Prince of Tennis doesn't belong to me. But I own the Seventh Harry Potter book! ;)
Maybe it was his eyes that brought her heart. Yes. His golden amber eyes.
Was that what attracted her?
Or his attitude, proud and self confident. Emotionless. That made her love him, in hopes of opening up his cold exterior. Was that what had attracted her to him, like a moth to the flame? Knowing that the closer she was, the more damaged she would feel.
Or was it something else?Once her grandmother said love was love. You just can't help who you love.
You just can't help who you love.
She closed her eyes. Maybe that was why she loved him.
Nevertheless. Her schoolgirl crush was years ago. Nearly a decade, yet she just couldn't forget him.
Even when he had turned her down that rainy April day in their senior year. Their last year together in middle school, and she still remembered the smell of him, his breath which was intoxicated with grape juice, and most of all…
His voice. The hesitation that time. And she felt like crying every time she thought about it.
"I know you're the coach's granddaughter," he had said tugging his cap down a little, "But…I don't like you. And I don't like any girls. I just wanted to play tennis." And with that he had left, in the soft spring rain.
Then she never spoke to him again, embarrassed. And when she went to High School he was never there. Everyone said he had left for the States.
Now, it was raining again. The same soft rain like the day he turned her down. And today, she didn't know if it was right to cry or to laugh. Laugh that he would never be in her heart anymore. Or cry that he would forever be in her thoughts.
She turned off her television, and sat there intently on her couch. The news reporter's words echoed through her head. 'The famous tennis player Echizen Ryoma has died.'
An angsty drabble I made when I was listening to a sad song.
Also I'm currently searching for a beta reader.