A/N: This is dedicated to bjont, who needed Tango Pair.
It's a bit experimental in structure–I won't go into all the details, but the three days over which the story occurs are divided into 24 sections of approximately 200 words each (to make a total of 4800 words, parallel to 48 hours of the story)...yes, it's needlessly complicated, but I seem to have trouble backing away from challenges, even self imposed ones.
Anyway, this is set three years post-series, so while I've tried to remain true to the characters, this is also my vision of how they would be in the future.
Please enjoy!
8:01 AM, Friday
Out of habit, Sanada slammed off the alarm clock without actually waking up. He might have stayed in bed for another hour or so if he hadn't accidentally knocked it off the bedside table in doing so. The resounding crash made him sit up and rub his bleary eyes.
The visitor was arriving today, he remembered with some irritation.
It was all because his roommate had dropped out of school just a few weeks into the fall term. As a freshman, Sanada wasn't supposed to have a room to himself (especially without paying an extra fee). The administration had agreed to look the other way, as long as he agreed to house a potential transfer student for the weekend.
Well, it shouldn't be too much trouble. The person just had to sleep in the spare bed in Sanada's room. Sanada was supposed to show him around and answer his questions, but he was going to be busy. He still had classes today, and then over the weekend he had been planning to meet Renji and Yukimura for tennis.
First, he needed to clean up the room. Sanada was neat by nature, but the hectic schedule and long hours of college often left his room looking like something of a disaster zone. It wouldn't do to show that sort of sloppiness in front of a guest.
9:35 AM, Friday
Sanada glanced over to the clock, now restored to its rightful place on the table. The visitor was half an hour late, and he had class at ten. He sighed, and turned back to his textbook.
A few minutes later, there was a knock, and the door swung open. Sanada turned his head, and then leaped to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the floor. The visitor also visibly paled, and took a very small step forward.
Sanada's heart was pounding wildly. His mouth opened to speak, but no words came out. It was a ghost. There was a ghost in his room.
"Sanada," Atobe said, folding his arms across his chest. His voice broke the spell.
Of course it had been foolish to think that Atobe would remain forever fifteen. He had grown several inches, and was slightly broader across the shoulders, although he was still smaller than Sanada. His hair, which had been newly cropped when Sanada last saw him, now brushed his shoulders. The cool gaze and implacable expression were unchanged.
"You seem much the same as ever," Atobe said.
Sanada had never wanted to hit someone so much in his life.
Instead, he clenched his teeth and left for class without saying a word.
10:12 AM, Friday
Sanada scribbled in the margins of his notebook without hearing a word the professor spoke. Atobe was staying in his room. Atobe, who he hadn't seen or spoken to in three years, was in his room at this very moment. It was just the kind of thoughtless thing Atobe would do to him. After all, he'd disappeared without a word immediately after Nationals their third year in junior high, as if his entire life in Japan was some old shirt that was so easily tossed aside. Supposedly, he was going to study abroad, in England, in Germany, maybe even in America. He'd changed his email, his cell phone number, hadn't left Sanada so much as a mailing address. Not that there had been a reason to. Maybe that was what hurt.
Over the last three years, Sanada kept hearing rumors about Atobe's whereabouts. Marui told him that Jirou had said that Oshitari had met up with Atobe for a Mediterranean cruise during one summer vacation. Renji told him that Inui had heard from Fuji that Atobe had attended one of Tezuka's games. People kept telling Sanada things like that, as if it would help, as if he cared.
11:20 AM, Friday
When Sanada got back to his room, Atobe was lounging on the bed. Sanada's bed.
Sanada pointed to the other bed.
"Sleep there," he said.
Atobe didn't move.
"Is that all you're going to say?" he asked, when Sanada remained silent.
"I don't have anything to say," Sanada replied, refusing to meet his eyes.
"You're angry with me, hmm?" The way he spoke was almost the same, the way he tilted his head when he asked a question hadn't changed. It was painful to watch.
"I'm not," Sanada said. The words felt heavy in his mouth. "We don't have anything to talk about. I don't care about your life. You don't care about mine."
Atobe looked away.
