July 29, 2007 to July 29, 2007 (REFORMATTED May 1, 2010)

Disclaimers: I do not own any part whatsoever of Prince of Tennis.
Summary: Waiting in line at the coffee house, Fuji ponders to his past to the first time he visited Echizen, who is now away in America. Enjoy! And don't forget to review please!

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If Only I Drank It
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It may be the craziest thing to go to the coffee house and settle down for a nice bottle of a coffee drink and return back home, but I take the effort to crawl out of my hole and get the butt off my chair just to visit the shop a few blocks away from my home. The coffee house may be bustling and popular, but the wait time doesn't stop me from grabbing a cold bottle of coffee.

I open the door to find the usual: a line full of hungry and thirsty customers, people that sit on the stools next to the windows staring outside and daydreaming, couples and friends nestling comfortably on the leather, cozy armchairs, and the aroma which I breathe in that allows me to wash away all my thoughts and pain, the pain of having him gone.

I stand in line, right behind two males who talk and chatter to their enjoyment. They talk of many things; they talk of their lives, their experiences, their thoughts, and their feelings. Just staring blankly at the two makes me feel so nostalgic, reminding me of a certain someone. It is just plain weird that every time I come inside and wait in line for my drink, the atmosphere of this place gives me a tingling sensation to remember something, a memory which makes me feel queasy and uncertain, yet blissful and content.

I remember that day, the day which he invited me inside his house for a nice, long chat. He said he wanted to tell me something, and said it was to be a surprise, so I nodded my head and followed him home.

The inside of his house was not much different from mine. Although nobody was home, I could imagine how things would flow if his family members were indeed home. Probably a nice welcome home greeting or a big, cuddly hug to invite him in. Thinking like that makes me chuckle to myself as I continue to tag along behind him.

He invites me inside the kitchen and pulls out a chair for me to sit on. I politely thank him and sit down comfortably on the wooden chair, shifting the position to get comfortable for another hour of talking with him. I smile to myself, wondering what the two of us could possibly chatter our minds away for hours to come. Folding my hands as I waited patiently, I notice that he brews of something that smells so coarse and rough yet fine.

He opens the cupboard door and takes out two slender cups made of china, and in the pot he pours out from the spout a dark, black liquid. Reaching for the packs of sugar, he rips them open and sprinkles it all over. He messes around with the counter, pouring out and adding extra things to the mysterious liquid which I had no idea of what it was.

Finally, what seems to be hours, he turns around, his face staring at me while his hands are up, holding two steaming cups of his treat that he created just now. With the usual blunt, cold expression (which I find very amusing), he murmurs just loud enough for me to hear, "You like black coffee?"

I nodded in satisfaction, quite happy that he spent a few minutes brewing something for me to drink, just for me. He places the cup in front of me, and I see the steam afloat in the air, buoyant enough to fog up my vision. I gently blow away the hot vapor and await him to be the first.

Quite a while, we stared at each other intensely. The mood around me did not seem right at all. Breaking the silence, looking for an answer, I startled the stillness, "Saa, what brings you to invite me for?"

He looks away and takes hold of his cup, then drinking the entire thing down. Slowly placing the china mug on the polished table, he says, "I'm leaving for America tonight."

Those words, which suddenly come out from his mouth, shock my entire body. I was paralyzed, and for the first time, I felt fear and worry. I had never expected our talk to turn out like this. Something so abrupt, something so sudden, must take place at this night. I widened my azure eyes in disbelief, opening them in a state of shock.

My chest certainly hurt a lot, but regaining my composure, I breathed heavily before closing my eyes again, and I smiled, "Is that so? Well, have a nice time in America then, and good luck." I spoke those words a little too quickly, and in my mind, I hope he had not noticed that. But being the smart kid he was, he tried to mouth out a few words to me in apology, but his voice never rang again. His voice box was locked away, and he tried to comfort me.

But I pushed that aside. I rejected his comfort, and immediately, I stood up from my seat and briskly walked out the door. I wrenched it open, flung it wide, and strode away. I did not bother to look back, I did not bother to say goodbye to him.

Within earshot, I heard the noise of running footsteps. Then they came to a stop. They did not paddle against the wooden, shiny floor again. After that, when I had slowed my pace down by a few steps, to the sight of walking, the door came to a close, and never did I hear another sound from that place again.

When I think of this memory, I just come to realize all the mistakes I had done that day, and things I wish I could just take back. But the past is past. I can't change it. He had already gone to America, so there is nothing more I can do. I can only await for his return. If only I had paid more attention to him, then maybe I would be able to spend more of my life being cheerful than sulking to myself, pondering on such ridiculous things.

"Um, sir, excuse me? What would you like to order? Sir?"

I shook my head, snapping back into reality. I gaze at the sight of a woman, wearing a white apron and a bandana that tied all her hair up into one. I smile at the staff woman and said, "One black coffee drink in a bottle, please."

She smiled back at me and nodded her head, "Coming right up."

I dig through my pockets to fish out some change to pay for my drink. The lady gives me my order in exchange for the money, and she thanks me quickly before moving on to the next customer. I walk out of the coffee house with the drink in my hand, and I twist the bottle cap to hear a sizzling noise.

I take the bottle and take a light sip from the drink. It tasted quite bitter, and nothing at all like sweet and creamy as it says on the label. I glance at the bottle as if it was poison, but I shrug my shoulders and continue on walking down the block, nearly reaching home.

Maybe it was because of my taste buds, because it didn't suit the taste of black coffee.

But if I had only taken one tiny sip from his black coffee, maybe the pain wouldn't be this bad.

If only I drank that black coffee that Echizen made especially for me, maybe all the black coffee I would drink in the future wouldn't taste so bitter, the taste of regret.

If only I drank it.

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Owari
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A/N: A one-shot that came to mind when I was drinking Starbucks Coffee's Frappuccino. My first time at a yaoi pairing which came out of my mind in a snap! Please review and give me any feedback! I am very happy to be criticized because there is always room for improvement. Arigatou!

Ja ne, and I do not own any part of Prince of Tennis!