Ookiku Furikabutte Fan Fiction ❯ The Best Laid Plans ❯ part 1 ( Chapter 1 )

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Me: Again. I did it again. I sat down to finish my fanfics and in the end, I started a completely new one and finished it first. …What the—!?!? I jumped ship to a new fandom, and then to top it off, this isn't even the first one I planned to write! What happened to my AbeMiha?!?

Tommy: *prompts* You were dying of boredom at work and your perverted mind began to wander, remember?

Me: *grins* Oh yes. Well, no matter. Here it is: my first submission to the fandom of Oofuri for the fans of HanaTaji. I've read countless DJ were Hanai is more or less coerced into these things by Tajima, but I always thought there was something more to Hanai's character, and I longed to see him take charge for once…or at least, be on top! Haha, This here is the fulfillment of my wish. Warnings?

Tommy: *checks transcript* The usual: homoerotic luvin', slight cursing, slight self-devotion—

Me: “Self-devotion?” What the hell is that?

Tommy: Allusions to masturbation.

Me: Ah, P.C.

Tommy: Last but not least, The Mistress does not, nor has she ever, owned the rights to Oofuri nor it's characters, and makes no money from this.

Me: Sadly, that is the case, dear Thomas. Enjoy!

 

16.Dec.09 - 26.Jun.10

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The Best Laid Plans

By Herme23

 

“it's oh so quiet

it's oh so still

you're all alone

and peaceful until…”

 

—Bjork, It's Oh So Quiet

 

part one

 

It was an undeniable (and, probably, a well-known) fact that Hanai Azusa envied Tajima Yuichiro's talent. It was, however, a less-known (probably not-even known) fact that Hanai Azusa *desired* Tajima Yuichiro's…talent. On dark nights, when Hanai was completely alone (and without the chance of seeing Tajima anytime within the next twenty-four hours), he was able to admit to himself that the talent of Tajima's that he envied was *not* the same as the talent of Tajima's that he desired. No, indeed.

 

It wasn't his fault.

 

Tajima was completely to blame for everything. For being made clean-up hitter, to being annoyingly cheerful, to stripping at every turn, to using words Hanai had only ever thought (never uttering them aloud) to openly discuss his nightly—no, daytime—no, afternoon—no…*daily* activities. And not just any activities! Activities of a sexual nature. Of an entirely enticing nature. Of an entirely detailed, arousing, discomfiting nature.

 

If Hanai were to be completely honest with himself he would suppose he'd say he didn't quite help the situation by staring at Tajima every chance he got. But that wasn't Hanai's fault, either. At least, not entirely. Sure, his eyes belonged to him, but Hanai had never, not once—well, okay, maybe once or twice—agreed to allow them to linger upon Tajima's slender form or boyish face for more than four and a half seconds at any given time. A mortifying situation which was further fueled by Tajima's seemingly compelling need to become nude at every turn.

 

Nude, and in Hanai's way.

 

Several times Hanai had to force himself to yell at Tajima to stop undressing in public when all he really wanted to sit back and let himself continue watching as Tajima's damp uniform peeled away to reveal the flushed, slick skin of his back, chest and belly. As Hanai lay on his bed in his dark room, he could feel himself becoming hard at this highly detailed memory of two well-toned legs sliding free of their cloth encasements; the tautness of Tajima's backside; the delicate curve of his spine as it arched to allow him to pull off his long socks. Tajima's flushed face turning to him, lips parted, hot breath panting against Hanai's sensitive skin.

 

Hanai groaned softly to himself, and couldn't help the hand that stole down to press firmly against his erection. Not tonight, he wouldn't give in to Tajima tonight.

 

Thoughts like these had often sustained Hanai through the night, and plagued him throughout the day. It called for a plan of action. See, when Hanai first realized he felt jealousy towards Tajima for his baseball skills, Hanai had coped by keeping his distance. When this plan was foiled by his appointment as team captain, he shifted to Plan B: ignoring Tajima as politely as possible while still keeping Tajima a valuable member of the team, and speaking to him only when necessary.

 

Tajima, unfortunately, often made it necessary.

 

This forced the start of Plan C: avoid Tajima at all costs except when club forced him. The fact that he and Tajima were in different grades and classes, was a mixed blessing that made it easier to not see Tajima, but, of course, then Hanai's *own mind* betrayed him: he began to think of Tajima constantly, sharply, and in ways that were startling in the depths of the night.

