The café wasn't noisy with the chatter of those with time to kill; the atmosphere was overtaken instead by sounds of cutlery clinking and plates set down and picked up. Atobe Keigo sat across a brat... well, a boy... man... whom he hadn't seen in person in almost five years, unsure of how to begin the conversation, given that the boy had simply walked into the place, approached his table and sat down with only a "thanks for meeting me".
Keigo selected his words carefully. "How has life been treating you?"
Echizen Ryoma looked at him from across the table, steady, contemplative, slightly mocking gaze. Beautiful. "Have you really not been following my career?"
"Of course I have, I meant my question to be personal."
Echizen leaned back. "What do you care? It's not like we kept in touch after we broke up."
Keigo's eyes narrowed. "Don't get snappy with me. As I recall, you asked for this meeting. Via Tezuka Kunimitsu, for some reason, as if somehow my phone number was erased from your phone."
"Yeah, I know, sorry." Echizen sipped the coffee Keigo had ordered for him. Fine coffee, Keigo thought, a favourite of his. Not worthy of the grimace the brat in front of him was making. "I reached out to Buchou" - Keigo was the one grimacing now, it'd been years already, drop that title for God's sake - "because that way you'd definitely get to know that I wanted to talk. Your secretary might be a mite less urgent."
"I'm only here as a favour to Kunimitsu," Keigo said, "so please, get whatever you wanted me for over with."
"Kunimitsu? What, are the two of you dating now?"
Keigo somewhat hated himself for hoping there was some jealousy in that question. It had been half a decade. Get over it, Keigo.
"Close, certainly, seeing as I'm sponsoring him. Have you really not been following his career?"
Echizen accepted the taunt. "Nice. Anyway, Atobe, I need a favour from you."
"All right, if it is within my power to grant that favour, and if I am so inclined." Keigo folded his arms and fixed Echizen with a glare, as if trying to tell him he wasn't really inclined. (He was, though. Without a doubt. Echizen Ryoma was the love of Keigo's life, even if he hadn't acknowledged it yet, and even after the disaster that had been their break-up fight, he would go to any length for him.)
"Cut the formal English, Monkey King. I need you to be my boyfriend again."
There was a minute or two of silence on Keigo's side, in which Echizen finished his coffee in three gulps, shook his head in mild disgust, and ordered a grape Ponta.
"There do exist," Keigo ventured after a while, genuinely appalled at Echizen's bluntness, "better ways to ask someone out."
Echizen huffed. "I don't want you to really be my boyfriend, I just need you to stick to me for a few months."
"Why should I let my career take a new road because of you?"
Keigo was a highly eligible bachelor, and journalists in all newspapers gushed over his singleness and abundant good looks and fortune on a monthly basis. The news of his having a lover would surely affect his appeal (and his company's profits) in the long run.
"Well, that's the thing," Echizen said, somewhat sheepishly (for him), "I don't have a reason why you should go along with it, I know how crappy a boyfriend I was back then, but I do have a reason as to why you can be the only person I can call my boyfriend."
"What, pray tell, is it?"
The sight of Echizen's blushing face was bringing back too many unwanted memories of exhilarating tennis matches and equally exhilarating kissing afterwards, but Keigo pushed them all out of his mind and focused instead on Echizen's response.
"Well," and this boded nothing well for Keigo, "I bet my sponsors you'd go along with it."
Yanagi and Inui of Rikkaidai and Seigaku. Echizen's sponsors. What were they doing, betting with the brat? Keigo would have rolled his eyes if he had been a teenager. As it was, he was 22 and old for it; Echizen was 20, and young for it.
"What have they predicted?" Of course they'd predicted something.
"A less than two percent chance that you'd stay for longer than ten minutes after hearing the proposal. It's been seven minutes now."
Keigo had just been about to say no and leave, but juvenile irritation at someone thinking they could read him overtook him and he remained seated if only to prove Yanagi and Inui wrong. "What else did they predict?"
"Ah," and Echizen actually drew a piece of paper out of his pocket, "do you want to me to read them aloud?"
