Disclaimer: I own very little.

A/N: Written for the prompt "AtoKaba, word limit at your leasure, 'It's hard to argue when you keep on making sense, but my tongue still misbehaves and I keep digging my own grave.'"

Of Rest and Restlessness

"You should rest, Keigo."

Atobe glanced up from the papers in front of him. "Rest? But I am resting."

"No, you aren't." Kabaji looked at him seriously, with that look Atobe always fancied could see literally through him, into his mind or, like one might have called it, soul. "It may only be homework, but it's still straining you."

"Well, it won't do itself." Atobe wrote down yet another answer on the sheet full of questions in front of him. "And what better cause to use leisure time than brush up my learning?"

"You have to rest sometimes." Kabaji's tone was getting stern, now. "You're pushing yourself too hard, Keigo. Between school and tennis club and student body duties and whatnot, you never leave time for yourself to rest."

"I sleep at night." The simple answer should suffice.

"Not enough, obviously, since you have to hide such dark shadows under your eyes." Ah, but Kabaji was ever the observant one, wasn't he? The rare times he chose to voice his findings, anyway. "Your sleep must be restless at best."

"I'm fine, really, Munehiro." Atobe rubbed his temples. this was sure to develop into a massive headache. If only he could solve a few questions more…

"It's quite obvious you aren't, Keigo. I strongly recommend you –"

Now, this was just enough. "Oh, do shut up, Munehiro," Atobe snapped, absolutely fed up with the worry. "Since when have servants talked, anyway?"

For a moment there was somewhat stunned silence. Finally, Kabaji muttered, "Usu," before turning around and walking away. There was a somewhat final tone to the sound of the door as it was closed.

Atobe, for his part, could hardly even believe what he had just said. Kabaji? A servant? Ridiculous at best. They'd known each other ever since they were mere babes; Kabaji surely knew his worth better than that. Apparently he'd just come to the conclusion Atobe wasn't on a very social mood and left. Atobe would call him soon and everything would be all right again.

Kabaji would come back. Kabaji always came back.

Kabaji didn't come back that night, but it was okay. He would show up later, Atobe was sure, When he arrived to the school the next day, Kabaji would show up to carry his bag, certainly.

Kabaji didn't show up.

This didn't really worry Atobe. After all, they had tennis practice in the morning; Kabaji would likely be at the club house already, awaiting him. If he only got to the club house, Kabaji would be there, and everything would be like usual again. Atobe-sama didn't worry over such meaningless things, surely.

Even as he arrived to the club house, Atobe didn't find Kabaji. Peculiar. The younger boy was usually perfectly punctual; he should have arrived already. Ah, well, Atobe would simply have to give him laps for his tardiness or something. This wouldn't bring about the end of the world.

Walking to his locker, Atobe was somewhat surprised to find a neatly folded note resting there. Interested, he picked up and unfolded the note. As he read it, though, he paled.

The seemingly so very innocent note, written with that nigh-perfect calligraphy that seemed copied directly from a model sheet – and could just as well have been – announced Kabaji's resignation from the club.

Kabaji. Resigning from the tennis club.

Surely this couldn't be? Kabaji had always belonged to the tennis club, ever since he had first started primary school and joined Atobe in the club. To think of the club without Kabaji – to think of the regulars without Kabaji – was simply ridiculous. Nobody would take them seriously, surely, not with Kabaji's ever-so-assuring presence at the back, and then what would happen to Hyoutei's reputation?

To think of Atobe without Kabaji…

Well. That wasn't something to be thought of.

Needless to say, Atobe's mood was somewhat fouler than usually, resulting with rather unpleasant practice to his team mates. This resulted with a lot of laps, and disgruntlement about the laps, and at least comment about "that time of the month" that caused the poor person who dared utter such a thing face even more laps. By the time practice was over, he was getting from annoyed to furious. Was the whole world against him today?

Atobe caught Gakuto muttering something about "whining after Kabaji," which gained the acrobat a record number of laps. Gakuto, of course, protested at this, at which Atobe simply increased the number of laps.

"You'd better faint on the way!" he shouted. Okay, perhaps it wasn't the most elegant of things to say, but it was a bad day and oh how he wished Kabaji just was here…

Was this how much Kabaji affected him, anyway? Balanced him, calmed him down, kept him sane, basically. Every time he turned around, he still expected to see Kabaji. The usual secure feeling at the back of his mind was gone, now; he couldn't expect Kabaji to have his back covered anymore. If relaxing before had been hard, it was getting nigh impossible, now. The situation didn't exactly get better as the day stretched into two, three, then a whole week. Rather, it just got closer and closer to Hell.

