Hey, doodles. This a two shot I've been wanting to do for forever. I'm making progress on getting almost all my one-shots done. Thankfully. xD
Anyways, this is a little angsty but fluff occurs in the next part. Promise.
Warnings: Language. General sadness. Abandonment issues but oops, can't tell you the whole story yet.
Kevin could remember. He could remember the rough texture of the sheets. The way the sunlight flitted through the window and crowned over Ryoma like a halo. The noises: teasing tones and lazy moans. The feeling of pure, unadulterated love. It was impermeable. They'd finally gotten to the only place they needed to be; with each other.
But then he left. Cleared himself out with an ache somewhere in himself he couldn't cut his way out of. It was that deep rooted fear, that pain. That, just like all the times before, he was going to be abandoned. So he abandoned first.
There was never a moment when he didn't regret it.
It was almost a year later that his manager called and told him that Ryoma Echizen would be accompanying him on his trip to Japan. He knew Ryoma had been in America for years and never shown an inclination for going back. He loved Japan, it was home, but there was something different in the air of America. He agreed.
He didn't know how to act when he saw him again. He thought there'd be a rage, a temper tantrum the boy was so known for. He thought there'd be anything else but the quiet blankness in Ryoma's face when he greeted him at the terminal because they'd been on different flights.
"You know where were staying?" Kevin asked gruffly. He hadn't really wanted to speak first. The cab driver cursed loudly and he jumped.
Ryoma didn't turn from his view of the window. He didn't look any different. Same average height, same try-me-I-dare-you stare. But he was quieter. It wasn't so much the fact that he didn't speak; it was the intensity of his silence that had changed. He mourned it, though he didn't feel he had the right to.
Finally, after a lengthy pause, "Hotel."
He accepted that it was as much as he deserved.
They had to share a room. He was glad that it hadn't turned into some cheesy romance movie where they were forced to share a bed too.
They were going to be seeing each other practically every day for two weeks. Two weeks. Then he could go back to being non existent, invisible in his apartment. It hadn't been that way with Ryoma. Whenever Kevin had been with him, even when they were just friends with unaccountable sexual tension, there'd been a ripple of being in the space around him. People knew you were there with Ryoma.
He unzipped his suitcase, trying to keep his eyes away from the other side of the room. Ryoma was sitting on the bed. How could a person look so inexplicable perfect just sitting?
"I'm going to take a shower."
"What if I wanted to shower first?"
It was a joke. Light teasing. He shouldn't have but he did. Ryoma's back tensed in the doorway of the bathroom. His voice was so distant it was like they weren't in the same country, much less the same room. "Do you want to?"
"No." He busied himself with his clothes in shame. When he heard the click of the door he slumped unto his bed. The sound of the running water muffled the scream into his pillow.
People had always seen them as the embodiment of the perfect combination of hard work and loyalty. Rivals to best friends. Progress. Ryoma had hated it, but Kevin had been fascinated by the fact that people saw them as a package deal.
You're Kevin Smith, right? Aren't you best friends with Ryoma Echizen?
Is that Ryoma Echizen? I wonder where Kevin Smith is.
They didn't go places without the other somewhere nearby. And if they did, it didn't feel right. It was like being devoid of your racquet in a game. It was his safeguard, but it was also illogical to be without. Meaningless.
"Game to Smith, Kevin. 6-1."
He panted, heading out of the court with barely a backwards glance. It was a charity game which made his indifference almost nasty. The shoelaces on his brand new sneakers made an awkward sound against the sidewalk.
He found Ryoma sitting on a patch of grass, drinking a can of an unfamiliar cherry soda. Kevin stopped in front of him. "Where's your Ponta?"
"I don't drink that stuff anymore." Ryoma's cap was sitting on the ground. He looked completely unperturbed despite the fact that they'd played more then three games. Though there was a twist of hands that signaled deception.
He frowned. He didn't know why he was so bothered at such a small thing but Ryoma loved Ponta. Or he had. "Why not?"
"I just don't."
It was torture, really. To be around a person you knew better then anything that had ever lived and not truly know them. Kevin ached with it. He nodded, taking in the pursed lips and narrow shape of the person he used to think of his. Mine, was what Ryoma had said on the night they'd gotten together. He turned around and headed back the opposite way.
One night, Ryoma went to a party in honor of their united win without him. Not because he'd wanted to. Kevin had been sick and Ryoma's manager had thought it, "incredibly disrespectful not show up to one's own party." Which Ryoma had rolled his eyes at but complied anyway.