Keigo reached across the table and picked the paper from Echizen's hand with the air of royalty being made to collect dog poo.
the probability of Atobe:
ordering coffee for Echizen: 72.7%
exchanging career jibes with Echizen: 51.0%
remaining seated after the proposal for more than ten minutes: 1.9%
rejecting the proposal on the first meeting: 89.7%
agreeing to a second meeting on a (76.3% probability) desperate Echizen's request: 65.9%
rejecting the proposal on the second meeting: 99.9%
the probability of Echizen wearing a pink miniskirt and a crop top to his next seven tournaments: 99.9%
Keigo looked up with extreme annoyance at Echizen, who was mutely observing him. "Who the fuck do they think they are?"
Echizen shrugged. "They've been accurate so far, you know, you'd have left by now if I hadn't told you they'd predicted it."
"Have they predicted all your tournament wins until now?"
"They sometimes tell me I'll lose so I don't slack off."
Keigo had no response to that, so he looked down at the paper again. "Did you really stake your dignity on the bet? What even brought this about?"
Echizen reluctantly started talking. "They approached me one day, saying my image in the world as a tennis-obsessed unemotional wallflower might be improved if I was seen publicly with a significant other." Keigo had nothing to offer in disagreement. Echizen's lips pursed. "We got to talking about potential partners, and they said someone who themselves was often in the news would help my rep, too." Keigo somehow knew where this was going. "I suggested Tezuka-buchou because he's single, too, and he's one of the only people I talk to, but they suggested his sponsor instead." He knew something was fishy about this, but waited for Ryoma to continue. "I said I would never get you to do it because... because of that huge fight we had, so they bet me and set these stakes."
Keigo resolutely ignored mention of the fight. "Is there a specific reason they chose a crop top and a skirt?"
Echizen shrugged. "Maybe they're perverts?"
"Maybe?"
Echizen laughed a little. Keigo contemplated.
"What am I getting out of this, apart from a downhill career?" The ability to be affectionate towards Ryoma again, for one. And one-upping that data-obsessed duo - he wasn't going to pretend he wasn't saying yes partly to go against those two.
"More fame than you'd know what to do with?"
"I already have that. What I mean is, how shall I enjoy their suffering when - if - they lose this bet?"
Echizen smirked. "Yanagi-senpai is going to publicly post an apology he can't retract on his blog for believing I could have lost to Sanada Genichirou seven years ago, and Inui-senpai will survive seven days on Inui juice."
What was he so happy about? Really? A fake apology and Man vs Chemical Disaster against pink skirts for a year?
"Do you know how to bargain? Are you even a little cognisant of the fine art of negotiation?" demanded Keigo, indignant on Echizen's behalf. Echizen frowned. "I'm not foolish," he said. "but not really. Are you going to pretend to be my boyfriend or not?"
Keigo convinced himself he was saving Echizen from a terrible fate by staking his annual income and eligibility like this, and took a deep breath. "All right. I am only doing this to save you from those abominable clothes. But each time you win a match, you have to dedicate your win to your beloved boyfriend, me."
"Fine, I don't lose anything by doing that," said Echizen, shrugging. "You'll have to kiss me and hold my hand and stuff, by the way. If that doesn't repulse you too much."
"I'm sure I'll get used to kissing you again."
"I hope you kiss better now than you did all those years ago."
In response to this, Keigo reached across the table and grasped Ryoma's hands, interlacing their fingers. "My darling," he began very seriously, and choked down his laughter at the look of abject horror and realisation (Keigo could publicly embarrass him now) Ryoma suddenly had. "My darling, I kiss like a heartthrob now."
A couple sitting nearby physically turned to look at them, and, upon recognising their faces, grew the subtle, smug expression of two people who knew the climax of a suspense/thriller plot and were waiting to spoil it for everyone else.
Keigo paid the bill with one hand (he wasn't going to let this wonderful opportunity pass him by) and, as they left the café, everyone had their eyes on the two.
TEZUKA SPONSOR SPOTTED FLIRTING WITH PROTEGE'S RIVAL
Ah, that was a particularly satisfying thing to wake up to, Keigo thought. Seeing oneself in the news. He expected incredulous phone calls from friends and family and the unnecessarily curious very soon. No one had thought to take a picture of the two, which was a shame; regardless of how they'd changed physically over five hormone-laden years, they suited each other to a T; they fit like they would have all those years ago.
His phone rang. Keigo expected it was from Ryoma. It was.
