Disclaimer: And yet again, I must remind everyone I don't own Prince of Tennis.
AN: Hi! Yup, I know I have a lot of promised things I need to get to, but something really inspired me to write this. It's a one-sided JirouxAtobe, poor Jirou. [sob] Only warning is perhaps the shounen-ai. If you're okay with that [and what PoT fan isn't used to it?] then I hope you enjoy the story.
Why always in the painted snow, do they portray a sense of fluffiness, so unwrinkled and perfect as if they haven't been tainted by the reality of the world? The light blue shadow that befalls them elegantly accented their pure white as if the feathers of doves would turn a dull gray in comparison. If snow was really that kind of beauty as it fell in the real world, how wondrous it would be. He knew such wasn't always the case. Yet, there was a time when he really felt he could understand the dreams of those painters.
It was almost Spring, and the weather a nice temperature. The railings of the road leading to the sea were broken in the middle leading to an ominous forest and a faded yellow signpost was laying limply over ferns that grew wildly around it almost keeping it out of sight. At the curve where the forest ended and descended downward, there was a slope on the road leading the opposite direction. If anyone were to follow it, they would reach a beautiful clearing with below the calm waves of the ocean tracing finger light prints on the clay like sand and above the shining sun enveloped in cloudless blue. It was impossible to believe it had anything to do with the forest that surrounded it. The chilling breeze had turned lukewarm over time and only annoying when it swept hair into eyes. The ice was melting, and it left damp green grass growing on patches of soft dirt. The dew left moist marks on the stump and moss grew fearlessly on the edges and all the way down on the bark, but someone sat there, looking at the half frozen lake with curious eyes.
The boy's tanned face was caressed with curls of gold, untamed only because it would have it no other way. The wind could not reach him there, as he sat resting, with a blank stare of concentration. He could be described as fairylike, if anyone were to see him from afar, but also in the same sense it felt like he would just vanish if someone were to impose.
Dark, round eyes saw past the lake with its water rippling across the surface and instead saw the winter sky, back when a thin layer of ice glazed over its surface like polished crystal. The first time he visited, he was not alone. The smooth liquid swirled and shone, like a kindergarten project where a child spilled silver glitter from the shared table. There, he could recall and sink into the memory of the past…
"Jirou."
"Heh heh, what is it Atobe?" He poked and prodded the lake with the end of a tree branch. Wrapped up in a bundle of blue, he looked one size off from a snowman, and only his childish smile brimmed from the surface of his knitted scarf.
"We should be heading back," the male, who stood with his back against the trunk of a tree, couldn't be shimmering less then the frozen lake. His arms were folded regally over his dark brown jacket, less bulkier then the one the blonde wore, yet, managing to make it look as gallant as a suit of armor.
Jirou pouted at his companion's words, wanting to stay a little longer to observe the ice. It was the first time since they've been in the woods that he had seen something so marvelous. The snow that built on the road and stripped the forest of their green, piled in gray blocks sometimes brown from dirt or black from the wheels on the road. Other then that, he enjoyed the other's company without the interruption of others. Although, he wouldn't dare include that in the open. Thus, he complied, following Atobe out of the clearing, and hiking back to the main road.
When they reached the end, half the third years had already returned, discussing ideas or chattering near the bus. A part of the tennis group came to greet them joyously including a long haired, somewhat tall male with round glasses and a shorter, red haired boy. Also some of the girls that had been preoccupied before now glanced their way, some even trying to approach. Jirou smiled, but behind it, he felt annoyance. No matter where they were, people never left Atobe alone, but also at the time he felt security in that. He would belong to no one…
"Did you decide what to draw yet?" The red haired one jumped at least three feet in the air before landing on his feet in front of the two. It was a wonder how he managed his balance over the ice. Then he twisted his body to the side and looked up at both of them before muttering. "Honestly, you better have. It took me and Yuushi all we had to mislead the girls away from your path."
