[A/N] This will be a really casual series based on the seasons. I don't know how many I will write, but it'll just depend on my mood and available time. Naturally, summer will have the most. :]
Disclaimer: I do NOT own any canon characters.
Summer Dates
Trust me with all the expressions of your heart.
A single bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. He readjusted the position of his hat and squinted at the shining rays that rolled out the summer sun.
Ryoma turned to the side. The sounds of her footsteps, stomping wildly toward the tennis court he occupied, filled his ears. Silence infiltrated everywhere else. Every imaginable corner. Conversation, laughter, and loud (obnoxious) jokes taken to the beach, the pool side, the ice cream shop.
He retreated to the shade of a nearby tree. Resting his back against the soft green grass. His hat, tired of its job, sat off to the side. Long forgotten. Nevertheless, the humid heat found him. Sticking to his skin like honey. Sweat running down his face like tears.
"Ryoma-kun." She danced up to his side. Pressing the ice cold soda can to his heated cheeks.
Blindly, he reached for his drink. While she naturally took the empty seat beside him. Yuki watched him take a much needed sip. They shared no words, but Ryoma could feel the difference. This indescribable atmosphere that continued to surround him. Silencing his thoughts. Forcing no affectionate exchanges between the two of them. Every small action of his rippled through the silence, stirring Yuki's own minds with romantic imagination. A satisfaction of her own. Being with Echizen Ryoma, basking in his comfort, was already the greatest highlight of her summer. And she hoped, her simple presence echoed loudly. Like the voices of those excited couples that flocked the amusement park couple minutes away.
Suddenly, his eyes slipped to meet her gaze. With a light blush, Yuki turned the other way, shifting her vision to see the desolate state of the normally crowded courts. Ryoma's second home.
"It's hot. Like really, really hot," Yuki mumbled.
In reply, Ryoma lazily held the Ponta can to her red cheeks, mimicking her actions from a minute ago. "It's August. It's supposed to be hot."
Yuki let a small smile tug at her lips. She didn't mind the empty exchanges, the one-sided conversation, but hearing his comments, albeit cursory and blunt, made her heart swell with hidden pride. She cracked the defensive barrier Echizen Ryoma so conveniently built. She wasn't exceptionally pretty or talented or intelligent like the many other girls who waited for his practice to end. Hand-made accessories and gifts placed in their trembling hands. Plain, old Yuki was able to grab the attention of the most popular freshmen at their school.
"So, Ryoma-kun!" She shook those smug thoughts away from her mind, donning a much more innocent and sincere grin. One that expressed her excitement most accurately. "Are you really going to teach me tennis? I never held a racket before, you know?"
His eyebrows rose at the upbeat rhythm in her tone, matching the anticipation that pulled her entire expression up toward the clouds. And he managed to loosen his tight hold on the indifference he so often wore.
"Mada mada dane," he spoke his favorite phrase. Ryoma placed his baseball cap back onto his head, masking the messy, tousled hairstyle he never bothered to change. She grabbed the two soda cans and trotted after him. The metal door opened with slight hesitation.
He handed her a spare racket upon entrance. She eyed him wearily before grabbing ahold of it. Renewed determination set in her gaze.
They were blind and deaf to all the other happy couples that chose to hold hands across the crowding beach; that decided to share an ice cream at the pool side table; that preferred to scream in horror and in glee as they rocked up and down on the rollercoasters. Maybe they were supposed to be out together. Enjoying the usual summer attractions. Worrying about the color of her bathing suit, the flavor of his ice cream, the selection of the proper amusement park.
But Yuki and Ryoma's summer was filled with comfortable silence. Occasionally broken by her embarrassed laugh or his ringing smirk; his name shouted in excitement as the ball cruised over the waist-high net; her name accompanied by a sigh that hid his creeping smile.
Despite all the tennis balls that got stuck in the net, her carefree smile never slipped into a frown. Despite all the tennis balls that completely passed the encompassing fence, he never abandoned her side for the solace of his own company.
His greatest comfort existed only at the deserted tennis courts of a particularly sunny day. Where he was never forced to speak against his will. All his expressions, ranging from slight irritation to genuine joy, appeared naturally. He simply measured the timing of his smile, its upward curl and strength. So by the time she noticed an odd softness, that rare glimpse in between his solemn gaze and lax attitude. Everything would be gone.
And he would return to observing the smile on her face that stretched wider and wider at each passing second. Allowing him to relax the heavy stress. Ryoma would find a way to truly enjoy the sport and remember the laughter that followed every dull sound, left by the novice swing of her racket. This nostalgic memory trailed after him. Even when the sun set to signal the end of another ordinary day.