"Did you see the Japan Shimbun front page headline?"
"Of course, my darling."
"Stop that, Monkey King."
That annoying nickname still rankled. Keigo asked, "When can it be properly said that you've won the bet?"
"When we make official announcements," said Ryoma, probably wishing they'd made it already (Keigo somewhat was).
Keigo said, "Let's give it a few weeks and then break the news, what do you think?"
"All right, I don't care, really, as long as I win."
"I feel as if I am more dedicated to the cause than you are, and you're the one who started it all."
"Yeah, I know, thanks, Monkey King."
And with a click, Ryoma hung up. Keigo spent a few seconds thinking about the rudeness of his ex-boyfriend, and then got up for his regular shower before work.
For at least a week, Keigo's days in the office were spent fielding annoyingly nosy inquiries from all and sundry; the worst came from his mother, who warned him against foolish behaviour in public. But everything was okay as long as dear Keigo was happy to be back with his boyfriend and didn't embarrass himself in public. If only she knew why he was doing this. She would most certainly stop speaking to him.
On one such annoying day, not half an hour after he got home and dressed more casually, the phone began to ring again. No more, for God's sake!
"What," he snapped into the mouthpiece.
"Want to go on a date right now?" It was Ryoma. How sudden of him, considering a week had just gone by in radio silence.
"All right," Keigo said. He needed time away from inquiries about his love life, and if it was with the object of those inquiries, so be it. "Where shall we meet?"
"I thought we could walk together to a restaurant near your house... oh, by the way, Monkey King, I'm right outside your front door."
Keigo hung up on Ryoma and took a deep breath. Then he walked the short distance to his front door and opened it. Ryoma pulled him outside with a jerk. "Hello, Monkey King," he said, smiling deviously, and drew him into a kiss.
The first thing Keigo thought was, he's as impulsive as ever. Then he registered Ryoma's impossibly soft lips. Then the smoothness of his skin, the sharp outline of his jaw as his fingers traced it. Then the lovely curve of his back as Keigo put a hand there to bring him closer. And then, Keigo was quite embarrassed to admit, fireworks went off in his mind as... as they say... tongues got involved. Ryoma surprised him with that kiss! With that marvellous fucking kiss.
It had been a long time since Keigo had kissed Ryoma, or even touched him. It had been such an unfairly long time. No. Do not think about high school. He even forgot to breathe, what a teenage girl Keigo was. When he pulled away, Ryoma's mouth was lusciously red and spread in a grin, and there was a sly sparkle in his eyes.
Ah, so they were very visible to those 'inquisitive' journalists who had camped outside the borders of his house.
"Shall we go, now?" asked Keigo, courteous and composed to a fault, even though his heart was pounding so hard he was sure Ryoma could hear it.
"I don't think I can, now," asked Ryoma, not even breathless, smirk steady on his face. Keigo's eyes went once more to that mouth.
"All right, come in, I'll cook something," he responded shortly, and stepped back into the house, making way for Ryoma and shutting the door behind him.
"I'm sorry about back then," Ryoma said, slipping out of his shoes and putting house slippers on.
"What do you mean, back then?"
"Back then, in high school," Ryoma answered, following Keigo into the kitchen and watching interestedly as Keigo brought out, washed, and chopped an assortment of vegetables in no time. It was looking like he wouldn't be able to avoid talking about the break-up fight after all.
"Oh, do you mean the day we broke up? When you pointed out all my flaws and threw my insecurities about inheriting from my father in my face?"
"Yeah, the day you said you'd rather choose your father's company a thousand times over me." Ryoma's voice grew hard. "Do you want to have that argument all over again?" Keigo mutely shook his head. "Anyway, I want to say sorry. I was a mess back then because of Karupin."
"You don't really need to apologise," said Keigo. "I was equally volatile." He poured some oil into a pan and lit the stove underneath it.
"The sex was great, though."
Keigo laughed. "We fucked like the teenagers we were," he said as he put the washed vegetables in the pan and added salt and pepper.
"I liked the way you kissed me."
"In what way did I kiss you?"
"Like it was our last kiss every time."
Keigo didn't meet Ryoma's eyes as he asked, "When you left, did you think you'd really never see me again?"
