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It is Shinobu’s fault.
All of this is Shinobu’s fault and Midori hates him so much.
The entire gym idea was an utter and total mistake since Shinobu dared to talk about it, because Midori doesn’t think he needs to train and become even slimmer since his relatives and his friends and the universe like to remind him that he’s too tall and too lank and too thin, but uh, free the mind and nourish the soul, or some ninja stuff he doesn’t understand because he is not the one obsessed over them, thanks for coming to the ted talk.
Yanno, training is stressful and the outlook of a crowded room that smells of sweat makes him a little bit anxious, so it’s almost natural for him to dismiss the nth Shinobu’s weird and unnatural offer – a fitboxe course, come on – with a kind of childish whine because this is their normal routine, Shinobu asking for newer stimulus and Midori overlooking his enthusiasm like the killjoy he is – thanks Chiaki for the cute nickname.
But Shinobu, oh so sweet and innocent Shinobu, is a little shit with a cute face and some aces in his hole, so it is a matter of hours until Midori huffs and surrenders because his friend’s – if he still can be considered his friend, Midori has to think about it – mumbles and sad frowns do tricks to his frail heart and make him feel the worst human in the entire nation.
He knows that Shinobu considers him as a brother and he knows that he’s not mad at him, but –
Little shits with cute faces are true monsters.
He starts to attend that fitboxe class with Shinobu because it’s the least he can do, thanks man, and the fact that he’s still friend with him is a real miracle because he finished his first lesson fainting and God, the embarrassment –
It takes Shinobu some more adorable frowns to convince Midori to come back to the course, but after his terrible debut it’s all settled and smooth and he cannot believe it, his life is kind of nice, he shares a flat with his best friend who can make real tasteful curry and he studies science at the uni and he works with his mother and father at the market –
But Midori is Midori, and the universe loves to mock him.
Because around the tenth or eleventh lesson the frail balance breaks and Midori is fucked.
It is not Shinobu’s direct fault, but he started the fitboxe course for him, so –
Shinobu’s fault.
Around the tenth or eleventh lesson the whole cosmos decides that it’s about time to transform his life into a total homosexual mess.
The new trainer, Tetora’s the name, is a lot smaller than him, but he has broad shoulders and a vivid smile and a firm butt, so uh, thanks universe for the kindness, it’s nice to send him the hottest man he has ever seen, but fuck universe as well because it would have been excellent if he met him, who knows, at the uni cafeteria or at the bus station, but no, at the fitboxe class he teaches in, where his ass looks unlawful in those black shorts and he has to look at it, come on –
Must be witchcraft, or the fact that he likes cute dudes since he was sixteen and made out with Shinobu in the “seven minutes in heaven” stuff and kinda liked it, so duh, homosexual mess.
But –
Tetora has a thick rear, ok, but he also has nice arms and a cute face and a vibrant smile and a kind and boisterous nature that makes him a considerate teacher and Midori’s ideal man according to the “ultimate husband’s characteristics” mental list he made within months of attentive studies and terrible relations and that Shinobu endorsed because a nice ass is indeed a vital feature.
If Tetora could smash his useless head between his hands it would be a ten out of ten into his list.
However –
The first lesson with Tetora ends with Midori missing the boxin’ sack and hitting Shinobu’s stomach behind it, and the situation sounds almost comical because the reason of his little and harmful distraction is, correct!, his damn trainer who has the nerve to raise his arms to lift some dumbbells and his shirt is too short to hide the abs underneath, so –
Shinobu isn’t this offended because once at home, with a horrible warm rice filled sock on his venter to soothe the blueish bruise and his attention turned to the television for the nth “Naruto” marathon of the month, he admits that he noticed that too, and Midori knows that that means the beautiful sliver of skin and the faint outline of muscles, and that he understands him because Tetora’s hint of abdominals is a work of art, “but his ass is better”.
God, Midori loves Shinobu.
Tetora teaches into his class for one month or so before the universe decides that the time has come, let’s torment anxious and aroused Takamine with the sweetest torture ever.
Because the idea of having Tetora rubbed on him is marvellous, but –
The mat under his clothed back stinks and his shirt is stuck to his wet skin, and the hardness of the floor under his shoulders is solid and a much-welcomed anchor but his mind is floating and he feels lost and warm and so embarrassed it hurts.
Tetora’s hands are hot and confident around his thrown into the air calves, and even if he is half of his size, he looks so tall and virile from down the floorin’ that Midori feels somehow intimated and endeared at the same time, because the contact sends different mixed indications to his shut off brain, from the ascertained fact that Tetora’s smile is beautiful to the humiliating realization that the situation looks kind of unclear and sounds more like a miserable and cluttered sexual encounter rather than a much needed stretching stuff –
Tetora mutters somethin’, but Midori cannot hear him above the constant buzz into his ears and the loud sound of his heart, and he is sure that if he focuses too much on the manner his mouth curls around his name it will be even worse, so no.
Tetora must sense that he is not there, because he tries to call him one more time with furrowed brows and a hint of concern that makes his usual smile falter, and Midori has to kill the need to smooth the thin wrinkles on his wet forehead with his thumb and to kiss the moue out of his face.
“Ya feel better?” Tetora asks, and his skilled hands skim behind his knee to search for some hardness or swollenness because Midori’s voice fails to come out and his cheeks burn both from the tiredness and the effort of one hour of intense training and from the embarrassment and the feverishness of having his crush slash main character of his wet dreams slash trainer this close.
He has to swallow a mouthful of saliva and all of his arousal before he thinks he is at least able to combine some letters into a semblance of answer.
“Yes” he breathes out – wow, Midori, lame – and Tetora’s smile is back, cuter and wider, when he lifts himself and he caresses Midori’s sheen one last time.
His enthusiastic look is almost as beautiful as his ass.
Almost.
But in the end Tetora will be the death of him – ass, smile, hands and so on.
( And he will be the death of Shinobu if he continues to snicker from the mat next to his, for fuck’s sake. )