Atobe was exhausted, not having slept enough for several days. He kept getting more and more annoyed at the tiniest things, yelled at regulars for missing simple shots, aimed to hurt whenever his shots had the opportunity of hitting his opponent. Teachers might have commented on his more and more dishevelled appearance had they dared to even suggest that something might not be completely right with the Atobe heir. All this didn't stop him, though. He kept on practicing more than ever, staying up late at night to finish his homework, playing against a ball machine in his private courts until the wee hours of morning. He had to keep on the move, he concluded; that would keep him from checking behind his shoulder all the time.

It took fainting for him to get somewhat back to his senses.

Now, the fainting was a simple thing, really. One moment, he was in the middle of yet another practice, yelling at Oshitari for his bad form; the next he found himself prone on the ground, blinking up at the sky with his regulars gathered around him.

"…Atobe?" asked Shishido carefully. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, Ore-sama is perfectly all right," Atobe snapped in return. "Ore-sama merely thought a nice moment of relaxation was in order."

"Well, you obviously should rest more," a familiar voice spoke up. A voice that shouldn't have been there at all.

"…Kabaji?" Atobe turned his head to look. And sure enough, it was Kabaji, big and strong and sure as always, even as there were lines of worry etched onto his face. "Kabaji? Help ore-sama up." Of course, he had waved off any other offered hands, Atobe Keigo could get up on his own, after all, but this was an obvious exception. This was Kabaji. Atobe could always accept help from Kabaji.

"I am not your servant," said Kabaji, and with something of a startle Atobe realized this was the first time in years he could recall Kabaji speaking in full sentences that wasn't on the court or in private.

"Of course you aren't," Atobe said, and meant it with his whole heart. "Ore-sama… Munehiro, ore-sama…" It wasn't easy, not with everyone listening, not when their eyes widened at the first name usage alone, not when he was lying on the ground most unelegantly. It didn't matter how difficult it was, though; Kabaji was patient like always. Kabaji was always patient when it came to Atobe.

…"Munehiro, ore-sama is sorry."

For a moment, everything seemed to stop. Everyone certainly did. The whole tennis club was looking at him, now, looking like they hardly believed their ears. Atobe, however, only looked at Kabaji.

"Munehiro." Atobe's tone was one of determination. "Help ore-sama up."

And this time, there was a hand, a hand offered and grasped on, pulling him up. Suddenly, it didn't matter that he was absolutely exhausted. It didn't matter that he had just made a fool of himself in front of the entire tennis club, that his clothes were dirty, that nothing seemed to go right. All that mattered was that Kabaji was there, that Kabaji had done exactly as Atobe requested of him.

He didn't even really mind the fact that he fainted again as soon as he got up to his feet. Not when he this time woke up to find himself carried towards the direction of the school's hospital wing, safely cradled in strong arms.

"Do you now believe you need more rest?" asked Kabaji as he noticed Atobe was awake. "That simply the absolute minimum won't do after a while?"

"…Perhaps," admitted Atobe grudgingly. "However, ore-sama is surely strong enough to walk on his own, at least."

"Obviously you aren't." Kabaji's hold on him never faltered even as the younger boy walked on. "I'm going to take you to the hospital wing, and then to a bed there, and then you are going to rest until you can be trusted not to faint right away again."

Atobe sighed, resting his head against Kabaji's shoulder as it now happened to be close. It was surprisingly comfortable, he realized, warm and sure. And his head did feel so heavy… "Munehiro?" he said quietly, his voice half muffled by sleepiness. "You really should talk more…"

"Are you certain?" asked Kabaji. And then, with only the slightest hint of bitterness in his voice if even that, since Kabaji was amazing that way sometimes when it came to Atobe, he added, "I thought servants weren't supposed to talk."

"Idiot." Atobe hit his friend rather weakly. "Servants aren't supposed to talk, that's true." After a little pause that was not a yawn, Atobe did not yawn thank you very much, he just decided to breathe deep in – and then he spoke again. "Friends, though, are another thing altogether."

And, even as his eyes were slipping closed without his permission, the nerve they had, he still had the energy to smile slightly as he heard a quiet, deep, "Usu."