"No, I can't really stay away from you, even if I swear I won't look at you again."
The pan slipped from Keigo's hands and crashed to the floor. Vegetables and oil and seasoning flew everywhere, an ugly stain on the white floor.
"Monkey King, what the fuck," exclaimed Ryoma as he went to find napkins and tissues and cleaning fluid.
When Keigo finally looked at Ryoma again, once they'd cleaned up the mess and Keigo had made dinner anew, Ryoma was smiling, but his eyes were empty.
"Look, Keigo... you can back out even now, if you want. We haven't signed a contract or anything, and you owe me nothing."
Keigo cleared his throat. "I suppose, if I'm in for a penny, I'm in for a pound. I am ready for whatever consequences may come." Ryoma said nothing. "If we are to appear in public together, and talk about each other to the world, we should know what the other's been up to in the past few years."
"Yeah, I won Wimbledon twice in high school, once in uni and defeated Buchou twice. No big deal, you won't have a problem going on and on about me in the media."
Keigo barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. "As for me, I finished high school and university with top marks and now am simultaneously co-managing my father's company with him."
"Quite the achiever."
"Quite. Now, will you help me set the table?"
Ryoma lithely leaped off the counter and started opening cupboards and drawers, searching for plates and cutlery.
They had a nice dinner, and Ryoma made sure to drag Keigo out and kiss him soundly again while he was leaving.
ECHIZEN AND ATOBE SPOTTED KISSING AT ATOBE MANSION
Echizen left as suddenly as he... came, perhaps
Known now in the media as the star-crossed lovers-
Not as satisfactory this time, Keigo thought, the picture was very unflattering. His face was hidden by Ryoma's head. And the quickie suggestion in the subheading was crude.
He was getting so used to the phone ringing that it had more or less become background noise to him now; when it rang for the first time that day, he almost missed it, until his eyes went to the caller ID screen and he saw it was his mother calling.
"Why was I not informed earlier than last week of this renewed relationship of yours, if the two of you are so close again as to act like foolish teenagers in front of those vicious scavengers?"
"Mother," Keigo began, but was ruthlessly spoken over.
"You may well wish to act your age, Keigo, I realise twenty-two is as much of an adult age as eighteen is, but allow me to remind you that you willingly chose to shoulder half of your father's burden by controlling his company; with this sort of immature behaviour, you aren't doing him or his life's work any favours.
"I will not be the controlling mother so derided in popular culture, by calling your boyfriend and giving him a piece of my mind. However, I talk to you now as the wife of a businessman and the woman who raised her son to be a CEO right after graduating college. I accepted the two of you last week because you seemed happy. But any more imprudence in public shall not leave a very good impression on the company you own. Behave yourself, or you'll be married off to the Suzuka head's daughter before you know it."
Keigo ended the call, unable to bear any more admonishment.
"Overkill," he mumbled to himself. "It was just a kiss or two."
Just seconds later, the phone rang again. "Hey," came Ryoma's voice through the speaker. "They think we fucked." He was laughing.
"Yes, very funny and all that, but I've just spent the better part of ten minutes being shredded into pieces by my mother for cavorting about with you. I'm in no mood to talk to you, especially as I wasn't the one that initiated the kisses and yet am the one to suffer for it."
He regretted those words dearly as soon as they escaped his lips.
Ryoma's laughter faded. There was silence.
"Sorry about that."
"I... I'm not blaming you -"
"Yeah, you're not. And I was the one who kissed you both times, I take full responsibility." Sarcasm gushed from those two words. "Give the phone to Mummy next time you can't handle what you signed up for."
"Don't talk to me like this, you have no idea what I've faced these past few years, responsibilities far beyond winning six fucking matches every tournament-"
"You're not nearly as important in the grand scheme of things as you make everyone believe, Keigo," said Ryoma, close to shouting. "Your stupid need for praise and adoration's hasn't gone, has it? Guess what? You're still a little boy now as you were then, fighting to sit at the grown-ups table. Go manage your stupid fucking company and earn billions and eat caviar for breakfast!"
Keigo took a deep breath. And then one more.
"Keigo, I'm sor -"
"I think I'll nap for a bit more, I don't need to go into work," he said brusquely. "I'll talk to you later, Echizen."
