A/N: This is just something I wrote half past midnight today, so don't expect it to be edited... I'm not even sure it makes sense. It's about the lovely Silver Pair, and I'll hope you'll enjoy it, though it probably isn't the best I've written (what do I even consider my best? I don't know). The lyrics used are by FM Static - The Voyage of Beliefs.
Please R&R! (:
What if I stumble,
What if I fall,
When I'm on my way to you?
The chilly air reached his lungs, and he was shuddering. He put his naked hands in front of his mouth, trying to warm them up with the help of his breath. It didn't work.
Ootori swallowed hard, even though it was hard. It was hard to breathe, and he had a cold. He felt awful, but yet he had his tennis bag thrown over his shoulder. It was the second Saturday in December, and he was on his way to tennis practice.
He had just exited the train station, but he was already freezing and it was a long walk to Hyoutei. Ootori realized that he was going to be late if he didn't speed up, and if he was late, Atobe would kill him. Ootori groaned as he quickened his pace, and after a while, he started to run. His lungs were hurting, like they were about to explode, and Ootori quickly slowed down again. He couldn't run, because it hurt too much.
How was he supposed to play tennis like this?
I really want to find what I believe for myself,
'Cause when you're gone
And I'm still here
I won't have you to tell me that I should be there
"Where on the goddamn earth is he!?" Shishido grumpily said as he looked towards the changing rooms. No sign of his doubles partner. Hiyoshi, who had heard Shishido, walked up beside him, holding a ball in his hand.
"Maybe he overslept." Shishido glared at Hiyoshi.
"Choutarou doesn't oversleep!" Hiyoshi just chuckled softly, and then send a confident smirk to Shishido.
"You want to play a few games?" he asked, and Shishido nodded, his eyes till locked at the changing rooms. Then he turned his back to them, following Hiyoshi to the closest court. Where was Choutarou?
His mind wasn't really in the game when Hiyoshi served. He didn't even see the ball as it came flying by, and he groaned inside. He should stop worrying about Choutarou and start playing tennis!
"Shishido!" Shishido froze as he heard his captain's stern voice behind him. "Don't slack off! Ore-sama does not like to see regulars slacking off." Shishido rolled his eyes but focused as Hiyoshi served once again. He grabbed his racket with both his hands to hit his backhand, and after a nicely executed drop shot, Shishido won the point.
Ootori still wasn't there.
What if I need you?
Who do I call?
How do I know I'll get through?
Ootori was exhausted. He couldn't believe that the walk from the station to the school made him this tired. He had trouble breathing through his nose, so his air supply was very limited. He tried to swallow again, but his throat was so swollen that it was almost an impossible task. Basically, he felt like shit.
He knew he was late. Shishido-san would probably kill him, and Atobe would slaughter him. A tournament was coming up, and Atobe knew that he and Shishido-san needed to practice on some of their formations. Ootori actually had a couple of ideas that he wanted to try, but right now, all he was focusing on was to get to school without collapsing or something.
He coughed. His throat hurt so much, and he sighed in frustration. This couldn't be good.
Ootori was relieved when he finally saw the school buildings appear in front of him, and he sluggishly moved across the empty school yard and entered the tennis area.
No one saw him as he walked into the changing rooms, but he could spot Shishido-san serving against Hiyoshi. Shishido-san's back was against the changing rooms, so he didn't see Ootori. Neither did Atobe.
Ootori opened his locker when he entered the changing rooms, and looked at himself in the built-in mirror. He looked awful. His hair was unusually messy and disheveled, and his eyes were bloodshot. His face was red, and he wondered if it was fever. But Ootori didn't have time to think about that right now. He quickly changed into his Hyoutei jersey and walked out, feeling dizzy and very, very light-headed.
And it's all fine,
It's all well
I really want to find what I believe for myself
"Ootori-kun, Ore-sama want to know why you are late." Shishido was in the middle of making a shot, but he whipped around as he heard his partner's name. Choutarou was standing with his back against Shishido, and he was looking at the ground.
"Sorry, buchou. It won't happen again."
"Shishido! Concentrate!" Hiyoshi was pissed at Shishido for not caring about the game, but Shishido held up a hand to silence Hiyoshi.
Atobe had a weird look on his face, and when Choutarou slowly turned around, Shishido knew why. Choutarou looked sick. Shishido simply stared at Choutarou as he was approaching him, and Choutarou smiled a weak smile.
