Finality
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis aint mine.
Pairings: implied Tezuka and Fuji
Note: Just enjoy.
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Paint a bloody veil in fury
a salty death in dismay
Under the watch of the starry heavens
Paint a smile
With each heartfelt curve and stroke
Paint what you deemed-
Happiness
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" I guess; if you call that happy." Fuji smiled, throwing a tennis ball to the sky then hitting it with a gentle underhand.
It smashed into a wall, rebounding back to him.
"I don't call rejecting her happy," Tezuka muttered, then frowning as Fuji's racket met the ball, slamming it back to the wall. Noting the other's silence, he continued," And you know it Fuji."
" Do I?" he laughed, before twisting his racket to a backhand, and returned the ball swiftly.
Fuji's grin slowly settled into an all to perfected smile, as he shifted his position till his back was fully facing the other.
And a low "thuck" of the tennis ball resounded in the empty courts.
" Yes." Tezuka replied firmly as his eyes settled on the honey-haired boy, a hand lifted to shade his eyes from the settling sun.
Fuji swung the racket once again, this time seemingly harder, and the ball whist through the silence like a speeding bullet, meeting the wall with a resonance that sounded too much of finality. So much, Fuji hated himself for it.
" Well I don't." he smiled genially, his sky-blue eyes hidden by his fallen bangs.
Watching his back, Tezuka creased as he rubbed the back of his neck. He noticed that Fuji's shots were getting faster and more powerful, each swing seemed like Fuji had meant to hurt someone.
But the tensai inflicting harm had just appeared too surreal.
" Then now you do," tezuka amply stated, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, he watched the sweat trickling down Fuji's neck. " And besides, I am not interested."
" Well you should try to be then, I mean, you stay single forever." Fuji's voice was soft, as he muttered the words, and he paused, restraining himself for continuing. Though his wrist strained against the force of the rebound, he hit it back rapidly, tossing his anger in them.
-Tezuka need not be so dense.
" But I don't like Ayame." The stoic boy murmured, as Fuji raised his racket preparing for the ball.
They came in contact, and Fuji sent it slamming to the ground, flying up, it hit the wall, before returning to him. Fuji felt faintly amused by how he was playing with himself.
" She matches you." with another swing, the ball pounded to the wall that by now was filled with marks of his shots.
The empty sound of the ball made Tezuka tense, he could not stand his friend's nonchalant manner, just as Tezuka had told him many times, on how he did not like the girl.
" Fuji." He called, letting his voice fade into the tapping of the tennis ball.
But no answer came as the contact of the ball and racket seemed to increase numerously. Fuji was intently watching the ball, like it meant more interest than Tezuka's calling.
" Fuji." He repeated, this time firmer drowning the unnecessary echoing of the hits.
Still no reply, as Fuji's grip on the racket tightened, his back still facing Tezuka.
"Fuji, look at me." He said, grabbing onto Fuji's skinny wrist pulling him around till his eyes, met those sky blue ones. Fuji's dropped his racket almost instantly, shocked by the sudden pull, and the ball clattered helplessly to the floor.
And all was silent for that split second, as their thoughts washed with only the rhythm of the other's breathing.
Fuji struggled under Tezuka's firm grip; tugging his hand from his fingers he bit his lower lip stubbornly. Then his other hand came into place on Tezuka's fingers as he tried to pry them apart.
" Let go." He winced, sucking on his bleeding lip that he had bit a little too hard.
Slowly but surely the grip loosened, as Tezuka's hand went limp. Opened blue eyes met hazel ones as Fuji looked at Tezuka like he meant to kill, something hardly seen in the Tensai.
" Well what Buchou?" He seethed through thin lips that no longer formed the endless smile.
Tezuka stared back, rather alarmed by his friend sudden change of behavior, perhaps it was just so, he felt himself gaping at the face that lacked that usual familiarity.
Hidden behind that happy mask, Tezuka realized, was a Fuji that was so vehemently repressed into a façade that was almost deceiving.
And he wondered, how much effort it had taken Fuji, to hide that much-
And To show that little.
Perhaps so much more
" I…" Tezuka found himself stuttering, lost of the apt words, as his eyes gazed cross Fuji's, so hard it was, to say something right.
But still, as to describe his feelings of longing and ache as Fuji told him that he matched with another girl, he could not put them to words.
No matter how well his vocabulary had been, he found himself, back to a position where he never imagined himself to be.
To understand his own and Fuji's
Feelings- that is
" I…" He tried once more but it came to naught as he found himself staring hopelessly into the sea of blue, getting lost in them had seemed so very easy. But still it was not the matter at hand.
" Well?" Fuji probed, still lacking that warm smile that Tezuka longed to see, but no more the facade; he wanted something untainted and true.
But as Tezuka stared at the honey hair boy, his eyes glanced down the floor; perhaps it had been nothing more-
Than the simple friendship they had.
He grimy straightened himself, and turning away so he no longer needed to see those blue eyes, he said something almost inaudible, like a whisper not much a mutter.
" Its nothing really." His voice echoed, slowly fading into the silence of the deserted courts and there came from his side a low laugh, soft and strangely forced.
A smile, seemingly perfected, like the same delicately painted porcelain mask that hid everything from the rest, curled up to his pale lips.
His eyes, hidden behind soft bangs that tumbled down his lids.
And he was the same person Tezuka never seemed to know.
The same untainted Fuji.
" Right." Fuji whispered then bending down, he picked up the tennis ball and the racket once more, and throwing it into the air, he swung his racket, throwing the ball carelessly against the wall.
The resounding hits echoing through the dead silence, and nothing else was heard but the silent retreat of Tezuka footsteps.
" Right- Tezuka."
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I am officially brain dead
a living, breathing cabbage.
I feel rather dumb writing a fic like that
slaps myself mentally
but rather, i hope you liked it , so please comment, i'd die a horrid death without your comments.
Please,
See, i repeat myself constantly, i think i should thrown in the emo corner one day.