"Keigo -"
But Keigo did not stick around to listen to the rest of his words, either.
In the practice matches leading up to the Australian Open, Ryoma won against each of his opponents. These weren't official matches, so there were no post-match press conferences or anything of the sort, but Ryoma still stuck to his promise and tweeted about those matches:
won against Kaoru-senpai today. Keigo encouraged me x
won my match against Ferrer. Keigo was in the stands so I won
won against Murray today. Keigo's British side wasn't very happy about it but he told me in Japanese "i'm sure your father's proudly watching back in Japan" heh
won against Tomic. Keigo gifted me today's Fila cap x
won against Buchou after a long time, he said he didn't go easy on me, to make things difficult for Keigo
There had been explosive, extensive gossip of the fact that Keigo had followed Ryoma to Australia, even though Keigo actually had followed his protege Tezuka; but as Keigo did sit in on Ryoma's matches, he wouldn't nitpick.
He strangely felt as if each of those tweets crediting Keigo was an apology for the fight the other day; but Keigo did not respond to any of those on his own Twitter. They only ever chatted when the cameras were around, kissed and held hands occasionally, but remained silent and distant once they were alone. Whenever they did talk, it was only things like his backhand sucks, your Rondo would've destroyed him, he looks like he's never seen a Cyclone Smash before, and Keigo imagined Ryoma didn't like that very much.
It was after one of Tezuka's early-morning practice matches that Tezuka finally broached the topic. "I see many photos of the two of you in the news these days," he said, bending over his bag and searching for a new wristband in it.
"Yes, well, we met with each other to reacquaint ourselves and ended up growing closer than expected," replied Keigo, wary.
"Is he doing well?"
"Very well."
"His tweets are rather adoring of you."
"He makes me blush with those."
"I have never, in my life, seen him credit his victories to anything or anyone. You must really be special for him."
"What a description."
They walked together back to the hotel, deftly avoiding reporters, and took their seats in the hotel's café, ordering a late breakfast and making small talk.
"You're not really back with him, are you?" Tezuka asked once their rolls and tea were served.
As expected of the keen, insightful Tezuka. Keigo saw no reason to lie to him about it.
"No, Kunimitsu, and I expect you won't go telling people about it."
"Of course."
They ate in silence for a while. Then Tezuka spoke again.
"I won't ask why you're pretending to be lovers with him. And I don't mean to interfere or tamper with your relationship, but I will say that the two of you look like you're still in love with each other."
"Now why would you say something like that?" asked Keigo lightheartedly, reaching for his napkin.
"Because I knew you all those years ago, and I know you now, and you still have the same expression of hopeless longing on your face when you think he's not looking."
"Rubbish," Keigo scoffed. "I'm disappointed in you for not believing in my acting. Yes, I did love him very much back then, but you can't have expected me to carry a torch for him all this time." He did, but that wasn't the point. "I imagine Ryuuzaki's still around, yes?"
"He rejected her quite some time ago, saying he couldn't think of being with anyone but his first love. And given the looks he gave you at twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, I think it impossible to forget a love like that."
"Kunimitsu -" Keigo paused. Then restarted again in a more accusatory tone, "You're trying to play matchmaker."
Tezuka coloured slightly.
"I just think it would be better if the two of you were more in each others' lives. Don't you remember how you both spurred the other to excel? Don't you remember how your team used to come to Seigaku all the time while you pretended it was for fostering healthy inter-school rivalry?"
Keigo flushed. "That was high school!" He hadn't thought people had seen through his (flimsy, he supposed now) ruse to see Ryoma more.
"It would benefit me, too, you know. I'd get to spend more time with both of you, and Kaoru would get a break from me. That's about eighty percent of the reason I'm telling you all this and evoking all this hurt and nostalgia with it."
"Oh, come on now. Breakfast's over. Shall I accompany you to your practice session?"
"No need, I expect you have other things to attend to. Echizen's next match is the day after tomorrow, by the way."
"Thank you." Ryoma would've told him himself, anyway.
Try as he might, Keigo couldn't help but be influenced by Tezuka's words. Tezuka had probably aimed for that, because he wasted the entire day reminiscing about his old relationship with the brat.
"Good morning," Ryoma said the next day as he let himself into Keigo's room and picked up the phone. "We need to fix whatever happened on this." He indicated the phone, and then ordered room service with it.
