In Between
They kissed; hard and soft, long and short, playful and serious. Their short breaths mingled together always, for when they weren't attached, their heads were close, foreheads touching, until they soon dove in and reacquainted themselves with one another again. The thrill of tennis had faded, but was not missed – an entire new thrill took its place, just as stunning, but oh so different. Tezuka's racket clattered to the ground in a careless move and his left hand soon grasped his glasses instead, for Ryoma hated the feeling of the hard glasses pressing against their faces and Tezuka found he was rather fond of his specs and did not want them to break any time soon.
It had started out as a match, neither of them playing to win but neither playing anything but their best games. They had taken a journey together, passed by their limits and boundaries with a wave, and ended it with a sure promise to do it again soon. The air lightened with all the laughs and smiles that they couldn't quite catch the breath to let out. Who won did not matter, not when they arrived at the net to shake hands, nor did it matter who had taken the initiative to pull the other up or down for their first kiss of the evening. Nor did it matter who responded to make that kiss the second, then the third, then the fourth...
The net, from an outsider's point of view, was probably seen as something coming between them, an obstruction that kept their bodies from meshing together as they kissed. Perhaps that was true. From a poet's flowing pen, perhaps the net would be described as a symbol of the obstacles they had yet to face, that said obstacles posed as a net couldn't keep them apart as long as they meet above with lips and teeth and harsh breath.
From an anyone's point of view who did not know the most innermost workings and have the utmost understanding of the two beings kissing softly and kissing fiercely where they met in the middle of the court, would see the net between them as something intrusive, as something that didn't belong.
But it did. Because, along with the feelings and the tongues and the symbolism, the tennis was just as much a part of them as they soon became of each other. The net was at home, nestled in between the two, peacefully basking in the emotions and the happiness and the tennis.
Don't know if this made sense to any one other than my own warped mind.
Feedback makes me feel extremelyyyyyy good. Pwease do so?
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