Title: No Shame
Disclaimer: Konomi made Mizuki in all of his gay glory. I'm just playing.
Warnings: BL, there's actually one kind-of-swear, Mizuki (yes, he gets a warning. XD)
Author's Note: It's nice out today, but... well, I couldn't resist. XD; This is like, >9000 times less creepy than the last story I wrote for this pair, I promise. XD; Also, I really can't wrap my mind around the fact that Mizuki is older than Fuji. He's like. Three whole months older. I always, for some reason, thought Mizuki was Yuuta's age, but I was totally wrong. Huh. XD;
People thought, even told him, sometimes, that Mizuki Hajime had no shame, and for the most part, that was true. In a completely objective situation, in which he had no reason to lie, he would almost entirely agree. Yes, he was manipulative, yes, he would do near anything to get what he wanted. What was wrong with that, really, he didn't know; he got what he wanted and how he got it really wasn't important. And besides, the way he did things was the most enjoyable, in his opinion... and if he enjoyed it and it worked for him, what was the issue? Most people, however, seemed to hold that enjoying manipulation was a bad thing, but Mizuki only scoffed and ignored them. Who cared what those people thought of him? He knew he was right, in the end.
And besides, he didn't have absolutely no shame. Mizuki cared very much about his personal image and always gave his best attention to grooming. His carelessly messy hairstyle was really the product of a half-hour of styling every morning, making sure every wave, every curl was exactly where it should be, and perfectly pale, even skin was difficult to maintain! His wardrobe, too, contained only the best fabrics and designers his fairly well-to-do family could afford for him-- he wasn't sure why people seemed to think he ought to be ashamed that ninety-eight percent of his non-uniform clothing was purple. Lavender, especially, complemented his skin tone, and there was nothing wrong with that! And so while it was true that Mizuki would do next to anything to get what he wanted, it would take a very valuable prize to sway him to set his appearance aside.
Fuji Yuuta, in and of himself, of course, was a very valuable prize, and, if winning him over had been dependent only on Mizuki's appearance, he would have forsaken it until he could successfully call Yuuta his own. But luckily, winning Yuuta relied on a grande variety of things, and none of them, thus far, had required Mizuki to look anything but stellar. Yuuta was practically won, anyway, really; they had progressed to that awkward stage where Yuuta spent a lot of their time together blushing and seemed constantly afraid that Mizuki might reject him should he try anything more daring than hand-holding. It was good to keep him on his toes, to keep him wanting, but really, Mizuki was getting a little impatient with this whole little courting dance, and decided forced proximity was the way to go to break Yuuta of his skittishness at the idea of displays of affection. And considering it was monsoon season, what better way to force closeness than sharing an umbrella.
But much to Mizuki's dismay, there was one fatal snag in this ploy-- Yuuta's absolutely horrendous umbrella. It was old and black and battered; one of the metal supports was pulling away from the fabric at the tip, and the handle looked as if it been chewed by a wild animal of some sort. Of course, the easiest way to lead to umbrella-sharing was for Mizuki to "forget" his umbrella (which was a bit of a tragedy; Mizuki dearly loved his mauve, ruffle-edged umbrella which doubled as a parasol in the summer to keep his fair skin from too much ultraviolet light), but there was no way in hell that Mizuki was ever going to be seen under that heinous black thing. Briefly, he considered stealing Yuuta's umbrella and hiding it, but, he realized, that would mean that he would have to touch it, and the idea so disgusted him that he decided against it almost immediately. So that left only one option: Yuuta had to have a new umbrella.
Finding one for him was not the issue. Shopping online, he easily decided upon the perfect item for Yuuta (a compact brown plaid umbrella from Burberry), and it was in his post box before the end of the week. The issue, of course, was giving it to Yuuta without seeming suspicious-- after all, as wonderful of a person as Mizuki knew he was, he doubted anyone would believe he would give them an umbrella that cost upwards of twenty-five thousand yen without an ulterior motive. It wasn't anywhere near Yuuta's birthday, or Christmas, or any gift-giving holiday, really... and so, after much internal debate, Mizuki ended up coming up with an elaborate sabotage plan to send that horrid black thing to its grave once and for all.
But, in the end, things went much more simply that Mizuki was expecting, as, well, really, often they did. One rainy afternoon, after tennis practice, as they prepared to head back to the dorms, Mizuki noticed Yuuta-sans-umbrella, and inquired as to his situation.
"It finally broke," Yuuta explained abysmally. "Just snapped. I'm gonna have to go out and find a new one."
Mizuki did not let one ounce of his elation show through on his face. Instead, he pretended to think a moment before he withdrew the umbrella for Yuuta from his school bag. "Nonsense, Yuuta-kun. Have mine."
Yuuta looked taken aback, and shook his head wildly. "Oh-- no, Mizuki-san, I couldn't, you'll get wet--"
God, his responses really were so perfect, Mizuki thought, fighting back a victorious smirk. Moving closer to Yuuta under the school awning, he took his arm, pressing the umbrella into his hand. Looking up at Yuuta through long, curled lashes, he replied, "I won't so long as you keep me close, Yuuta-kun."
Predictably, Yuuta went all red in the face again, but he really couldn't argue, and so he put up the umbrella like the good boy he was and offered Mizuki a tentative grin. "As long as you don't mind..."
The naivete was really very endearing, and Mizuki's lips curled up into a smile as he took Yuuta by the chin and pulled him into a brief kiss. When he broke away, Yuuta was even more flushed, and Mizuki laughed once, slightly, under his breath at the sweet taste of victory (or perhaps that was Yuuta) on his lips. "Walk me home, Yuuta-kun."
It really was a shame to retire his beautiful umbrella, Mizuki thought wistfully as he watched Yuuta shake out the new one at the door to the dorms. But when Yuuta took his hand again and placed a kiss, hesitant as it was, on Mizuki's cheek before walking him all the way back to his room, Mizuki decided that perhaps, it wasn't so much of a shame after all.