"Fine," Keigo said, in the middle of tying his tie in front of the mirror. Ryoma stood beside him. They stared at each other in the mirror.
"I didn't mean to say all that." Ryoma turned to face Keigo, his hands replacing Keigo's; he skilfully finished tying the tie. His fingers lingered on Keigo's pristine white shirt.
"Neither did I," replied Keigo. "I suppose I don't know myself or you enough to not say such horrible things."
"I know you, Keigo," said Ryoma. "And I knew you back then, too. Well enough to love you five years."
"Well, you knew me by my ego first and name second, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but then again, I only really did after I fell for you during the Kantou tournament."
"You... You know I loved you deeply, right?"
Ryoma's fingers clenched Keigo's shirt. "Of course," he said.
Keigo slowly wrapped his arm around Ryoma's waist. He had really long eyelashes, Keigo thought. He was beautiful, even if he did spend all day looking like an emotionless robot tennis player.
"I want to kiss you, Keigo," Ryoma said. "I wonder if your ego would be inflated by that."
"There is nothing in this world that would stop you," Keigo whispered. "And no, I am not who I was before."
And nothing did stop them. Not even the waiter who brought up their food, slipping in and out of the room without even being noticed.
Ryoma partook in a press conference the day before the first match of the Australian Open. It was all in the name of publicity and encouraging competition amongst participants, but he was there for an entirely different reason. Tezuka wasn't going to be there, so Keigo had decided not to go, either; Ryoma had asked for him to stay away, anyway.
"I have something important to announce," said Ryoma, as the very last tennis player to speak at the conference. "Rumours of a relationship between myself and Atobe Keigo have been rife in the media lately, coupled with intimate photos of us and outlandish gossip. I wish to take this opportunity -" Keigo was sure Ryoma's manager had written those words for him - "to confirm that there is some truth to those rumours, that Keigo and I are lovers, despite the fact that he is the sponsor of one of my rivals. It is a serious relationship, but will not hinder my career, nor will I ever play half-heartedly against Tezuka Kunimitsu due to it. Keigo and I (and Tezuka, even) have known each other for almost a decade, and there is no one better than him with whom I could take this significant step in my life. I do so with the support and encouragement of my friends and family, and most importantly, with Keigo's love. Also now you have proof I'm not just tennis-obsessed. I'm going to win the Australian Open, by the way, thank you, good night."
He stepped down from the podium before any journalist could get in a question, and left the conference in two minutes flat. Keigo had to admire him for that.
Twenty minutes later, there was a knock on his door. Keigo opened it.
"You were very... direct," he said, as Ryoma slid past him and flung himself onto Keigo's huge, fluffy bed.
"Yanagi-senpai's uploading the apology onto his blog after the tournament, and Inui-senpai is eating his last edible meal for a week tonight. Today was a good day."
"No pink skirts in your future, congratulations," said Keigo, lying down beside him. "Who's your manager, by the way?"
"You won't believe it, but Osakada Tomoka."
"I don't know her."
"No, you wouldn't remember her." Ryoma turned to Keigo, who had come to lie down beside him. "The world would implode the day you decided to give a shit about other people."
Ryoma kissed him once, on the cheek, and turned over, curling up to go to sleep. Keigo drew him close, close until Ryoma's back was flush against Keigo's chest.
"I'm glad you're so short that your hair doesn't tickle my nose."
"Shut up."
Two weeks later, Ryoma won the Australian Open.
Keigo kissed him at a celebratory party in full view of everyone, and there were wolf-whistles and cat-calls on all sides but all Keigo could think about for the rest of the night was Ryoma's radiant face, as they danced to peppy music and did not let go of each other the entire time.
"Hey," said a voice in Keigo's ear in a smooth drawl. "Hey, let's go play some tennis."
Keigo blearily looked at Ryoma, who was a little too awake for one thirteen in the morning. They'd been back in Japan for a week, now, was Ryoma's jet lag still present?
"Let's sleep instead, one of us has an important meeting tomorrow."
"Come on, Monkey King, do some exciting things in your boring businessman life for once. Don't you remember how we used to sneak out of your room in that old palace of yours and fuck on the benches in your garden for the hell of it?"
