Title: Phone Messages
Pairing: RyoSaku
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis.
Note: I'm writing this at 4AM and I'm not even sure of what I'm writing. My mind is blank while typing this and my head is full of Wicked and Maximum Ride. Pardon me but I'll do my best despite the soup-ish mind. And I haven't written RyoSaku in years. So yeah. Yeah. ;u; No editing has been done. =_= I'm not used to write fics anymore.

I'm off to work. Rest well, and congratulations on your game, Ryoma.
From: Ryuzaki Sakuno. 7:00 PM. Tokyo, Japan.

7:00 PM, Rome

Ryoma flopped on his bed, dirty jersey still on his back and the laces of his rubber shoes loosely knotted to each other. He stared at the screen of his phone and dragged his gaze across the words flashing on the LED. After a few seconds, he rolled on his side and closed his tired eyes.

Half-unwillingly, he opened them again to read the message for the second time. His frown was meekly tugged to a relieved smile, and he succumbed to sleep.

Three hours and thirty-three minutes passed and he woke up.

10:33 PM, Rome

Automatically, his hand searched the phone from the ruffled sheets of his blue blanket to the thick feather pillows. Though he was still groggy, he scanned his inbox.

Up, up, up. His finger slid through countless numbers of names and messages, the repetitive motion blurring the screen. As soon as he saw her name, he pinned the tip of his index finger on her conversation box and checked for new messages.

None.

The scowl returned on his face. He felt tired once more, but the need for hygiene overpowered him and he was compelled to take a shower. Maybe she would send a message in a while. Or the signal was interrupted. Or maybe it was the distance. He knitted his eyebrows and slung his towel over his shoulder, and entered the bathroom.

Soon, he'd be home, just a few more games and he wouldn't have to bear with some things anymore.

It took about half an hour before Ryoma went out of the shower. He dried and clothed himself, towel clinging on his hair, and from the bathroom entrance he stared at the bed where the phone lied down, lights out.

Then it blinked.

From the bathroom rag, he stiffly walked towards the bed. He was like a tightly wound ball, and although he was by himself, he felt slightly embarrassed. It must be her message. He was anticipating it, but too shy to admit it even to himself. He remembered her saying once or twice that some things don't change even if six years have passed, and that maybe it won't change the years after that.

Remembering her say that to him - those teary, deep chocolaty eyes, wavy auburn hair sitting on her shoulders, sweet smile gracing on her pink lips, gentle voice lingering in his ears - at the airport just three months ago was enough to make him practically jump for the bed.

He held the phone in his hands. He almost gulped as he checked the message.

11:03 PM, Thursday, Rome

Good thing you didn't slide and had an ass-show while doing that maneuver! Good job, brat! Don't forget to do your laundry, you know your mother or beautiful Sakuno-chan won't do that for you while you're enjoying your butt there at Rome. Say hi to some ladies for me, and I pledge not to tell Sakuno-chan that you actually peed on your bed until third grade.
From: Stupid Old Man. 10:47 PM. Tokyo, Japan.

Ryoma immediately shut his phone in annoyance. What an idiot father, he told himself through gritted teeth.

Beep.

His heart skipped. Maybe it's from her now.

Sakuno-chan skipped work today.
From: Stupid Old Man. 11:04 PM. Tokyo, Japan.

She skipped work? Why would she? If there's a person whom he could attach the word "diligent" to, then it's to her. Maybe his mother asked her out for a celebration, just as his mother normally does. Well if that's the case, then there's no need to worry. And it meant she's free to at least send him a message. He would wait.

She's not here if that's what you're assuming, you brat. Maybe I should enroll you to a fortune-telling class.
From: Stupid Old Man. 11:05 PM. Tokyo, Japan.

Okay, the signal was clearly free from any interruptions, and it unfortunately worked well at the time he least wanted to. If she's not at his house, then where?

He sat on his bed and stared at his phone.

Initially, he only bought his phone for information purposes. Even when he went to international games, the sole purpose of his phone was to communicate with his manager and only occasionally talk with his family and his close friends back at Japan. He was content with the traditional snail mail he exchanged with her even after middle school, until when the offers became continuous and he had to cross from one country to another that snail mail couldn't even make it to the venue. Sending short messages to her through his phone primarily felt awkward because of the shift of purposes (sometimes he'd accidentally mix her name with his manager's and send wrong embarrassing messages to the latter—a downside of text messaging, he thought), but he became used to it.

Ritually checking on his phone became a habit he never expected. He never thanked technology until now, but a part of him wanted for more.

Ryoma wanted to see her. To hear her. And feel her.

