This thing over there kind of messes up with my lay-out...

Almost
~An APH Fan Fiction~
[AU, HETERO, DL?DR!]
(Frying Pangle)
I don't own APH whatsoever.

Chapter One: So close, but still so far.
(Song for this chapter: www . youtube watch? v=mhI_ NY5Z5Ps)
Note: Remove the spaces.

...

-o0o-

I would and certainly tie those shoelaces for her…
So in that way, she'll never have to trip and fall for someone else.

In a trance I gazed upon her, this beautiful maiden, with long brown locks that curl elegantly like a treble clef on a carefully handwritten 18th century sheet music. Those strands of hair gathered in a beautiful mess of wisps tied back by a deadly-blood red band. She has ever-brilliant green eyes, resembling the rich deep green of breath-taking forests. Her legs were delightfully long but strong and agile, stretches from Klagenfurt all the way up to Vienna. Skin, fluorescent and radiant, bounces off shimmering light from the damp of sweat. Her voice…

"Can you hold this for me? I'll tie my shoelaces for just a sec."

Her voice makes me tremble like a trill in a crawling decrescendo.

Again, I would and certainly tie those shoelaces for her.
If that means, she'll sat beside me and linger.
For just a second, two… or maybe longer.

"Aren't you going to play? Come on, everybody is having fun!"

My eyebrows arched. I stole a look into her eyes but shyness would forcefully drift mine away. It was just a simple question that requires a simple yes or no, but it got me awkwardly tongue-tied… and speechless.

I'm not much into sports and just about everything that requires me breaking bucket-loads of sweat. Not that I flatly hate vigorous physical activity at all, but it is for the stark, blunt reality that I do suck at it most times… No, not really, actually… I suck at it all the time. But I'll never say a word of it to her. I would never admit to her that I really wasn't a P.E. class guy.

"I'll be on the next game… at the time when… uhm, they switch players."

"You mean… substitution." She flashed her amused smile which revealed perfectly aligned teeth peeking through those plump and pink lips. She showed me those pretty green, jade orbs enclosed in a cage of bountiful lashes that are gracefully curved upward.

"I guess that's what it is." I squared my shoulders and blink my eyes away into returning her wonderful smile. I've always wondered if she ever found my smile as pleasant behind my shy lips. If ever that she found my purplish-blue eyes handsome behind the rigid cage of my square, black-rimmed prescription glasses.

She nodded what I think (what I really want to think) was a nod of fondness towards me. She batted her eyes and stared at the towel and drinking flask I was holding. That had sharply reminded me to return what personal belonging of hers she had let me hold. I hesitatingly gave them back because that would simply mean that a simple conversation that I dreamt of having with her will end without even starting.

"Rehydrate well… That will keep you having a those great smashes."

"By smashes, I bet you mean spikes." She chuckled silently at what I just said and twisted open her pink-coloured drinking flask. She then continued, "Smashes are only for racket games… but, you're right. Rehydrating keeps me in tip-top shape for doing a smash-slash-spike… whatever you call it."

I'd tried my best to hide that blood rushing into my cheeks, tinting it with colours of embarrassment. I really have nothing in knowledge about this volleyball thing. However, I did keep the conversation going.

"Now I call it a smashing spike."

That had made her smile sweetly at me. Oh how I wish she would do that every single day.

"You really are an amusing guy…?"

However, she keeps on forgetting my name. We were already reaching the middle of our final year in high school and we were classmates since elementary school and yet she never remembers my name.

It made me sad and ache in lots of ways.

"Roderich. Roderich Edelstein." I gave my name to her with a strong intent gaze and firm tone, wishing and pledging that from this day on, she will remember my name forever. Now that I thought of it… Would that be even possible in the slightest?

She drank the contents of her flask at the same time nodding slightly as she hears my name. She spilled the last drips of water into her face and gently patted it dry with her soft towel. She slowly stood up from my side and faced towards me.

"I'm off… I'm going to smash-spike my team into a smashing victory." She winked at me and quickly turned her heels towards the court, leaving me alone again in the solitude of the quiet wooden bleachers. I clearly could see those soft brown curly tips wave goodbye to me. All her team mates were cheering and glad to have her back on the game. She really was good at these kinds of activities, it was never hard to see and I could always bet she could even beat the sturdy men. Oh God, she looked damn hot in those volleyball jersey and shorts she was wearing. It hugged her curves perfectly and the colour brought out the smooth glow of her skin. At her back was an obviously bold lettering of the word "Hedervary"- Her family name.

She was beautiful, smart and sharply witty… She is a fully-blossomed young woman, vivaciously strong-willed and robust but still graceful in her ways.

