Title: Frames
By: Maria-chan aka Moineau
Summary: Nobody can stop the flow of time, not even geniuses...
Pairing: TezukaFuji
Genre: Introspect-y
Rating: PG 13
Once, somebody asked him a question: "Where would you be, if you didn't play tennis?"
Fuji said that he didn't know, but that wasn't true. It was an easy answer, but thinking back on it later, he knew that probably- just a notch away from certainty, which was as certain as he could get- he would have taken up photography.
No. He would have been the best in photography. He was, after all, a genius in everything.
At the thought, Fuji can't help but smile, since he knows very well that this isn't true. Though that doesn't mean that he'd actually say it out loud. He was never a genius when it involved himself, or the workings of emotion and feeling in people. Take for example, Yuuta.
Fuji likes remembering things, he likes keeping precious moments close to his heart, and easy to remember. He likes basking in them, wrapping himself up in the atmosphere of that delicately, scrupulously stored moment, with no details missing, if he could help it.
Like that time in Middle School, when it was raining so heavily, pouring down and washing the world- water running over grass and rock, and the wind blowing. It was dark, and the power had gone out. He remembered sitting on the floor, by his gramophone, with a lone candle in front of him.
Everyone was asleep by then, but Yuuta had come to his room with his blanket, walking into his room without hesitation and sitting beside his brother, wrapping the blanket around them both before lying down on his aniki's lap.
While Mrs Fuji and Yuuta were out the next day, he had mentioned it to Yumiko, describing everything he remembered, remembering how he felt, and the next day, she had presented him with a curious black box- his first ever camera. "You can keep your memories with this."
It was his 'Good Luck Charm' you could say. He brought it everywhere, even to school, though he didn't take it out unless he was by himself. It was his, and his memories would keep as long as he had it with him...remembering his stark misconception of Yumiko's words, Fuji never fails to smile wryly at the thought.
Fuji looks through the lens, trying to catch this moment, blue eye peering through that glass that emphasizes each and every detail...
Now, he has a different camera. Though he learnt how to use the first one, and it was precious to him in its own sentimental value, some things had to be let go. (Despite this, Fuji really never was good at letting go- it still resides in his bedside table, periodically reached for and cleaned and looked at with a small smile)
Though it served its purpose back then, his current favourite also serves its purpose, and Fuji had to admit, was better.
Catching the right amount of sunlight, moving to contain his view into that small rectangle of space, he presses the button, and what was once an empty, black void, is now- or soon to be- filled with reds and browns and golds, and that feeling of crisp autumn air whipping through his hair as he stood in the middle of vacant tennis courts, full of memories of generations of players, showing discreetly, in cracked cement and fading lines, the memories that other people had made in the place.
A memory inside a memory.
Then, an unexpected breeze blows again, and blue eyes widen at a sudden change. Immediately, fluidly, the camera was brought to his eyes, the lens was tinkered with confidently and quickly, and the button was pressed. A small, satisfied smile ghosted over pale features as a smidgen of advanced success ran through him.
"It's going to come out right."
"...Aa."
Smiling, Fuji turns around and snaps another quick picture, before capping the lens, and keeping the camera in his bag. That picture was a risk. Tezuka could've had his eyes closed, the light could've been wrong. He might not have even had Tezuka in the centre, but it was alright.
"I have faith in the doctors." Tezuka murmurs, standing right beside Fuji, comforting, emanating strength in his proximity.
Blue eyes open a moment and Fuji takes it all in, noting the lack of lint on Tezuka's coat, the way the yellow leaves seemed to be layered under the red, the way Tezuka's hands were wrapped around two cups of coffee, of which he hands to his smiling companion. Fuji remembers, and wants to make sure. That picture, however wrong, would remind him of this.
And however wrong, it would still seem correct in all its errors. You could never be sure, after all.
"I have faith in you." He murmurs, barely heard. But he knows the other has heard, feeling the slight relaxation, seeing that hand come up to subconsciously rub that elbow.
I Nobody can stop the flow of time, but a moment captured in the frame of the heart will never disappear. That will be shown at the bottom of their hearts will always give off a great feeling... sweet... and bitter... /I
xxx
Uhm. Man, I feel so tense after typing this out. But kind-of satisfied, though barely. I wonder why? Please do leave a comment?
(Ending quote from Boys Be.)
-Moineau