He was no longer that 13 year old boy who would rather play tennis at the lawn and almost marry his racket and a tennis ball whenever he could. Six years have passed and the time changed him. He still loved tennis, but having her was no-game.

Sometimes, he just wanted to come home because of a pressing need to be with her.

He hit her speed dial, and he placed the phone on his ear.

The ringing felt eternal, and he was wound tighter.

Why wasn't she answering the phone? Was the network interrupted? Was she busy doing something else? He looked at his alarm clock. It's 11:09 in Rome, a day behind Tokyo. Their timezones this time was quite convenient, but their activities often exhausted them that they could only manage to send simple messages. Calls were almost no different, only that they were rare to none. Maybe she's really busy, he thought to himself. He withdrew his hand from his ear and—

"Hello?"

His heart skipped a beat. Some things don't really change. He admitted to himself that one of the reasons why calls were rare was because he get that feeling of odd anticipation.

"Hey."

There was a beat of silence, until she let out a set of soft chuckles from the other side of the phone.

His shoulders relaxed. "I don't see anything funny with greeting you."

"No, it's not because it's funny," her giggles subsided, and a small smile smoothed on Ryoma's lips. "It's because I'm... happy."

Ryoma's heart was pounding fast, and he could tell that hers was, too. It was often like that. She told him for a lot of times that she was still a nervous wreck at times when talking to him when they started their relationship, but she figured that being nervous was the sense of excitement. Of anticipation of talking with him. It wasn't surprising that he felt the same.

He propped his hand on the bed, and he stared at his knees.

"Why? Because I won?"

"Hmm..." He could imagine her tucking a strand of hair behind her ear when he heard a slight shuffling. "...that's one."

He raised a brow. "And what's the other one?"

There was a moment of silence until she piped in for the second time.

"Because you called."

A large grin broke through his lips, and he easily retracted the huge smile by covering his mouth. She said the right words at the right time.

"You weren't sending me a message," he said monotonously.

"I was thinking of... calling you instead," she answered back shyly.

Ryoma smirked, and the grin was back. Maybe he shouldn't hold himself back.

"Really?"

"Yes, but I had to shop first. We're going to celebrate at your house for dinner."

"Ah, I see."

Silence.

"What else?" Ryoma inquired.

"What 'what else'?"

"Why do you want to call me?"

"...because I—wait, why did you call me?"

"Nothing," he smirked again, and he glanced briefly at the window.

"...oh, really?" She was a bit dejected, or at least that's how he heard it. Ryoma instantly straightened himself up, and the uncomfortable feeling was back. He was grimacing.

"...no, not really. Well..."

"Well?"

He let out a soft grunt, and he gulped.

"Well, I want to hear your voice."

"Hmm..."

Wasn't she satisfied by that? "I... want to see you."

"A-ah..." He could sense the growing embarrassment from the other side. At least, it wasn't just him now.

"And I... want to be with you now." He meant to say it at the most smothering way he could, but he himself was embarrassed from what he just said.

Sakuno giggled.

Ryoma couldn't exactly ask what's funny with what he just said, because it actually sounded too mushy and funny for him. He scowled.

"Me too."

Those two words made his heart skip another beat. It was something he would never admit to anyone.

"I'm happy..." he blurted out, a hand now covering his eyes as if it could hide him from shame. "...that you didn't come bursting out my door tonight. I couldn't afford a Momoshiro or Eiji-style kind of surprise right now."

Sakuno giggled again, and she said, "We're saving for stuff. We can't spend grandiosely. It's something we agreed on, right? So you won't expect me at any day when you're overseas."

"Yeah, and that sucks," Ryoma said. "But I'm really happy."

There was another moment of silent, and Ryoma closed his eyes. He knew that she was absorbing the message from the other line. "I'm really happy to hear your voice."

"Do you miss me?"

It was a bold question, something she rarely asked him (because he knew she knew the answer).

"I never said I don't," He said. "I'll be home as soon as I can."

"Yes. Because I miss you, Ryoma," she told him, and smiled.

Ryoma gripped on the nearest pillow and mustered his courage. Better say it or regret it. He seldom did the former and always did the latter, anyway.

"Sakuno," he called out, almost silently. "I love you."

Sakuno's voice was equally hushed as she said, "I love you, too. Now, go rest."

Ryoma's grip on the pillow eased. "You too, and have fun. And be careful around Old Man."

"Yes, I will."

"Good night," he said.

"Good night," she said.

They both hung up.

Ryoma stared at his phone for a while, and he went to the window. He stuffed his phone in his pocket, opened the windows, and breathed in the cool night air. His chest felt at ease, having said such pent up emotions after three months of not seeing Sakuno. The games would be over in a few more days, and he'd do his best to win as soon as he could.

So that he could be home soon.