Keigo remembered all too well.
"Fine," sighed Keigo, and he unwillingly pushed himself out of bed and put on tennis shorts. "I'll need to borrow one of your rackets."
"Of course. Hurry up!"
It was cold outside, and the grass on Keigo's personal tennis court was dewy, but Ryoma didn't seem to care. Well, the match would warm them up quite nicely, and the cold blew all of Keigo's sleepiness away.
They played janken for the serve; Keigo won and chose to serve. He wasn't as out of touch with the sport as he advertised, and he easily took three games from Ryoma.
"I miss you, you know," Ryoma called across the court. "I miss all those tennis matches with you," he continued, "and I miss walking around your huge family mansion and talking to Michael. I miss being around you and thinking I'm in the company of someone who's going to be great one day. I miss seeing Beat, and I miss being forced to eat disgusting Yorkshire pudding all the time. I miss our inexperienced kissing when we were still both in middle school, I miss your very experienced kissing when you were sixteen and about to leave me, I miss running my fingers through your hair."
"How eloquent of you," Keigo shouted back, serving an ace.
"I miss the days when I was sixteen and saw stubble on your face every few weeks. It was so sexy! I never showed you the inside of my thighs the morning after we fucked, I should have."
"And in the very next sentence you prove me wrong and yourself woefully blunt."
They didn't talk again. The match ended (Keigo wasn't out of touch with tennis at all. He won the game 7-6, 50-48), and both walked back into Keigo's house, Ryoma's arm loosely slung around Keigo's waist.
They fell into bed, too tired to change. Keigo drew the blankets over the two of them, very ready to fall asleep and rest at least a little, until:
"Hey, let's end this."
If Keigo's heart skipped a painful beat and he lost his sleep for the second time that night after hearing those words, it wasn't his fault. There was a sharp intake of breath - Keigo's - too loud in the piercing silence, resonating, and Keigo could think nothing but it's happening again.
"You okay?" Ryoma's hand came to rest on Keigo's jaw. "Want me to turn on the lights?"
"What did I do this time?"
Ryoma's tone was suddenly replaced by one of surprise. "What are you talking about?"
"Why must you leave again?"
"What?"
"You -" Keigo rolled over, facing Ryoma. "I love you. Despite everything we've done to each other, I love you. I let you break my heart when I was eighteen, but I can't bear it again now. I love you. So please -"
"Keigo, you're honestly too dense -" Ryoma kissed him. Very dirtily, too. "I meant our pretend relationship, so we could start over."
It took mere milliseconds for Keigo to understand, even if he was too dense by Ryoma's standards; the sheer relief that overtook him left him breathless. He took Ryoma's hand and held it to his heart, to let it talk for him.
"I know," Ryoma said. "Feel mine, too." He took Keigo's hand and led it to his groin.
Keigo burst into laughter. Ryoma joined him.
"All right, go to sleep now, Keigo. You have a big meeting in the morning, didn't you know?"
I do not claim to know how events transpired that I am sitting here, writing this apology letter, but let us at least say we were useful in bringing two childhood sweethearts back together for good (the probability that they shall go to the US in a year and marry in a lavish ceremony is 89.9% based on the thank-you gifts they've sent us).
I am expected to inform my readers that, seven years ago, I committed the gravest mistake I could when I assumed my then-teammate and current French Open champion, Sanada Genichirou, would win his middle-school Kantou tournament finals match against Echizen Ryoma, whom I currently sponsor with my partner Inui Sadaharu.
As can be expected from the way I have written this letter, the opposite happened, and Echizen blasted through Rikkai's defences twice that year. Seven years on, he expects me to apologise for even thinking he was beatable back then.
I acquiesce. I apologise.
I also apologise for the lateness of this letter; Echizen had wanted it right after the Australian Open, but writing this letter was a taxing endeavour that required time.
(I apologise for the stakes Sadaharu and I had set in a certain bet, too - but we set it as incentive for both Echizen and for his future husband and it worked wonders, so let it be known that we are not, as he claims, perverts.)
(We are not.)
Yours,
Yanagi Renji
(Seiichi, if you want that outfit for him, call me.)
Please feel free to comment about how choppy and robotic the story sounded, I'm really rusty and really bad at this.