"I thought I might transfer to a university in Japan," he said, although Sanada had not asked. "This is a complete coincidence. I am as surprised as you are."
Sanada didn't know if that made things better or worse. On the one hand, Atobe wasn't pestering him intentionally. On the other, Atobe had come back to Japan without intending to see him.
Atobe sank back onto Sanada's bed.
"I'm not ready for this," he muttered.
11:45 AM, Friday
Atobe was soundly asleep, still on the wrong bed. Sanada assumed it was jet lag, as he'd never used to sleep during the day, or even more than a few hours during the night. There had been too many late night (and early morning) phone calls to count. Atobe got philosophical after midnight. Sanada got grumpy.
He started when his phone rang, as if reality was molding itself to his memories. But it was only Renji.
"I heard that Atobe's in Japan," he said, cutting straight to the point. "He's visiting our school. Do you want me to find out where he's staying?"
"It's fine," Sanada said.
"Oh? I thought you might want to see him, after all this time."
"No."
"All right, then." Renji wasn't one to force a subject. "Well, see you tomorrow."
Sanada walked over to his bookshelf, and pulled out an old notebook, a training diary from middle school. He didn't know why he'd kept it, really, except as a memento of days long past. It seemed indulgent, and sentimental.
Between the faded pages near the middle was a photo, snapped with a cell phone, printed on cheap paper. The edges were starting to curl. He looked at it for a moment, and then tucked it away again.
12:33 PM, Friday
"Here," Sanada said, tossing a packaged bento onto the bed.
Atobe blinked at him sleepily. His silver hair was sticking out in odd directions, and his clothing was rumpled.
"We could go out for lunch," he offered, and yawned.
Sanada saw that it had been a mistake to feed him.
"Just eat it," he said.
"We used to go to restaurants together," Atobe said, picking up the bento.
Sanada sank down on the other bed and buried his face in his hands.
"I'm here for three days," Atobe pointed out. "It doesn't have to be miserable, unless you want it to be. Why don't we talk about something trivial? We can at least be casual acquaintances. You wouldn't be so cold to a stranger."
A stranger, Sanada thought. Yes, that was what they were now, after all. But somehow, it didn't feel that way. Atobe was still familiar to him.
"All right, we'll talk about something trivial." Sanada said. "You were always good at that."
The words slipped out before he realized the weight of the past they carried. Atobe smiled one of his cold smiles, the almost mocking kind, which made Sanada feel as if he had been stung.
"I'll tell you a story," Atobe said, picking up a brush and running it through his hair. "You can decide for yourself whether it is true."
Atobe
I spent the early years of my life in England, but then I returned to Japan with my father for much of elementary school and all of junior high. My father traveled most of the time, and my only contact with his world was during vacations, or when he visited Japan and I would meet his business associates. I knew I would have to spend more time abroad eventually, but in the mean time, my life was focused around Hyoutei, and around tennis. Sometimes it felt like a dream, but often I felt confined.
The world could be mine, I knew, and I needed to leave Japan in order to grasp it. I needed to gain experience alongside my father, become more fluent in the languages I spoke but had no chance to practice. Tennis was a diversion from reality. It didn't matter.
The school year abroad starts in the fall, you know. I left Japan almost immediately after Nationals were over. It was at short notice, but I arranged to spend half a year in England. For the next few years, I attended several private schools, but spent most of the time traveling. I've been to more countries than you can imagine, all of them so different, all of them different from here.
I never touched a tennis racket. I never thought about you until today.
4:00 PM, Friday
Atobe was off exploring the campus, and Sanada stared at his textbook, his mind turning yet again to Atobe's story. Maybe, even after three years, it hurt to believe that Atobe hadn't thought of him once, or that tennis meant nothing to him.
Their relationship had always been strange. They had run into each other as first years on two of the best teams in Kantou, but never actually met until Hyoutei had played Rikkai in the finals of the Kantou Tournament during their second year.
They were so unlike that they should have hated each other, but instead had struck up a friendship of sorts. Atobe was vain, imperious, arrogant, and completely irritating, but after knowing him for a while, Sanada had to admit that he was also an excellent tennis player. Occasionally, he was good company. And, although Sanada had little interest in such things, Atobe was undeniably attractive.
