It's your eighteenth birthday. The party you're at right now was supposed to be a surprise party but Jiroh spilled the beans himself. It's your fault, though. See, you don't like surprises. At all. You don't like not knowing what's going to happen. So you seduced Jiroh and when he'd just come you asked him what was up. He was upset but then you assured him that you'd act surprised and kissed him. So he didn't complain.

The "surprise party" is at your mansion and seemingly all of Hyoutei is here. Usually the amount of people annoy you; you don't even know half of them. But it's your last year and why deny people the chance to be in your presence? Shishido pointed out snidely shortly after you arrived that they were just here for the food, like he was. But then you laughed which seemed to unnerve him and he walked away to find Choutarou.

Jiroh's talking to you animatedly but you're only half listening. You're mind is elsewhere, your eyes ceaselessly scanning the room for someone.

"He's not coming, Keigo."

Your back straightens. You don't insult Jiroh by asking what he's talking about. You're aware of Jiroh pushing a glass of white wine into your hand. You hold it, gripping it tightly. Then you raise it to your lips, taking a delicate sip.

"Why not?"

Jiroh shoots a pained look at you before murmuring quietly, "He didn't think you wanted him to come. I can call him, though, if you want…" Jiroh says the last part grudgingly which makes you smile slightly. The two of you are hooking up and clearly Jiroh doesn't like the idea of your ex-boyfriend coming in and sweeping you off your feet. As if. Oshitari Yuushi wouldn't. At least…he wouldn't now. But he might have once…Thoughts of the past hang around your head like unwanted ghosts, reminding you that Jiroh, while talented and devoted and lovely, was not your type.

"Why does it matter? It shouldn't, I suppose. We're not going out anymore," you say aloud, firm. Unshakable. You try to keep the melancholy out of your voice – but judging by Jiroh's expression you're not doing a very good job. So you offer him a weak smile. "Sorry I'm such a lousy date." You cup his face in your hands and kiss him soundly on the lips. They taste of strawberries and are so very sweet. "Mmmm." You lick his lips appreciatively and he opens his mouth, yielding to your probing tongue.

Shishido coughs somewhere to your left. "You two should get a room."

"Ryo, be nice," Choutarou scolds, his cheeks flushing. "Let's go to the buffet table."

Choutarou, you think smiling, coaxing the untamable with food. It was amusing to watch.

You and Jiroh stand there, your arms around his slender waist. He leans into you, whispering, "He never stopped caring, Keigo. We both know this." He smiles sadly, wistfully. Then he pulls away. "He watches your matches."

You cross your arms over your chest. "Doesn't everyone?" you ask tiredly.

Jiroh shakes his head. "You makes things so complicated," he said, like it explains everything. And maybe it does.

"Lots of people watch my matches," you say, dismissive. What you don't say because it's clearly in your voice is that you can't dwell on what might have been. You don't say you need this information even though it hurts, like baiting a dog with a bone then throwing it in the garbage.

"You didn't see his face," Jiroh remarks, starting to pace. "You-"

You hold up a hand and he falls silent. He's getting worked up about this, you realize. "Sorry."

This time you shrug, uncomfortable. Jiroh has nothing to apologize for. Because he's a good friend who cares about you, you think guiltily. You know that having a friends-with-benefits relationship with Jiroh is a mistake. That it's killing him slowly. But he can't stop, and you're too selfish to let him go.

"I'm going to go. Thanks for setting this up." The sincerity is genuine too. You give him back your wine glass.

Jiroh predictably protests, "Keigo… It's your birthday; we haven't sung happy birthday yet. And you still have to cut your cake."

You hesitate, noting the steel in his voice.

"You owe me that much at least," Jiroh concludes, handing you back your glass.

"All right." You suppress a sigh of irritation because you know he's right and run a hand through your hair, tousling it. You drain the glass and raise an eyebrow. "Get me another, would you? I promise not to move."

Jiroh's eyes light up and you absently think how pretty he is. He goes off to refill your glass. And you go back to staring into space, thinking of the past. Not missing it exactly, but all too eager to turn back the hands of time.

You're just about to wonder why Jiroh isn't back when the lights dim and your heart sinks. You know what's coming but it doesn't make your reaction any less grim. Your grit your teeth, hearing Gakuto's off key voice starting the over-used song, "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Kei~go, happy birthday to you!"

Someone, you think it's probably Shishido, yells out that you look like a monkey and you smell like one too. You're about to call out, "Right back at you!" but then suddenly Jiroh appears holding the cake. It's in the shape of a tennis racket, go figure. And in the icing made strings is "Happy Birthday, Atobe Keigo".

"Happy birthday, Keigo. Make a wish."

You close your eyes obediently, making a wish. Well, it's nothing new. You've been wishing he was here all night.

Behind closed lids you are transferred back to that court. To that day a year and a few month ago.