Work Text:
Yuushi and Gakuto are fighting. Jirou holds one hand over the phone speaker as the voices in the room next-door to his crescendo. He can still hear Keigo’s voice; angry, but tinny and nearly drowned out by the muffled shouting.
“Sorry, hang on Keigo,” he murmurs into the phone, puts it down and cautiously, like a burglar tiptoeing through a house, walks to the door of his room, pressing one ear against it. There’s a load bang, and Jirou jumps back.
“Hey, Yuushi! Get your sorry ass back here or so help me-” Gakuto’s shout gets cut off by the hall doorway slamming loudly; clearly Yuushi hasn’t stuck around. It all goes quiet, even as Jirou strains to hear even the slightest noise in the silence. Then Gakuto quietly opens his door and locks it behind him. The dorm falls again into silence.
‘Jirou? Are you still there?’ Jirou sighs wearily, picks up the phone and presses it to his ear. He feigns ignorance as to why Yuushi’s suddenly inundated Keigo’s phone with texts and very pointedly doesn’t mention the quiet crying he can hear through the wall.
Jirou wakes to a tapping on his window pane. He blinks in the dark, trying to see his clock face, but it’s turned away from him. The tapping continues, so he groans and heaves himself out of bed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes for a second.
As he looks out of the window, there’s a figure standing there; a black shape in the gloom. He already knows exactly who it is. Jirou struggles momentarily with the stiff latch, then opens the window as wide as it’ll go and leans out.
“Yuushi?” He asks, quietly. It is the middle of the night, after all.
“You’re… not Gakuto.” Yuushi replies, sounding confused. Jirou grins.
“Wrong room; next window along.” He points to the left. “That way.” He goes to shut the window, then says. “Good luck.” Yuushi simply raises a hand, and Jirou watches as he tosses a pebble at Gakuto’s window before drawing the curtains again.
As he lies in bed, he hears Gakuto’s window creak open, hears his gasp and then smiles to himself as Gakuto’s door bangs open; hears him run down the hall and burst through the door.
He gropes for his phone on his bedside table. Whatever you said, it worked. He texts to Keigo. He has to wait some minutes for a reply. I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about. It’s 3am, go to sleep.
Yes, mother. He replies, then stuffs it under his pillow and wriggles around to get comfy. If Yuushi and Gakuto do come back in, he doesn’t hear them, but he does raise his eyebrows at the painful-looking bruise on Gakuto’s neck over breakfast the next morning. Gakuto just throws a tea towel at him.
And if Jirou does notice Yuushi’s hand at the small of Gakuto’s back as they stand on the court, pretending to listen as Keigo lectures them all, then he doesn’t mention it either.
And if Yuushi somehow talks Keigo into taking Jirou to the new frozen yogurt shop in town, then Jirou accepts it as a reward for a job well done, even if he had nothing really to do with it at all.