In the middle of the night Kevin had woken up in his hotel room to sounds of his best friend fucking someone. Right next to him. Ryoma had apologized the next morning and he'd forgiven him because, well, everyone did stupid shit. But after that he couldn't help wondering if maybe Ryoma didn't consider him his tennis racquet the same way he did.
The avoided each other for the rest of the week. No talking for longer the fifteen seconds. No looking for longer then six. Basic survival rules. He didn't want to get eaten alive by a person who wouldn't even touch him on accident.
The beginning of the second week after countless matches and events and pretending, they were invited to have dinner with Ryoma's old friends. He wasn't exactly keening to go but he didn't have anything against them and he needed to do something fun. He was eighteen, for God's sakes. Right at the prime.
The restaurant was pretty relaxed, which he was thankful for, and Ryoma seemed to be familiar with the layout of it as he weaved through the tables to find the party. He recognized the self-assured air of Atobe Keigo, the half-lidded gaze of Fuji Syusuke and the bouncy, chattering figure of Kikumaru Eiji. There were some others, sipping on their drinks and engaging in quiet conversation; the perfect picture of a night out with friends.
There wasn't anywhere else for them to sit but beside each other. Ryoma looked like he'd rather be in the hospital then in close proximity with him but he greeted his friends with a cocky smirk. Everyone seemed to feed off of the falseness of that smirk.
"So, Kevin." Fuji smile was friendly but he looked tired. Atobe kept flicking glances at him from the corner of his eye. "How is being in Japan after so long?"
"It's nice. I missed it here. But I do kind of long for my cat." He said then winced at the thought of the cat Ryoma had given him. Fuck. Was everything tied to the person next to him?
A gentle voice hummed its way into the air. Oishi, if he remembered correctly. "Well, we'll have to get you to drag Ryoma here every once and awhile. We don't see him often enough."
He didn't turn but he could practically feel the sudden tension of Ryoma's hand around his glass of water. "Kevin wouldn't be able to drag me anywhere."
"It makes sense that Ochibi wouldn't let his boyfriend push him around."
Everyone stilled. It was like they were waiting for the confirm. The inevitable blush of tanned skin. "If anything Ryoma's the one who drives the car." Kevin would joke, putting his arm around his boyfriend while everyone laughed.
Dreams. Possibilities. They were trembling, breaking things. Once you touched them it was hard to know if they would stay still.
He shrugged as casually as he could. If he didn't say it Ryoma would. "We're just friends."
"Sure." He heard the murmur. Kevin was sure everyone did. He focused on the waitress conversing with a man right across from them. When he looked up Fuji was smiling at him. Not pityingly, but the curve of his mouth sympathizing.
The shadows above his cheekbones were noticeable and, Kevin wondered, with another glance from Atobe, what the man saw in his dreams.
He could always tell when Ryoma was mad. The way he moved was rougher, less grace and more noise. The doors were closed harder, strides longer. It was like watching a child who'd been punished extract their unholy wrath on the people who subjected it on them. Kevin waited for the blaze patiently.
Ryoma was going around the room, picking up random articles of clothing he'd left on the floor. His black suitcase was spread open on the bed and Kevin watched as he threw his things inside the carrier. Finally, "Friends, huh?"
He sighed, rising up from his bed. "Ryoma."
And his old friend was turning around, the gold of his eyes glinting so fiercely he was surprised the light bulbs hadn't exploded. He was surprised he hadn't exploded. "Fuck you. You don't get to say my name like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I don't understand. Like it means something. Like you know me."
Kevin wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. The page of this scene had been ripped out when he'd walked off the stage. But he said what he knew. "I'm sorry."
Ryoma's hands clenched. Probably debating on whether or not to punch him or shoot him. But then he was shaking his head, returning to his mission. Where was he going? The zipper zoomed across the suitcase and Ryoma was wheeling it out unto the floor.
He reached forward to put a hand on Ryoma's arm. The other boy's skin was bare and he shivered at the warmth of skin. "What are you doing?"
They were around the same height so when a finger trailed on his jaw he got to see the look. He remembered it. It was melting and solidifying. Be my chocolate and I'll be your bar of gold. Kevin jarred back when he felt lips against his because he could feel the look transfer into the kiss. He tried to dig his way out of the false comfort but Ryoma buried him alive in it. There was his dream but it was too perfect to be right.
And then he was breathing again. Ryoma was heading to the door with barely a glance back. He answered Kevin's question almost mockingly.
"I'm leaving. I thought I'd at least have the decency to tell you first."
Kevin tried to forget.
Ugh. Sorry.