Oshitari Yuushi chuckled walking toward them carefully on the slippery path. "If only Kabaji was here. Oh, why do we have to have an art session mid-winter?" He rubbed his gloved hands together. Honestly, no one understood that kind of schedule since it was cold enough that your fingers could freeze onto the writing utensils. Jirou just laughed, and Atobe shook his head no. They weren't able to find a suitable place, at least not in his standards. The blonde rubbed his cheeks before looking at him. Jirou wanted to sketch the lake, but if Atobe didn't want to, he would pick somewhere else.
"Huuuh? After all that trouble?" Gakuto joined his hands behind his head, raising his voice ending in a sigh. Oshitari started escorting him back into the bus, but the acrobat had to give them a warning. "Tomorrow's the last day, but since we're going to stay in the cabin to draw, we can't help you. Ask Shishido or something."
"Heh, it's been too long. I'm glad we can finally go home," Oshitari threw both his hands in the air in a light shrug. It had been a tiring experience for him and his partner always having to watch their tennis captain's back. Slinking back into the bus for warmth, he and Gakuto both disappeared, and soon the crowd of girls growing, as each pair came back to the meeting place, surrounded Atobe. It was inevitable but Jirou felt a sinking feeling. He wished against Oshitari that the trip wouldn't end there. That his time alone with Atobe would continue to last, and the sketch never completed. He only smiled and chased the two back into the bus energetically.
Inside the warm vehicle, Jirou curled in his seat and went to sleep. Being outside and awake quickly drained the narcoleptic's energy, and sleepy by nature, it was a wonder how he managed to keep himself awake while he explored. Of course half of it had to do with his attitude toward discovery. He was quite the optimist when it came to new and interesting things, and the other half was being with Atobe. He didn't want to waste what little time they had together while feeling sleepy. So during that time, he made sure he stayed awake, no matter how many times a yawn threatened to erupt. His eyes drooped shut, and the last thing he saw was a mob by the window, hiding his art partner from sight. That was when he decided he was glad he could fall asleep. He didn't want to see that.
In his dream, he saw the clearing. He stood wearily, half dozing off, but awakened to the brilliant night sky. The deep violet-black surface was smooth as if all the clouds that formed snow evaporated into nothingness. They were littered with pieces of light some larger then others. In the center was a golden orb, the smudges on its surface clear as letters on a book. Jirou was about to rush out from under the dead looking trees to get a better look, but a sound stopped him. Turning to look at the lake once more, he gasped.
The surface of the frozen lake was a giant mirror, reflecting the quiet forest and the lively stars above. The boy bent down and placed both his hands over the thin surface, careful to keep it from shattering, when he looked carefully, just like a real mirror, the giant ice had a silver glint, then reflected him as clear as possible. The same sound alerted him from his gaze and he looked around him, but still found nothing.
He closed his eyes, his heart beating intensely against his chest, and to calm it, he placed a hand over, telling it to stop. It wasn't fright, it was something else. He knew the sound…
A clear note rang, as if something no bigger then a pinecone struck glass, but with great force. His eyes snapped open, and frantically searched. It was a sound of a tennis ball, but he didn't know where it came from. Then he realized he was standing on top of the lake's mirror like surface. It was dangerous to be standing on something so thin. The blonde sighed and started to leave. It was then that he realized something wasn't how it seemed. His body froze midway while turning, but his brown optics remained glued to the scene. There, not on the surface, but on the reflection, was a figure he recognized so well. Or was he the one trapped in the reflection? He couldn't be certain. Slowly, and very carefully sliding himself closer to the image, he sighed.
Atobe's form was magnificent as he practiced on the court of ice, shattering the surface it hit with certainty and determination. It was his imperfection as a human being that bound him to get better and better, even on days like these where the falling snow could engulf a small figure like a human. Although his features said otherwise, Jirou knew his captain was full of flaws. One, which was inevitable being born a human, and if he wasn't, he couldn't imagine him as anything other then God himself. Therefore, he was grateful to the one that was already there. He wouldn't want Atobe to fall into a place where he couldn't reach anymore then he was already far from.
