He had never yelled at Jirou.
Maybe that was why the regulars stood silent at the sidelines of the court, their eyes slightly widened their mouths slack.
Atobe quickly turned. His gaze only briefly sweeping past Jirou standing on the other side of the net, racquet loosely dangling from one hand. Sweeping down the outside of the court he grabbed his bag off the bench and hefted it over his shoulder.
'Oshitari.' The tensai slowly pulled his gaze from Jirou and regarded him blankly. 'Take over,' he said without preamble.
The clang of the metal gate slamming closed broke the tension, and as Atobe rounded the corner he caught the sight of Mukahi rushing onto the court.
He didn't stop. Not when he passed the clubhouse, or when he exited the gate. He just walked on, because the steady pound of his feet was the only thing keeping him together. He walked without direction. The scenery a passing of grey and green.
He was surprised by his destination. And not surprised.
Atobe sat down on the porch of the Akutagawa residence, his bag dropping lead-like to the ground. He expelled a breath so deeply, he thought he might never breathe in again.
He'd yelled at Jirou.
Tainted the purity of Jirou's tennis with ugly and spiteful words. Accused him of wasting their time, of not trying hard enough.
And after he'd spent all the bitterness from his mouth, Jirou stood silent and still across the net, and his smile… fell.
It was the smallest of movements. The corners of his mouth faltering for a moment. Then Jirou caught his smile, fixing it falsely back into place.
It was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen.
'Atobe?'
He stiffened as the shadow crossed over him. Atobe avoided looking at Jirou as the boy sat down beside him, hanging his legs over the edge.
'You're mad at me?' Jirou said quietly into the garden.
Atobe shook his head. 'No. I'm not mad at you.'
'I'm not good enough to be a pro,' the boy said calmly.
'You could be,' he replied hoarsely.
Jirou shook his head. 'I'll always play because I love it.' Jirou's suntanned hand covered his own. 'But I'll never be pro.'
His grip tightened involuntarily around his team mate's hand. 'You have to be, Jirou. I can't do it by myself. I don't want to, it's too…'
Jirou smiled widely and leaned heavily into him. 'You won't be alone,' Jirou murmured. 'I won't let you be alone again.'
Atobe pulled the boy slightly closer and held him tight for only a brief moment, feeling a little silly.
'Come inside,' Jirou said stretching. 'Let my mum know you're alright,' he groaned pulling Atobe to his feet. 'She made you iced tea…'