Disclaimer: All characters used in this piece belong to Konomi Takeshi and so on… and just so you know, my name isn't Konomi Takeshi…
A/N: Mild TezuRyo, I suppose. Although I did say somewhere in the piece that it was 'neither friendship nor love'… anyone want to venture a guess as to what it is? ^_^; My very first TeniPuri fic. Do be kind, and let me know if the characters are far, far too OOC, please! I blame this piece entirely on Burnein, who got me hooked on the series to begin with. Though, I did end up a TezuRyo fan, whereas she's an AtoTezu fan… but heck.
Summary: There's a magnetism between them that draws them together, and they need to figure out what it is…
A/N 2: Damn. That was a crappy summary. Really, this is a very descriptive piece. I couldn't really think of a good summary. *sheepish grin*
Chance Meetings
It was a crisp sort of day, not quite so cold that anyone venturing outdoors would be deemed insane, and yet cold enough that anyone venturing outdoors wouldn't do so without wrapping up warmly first. Autumn was drawing to a close, the chill air promising snow within the wind. The sun was weak, its rays filtering through the thick clouds to just barely warm up the ground, keeping the frost away. The whistling wind picked up golden leaves, tossing them haphazardly around; some landed on a head of dark hair.
Echizen Ryoma reached up and brushed the leaves off his hair. Golden eyes narrowed against the wind, he sat up against the trunk of the cherry tree. It had long since lost its blooms, lying dormant now in anticipation of spring. Still, it gave him a sort of feeling of peace.
His book was propped up on his lap, and there was no one around in the park to bother him. The cold had kept most people away, and those few who had dared to brave it were walking by swiftly, barely sparing him a glance. For his part, he was wrapped up warmly in his Seigaku jacket, zipped up all the way to the neck. A knitted scarf was wrapped around his neck too, and he wore gloves and thick boots. It was awfully cold for autumn, he reflected. He should probably get back home soon – he'd neglected to bring a hat. Pulling his scarf over his head could only keep him warm for so long.
A warm cap descended over his head just as he thought that, startling him into turning. The sun reflected off glasses just as he turned, but he knew the warm eyes behind those lenses. His lips quirked slightly in a vague semblance of a smile, and then he turned back, his back resting comfortably against the tree trunk now.
He could hear the other sitting down carefully next to him, even if he couldn't see him. Looking ahead and above him, Ryoma was treated to the panoramic view of the city horizon, melding into the crisp, grey-blue sky. The clouds were a light grey, hanging ominously low, but the brisk wind made them scuttle by in such a fashion they hardly seemed a threat.
It had started three months, two weeks and six days ago. Not that he was keeping track or anything. But one day, the other boy had found him sitting here, working on his homework. He had been struggling with a question, and the other boy had quietly told him the answer. He hadn't even noticed him standing behind him.
The other boy had asked if he could stay and do his own work – as if he'd needed permission. It was a public park, after all. Ryoma had merely nodded, and waited for the opportunity to repay him. He didn't like owning anyone favours.
His chance had come on a day when the other boy had forgotten his lunch. It was one month after that first chance meeting; both boys kept returning to that same tree every day, an unknown magnetism drawing them together. It wasn't friendship, for neither could say they knew the other well enough for that; it wasn't love, for the same reason. But there was something there, nonetheless, something indefinable. And it kept pulling them back, kept challenging them to find out what it was.
Neither had figured it out yet.
He'd shared his lunch with the other boy, brushing off his quiet thanks. He'd thought they were even, but something made him come back the next day. He remembered feeling inexplicably disappointed when he saw no one at the tree; he remembered how his heart had quickened when he saw a familiar flash of brown hair approaching.
And they'd met there every day since, for three months, two weeks and six days. Ryoma hadn't grown tired of their meetings yet. Neither had the other boy; for if he had, wouldn't he have stopped coming? Their meetings had grown to be something Ryoma was increasingly reliant on; something that tided him through bad days, something for him to look forward to.
Though he would never tell the other that, of course.
Odd, then, that in all their meetings, they had never spoken more than a few words. Perhaps a question about homework; the answer if it was known and an apology if it was not; thanks given for help given. They never even greeted each other when they saw each other; they didn't say goodbye.
Perhaps it was because a goodbye had such a terrible sense of finality to it.
Ryoma pulled the cap lower on his head. It was too big for him, but that was good – it was covering his ears, warming him up quite nicely. The other boy was still there, a silent, solid presence at his side.
At length, he spoke. "It looks like it might snow." The sentence was delivered in a neutral, emotionless, even bland tone. Ryoma nodded slightly.
"Aa."
"You should probably get back home. It's late."
And it was. Ryoma noted with mild surprise that the sun was setting, an orange glow washing over the town. Buildings were highlighted in gold, and crimson streaks danced across the sky, radiating out from the setting orb in a promise that they would be back. Ryoma gazed at the beautiful scene in silent wonder.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" the other boy murmured. His breath tickled Ryoma's nape, and he tried his best not to jump. He couldn't help but lean back into the warmth of that breath though; felt lips ghost across his skin…
"I should get going," he said neutrally, getting up. The other boy got up as well, brushing himself off. Ryoma did the same, starting to take the cap off. A firm hand on his head stopped him.
"You'll freeze if you walk home without it," the other boy informed him in no uncertain terms.
"I can't keep it," Ryoma protested, voice low. Truth be told, he didn't want to give it back. He wanted to keep something of the other boy, something he had once owned. Was it so foolish a desire? Perhaps, and yet…
"Then I'll walk you home, and you can return it at your gate," the other boy said smoothly. "Come on."
And, just because he didn't know what else to say, Ryoma nodded and fell into step beside him. He was slowing down for Ryoma, his long legs deliberately taking smaller steps so that the shorter boy could keep up easily. Ryoma concentrated on those legs, on the powerful calves hidden by jeans, on the feet encased in sneakers. He watched them as one lifted off the ground, planted itself back down, and its mate pushed off. There was something almost soothing about watching their constant rhythm.
He was almost surprised when they stopped, and belatedly realised they had reached his house.
A tanned hand reached out to lift the hat off his head. Ryoma felt the wind gust through his hair and shivered involuntarily, suddenly wanting to get back into the warmth of his house. It was only then that he noticed that the other boy wasn't wearing gloves.
"You're going to freeze too," he commented. A slightly startled look flashed across the other's face.
"I'll be fine," he assured.
Ryoma considered giving him his gloves, but knew they would be too small. "Aa," he replied quietly. Turning, he started for his house.
The other boy walked away quietly, brown head now covered by a white cap – silent tribute, though Ryoma does not know it, to him. Their meeting for today has been fulfilled; his need to see the other boy, his craving, has been satisfied. He knows that tomorrow, Ryoma will bring him something to make up for the loan of the cap. And that Ryoma will walk him home tomorrow, to make up for the company this day.
A ghost of a smile flitted across Tezuka Kunimitsu's face, one that vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Perhaps one of these days, he'll figure out exactly why it is he feels that intense need to see Ryoma.
Perhaps one of these days, they'll both figure it out…
~fin