All disclaimers apply. I did a horrid job at capturing the pairing... but constructive criticism is appreciated. As aforementioned, Atobe and Fuji belong to Konomi Takeshi.
Like, Perhaps Love
If Fuji had to pick a word for his relationship with Atobe, it would not be a single word.
Being something that couldn't be defined, it held no physical form, no being.
Their relationship was, at best, having just slight definition, as an ever-flowing body of water. At worst, it wasn't visible, much less tangible. In either form, it easily slipped through the fingers, evasive.
Sometimes, it was hard for people around them to remember that they were still young, and they still had a long ways to go. Maybe Fuji and Atobe forgot every once in a while, too. Everyone expected so much of the both of them; Atobe was the brilliant and strong leader of his middle school's very large tennis club. Fuji was known as a prodigy, feared and admired by all that had ever heard of him.
The wilderness was beautiful.
Fuji loved the untamed beauty of the wild, the rush of splashing water on the bank, or the rustle of leaves in the trees. He loved feeling natural earth beneath his feet rather than the smooth concrete in the city. What he liked mostly was that the wilderness held absolutely no man-made order, but rather the thrum of a natural order that had carried the earth since the beginning of time. Atobe, on the other hand, rather disliked it.
So… really, it made sense that whenever Atobe agreed to accompany him out to photograph the wilderness, the day turned into Fuji laughing fluidly, and chasing Atobe across the bank of the river, churning up water as he ran. For once, they weren't competing over something so childish and silly; Fuji wasn't straining at the rope to prove he was better than Atobe.
They were still children, after all, and they still had a short time when they could love innocently, purely. Perhaps they didn't even know that themselves. At times, both Fuji and Atobe would have said that unusual as the relationship was, it was nothing more than a rather strange friendship, or the fact that they annoyed each other so much that they had to prove that they were better Even with that in mind, though Fuji had to admit that their tender moments were less than frequent, considering the amount of attention Atobe drew to himself, life was never exactly dull.
Fuji sat on a log that day, raising his camera to his eye and snapping a picture of Atobe. He stood on the bank of the river in a proud stance, surrounded by sunlight. A smaller, fonder smile made way to Fuji's lips.
Hopeless attraction masked itself in strange ways.
