimura jumping down your throat like that?
He shot Shiraishi-sempai a sullen, bitter look, taking another drink. "An' I did not 'come running.' In case you forgot, you invited me." And he was starting to wonder if taking him up on it, for once, hadn't been a mistake after all. "What'd you want me to do, wait 'till next week?" Ryoma watched the older boy warily as he fiddled with the remotes. "Fine, be pissed off, but don't expect me to pat your back over it in the meantime."
The brunette snorted, jamming his fingers down on the remote and watching the movie start. The cry of 'a-one... a-two... a-three...' drifted onto the background, as the older boy watched the schoolgirls jump onto the tracks and get run over by the train. Wow, litres upon litres of blood right at the start. Nice.
"I don't need a selfish little brat to comfort me in any way," he sneered, eyeing the shorter boy. "God bless Tezuka for putting up with you."
Ryoma blinked - just what the hell kind of movie was this? He knew Shiraishi was weird - and obviously weirder, now that he was in a crappy mood - but really. Did he have to watch something like this?
"I am not selfish," he said shortly, leaning one hip against the couch armrest and crossing arms over his chest. "I don't need this from you. You're the one acting like a little kid." Honestly, Ryoma had decided to come because Shiraishi-sempai always had a strange knack for making him forget whatever was bothering him for a while, usually with wacky antics. But this was not was he'd been expecting - and he was far too annoyed to bother backing down. He'd taken enough crap from people whose opinions didn't matter to him earlier this week. He wasn't about to take it from people whose opinions he did actually care to consider. "F'you didn't want me to come you shoulda told me so."
Scowling deeply, Shiraishi shoved at the other’s shoulder a bit. The movie hummed in the background, the lame suspense music ticking off the dark-eyed youth. His entire body was tense and, God, did he want to do something that he’d both regret doing and not doing. “Have you even done anything nice for someone else recently?”
Ryoma made a face, shoving back with his shoulder so he could continue leaning on the couch - though why he wasn't up the stairs and on his way out the door was very questionable, at this point. He took a long, pointed drink, swirling the remains of the liquid around in the can and eyeing his sempai sideways. "What am I, a community service? I came over here, didn't I?"
Though that was more of a disservice to himself, it was feeling like. "What have you done that's so great, huh? Don't see you bein' all sparkly-happy." Ryoma frowned as he was momentarily distracted by the action on the screen, wondering if a movie like this was worth spending the afternoon with an overly-cranky Shiraishi.
“Fuck you, Echizen. Coming over here is no fucking favour to me you ungrateful little brat.” Shiraishi wasn’t yelling but each word came out as hissed threat. The coldness of the can of soda in his bandaged hand was sticking to the cloth and numbing his fingers. He just couldn’t believe that this little brat thought he was so perfect and everything he did was so nice and the entire world was just out to get him.
Well, rar to him too.
“You egoistic little bastard,” he sneered, shoving at the younger’s shoulder again, more harsh. “Echizen Ryoma’s perfect isn’t he? Everything he does is never his fault, he’s a saint~!” Another shove, harder. “Just by existing he’s doing the world good.” Another shove. “God… it fucking pisses me off.” This time, he swung his fist back to punch that already sore shoulder, and falling forward to push the other with his entire body. “You’re just a kid that can play tennis!”
Ryoma just stared for a moment, as Shiraishi started... well, attacking was about the best word he could come up with - he frowned and shoved back against the other's shoves, wondering why the hell Shiraishi had to take it out on his shoulder, of all things. The first shove had just been a shove, but now it was starting to hurt. And what the hell - did Shiraishi really think that about him? Then fine - maybe it was time to end this whole mess. He'd had enough of this -
Ryoma had just opened his mouth to shoot something back when Shiraishi swung back - and punched him this time, shoving harder with all of his weight behind it. Ryoma hadn't been expecting something like that - he was already off balance, and stumbled backwards, blinking, until he hit something - a table - which was too small and flimsy to support the force of his fall.
He felt himself go over backwards, over the table, with nothing to hold onto and then suddenly he was stopped with a jarring *crack!* at the back of his skull that exploded stars across his vision. Mouth still open, he couldn't get anything to come out - saw his hat fall to the ground, and felt the can of Ponta slip from unresponsive fingers, as the image of Shiraishi's basement slowly faded as the fireworks going off in his head took over. And then it all faded to black.
