Title: Boundaries
Words: 1,122
Summary: Clubroom, undone shirts and buttons.
Written for Aja.
The smirk slides off his face and Ryoma stares at him disbelievingly. "Germany."
Tezuka tightens his belt. "Aa."
Discontentment shadows Ryoma's narrowed eyes. His mother and father would go back to America if he asked, but Germany isn't America; it is far away and foreign and Ryoma doesn't know a word of the language besides "thank you". His parents are more lenient than many, but there are boundaries. Germany is one of them.
He stays quiet, not knowing what to say or how to feel. He feels something, certainly, but the problem is that it could be many things; unhappy, surprised, upset, angry, sad. The ache in his heart, Ryoma doesn't know which one he was feeling.
Tezuka grabs his jacket from the cubicle and shrugs it one. He then bends down towards Ryoma's and pulls out the jacket from under the unfolded regular's jersey. He wonders if he should say something, wonders what Ryoma's silence really means. He closes his eyes, needing just a moment where he doesn't have to think of consequences.
They both don't move, they both don't speak and the room feels as if it's suspended in time with the undisturbed silence. They stay like that for a second, a minute, for what feels like a long time.
Then, as if their clock started ticking again, Tezuka spins around on his heels as Ryoma pulls his shirt over his shoulder. In three long strides he is standing in front of Ryoma who is buttoning up his shirt. Tezuka doesn't linger for more a split second because he never likes looking down on Ryoma. He settles down beside Ryoma, slouching slightly as he leans back against the wall. His thigh brushes against Ryoma's right knee.
Ryoma casts him a sidelong glance. Then he stops buttoning his shirt and stares at Tezuka, eyes blazing fiercely with determination. Tezuka suddenly feels like he's on the tennis court, with a net and so much distance separating them; he feels like an opponent, feels like Ryoma is studying him and trying to understand everything about him. In a way he was. Tezuka was as much a doubles player as Ryoma was, and the only way to coexist on a tennis court was not just as captain and underclassman, but as rivals. Tezuka returns the heated stare, but finds that his eyes are trailing down to absorb in Ryoma's state of undress.
Something that couldn't really be called anything else but a fond look flashes across his face as he pushes off the wall, turning his body around to face Ryoma. Ryoma unconsciously shifts his position to face him, and Tezuka reaches out his hands, grabbing onto his shirt. He starts undoing the buttons. Ryoma blinks in surprise and his mouth drops open a small fraction. He looks a bit incredulous as he glances down to at Tezuka's strong hands.
"Huh." The sound is a mixture of a scoff and a dismissal. Ryoma had buttoned his shirt up wrong, just one button, but as a result the rest were wrong too.
Tezuka's nimble fingers quickly undo the last before he is straightening the shirt over Ryoma's shoulder. He starts to redo them, slowly this time. He's conscious of how his fingers flutter lightly against Ryoma's chest, with only the thin material separating skin. Ryoma shivers lightly with every soft brush. His heart is beating quickly and his breathing a little faster, but he stays as still as he can, hands by his side as he watches Tezuka through half lidded eyes. Tezuka is concentrating on the buttons and the shirt holes, not the smooth plane of muscles he can see peeking out from beneath the white polyester, or the warm breath puffing against his face, or even how irregular his pulse had become as well. Tezuka leaves the first three undone because Ryoma doesn't like the collar tight around his neck so shortly after a training session.
Tezuka exhales slowly, silently, but he still sees the smirk shining in Ryoma's eyes. He responds to it by helping Ryoma put on his jacket. Ryoma, not one to sit still for long periods of time, moves his hands up to Tezuka's collar and pulls the jacket together. He slowly hooks the round buttons through the slits just as Tezuka is doing to his. Their hands move together, sliding smoothly between each other. His arm is beneath Ryoma's and Ryoma's is above and they easily button up each other's jacket.
Tezuka doesn't do up the collar, and in turn Ryoma leaves his hanging limply. Tezuka is too proper to leave it like that, but whenever Ryoma does it like that he doesn't bother finishing the job. Tezuka secretly likes it that way, and Ryoma knows full well that he does.
Tezuka is fully dressed now, but Ryoma is still in his tennis shorts. For the most part they're done and should start heading home because the sun was already setting. Ryoma is looking at him again, the same fierce golden eyes blazing with a light of its own. This time Tezuka doesn't look away, can't look away even if he wants to. Ryoma's hand is still hovering on his top gold button, brushing softly against the cold metal. Tezuka is doing the same to him, fingering patterns across the dark material that would soon occupy his own button.
Ryoma opens his mouth as if to say something. He pauses for a moment and Tezuka can see the uncertainty lurking within his eyes. He is worried, worried a lot. It wasn't a matter of whether or not they'd win the nationals that makes Ryoma anxious, but the extent of Tezuka's passion for Seigaku to win the Nationals. It wasn't obvious, but Tezuka is just as stubborn as he is and can be twice as reckless if he finds it necessary. Ryoma trails his fingers up Tezuka's neck to rest his cool palm against the warm cheek.
Then his lips thin with resolve and he looks directly into Tezuka's eyes, gold piercing right through the transparent glasses.
"I'll take the pillar from you," Ryoma says with absolute surety, almost vehemently. "I'm going to train hard and I'm going to beat you," he declares resolutely. Germany is very far away and they have yet to become adults, but there is no doubt that he'd see him again, because he is Echizen Ryoma and this is Tezuka Kunimitsu. He presses his other palm to Tezuka's cheek, gently, and leans forward.
"I'll see you on center court," Ryoma whispers against Tezuka's lips.
Tezuka relaxes his shoulders and smiles warmly. He bends forward to press his lips more firmly against Ryoma's, hands moving up to cup Ryoma's cheeks as well.
"Don't get careless."