There is nothing to change. She's close to perfect.
But I always wanted to change that surname of hers…
And replace it with mine.

I could only sadly laugh at what I had dreamt of and desired so much of my teenaged life. How many times I just wanted to forget it and let the unattainable wish vanish and fleet away with the dense clouds of the blue skies. But even though how much I tried to tell myself that all sweet obsessions pass, the forlorn wish is too heavy that it falls back from the heavens and would hit me hard on the head, making me irrevocably bruised with longing and even more fondly besotted with the lovely young lady that I might not ever have.

I squirmed on my seat and stretched my back, leaning against the wooden beam. I gently touched the patch of skin that covered my inner wrist and found small purple blotches that might be from last Wednesday's P.E. class. I remember so well how hard I had hit the incoming ball, trying to give a good fight. It flew so fast in a downward trajectory towards the opponent's court. It made an almost electric shock-like pain to radiate in my poor limbs. I made this stupidly awkward dance of pain that had made the other guys laugh so hard they choked on their tonsils. But still, the ball didn't made it in as it flew out of bounds into the head of Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, that Spanish classmate of ours who was so stupidly busy chatting with his friend, Francis, to even realize an angry ball was coming to displace further the already displaced brain of his.

Oh and we both ended up in the nurses' room to ice-pack both of our injuries.

And I wasn't able to play the piano for one whole day after that. Now, I could already move my wrist side by side without feeling any pain and that's it. I guess I should have listened more about warming up before playing and hitting the ball properly. Normally, I wouldn't even care about all of those shit exercises and fuck stretching. If not only for Elizabeta, I would not even waste my energy into slapping some useless rubber ball.

As the men's first game ended with our team losing. I was beckoned forward by our team captain, this time the seemingly fully-recovered but with a fading violet bruise in the forehead Spaniard. I sighed long and hard, unzipping and removing my sports jacket, tossing it alongside my gym bag. I came down and joined the team who already started a hushed briefing.

Sweaty, heavy arms were hung over my neck. I crouched a bit and pushed back my eyeglasses that had slipped a millimetre or two. Antonio cheered up the team and assigned tasks and strategies to be done. One by one he speaks of what needs to be done by each and every one. Lastly, he faced towards me.

"..."

What the hell was that long pause?

"Err… Roddy, just play the game, si?"

I kind of glared at him trying to pass on some message.

He blinked and said"…Don't overdo it. I believe you could really hit the ball good, just put up some control."

I was surprised that the guy had picked up that I was trying to say "spit-your-coaching-out-or-I'll-rip-your-bruise-off" with my eyes. The Spaniard was known to be slow in realizing or maybe simply just slow in the head. I have known the guy since he had transferred into school in the middle of our freshman year. That time, he barely spoke any language besides his lispy mi-amor-como-esta-ustedlanguage. At the dorm, he was assigned to the room in front of mine, with Francis Bonnefoy (The infamous Living, Breathing STD… President-Founder-CEO of the SLUTs "Society for Liberation of Undone Trousers"). I had pitied the guy for having such unlucky fate, but it seemed that the world turns around really weirder than anyone would think. Instead of the expected new student screaming out for a room transfer, he became one of STD's best buds.

"Antoine, mon chéri, just give up… Your team won't stand a chance against us. Honhonhon…" Speaking of STD, he was just standing inches before the net flashing his smirk and some weird laughter. He bounced the ball a couple of times and scratched his sweat-soaked scalp, digging a finger into his messy blond ponytail. "…especially when Let-them-eat-CAKE is playing on your team."

Well that was rude. I was bracing myself to retort something that would sound really, really terrible when Antonio got a hold of my chance and put his sweaty, tan arm over my neck. "Don't be so sure of yourself…" He then pointed a finger at me and smiled "Let-them-eat-cake'sspikes shall be the end of you." With a very proud and loud voice, he showed his darkened bruise and tapped it. "See this? He could hit the ball so hard you will never have a chance to return any ball from him."

"Oh well. There is no need…" Francis chuckled in a gurgling voice. "For it won't even make it in, non?"

Antonio would purse his lips in what I thought from stifling a laugh from a deep thought of maybe Francis was right. The bearded man had fisted him slightly at the shoulder and ran off to the other side of the court, almost tripping as he had dashed and caught his head under the net. After letting out a slight and hurtful "ooh", he looked back at us and stuck his tongue out as if he was hiding his embarrassment.

The Spaniard beside me heartily laughed at Francis and yanked me closer to him. "Just ignore him, si?"

"No need to tell me actually. I would do just that." I squirmed away from him, scratched a trail of sweat from where Antonio's hand formed a gross damp phantom of an arm and braced myself at the right front, at where Antonio appointed me to guard when he boasted his invincible strategy.