Whatever had been between them had been vague and casual, mostly limited to gentle teasing on Atobe's part and awkwardness on Sanada's. But they had spent time together, and played tennis, and talked, and fooled around a little. If Sanada had every imagined there was more between them than that, Atobe's abrupt departure had disabused him of that notion. That was the end. It was nothing to brood over.
So why was Atobe back now?
1:00 AM, Saturday
The lamp next to the other bed was on, and Atobe was awake, reading something that, from the title, appeared to be German. Sanada rolled back his blanket and sat up.
"Is the light bothering you?" Atobe asked.
"No," Sanada said, surprised. It wasn't like Atobe—at least, the Atobe he remembered—to worry about things like that. Suddenly, he didn't feel like sleeping any more. He reached over and switched on his own light.
Atobe came to stand by Sanada's bed. His skin was pale in the dim light.
"I was wrong to say you haven't changed," he said. "Everything has changed, from how I remember it. Somehow, when you leave a place, you expect it to be exactly the same when you return."
"Three years is a long time. But I think that you have changed more than me."
Atobe smiled.
"It isn't a competition," he said. "And three days isn't enough to learn much. But don't you think we should try?"
"I don't know," Sanada said.
Atobe sat down at the foot of the bed, tucking his legs under him.
"Tell me," he said. "I want to hear what happened to you."
"All right," Sanada said. "But unlike you, I'm not going to lie about it."
Sanada
The first year was hell. After Nationals, everything was in pieces. Marui and Jackal wouldn't talk to each other. Niou made everyone's life miserable, and Yagyuu stopped even pretending to rein him in. Akaya spiraled out of control. Yukimura was a wreck. I was angry, but didn't have anyone to be angry with, because we couldn't have given any more, or trained any harder. It was failure, and there was nowhere to turn.
Renji and I tried our best to hold things together. In the end, it was only middle school tennis. Time helped. We grew up. We stayed close, mostly, although some of us drifted and found other friends and other interests. Almost everyone played tennis in high school, although it took us a while to make the team as strong as it could have been. Akaya helped a lot with that, when otherwise we might not have found the drive to start all over again.
I played tennis, went to school, studied, got into college.
Life is just life. There isn't much to tell about it that's interesting, but it hasn't been boring, and most of the time it hasn't been too painful either.
You say you didn't think about me. I tried not to think about you.
That's all.
1:20 AM, Saturday
"Would it have been better if I had stayed?" Atobe asked from the foot of Sanada's bed.
"I don't know," Sanada said. He had been saying it a lot, and it sounded stupid.
"Had it occurred to you that I might have left because I knew the trouble that Rikkai was going to face when you lost the Nationals.
It had, and that hurt worst of all, because Sanada had never fled from Atobe's troubles, no matter how large or trivial. He might not have been helpful, but he never ran away.
"We were fifteen," Sanada murmured. It was late, and dark, and there seemed no reason to hide things. "It's probably impossible to know who you're in love with when you're fifteen."
Atobe's eyes widened, but once again, he quickly turned away before Sanada could catch his expression.
"Can we at least spend the day together?" he asked quietly. When Sanada nodded, a ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "See, I knew you couldn't refuse my magnificent presence."
It was a few minutes later that Sanada realized that Atobe had—again—fallen asleep on his bed.
9:15 AM, Saturday
"I don't have anything to wear," Atobe announced, his head buried in his suitcase. "Lend me something, Genichirou."
Sanada almost flinched at Atobe's easy use of his given name—true, Atobe had called him that once, but this morning, Atobe seemed to be trying to behave as if he had never left. He had.
"What do you need?" Sanada asked wearily. The suitcase, while not large, looked as if it should certainly hold enough clothing for three days. But Atobe was already inspecting the contents of his closet.
"This will do," Atobe announced, pulling out a light blue polo shirt.
"It's too big," Sanada said, but Atobe only glared and pulled on the shirt. Then, he dug back into the suitcase. For a moment, his forced smile wavered, and he removed a faded blue cap from the bottom. He held it out to Sanada.
"Do you want it back?" he asked.