"Sorry 'm late, Shishido-san." Shishido still couldn't say a word. Choutarou frowned. "What's wrong?" Shishido simply blinked at him.
"Wrong? What's wrong? There's nothing wrong with me, but there's something wrong with you!" Choutarou smiled sheepishly at Shishido's reply.
"I'm fine, Shishido-san." Choutarou said, and Shishido looked at him with a grim look on his face.
"You look like hell, Choutarou."
He did. It looked like it was worse than just a cold. Shishido wouldn't let him play. What if he collapsed in the middle of the game, or what if he got hospitalized because he had pneumonia? Choutarou's red eyes looked to the other side of the court.
"Ah, looks like Oshitari-senpai and Mukahi-senpai changed with Hiyoshi. We're playing them, Shishido-san." Choutarou said, and before Shishido could stop him, he had gotten into serving position. Shishido looked at him for a while, and if something happened to Choutarou because Shishido let him play, Shishido would never forgive himself.
When he was in place in front of the net, Choutarou served.
The Scud Serve lacked it usual power and speed, and Oshitari returned it, though with great problems doing so. Shishido volleyed it down to the court, but Mukahi was there, returning it with ease with his acrobatics.
And try to knock me down,
But I won't listen
'Cause I've got nothing left to lose
Ootori frowned as his backhand barely made it over the net. His play lacked all kind of power today. But he would do this, because he wasn't going to be put down by a simple cold. This was nothing more than a cold, he was sure of it.
He hit a forehand, but it didn't make it past Mukahi. Shishido lunged for the ball, and Oshitari returned it to the empty side of the court. Ootori rushed over, preparing to hit a backhand.
But he couldn't swing his racket.
He panicked as his body wouldn't move, and he felt his air disappear out of his lungs. Ootori saw the court closing in on his face, and he braced himself for the impact.
Ootori realized that he should've listened to Shishido-san.
You can hate me for everything I'm not
But it won't change this,
'Cause now that I'm here
I'm not moving
Shishido was wating at the net as he waited for Choutarou to cover his side of the court. However, when he never heard the impact of the ball hitting the racket, he knew something was wrong. When he saw Oshitari and Mukahi's alarmed faces, he knew something was wrong. When he heard someone hit the ground, he whipped around to see his best friend lie in a heap on the ground.
Shishido froze, and he paled visibly. He ran like a zombie, if now zombies could run, towards Choutarou's still body.
"Choutarou!" he cried out and fell down to his knees beside Choutarou. He was still, but at least he breathed. Oshitari and Mukahi soon reached his side.
"Is he going to be okay? Hey, Yuushi, what's wrong with him? Ootori-kun, wake up!" Shishido, who was usually annoyed by the red-head, only had one thing in his mind. He wanted Choutarou to wake up. Atobe and the other regulars were soon by their side, all of them watching Choutarou.
"Hey, Choutarou, wake up now, okay? We'll take you someplace warm." Shishido muttered and rapidly ripped off his own jacket. Choutarou needed to be warm. He carefully placed it over the still body.
After what seemed like an eternity, Choutarou opened his eyes, frowning up at the sky. His eyes were slightly glazed over, and it looked like he has a fever. Choutarou was panting hard, his chest quickly moving up and down.
"Where...?" he whispered to himself, before he seemed to realize where he was. He looked at Shishido, but Choutarou didn't smile. He looked like a hurt puppy, Shishido thought.
"Shishido-san." Choutarou started, coughing in the process. "I guess I should've listened to you."
Shishido simply smiled at his very stupid kouhai before helping him up. Shishido led Choutarou to the club room, away from the tennis courts and the regulars' worried and curious eyes. All Shishido cared about right now was that Choutarou had to get well before playing tennis again.
Shishido would be there, right by Choutarou's side, to make sure that he did get better.
"I told you that you shouldn't have played." Shishido said, and Choutarou grinned, despite being in pain.
"I'm sorry, Shishido-san."
"It's okay."
They sat in silence in the warm club room, keeping each other company and Shishido watching over Choutarou like a hawk.
And Choutarou, well, he was simply grateful. He had the best senpai ever, and somehow, he would repay him. But right now, he needed to sleep.
He fell into a deep, comfortable sleep with Shishido by his side.
What if I stumble,
What if I fall,
When I'm on my way to you?
What if I need you,
Who do I call?
How do I know I'll get through?
Because I don't wanna read the fence anymore,
I wanna stand up, and shout it,
And let it be known