Crazy In Love
Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis, nor am I earning any profit from writing these stories, which are purely for my own amusement.
Warning: kissing, RyoSaku
A.N.: Personally, I am not a fan of RyoSaku. Sakuno is simply too timid and shy for Ryoma, Ryoma too arrogant and apathetic for her. They are almost complete opposites, and simply do not suit each other. However, it is THE canon pairing of POT, and my idea totally matched them, so RyoSaku it is.
Please R&R!
Now on to the story…
Her life had been separated, cleanly in half, well not half, but sliced cleanly, into two sections: Before Echizen Ryoma Came and After Echizen Ryoma Came.
She could remember that first meeting, when he had spoken to her, however carelessly, however casually. He had still spoken to her, asked her, her when anyone else could have done.
But this memory was nothing, only important because it was an out-of-the-ordinary experience, something unusual that had happened.
She could remember catching a glimpse of him later, and rushing up to him, all apologies and blushes. And the embarrassment. But he didn't hate her, seeming to almost not care, which hurt her more than she realized, and relieved her more than she would have thought.
Even then, it hadn't been something that important. Embarrassing, humiliating, memorable even, certainly, but not important.
She could remember the shock, the joyful disbelief, when she found out that they went to the same school. And later, when she had watched him, as he served and hit the ball, so gracefully, that he had seemed like a fallen angel, that was when she had fallen, utterly and irreversibly, into a Fan Girl Crush.
But later, slowly, ever so very slowly, they had become friends, of a sort. Her and Tomoka-chan and Kachio-kun and Katsuo-kun and Horio-kun and all of the regulars, who were all kind and beautiful and oddly naïve. All of them.
And she hoped. Wished. And longed.
She longed for his approval, his friendship, even his love, if he would deem her worthy enough.
But she wasn't. And she had known it, yet she had managed to hope. Hoped that she would be important enough for him, maybe to consider her one of his closest friends. Hoped that she would be the one that he confided in, trusted, even.
Hoped so much, that, in her mind, she began thinking that it was the reality.
But it simply wasn't meant to be.
Oh, he liked her enough. Enjoyed her company, even, and her food. He'd certainly complimented her cooking enough times, her cooking and her drawings and her grades.
And he held her hand, looking almost embarrassed, except Ryoma-kun didn't get embarrassed, and put his arm around her shoulders when she was tired, encouraging her to put her head on his shoulders before he would kiss the top of her head, smiling gently.
And she remembered, with crystal clarity, how his eyelashes fluttered, dark against his pale skin, when he kissed her. He kissed roughly, his tongue pushing against hers strongly, but he'd wrap his arms around her, and she'd feel so warm and safe.
But she wasn't to him what he was to her.
It was always like that, had always been like that. She had known it, he had told her, and it was how it had always been and how it always would be.
He had been gentle about it, certainly, telling her that he didn't love her. But it was fine with her. Honestly.
After all, she was the one who had told him that she didn't believe in love, nor would she fall in love, so, no, sorry, she wasn't going to love, not even him, no matter how much she liked him, and he had almost joked, saying wistfully that it would be a one-sided thing in the future.
But she had fallen in love, much to her consternation, and confessed a few short months later.
And he'd smiled oddly, an expression almost between euphoria and joy and something else, before she apologized, her face flaming red with embarrassment, and he stared at her bewilderedly.
"Didn't you think that I'd be happy?" he asked, grinning now. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smirked. "You're blushing again, Sakuno-chan."
But even now, now that they were in high school, and they were openly dating, he still preferred the company of others toward her, the way he always had. The old regulars, and the Fudomine regulars, and the new regulars, like Niou-kun or Yukimura-san, and even An-chan, they were his real friends. They were his friends, the ones he would trust with his life, the ones that he would hang out with, the ones he had sleepovers with and talked to (Not gossiped, because he was a guy. Guys don't gossip. Or so they claim.).
And it hurt. She ached whenever he ignored her or didn't put her first or anything, no matter how unintentional, no matter how much he didn't realize it.
But it wasn't his fault. He had his own life, his own friends, and his own priorities. He was just another guy, just another oblivious, arrogant member of the opposite gender.
And she was just his crazy-in-love girlfriend.