Sanada stared. It was one of the caps he had worn throughout junior high, one which he had given to Atobe years ago.
"You kept it?" he demanded in disbelief.
Atobe nodded.
"It's the only memento I ever got from you."
10:34 AM, Saturday
Sanada decided to cancel his plans with Renji and Yukimura, although he had told himself he wasn't going to turn his life upside down to accommodate Atobe. Atobe seemed determined to turn his life upside down for the day anyway. If Sanada ditched him to play tennis, Atobe would probably just follow, which would require some awkward explanations.
"You aren't feeling well?" Renji asked, his voice muffled by the phone but still somewhat startled. Usually, he and Yukimura had to tie Sanada down when he was ill in order to prevent him from trying to go about his life as usual. Besides, Sanada hadn't missed a Saturday tennis match…ever.
"Right," Sanada said. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"All right," Renji said, in the tone that meant 'I-know-you-are-lying-through-your-teeth', and hung up.
He turned to Atobe, who was standing in front of the mirror toying with his hair. Sanada's shirt was baggy over his relatively close fitting jeans.
"Aren't you ready yet?" Sanada asked.
"Yes," Atobe said, putting on Sanada's old cap. "Give me a tour of the school. I am visiting, after all."
"Didn't you already have the official one yesterday?"
"I want an informal one."
Sanada sighed, feeling the onset of an Atobe-induced headache.
2:00 PM, Saturday
"I think we've seen everything," Sanada said. "Twice."
Atobe surveyed the campus with a disinterested expression.
"Oh," he said. "It looks much the same as other universities."
"Are you actually thinking of going here?" Sanada asked, slumping down in the shade beneath a tree. Atobe crouched beside him.
"Perhaps," he said. "I don't know. My father wants me to go to college in England."
"But you came back. And if you aren't going to college here, you haven't explained why."
"Maybe I wanted to see the autumn foliage," Atobe suggested. "Maybe I felt like hearing Japanese."
Sanada scowled at him.
"Maybe I wanted to see you," Atobe said.
Sanada turned away, his face feeling suddenly warm, even though the day was rather cool.
"Let's go play tennis," he said roughly.
"I told you," Atobe protested. "I haven't touched a racket in years."
"I don't think it's something you can forget."
11:42 PM, Saturday
"I'm leaving tomorrow," Atobe said. "Or, in eighteen minutes, today."
"I thought we weren't going to talk about it," Sanada mumbled into the blanket that was wrapped around them. They sat there for a few minutes, dozing, but not yet asleep.
"Are you in love with anyone, Genichirou?" Atobe asked suddenly
"Of course not. Where did that come from?"
"I thought that you might be. With Yukimura, maybe."
Sanada gave a harsh half-laugh, and Atobe jumped.
"I was. In junior high. Before I met you."
"I thought maybe after I left…"
"Don't be stupid. Even if things hadn't been…the way they were, Yukimura doesn't need to reject anybody more than once. Ever."
"Ah."
"You talk too much," Sanada added, but even as he said it, he discovered that Atobe's lips were pressing against his with almost savage force, and, to his surprise, that he was kissing back.
'Did you come all the way to Japan to seduce me?' he almost demanded, but it didn't seem important, compared to the warmth of flesh on flesh, and Atobe's hair brushing against his shoulders like a feather.
11:59 PM, Saturday
The sky was clear that night, and Sanada and Atobe went out on the roof to look at the stars.
"It seems like the earth might just drop away," Sanada commented, feeling the darkness around them, thick and palpable.
"I wouldn't have thought you were the stargazing type," Atobe said, leaning back against the blanket.
Sanada shrugged.
"Maybe I'm drawn to beautiful things I can't reach."
Atobe lifted an arm into the air, his fingertips spread apart.
"I think you can touch them if you try."
Sanada lay back, and wrapped an arm around Atobe's shoulders. Atobe was absolutely still for a moment, and then he began to speak.
"I ran away from you."
"I know."
"I was afraid to tell you I was leaving. I was going to do it after I had gone, but the days passed, and it got more and more difficult."
"It's all right," Sanada said. "It doesn't really matter any more."