 

When it had all first began Hanai had been weak, and he always gave in to the temptations. Of course, this meant that any quick glimpses throughout the day and practices after school would keep Hanai decidedly rosy-cheeked (a term not at all helpful for his ego when added to his flowery surname and girlish given name). It escalated to such a degree that Hanai thought he'd have to begin skipping school altogether if only to recover from the shame. No school meant no baseball, however: bad attendance would surely get him dropped from the team. As captain he couldn't allow himself to do that. He had a duty to the others, after all, to uphold the rules.

 

No, Hanai needed a system, which is where Plan D came in. Plan D was alternately named “Saturday Night Havens.” All of Saturday following practice and throughout the night was free for fantasy, and Sunday, to forget. The two became a sort of double life for Hanai, a completely different person from the one he had to be throughout the week when faced with the prospect of close proximity with the object of his fantasies. It worked well…

 

That is, before yesterday.

 

Yesterday was a Monday. Monday the Fourteenth, surely of a darker evil than even Friday the Thirteenth. Yesterday it had all gone wrong.

 

Remarkably it wasn't one of Those Days: wrong from the moment the alarm clock went off twenty-three minutes late, just before you realize all your good clothes are in the wash, and you remember there's a test you haven't studied for in first period. No, not one of Those Days at all. In fact, it was kinda good, it just…went all wrong right at the end.

 

After practice, Hanai had stayed later than usual. He ran around, helping Shinooka with a few things, and discussing the upcoming training schedule with Momoe. Then, finally, Hanai showered and was dressing in the locker room, tired from practice, from being his Other Self, and from having to correct the mismatched buttons on his shirt for the third time.

 

It was about this time that he realized Tajima was there as well. The last observations that Hanai was able to make were that Tajima hadn't showered yet: he was still in his uniform; also, that he seemed slightly uncomfortable, but Hanai couldn't be sure if the two were connected or not. They made some small talk, very small: Hanai would later never be able to recall what was said before Tajima ruined everything.

 

Suddenly, Tajima leaned down and pressed a sound but fleeting kiss against Hanai's lips, like a wondrous dream that fades upon waking. Then, red-faced, Tajima turned and left the room.

 

Hanai never recovered.

 

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Tuesday morning found Hanai drowsy and shamed. It had been a rough night. No, scratch that. It had been a rough afternoon, that bled into the evening, and then ran screaming into the night before crashing him down unto this very morning. Hanai hadn't been able to make it home in time.

 

See, when his shock wore off, his arousal was waiting next in line. Hanai had had to make a mad dash into the locker room bathrooms. Barricading himself in one of the stalls, Hanai had had to practice some fast and furious self-devotional hand motions. Not very long afterwards, Hanai made to leave the stall…only to have to act fast again. Finally, he deemed himself presentable to the world.

 

He ran home, skipped dinner and hopped in the shower. Forty-five minutes later, Hanai stubbornly avoided his mother and didn't speak to either of his sisters. When at long last the house grew silent and dark, the memory of the soft and inexpert lips against his sent Hanai's body into a passionate rage once, twice, third time's the charm, more. At long last, utterly spent, Hanai drifted off into a series of tantalizing dreams and woke up to Morning Glory.

 

Only stiff…RESOLVE…kept Hanai from concocting a plan to play sick. Alright, what it was really was that Hanai was very bad at lying and didn't think he'd be able to pull off a suitable illness.

 

He lived in fear all morning, afraid to catch even a glimpse of Tajima's shadow. No, no, Hanai would know, even if it were merely an elbow or the top of the head of a shadow, Hanai would know if it belonged to Tajima Yuichiro. He was just that obses--good. Just that good.

 

Luckily neither hair nor hide of the boy was seen, and in another brilliant stroke of phenomenally good luck (after a couple of days of phenomenally dismal luck), practice that day was called off because Momoe AND Shiga AND Shinooka were sick. If Hanai were anyone other than himself, he would have danced a victory jig. As it were, Hanai simply left it to Abe to let the others know and retreated to the relative safety of the dugout.

 

Hanai's reasoning: With all the boys receiving the news in the locker room, they would have no reason to change into their uniforms or even go out to the field at all. Instead they would strike out to do whatever it was they all did on a free afternoon. Hanai , too, would be freed.

 

He sat down on the bench and looked out at the skies. They were blue and cloud free, a tolerable day, for sure. Hanai breathed easier. He had been given a whole afternoon to reign himself in from the upset that Tajima had--

 

Turning his head abruptly to his left, Hanai was staring straight at Tajima.

 

**Fuck Tuesdays,** Hanai thought.

 

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