Work Text:
“Argh-- DIMI!” a particularly boisterous student shouts, barreling down the school’s entrance pathway, one hand fisted in their hair while another messily grips their balled up blazer. The assailed had already made his way through, at a leisurely pace, while the assailant interrupted the calm morning of the handful of students arriving early.
One such early riser clicks his tongue in distaste, soothed by his younger sister who chuckles and punches his arm. “Don’t be so harsh.” She coos, to which her brother responds with a slightly-less-disgruntled sigh.
Elsewhere, Sascha’s caught up with their brother, and has him cornered at the end of a hallway. The scene is embarrassing, to say the least. Dimitri wiggles a hair tie between his fingers, grinning like a fox. Sascha, his unfortunate victim, seethes as they give up trying to hold their loose ponytail, the thick strands falling down around their face and over their shoulders.
“Give it back, asshole,” They snap, eyeing the hair tie venomously, “you know it’s my favorite one.”
It's no mistake that one’s their favorite, but Dimitri only laughs coldly, twisting it around his wrist. The plush bear clip attached to it rests there demurely, its face sweet despite the situation. It looks odd sitting on the wrist of the burly third year, but one could suppose it looks even more peculiar when Sascha wears it, who’s only a couple inches shy of their brother.
“You know, I said that last night.” A snap of the rubber band against his wrist. Sascha cringes. “When you ate my flan. I bought that specifically for myself to eat, if you weren’t already aware.” He says, narrowing his eyes behind his glasses.
“Well you didn’t have to rip it out of my head while we were walking to school, you dickhead.”
“And you ate,” he takes the poor hair tie off of his wrist, wiggling it threateningly, “ my flan right in front of me! You’re lucky I didn’t lock you in the bathroom and make you late to school, instead.” Dimi twirls the hair tie on his finger now. “This is simply karma, Sanya.” Sascha, bright red from the rarely used familial nickname, lunges at him.
At that moment, rounding the corner, comes the first year class president. “Litvins. Plural,” He says, clipped. Sascha seems to freeze in time, their face now awash. They turn around slowly, trying (and failing) to not look too frantic as they try to neaten up their hair. Knowing exactly what’s going on in Sascha’s head, a grin snakes its way onto Dimitri’s face.
Yuto Tsukiyama, an imposing figure to say the least, stands with his arms crossed as he glares down the hall at Dimitri and Sascha. He’s the son of the school’s chairman, Yamato Tsukiyama, with a reputation to boot. He acts about the same way you’d think a gifted kid with imposing parentage would, which drives Dimitri mad trying to figure out why he’s the subject of Sascha’s affections.
“Class starts in ten. It’d be in your best interest to make your way to your respective home rooms.” Yuto says, his tie crisp as ever. His gaze falls to Sascha, who’s in obvious disarray. He says nothing further, and turns around to head to class 1-C.
When he’s out of earshot, Sascha lets out a heaving breath, one they didn’t know they were holding. They rip their hair tie out of Dimitri’s grasp, who’s currently trying not to shit himself laughing.
“We really are siblings, huh? What’s with us and our class president fetish?” Dimitri says in between wheezes. Sascha goes bright red again, their hair up in a quick bun, and begins whaling on Dimitri, who retaliates with well practiced blocks.
“It’s not a fetish! I don’t even like him, he’s a dick to me anyways!” They hiss, shoving Dimitri by the shoulder and trudging away. They yank on their blazer, attempting to smooth as many wrinkles as possible.
“I have a club meeting after school! Don’t wait up for me!” They shoot over their shoulder, almost ramming into the corner of the wall in their escape.
Dimitri chuckles to himself, his glasses glinting in the light as he pushes them back up his nose. Just like me, he thinks to himself fondly, and makes his way to his own class to pine after his own class president.
—
“You will be explaining this to me at home, correct?”
Sascha’s eyebrows furrow, and they train their gaze down to their shoes. They’re holding an ice pack to their face, the skin there already gone numb from the chill, beginning to turn shades of purple already. Their red stained button up sits in a heap next to them on the chair where they are, in the nurse’s office.
Dimitri leans against the wall, arms crossed, as he stares at his quiet sibling. The nurse put the privacy screen up so Sascha could change, but it’s more there for them to hide, really.
“Is he still here?” They say, hoarse from shouting.
Dimi raises an eyebrow. “Tsukiyama, right? No, he isn’t. He left when I got here.”
Sascha nods, swallowing thickly. The question, ‘ why was he here to begin with?’ hangs in the air, but Dimitri doesn’t press it. He kicks off the wall, picking up both his and Sascha’s backpacks to sling over his shoulder.
“Well, let’s go home. We can grab something from the convenience store on the way if you’re hungry, I ate at home.”
They leave the school, Sascha apologizing to the nurse and assistant principal profusely before they do, the matter to be discussed another day. Their soiled button up sits in the trash, crumpled.
“What are you, a middle schooler!?” Dimitri grits out, arm wrung around Sascha’s neck as he jerks them around. His well mannered older brother schtick faded fast as they left school grounds, Dimitri rounding on his sibling with an angry fervor.
“I didn’t mean to hit him,” Sascha whines out, jamming their elbow in Dimitri’s ribs. His strangling pauses for a moment, before resuming with more aggression.
“Fuck do you mean you ‘didn’t mean to?,’” Dimitri says, quoting Sascha with a high pitched voice. “Kid looked like he was on the wrong side of a WWE Smackdown, idiot! Learn some self control!!” He lets them go after one more good squeeze and lets them stumble upright on the sidewalk. Sascha goes quiet, eyes trained at their feet as the two pick up walking home. “They- He-” They struggle to piece the words together, gesticulating vaguely with their hands, one bandaged at the knuckles.
Dimitri sighs, finishing their thought for them. “They were bothering your boy, weren’t they.” This causes Sascha’s face to turn a new fun shade. They splutter, waving their hands dismissively.
“He’s not my boy and they weren’t bothering him, they-” Sascha rushes to say, voice cracking. They clear their throat roughly. “They were conspiring against him.” They’re dead serious.
Dimitri stares at them. They shrink a little bit under his gaze, averting their eyes.
“He’s the student council president so.. All of the second years know him and, I didn’t get much of what they were saying because I got so mad .” They say. “Stuff like putting mud in his shoe locker, stealing his books and stuff. It didn’t warrant… what I did.”
The air is crisp enough it reminds them of home suddenly, piling one ache onto another. Dimitri feels it too, watching his sibling scrub their hands through their hair. He ruffles the messy strands even further, sighing to himself.
“I appreciate your honesty, even though you aren’t telling me the whole of it. Try not to get into trouble like that again. They could have you sent home, without me or Nat.” He says after a moment of thinking. He presses his glasses up on his nose to better see Sascha’s wonderfully horrified expression.
“Not that I wouldn’t enjoy it, though, that would finally allow me to seduce my beautiful Fumi in p-” He finishes with a grunt, as Sascha begins to pummel him.
Their shouts and laughter follow them all the way home, until they realize Dimitri left the spare key in his desk.
(Nat lets them in after a couple minutes of the siblings scratching at the door like stray cats)