Tonight, it was only them and the stars, without any past or future. After all, so many of those stars had been dead for years and years. Only the light remained, still shining brightly.
8:28 AM, Sunday
The first thing Sanada noticed was that someone was pounding at the door. The second was that Atobe was in his bed, half-naked.
"Genichirou, are you awake?" Renji called through the door.
"No," Sanada bellowed. "Go away."
"Is there someone in bed with you?" That was Yukimura's voice. "Sorry for interrupting. We're coming in!"
Something clicked. Shit. How on earth had Yukimura gotten the spare key to Sanada's room?
The knob turned.
Atobe sat up in bed and drew a hand across his eyes.
"Whas' happening?" he mumbled.
Sanada buried his scarlet face in his hands.
"Oh," said Yukimura, beaming. "There was someone in bed with you. Well, congratulations." He turned to Renji. "Now you owe me breakfast. I told you Genichirou would manage to get laid before his third year of college."
"Hello, Yukimura-san, Yanagi-san," Atobe said, pulling on a shirt. "Please come in."
"Wait," Sanada said. "It isn't what it––!"
Yukimura patted his shoulder.
9:13 AM, Sunday
"You have good friends," Atobe said. His head was in Sanada's lap, but Sanada somehow didn't have the heart to make him move. "They've mellowed a bit, since last I saw them."
"Really?" Sanada asked. 'Mellow' wasn't particularly the word he would choose to describe Yukimura or Renji.
"The three of you used to walk around with this terrifyingly intense look in your eyes," Atobe said, staring up at him. "But you all look a little more peaceful now."
"I suppose so," Sanada said.
"So it was wrong for me to say you haven't changed."
"You said that last night. You don't need to keep repeating yourself."
"It's because I'm leaving in less than twelve hours. I'm feeling a little desperate."
Sanada bent down and kissed him. Normally, he would have shied away from such a gesture, but he too was feeling desperate, and he needed distraction in order not to stare at the clock.
You could stay, he almost suggested.
10:41 AM, Sunday
"I can't believe you kept this picture," Atobe said, taking the old printed photo from Sanada. "I suppose my photography was simply so stunning you couldn't bear to part with it."
"It was the only photo I had of you," Sanada said, taking it back.
Atobe had taken it one summer afternoon, during Nationals, with his cell phone. In the picture, Atobe and Sanada looked up at an awkward angle. Atobe had his usual smirk, his arm slung around Sanada's shoulder. Sanada was scowling at the forced portrait, his eyes half concealed by his bangs.
The next week, Hyoutei had lost to Seigaku, and their Nationals had ended. By the time Atobe was done sulking about that, Sanada was entrenched in his own battle. When had been the last time they saw each other? The day of the finals, perhaps, when they played against Echizen Ryoma? Had they seen each other afterwards, or had Sanada been too absorbed with Rikkai's defeat, and the distress of his teammates.
"Let's take another one," Atobe suggested, pulling out his phone.
"If I could see you in person, it wouldn't be necessary," Sanada said.
Atobe ignored him.
"Smile," he said, and Sanada tried.
1:09 PM, Sunday
Sanada let Atobe take him out for lunch at an expensive French restaurant. Atobe always enjoyed babbling away in strange foreign languages with delighted waiters, leaving Sanada completely in the dark, with only the sinking feeling that he was the subject of discussion.
Atobe stirred his soup—it had some unpronounceable name—with one of the many spoons that had been provided.
"You aren't eating," he said. "I assure you, I ordered dishes that you would enjoy."
"I know," Sanada said. It was strange to be at a restaurant with Atobe again, as they were pretending to be fifteen. And it was even stranger how easily they slipped into their old roles, and old arguments. "But I'm not good at make believe."
Atobe tilted his head to one side.
"Are you not enjoying yourself?"
"No."
Atobe's brows furrowed with displeasure. He lifted a snowy white napkin to his mouth, to hide the frown.
"I can't just put aside the last three years," Sanada said. "I can't pretend that I still know you, or that I'll ever see you again after today."
Atobe reached for his hand under the table.
"I never forgot you, and I won't," he said.
5:00 PM, Sunday
Atobe held up one of the shirts he had been borrowing.