Shiraishi froze, all anger instantly dissipating when the younger boy fell back and stopped moving.
“Ah… Ryoma-kun?” Sliding off the couch, the taller squatted there for a second, before hopping over to the unconscious boy. Tentatively reaching out slim fingers, he snuck them to back of the other’s head. No bump or blood. Good, that meant he’d be alright. Though the fact was; Shiraishi’d knocked a little boy out. Guilt crept into his heart, and he frowned heavily.
Grabbing the other by his shirt, he drug him up to the couch letting him lie there, hopefully he’d come to soon. With a sigh, he eyed the purple liquid slowly spreading to the carpet in the middle of the room. Looking over to take a towel from beside the shelf (which was thankfully still in place) he wiped up the mess and set the can upright. Walking out of the room to the small bathroom on the other side of the hallway, he tossed the towel in the sink and headed back. The first thing Shiraishi noticed was a hat, lying innocently on the floor.
“Work your magic little buddy…” he muttered picking up the article and waving it in front of Ryoma’s face.
"Mmngh." Blinking too-heavy eyelids, Ryoma winced and tried to figure out what was going on. He had a pounding headache, worse than he could remember ever having, his pulse throbbing in his ears and his head felt like it wanted to explode. This didn't feel like his bed... Too lumpy in the wrong places. And why was there a fan in his face?
He blinked a few more times, realizing slowly that it wasn't a fan - it was a hat? His vision was still fuzzy, like he was looking through fog, but he was able to finally make out the person holding the hat, waving it in front of his face. "S-Sh'ishi-sempai?" he mumbled, tongue feeling thick. He tried to sit up - which only resulted in a sharp shock of pain across the back of his skull; he lay back down, deciding that wasn't a good idea. "Wha' happ'nd? Why're you here?"
“You’re very clumsy, Ryoma-kun,” Shiraishi admonished, placing the hat on the other’s chest, “Coming over to my house and knocking yourself out!”
"... I wha'?" Blinking again, Ryoma tried to process what the other had said. He was at Shiraishi's house... he'd knocked himself out? Well, okay, that explained the pounding, throbbing pain in the back of his head. But how? He tried to remember what had happened - hell, tried to remember coming over here, but it... wasn't there. He thought he remembered tennis practice, thought he remembered getting on the bus, and maybe knocking on a door... but that was it. Nothing about freaking knocking himself out.
Well, whatever he'd done, it was done. And now, "Don' feel so good," he mumbled; aside from the obvious pain, his body felt far away and barely attached to his mind. He felt nauseous. And he wanted to go to sleep.
A small smile graced Shiraishi’s lips as he lightly petted the other boy’s hair. Looking down and noticing the slightest of bulges in Ryoma’s pocket, slipped in his fingers and produced a cell phone. It would be a good idea to call his mother and get her to pick him up, right? However, she could get mad at him for knocking her son out and bomb his house or something. That wouldn’t be too pretty. Then again, he had to get the younger boy home some how. His mother was out with his father for the night and he had to cook dinner for himself and Aoi so, he couldn’t drive home Ryoma even if he wanted to.
“Ryoma-kun, I’m going to call your mom ok?” Shiraishi said, settling down on the floor. “Hope you don’t mind if I use your cell.”
Ryoma would've nodded, but that would've hurt. Instead he just said, "'Kay," and watched Shiraishi settle down to call his mother. He couldn't remember what time she got home at night, but it was probably late enough that she'd be there. He hoped so - he was so tired...
He heard Shiraishi-sempai start talking, but it sounded far away - his eyelids were too heavy; slowly, his eyes slipped shut, and by the time his sempai had finished on the phone with his mother, Ryoma was sound asleep.
By the time Shiraishi had managed to carry Ryoma up the stairs making sure that the boy’s head didn’t hit anything (being completely ignored by his brother who was engrossed in the latest soccer match), there was a soft knock at his door. Swishing over, the brunette struggled with the lock for a while before moving back and asking Ryoma’s mother to open it herself. A few polite words were exchanged and Shiraishi put the younger boy safely in his car, and waved goodbye.
It wasn’t until he was back inside cleaning the mess the two had made that he noticed a hat lying on his couch. Shiraishi sighed, great.