After a tossed coin decided that our team would do the service, the blow of the whistle screeched hard with a sound almost like of an un-oiled heavy door. Arthur Kirkland, the unsociable blond guy with a tremendously glaring pair of eyebrows and who was famously called as Francis' beau threw the ball up and slapped it in a very fast and downward motion.

Through the slits of the dark-coloured net I have seen STD wink and countered the ball with great ease and a ballerina-like grace. At my back my ears caught up some angry huff and whispering of a "Shit that bloody arsehole!"

I was a bit distracted for a second because of that, and when my mind finally told my consciousness to focus at the incoming ball, good thing it wasn't too late and too near, so my perfectly formed arms passed the ball for a pass. Actually, my heart pounded hard before that and I was shocked but more happier to see the ball flawlessly bounce into the air.

But what would make me the most happiest is when I looked at my right side and seen Liz sitting at a stool and clapping her hands. I didn't know until that time that the girls were already finished with the game. But whatever, at least she would now be at my side. She would smile and my heart will float up again. God, I wish that she would make wonders at my performance instead of giving my heart a blissful palpitation.

Arthur had tossed the ball that I passed and Antonio jumped high from the wood parquet court floor and gave the ball a hard spank. Francis had tried very hard to block it with hands but it hadn't just made himself to jump high enough. The ball met the floor in an angry impact, bounced and skidded crossing through the end line.

The shot was obviously a point so the lineman pointed his flag down, the squeaky whistle was blown up again and the umpire pointed his palm towards our side of the net, signalling that we got the first point of the game. The girls watching roared, squealed and giggled at that. It was primary because of Antonio as he was like one of the more popular guys, raking in mobs and mobs of fangirls at school.

"KKKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLLLLLLL !" fangirl screeches just reached the dangerous 140-decibel mark.

Me? I couldn't care less and couldn't be more thrilled than annoyed about having fans that will just blow your eardrums off. However, seeing the girl I most adored smiling at me with those pretty clapping hands, is an exception that would even make me live for a thousand years.

"That's quite a nice spike." I stared towards our Spanish team captain and tapped his shoulder.

The guy squared his shoulders. "Haven't done it with your muy bien pass, amigo." He elbowed my ribs and patted the shoulder of Arthur. "And you too, that was an excellent set."

"Don't think I did it for the team." he closed his eyes and then opened them only to glare at both of us. "You should have tossed the ball and I should have spiked it. By then, I could squash that heathen twat's obnoxious face beyond repair."

With that, the other court passed him the ball and he walked away towards the service area, dribbling the wall and bracing his small-framed thin body into the sealed parquet floor. Stood there, waiting for the sound of a smacked rubber ball and in a split second I heard what I waited for. The ball flew over me and down into the other court in speed that would make a bullet train look like a sluggish snail.

Aware of all the wicked plans inside Arthur's head, Francis ducked and dodged the ball in time for him not to be going home with a broken nose. He would smile and snicker after that, scratch his beard of spikey blond stubbles and wink at the bushy-browed guy who flared his nose in response. What made STD laugh almost hysterically is when he figured out Arthur's so fixated into inflicting injury in his pretty shit of a face that the ball went out of bounds and the points were given to them.

"Oh Arthur! mon cheri!" He chortled even more if that was even possible. "That was such a fail, mon amour…"

"Yes, you're actually precise. I am a fail, my darling…" Arthur closed his eyes and calmly wiped sweat from his neck with a neatly folded, embroidered handkerchief. "…And so was your dad's condom and your mum's IUD too."

I raised my eyebrow at that and I could feel my mouth twitch at the sides, anticipating some dirty laughter. Arthur said it so loud and so naturally that it sounded a bit more funnier and insulting than it was supposed to actually sound. Francis' face cannot be absolutely drawn. The players and the spectators alongside roared in laughter at that unexpected remark until the umpire blew the whistle telling us to shut up and get going.

The service was now in the hands of Francis' team, particularly, Ivan's hands… huge hands. The guy was very tall and certainly was an advantage to their team. He dribbled the ball, wearing that easy and confident smile and hit it in a loud rubbery smack. One would never want that guy to be in the direction of their spikes as those jumping lengthy legs and humongous hands would stop and pin the ball back in a swoosh just like your heavy-duty fly swatter.

However… Ivan at the service area? Disaster.

I saw the ball flew up to 10 meters away from court, and got a 10-point shot in the basketball court.

Some dumb students playing at the basketball court would now scratch their head figuring out how to remove that extra score made by a volleyball ball out of the digital scoreboard. Francis stared back at Ivan, trying his best not to glare.

"What? My hands didn't even swing an inch." I heard the guy reason out as he threw both of his hands and squared his shoulders, staring back at the blond bearded lad.