"I'm keeping this one," he said.
Sanada blinked.
"Don't worry," Atobe said, waving a hand. "I'll reimburse you."
"Idiot," Sanada said, without heat. "Take it, if you want it."
It hurt to watch Atobe pack. Sanada told himself that he would rather feel that pain, would rather watch every moment of Atobe's departure than simply wake up to find him gone.
Atobe seemed determined to prolong the experience. He folded every single article of clothing slowly and with agonizing care.
"Do you believe what you said about love?" he asked suddenly.
"What?" Sanada said. He couldn't remember having said anything to Atobe about love. It wasn't a word he used lightly, or a subject he found easy to discuss.
"That it's impossible to know who you're in love with when you're fifteen."
"I don't think either of us was capable of it."
"But in retrospect?"
"Well, it's likely."
"Likely?" Atobe echoed.
"I was probably in love with you."
7:00 PM, Sunday
"I'm surprised you aren't taking a private jet," Sanada commented, as they sat in the airport waiting for Atobe's flight to be announced.
"Oh, that," Atobe said. "Well, my family doesn't exactly know I'm here, so taking one of the jets would have been difficult."
Sanada envied Atobe's freedom—the ability to go almost anywhere in the world on a whim. But he hated that freedom too, because it carried Atobe so far beyond where he could ever follow. He could only wait, and hope that it would carry Atobe back again one day.
"Would you like my cell phone number?" Atobe asked. "We could talk sometime."
"No," Sanada said. There wasn't going to be anything to talk about. Atobe could expound on the wonders of Europe, and Sanada could tell him about school, and it would all be distant and painful. Sanada was a coward. He wanted to watch every moment of Atobe's departure, to cling to the sight of him, but once he was gone, Sanada wanted him to vanish.
"What if I come back?" Atobe asked. "Or if I don't?" His hand brushed Sanada's cheek.
Sanada reached up to clasp it.
7:30 PM, Sunday
It was time for Atobe to board his flight.
Their hands were almost but not quite touching. Atobe had assumed the casual, indifferent mask he had worn upon his arrival. At the time, it had seemed intended to hurt Sanada, but in truth, it was probably just a habit.
The bowing flight attendant started to move Atobe's bag.
"Wait," Atobe said, reaching for it. He pulled Sanada's old hat from one of the side pockets and placed it on his head. It looked almost comical, above the ruffled violet silk shirt and crisply tailored white trousers, but Atobe had the self-confidence to carry any fashion statement.
He began to walk towards the plane, but then turned, and his eyes locked on Sanada's. In them, Sanada saw not just regret, but determination also. It was at that moment that he realized that Atobe might be back in the spring, that he wanted to return, that he would fight for it.
Atobe's lips parted slightly, as if he was going to speak. Instead, he smiled. It was almost sweet, and a little bitter.
And Sanada found himself smiling back, like a complete and utter fool.
9:00 PM, Sunday
Yukimura and Renji were waiting in Sanada's room when he got back from the airport. In fact, they were using his computer, admiring the pictures he and Atobe had taken earlier that day.
Renji could always figure out his passwords, no matter what he changed them to.
"You let him go," Yanagi said in a reproachful tone. "And they looked good together, too," he said, turning to Yukimura. Yukimura nodded in agreement.
"It's all right," Sanada said, believing it. "He's coming back. In the spring."
Yukimura suddenly looked more cheerful.
"Good," said. "I was afraid that you would drive him away. You're not very good at romance, you know."
Sanada glared at him.
"Neither is Atobe," Renji pointed out.
"True. I think they'll make a good match."
"But Seiichi, you'll have to give back the key to Genichirou's room, at that point."
They left the room, still discussing Sanada's future happiness. He followed. He could feel Atobe's presence lingering all around him, in the room, in the hallways, in the autumn breeze. And at night, Sanada might glimpse him among the stars.
A/N: I'm eager for feedback, since this is unlike anything I've written before. Reviews will be loved!
EDIT: Oops, forgot to mention. This story stands alone, but if you want to read about how Atobe got Sanada's hat, you can read my oneshot Of Hair and Hats. I've also written another Tango pair fic, Sanada's Gift.