The blonde's hands were flat against the surface, his voice strained as he whispered the others name, over and over only for the night wind to hear and carry away. Grateful…? He had woken up to find the bus moving, and his companion sleeping right beside him. He blinked, staring at the same dignified features with sadness. Even when they were so close, there was nothing he could do. That was what his dream was telling him, he believed. He could only watch and admire from some distance away, maybe not physically, but it was far away.
And even in his dream, the male was playing tennis. He gripped his hands tightly inside their gloves. Would he belong to no one, and end up leaving his heart only to the game? Maybe…it was more comfortable to think that way. That Atobe loved tennis more then anyone.
That night after dinner, Shishido and Taki joined the group of four as they played cards. They had decided to sketch the view from the cabin window; there wasn't much to see, but it would keep them warm. The six seniors of the regular team played mock poker until late into the evening when they had to return to their rooms. Although usually when they had school trips, Atobe would not share a room, this time around he filed no complaint to having Jirou around. It was perhaps because the curly haired blonde wouldn't disturb the other and just fall asleep instantaneously.
Surprisingly, as they both entered the large and well lit cabin room that night, Jirou wasn't tired. As Atobe went ahead to sit at the far end of the decorated room at a fine wooden desk, he could only stare blankly. Maybe it was his lack of observation during the past week they had been staying there, but it seemed unusually large. It was no surprise there; he would only come back here to fall asleep as soon as he hit the surface of the bed. Now, as his eyes opened to the scene, he felt cold despite the warmth of the heater.
The room was brightly lit from the yellow tinted chandelier at the center of the tall ceiling. The ceiling itself was flat, but the marble making up its surface was painted with white and gold clouds with a baby angel climbing to the robin egg colored heavens where the chandelier protruded from. The painting gave a feel that the surface could be slanted or domed, if they were not told beforehand how it was. The room itself was formatted in an L shape with the two beds to the right if you go straight from the door. The unnecessarily spacious living room had a two step decline towards a grand carpet of dark red with gold designs spread out neatly on the ground with a white leather sofa against the wall. There was a small painting hanging next to the wide screen TV neither of them used during their stay. To prove that fact, the remote rested on the shelf that hung underneath the painting. A glass coffee table stood between the sofa and TV, but even then it was easy to walk through. Then it inclined two steps upward again to where Atobe was sitting in a white chair writing something over a large desk. The edge of the table were fitted on the walls where it curved from the corner and was at least three yards long before the round end finished off and one lean black poll supported its weight.
There was a door between the small fleet of steps and the sofa that was painted gold and had an unrecognizable rune scribed on its surface. It lead to a large and rather clean bathroom that completed the square of their large room. The tiles in the bathroom were checkered and its layout seemed to be so well thought out. It even held a roomy shower stall and the bathtub was more like a mini-swimming pool made of stairs all the way to the far corner.
Honestly Jirou was very much surprised that a school trip offered something like this, and it was probably because he was with Atobe. The silver haired male seemed to be used to no less. As he pondered upon that now, he heard his name called by the said person from the other side of the room. He turned to face a look of concern as he stood uselessly near the entrance. Sheepishly, he walked to the right, out of sight of the regal male and plopped himself down on his bed. There he pretended to sleep until his partner had turned off the lights and fell asleep.
In the darkness, his golden locks were a dark brown to the keen eye. He got out of his bed, sitting on the edge as he watched the other that slept soundly without moving an inch. He got up slowly, but it wouldn't have mattered. The beds were soft and it didn't even creak as the foam like mattress rose back up. He shouldn't…he shouldn't… echoes wavered in his mind and vanished as his trembling hand brushed a silver lock. As he thought, it didn't feel right in his hands, and his fingers burned from heat. Although he wasn't supposed to touch the other, he was slowly descending towards the other male until their faces were level.
"…G…gomen ne," he whispered before their lips met briefly.
AN: Otsukaresama, to those who read this far. Please excuse my fantasy of where the Hyouteis stay. =D Ehmm, some reason, I seem to cliff hanger things in kisses. ; [Refering to Misunderstood] If you've got the time, please give me a review. Constructive critisicm is much appreciated along with words of support. Flames will be considered, but please don't expect me to be persuaded to do something.