"Oh, alright." Francis snorted, looking away and stared at me but I evaded it and pretended that I wasn't looking at his unsightly vexed face.

Our team rotated in position and Antonio bumped at me stepping quite hard at my left foot. Unpleasant as it does felt, his crushing foot had reminded me that it was now my turn at service. I had actually almost forgotten it. But now, all my thoughts go backwards as I take every step towards the back of the end line. I could almost feel Elizabeta's glance boring a whole in my consciousness. Although, I wasn't even sure that she's looking and waiting for me to give it my all… just to impress her.

I didn't dare to steal a glimpse on her. It would make me tense out of my wits– trembling and unstable, like a poorly made cake that flattens towards the centre. I've always been in my life, a calm and collected human being. It was as if nothing would faze me enough, shock me enough or upset me enough. I tell you… that would perfectly define me as a boring person. But the one whom I dreamt to be with had put some colour into who I am.

I learned to be fazed. I learned to be shocked. I learned to be upset. I experienced being restless and flustered. Because of her… I learned to be afraid.

I dribbled the ball, concentrating in making a good serve.

I almost didn't hear Francis' jeering, Antonio's mothering and Arthur's foul blabber. The only thing that I clearly heard is the sound of the whistle screaming for me to throw and hit the ball. I sighed.

The ball was flown up into the air with an easy flick of my left hand. I stared at it coming down smoothly, springing myself up. My right hand slapped the rubber ball in a loud smack angling it in the right position and in a very fast speed, ensuring precision and an ace shot.

It landed in just beyond the attack line and right between Francis' legs. I saw and heard it bounced before my eyes were forcibly shut by a soft sting that some amount of sweat sprayed caused. It came from my forehead and into my glasses and some descended into my eye the moment my feet reached the ground.

I heard cheers and claps, most loudly from Antonio. I also heard then the sound of Francis' jaw dropping. I stared towards the sides at the spectators who are mostly girls but couldn't care if they were actually squee-ing, cheering or applauding. I just haven't seen Liz where she was sitting before.

Without any warning, the bell rang- telling us to vacate the place as our physical education class is over.

"Ok, students! Let's just continue the match on our next meeting. Vacate the place now and please carry all your water bottles with you…" Our gym teacher's voice on the megaphone seemed to just slip across, unnoticed in my ears. How could I pay attention to my ears? When my eyes are busy, rolling frantically from side to side searching for someone that might only repay my feelings back with sweet but dull heartaches.

Finally, after turning and shaking my head around like a fool, I just saw her curly and pony tailed light brown hair, her alluring back and her deep red duffel bag. She was on her phone, talking to someone.

I smiled, walked a few feet towards her and almost uttered her beautiful name.

However, someone sporting a tennis outfit sauntered from the gym door, one hand holding a phone on one ear and a free hand slightly swinging a naked racket.

He smiled and slid the phone in his pocket.

Elizabeta ran towards him, hugged him loosely. The other one softly kissed her in the forehead.

"Gilbert, I thought you won't come and pick me up today?" I heard her say with that contented smile that made my heart sting.

"Well, I'm here…" I heard him reply.

They laughed together and then Liz squeezed the other one's nose, on which he responded with a quick "Oww!". She then reached for his arm to hold him. He squirmed gently and I heard him tell her.

"Wait, Liz… I think your shoelaces are undone." He knelt down. "Wait… I will tie it for you."

I could now only wish I would tie those shoelaces for her…
But she already had somebody to do it for her,

So she might never trip or fall for someone else...
...And love somebody like me.

-o0o-

...

A/N: OHHH… Yay!~. Thank you very much for enduring the story up to this part!

This, itself, is not my very first APH fan fiction. I have three others but reading them all again, I have decided that I would post a softer-themed fic for a starter (Although the other three are significantly more developed and "thinked" than this fic). I know the volleyball scene kind of sucked but oh well, I really did tried my best. I like improvements so a REVIEW is much appreciated.

BTW… This is not a one-shot, there are more chapters to come. So if you like it, just follow my updates (Add to Story Alert)

One more thing… T.T:

I would be honest, posting this is kinda suicide for me because I know that I wouldn't be able to update for more or less two months because of an out-of-town, on-the-job training (life sucks). But still I'll continue writing even if I don't have my laptop. Long live fan fiction writing!

One last thing (PS):

Formatting in sucked a lot that I didn't manage to keep my original formatting (i.e. double spaces). Since I figured out after wasting hours that double spacing is impossible, I came up with the solution to use ellipses for the 'thought effect'. Tsk. Sigh.

Update:

Formatting now fixed! :)

-iSaMs-