Feeling like writing an angst, I decided to give it a shot that resulted in this one-shot KiriAn fic (yay this pairing!) I'm sure it's written better in my native language, but again, I felt like writing in English and made it KiriAn fic. I sound boring, don't I?

Well, I hope this story doesn't :)

Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is not mine, obviously.

Once Upon a Bedtime

Am I supposed to be happy?

With all I ever wanted, it comes with a price

1

Her mouth was half-ajar, condensed breath escaping from it. At the same time, she gasped for oxygen, filling her lungs with the cold night air.

She eyed him with reluctant stare, not because she was unaware. It was all she could do with the rest of her power. His hand kept enveloping hers; she could sense the warmth transferring to her palm. She tried so hard to stretch even a small smile, assuring the man who held her that she was okay. The man, of course, could not be fooled. Even the moon knew that her vision began to blur like her reflection on water's ripple effect. The difference was that she did not look at her own face, but at his manly facade with excessive anxiety.

Her right hand barely reached his wavy strands—slowly, her stained fingers trailed his nape to the backside of his head, and then tucked his hair into their spaces. It felt sticky as her fingertips touched it. The other hand stayed on her stomach, more covered by the typical red liquid. Blood. She slightly clasped his hand which was on hers to say sorry for staining it. They were glued, their hands. As if the blood was super glue and nothing in the world could separate them.

She inhaled, and with all her might she finally voiced her feeling.

"I'm scared…"

"Don't be."

His whisper was like the ray of sunshine to her heart, and his smile was the upside-down rainbow. She rested her back on his arm and leg. Strangely, it was more comfortable than her bed. He tightened his grip as the silent support, now entwining the fingers, while his left hand stroked her tangled hair. He finger-combed it gently, reminding her of her mother when she read her fairy tales in her childhood.

"You are strong, An. You can overcome this."

2

He always told her that she was a savior who made his day, a kind of girl who was brave to speak her mind, and that she was his daily dose of spirit. She was like his orange sorbet which chilled off his mood. She knew it was a ridiculous yet interesting allegory, but she liked it. So much. Because he only said it to her, not to anyone else.

He ducked his head closer to her ears, "And you know that I'll always be there for you."

You are, she thought, but she was not quick enough to vibrate her vocal chords so he could hear her response. She wanted him to know that she was grateful to have him so devoted, but it only could be expressed by her return in holding hands.

She breathed, more heavily this time. He waited.

"I…" she tried again to speak. "I'm all right… but… brother…"

He hushed her, interrupting. He did not have the heart to see her so suffering, to hear her trembling voice, to feel her freezing body lay vulnerably.

"They have taken him to hospital," he explained. "He will be treated well."

She let out a relief sigh. An indiscernible burden had flown to the sky from her chest, floating and then dissipating as the stars glistened stunningly. She lifted her head little by little to sneak a peek at the Scorpius above them, silently thanking God for saving the elder Tachibana.

He was still there, embraced her and gazed at her affectionately. "He will be saved. He's strong as you. He's the wings of Kyushu after all, right?" he showed his grin, attempting to add some cheer on her depression. And unsurprisingly, he was sincere to remark such words. He was indeed one of his strong opponents. Besides, she was his sister.

That smile of hers again found its way and grew wider than she did before. He could assume she was recovered from her shock. Knowing that, he continued, "When you hugged him, you felt his heartbeat, didn't you? You could hear him speaking, couldn't you?"

She closed her eyes, still smiling. It was a replacement for a nod.

"Don't be scared. I'm here. You are not okay, but I know you will be."

3

The nigrescent blood on her shirt certainly came from her brother. And now, it started to dry out, maybe would color it permanently as the mark of this day. That summer, somewhere in Tokyo, two siblings had an accident at nine in the afternoon, due to broken brakes of the brother's motorcycle. They wore helmets, but the sister had anticipated first by jumping and rolling to the side while her brother hit the roadblock. Hard.

This was what the witness saw, before the girl collapsed and went unconscious for a while. Then, upon not receiving her message and suddenly got the bad feeling, he rushed from his house to accident scene. He found her bloody, soaked by pain and worry. He hastily grabbed her arms and put her on his lap gingerly.

He noticed no particular wound, though there were some scars seen on her arms, cheeks, and knees. He murmured prayers. But her left hand kept cupping the gut, so he just placed his hand on it and gave her the best he could to comfort her. He would have her safe and sound. They would live tomorrow in peace. Challenging each other on a game, teasing each other in the midst of the match, and ending up sharing laughter—like what they used to do, like what they were supposed to do.

Those times, those memories, now flashed before her coffee orbs.

4

"A…kaya…?"

He was startled yet deadpanned. He stopped from scrutinizing the imaginary lines on her face in the darkness and questioning what word would rightly describe the contraction of her eyes and cheeks muscle. Agony. Why did it still remain there?

"Yes, An?"

Out of the blue, she did not have any idea where this unknown force was from. It was something that pushed from the inside, and her suppress of its release was totally futile. She chuckled.

"I like how original you are… you still wear your tone and… and expression at time like this." Her eyes made crescent shape—partly to hold back her tears and partly to show a joy. A miscellaneous feeling was also illustrated on his face. Those were a raised brow because he did not see what was funny from him and a tug on his lips' corners. They said laughter was contagious; and hers proved it.

"You—" he sneered. "—and you still annoy me even though you almost can't take a breath, huh?"

It was purely a joke, yet it was true. The air that surrounded them seemed to get thinner every time she struggled to catch it. She realized that, with her very last consideration that could be thought by her sanity, she could not hang on any longer.

"An? Hey, An."

Tears started to drop and run down her cheeks. His nurture side ordered his thumb to caress it and wipe the tears, so he involuntarily did it, slowly, biding his time.

Until her blood-tinted hand grabbed his, begging him to pause.

She cried in ache.

That moment, he recognized it—she was protecting, or rather, covering a medium gash. Crimson fluidly flowed from the flesh; her own flesh. Words failed to describe it and his reaction upon seeing it. That could not be. The one who was injured was a girl in his arm, the sister, and she was here, been hiding the truth.

"An, it's not funny."

She only smiled faintly.

5

"Look at me, An. Look at me." A pair of his emerald, however, looked unfocused and gradually went bloodshot. "Tell me it's a lie. It's just a dream. We—we wake up after this and—and—"

"Akaya." was all that she said. His name. The way it rolled from her mouth was firm and frail at the same time. Instead of looking at him directly, she strived to tell by her gaze that if she was in ambulance now, the rescue was in vain. All she was eager to do was spending her precious seconds with him. And when he came, she actually wanted no more.

Distance. That kept them hollered through cellphone. She avoided calling it problem anyway, because they still lived on the same earth and the same country, too. It was merely between Kanagawa and Tokyo. That must have not been a big deal. Plus, comparing to other planets, the blue marble was a pixel dot. It was not about the communication.

It was about listening to his chatter live that had more effect to her than just seeing his 'haha' text. She liked when she was damn sweaty after attacking him with smash multiple times but he complimented how amazing her play and her look were. It might be gross for some people, but she found it romantic to share towel and mineral water bottle together. And she got it again tonight, in this fated night. Their togetherness. Just the two of them.

"Don't kid me!" he could not repress yelling at the last. "I'll call paramedic. We will be at hospital—"

"No…"

"What do you mean by no?" His voice elevated an octave at first, but as the salt water leaking from his eyes, he weakly spoke, "You can't leave me like this, An. You just… can't…"

Sobbing and faltered, he made the gap between them less lengthy. Could he hear her heartbeat? Could he feel her warm breath against his skin? She would not leave her, he knew. He would wake up from this nightmare very soon.

"An… I…"

But this coppery smell of blood, this chilly wind that pass them ragingly, these hot tears that dripped to her shirt blending with the blackish red splotch, even his hoarse voice from dry throat undeniably were real. And so were her fingers that shifted from his head to his face, softly tracing the tears stream. Scarlet fingerprints painted his white skin.

Now, it was about time. But it actually did not matter as long as it kept them close forever.

She whispered, somewhat unclear at the last syllable. "Thank you…"

You said, you said that you would die for me

You must live for me, too

Before her eyes were shut, her hand slung on his lower arm to support her weight and got up a bit. It took her like a decade but she insisted herself to make it, even though she was shaky all the way. As if on cue, he leaned in and vaguely tilted his head. She pressed her freezing pale lips against his and mouthed three little words as her grasp loosened.

Those words, somehow, tasted like an orange sorbet.

When I wrote this, Cat and Mouse from The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus played by itself in my mind, so I also don't own the lyrics which was in italic.

Thanks for reading! Double thanks for also reviewing! *wink wink* #rhymes