Sequel to Tears of the sky. Can be read as a stand alone without much problems. No direct spoilers, but based on last episodes.
Disclaimer: PoT, not mine...
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Sometimes you really think everything is going to end right here and now.
Oh, you are alive. And living. Just like you were yesterday – Maybe that's why you are feeling so dead.
You stare at the picture in your hand; it's a picture of you, and him.
And in that picture, you are smiling; he is the same as always.
Now that you think about it, you don't remember why you were smiling – Were you smiling because you always do, or did the photographer tell you to?
Or maybe, you were smiling because you really wanted to.
It's a moment frozen in time, captured on the lens and printed on glossy paper, and this proof trembles in your hand.
Heck, you don't even remember why that picture was taken in the first place, or who took it for that matter. There was no special reason, that's for sure. You didn't even know him too well at that time, neither were you interested in cameras, so it's definitely not your handiwork. ( You have a faint recollection that it might have been Yumiko-neesan, but again, you can't be sure.)
Back then, things were simple. You were just a kid, and so was he. That's right, just two kids who loved to play tennis.
And you only wish it had stayed that way.
It's not his fault, you repeat over and over again, not because you are trying to convince yourself, but because it's the truth, really. In fact, if there's anyone who is to blame here, it's you. Yes, you and you alone.
Because, somewhere down the line, you stopped loving tennis .
On a court full of rackets, balls and players, everything would fade away, get swallowed by a fog. Everyone would become invisible, dissolve into nothingness.
And all you could see was him – Yes, you could see him all too clearly, you could hear him all too clearly. If you concentrated enough, you could hear the sound of his every footstep, the slight change in the tone of his voice as he advised some junior players. That's right, if you concentrated enough, you were sure you could hear him breathe. That was how you felt, anyway.
Yes, you are the only one at fault here.
Because somewhere down the line, you stopped loving tennis. And you started loving him instead.
And. He. Didn't. Change.
He was interested in you, yes of course, he was. Because you are a tensai, a prodigy. Your moves fascinate him, your potential leaves him speechless.
And in the end its not you he sees after all.
It's ridiculous, really. Of all the things, you never imagined your own game would become your rival. And such a fierce one at that, you have no chance of winning anymore.
It's like the enemy is inside of you. And you can't do anything about it, because you don't really hate the enemy either.
Even though you stopped loving it, you still like to play tennis. And he likes to watch you play, so does your brother, and nothing can be done about it after all.
A part of you knows it's over already.
This is as far as you are going to get. With tennis. And with him.
At least he seems to be happy, now that you are playing so well, giving him what he wants from you.
Of course, he doesn't know how difficult it is for you to just pick up that darn racket, and stand on the courts, facing him – Your pride, your joy, your pain, your suffering, your one indulgence, your sin, your heart, your destroyer.
He is not aware of anything, and that's the way it'll remain.
You sigh softly. You are the only one left in your class.
Practice ended maybe fifteen minutes ago, and you came to retrieve a book you forgot, that's when the picture slipped out, you had forgotten you had kept it there in the first place.
And now, it is getting dark outside, but there is still time till they come to lock up the classrooms and stuff, and your feet refuse to move, refuse to leave this place. You are still smiling as you keep looking at that picture, and your hand, is it still trembling? You breathe in the cool evening air, you are facing the window, and the cool evening breeze tickles the bare skin of your neck.
But you can't feel a thing, your head is filled with white noise, and you keep smiling, that smile now empty and hollow. Because it's the only thing you can do.
" Fuji. " you hear a voice behind you. Now just when did he……. You turn around.
" Fuji. " he repeats himself, indigo-blue eyes filled with something akin to worry; his gaze drops to the picture in your hand.
Now you two have never really discussed it or anything, but you know he knows everything already – In spite of what everyone might say, he is nowhere that dumb, or naïve.
( If there's anyone who might know you inside out, it's him actually. In return, you are the only one who knows him best. )
You wonder how he managed to creep up to you, so silently. Was it something done on purpose? Knowing him, it was possible. Though most probably, you yourself were too lost in thought.
Either way, he was here, standing so close to you, questioning you with those eyes, those huge innocent eyes no one could possibly look away from.
" Fuji. " he shakes his head. " Let it go. "
It's ironic really; you found him in the same situation about two weeks ago. The tables have turned now, it seems.
Truthfully, you don't fancy being in this situation, even if it's this guy. Even if he does understand you, and has nothing but the best of your interests at heart . It makes you feel weak, naked; you feel like your knees are going to give out on you any second – To put it simply, you don't like it.
And from the look on his face, it doesn't seem like he will be taking ' no ' for an answer. Yes, your friend is stubborn too.
Well, so are you.
" What are you talking about? " you just smile softly, your eyes are still closed, but there is a challenge in your voice.
He doesn't say a word. He simply grabs your wrist, somewhat roughly; while it is not like him at all, it can only mean he is being serious here, and separates the photo with his free hand, placing it upside down on a desk nearby, so that you cannot see the picture anymore.
" Let me go. " you look away. And you resist, and you struggle, your attempts, anything but feeble. You are using every bit of strength and skill just to twist free out of his grasp, and you are surprised at how strong his grip really is.
And as he moves one step closer, you suddenly become aware of the difference in your heights. He is so close – If you just turn your face now to look at him, there is a chance your lips will graze his skin; not to mention, he is trying to put an arm around you, caress your face. But you won't accept it.
You don't need comfort. You don't – You chant over and over in your head.
Because if you accept this…….. Won't you be admitting defeat? And you've never liked to admit defeat.
That's right, you have always fought back, even if all the odds were against you, even when nothing was going right, even if you knew you had lost already.
" Fujiko, please. " his voice shakes, but the hold on your wrist is still unshaken, it is even starting to hurt a little. His knuckles have nearly gone white too.
You still refuse to waver.
" For my sake. " his eyes tear up. And your eyes become wide.
He knows you won't cry here in this situation, not now. Even if you might be screaming inside.
So he is crying for you.
And you can't. You just can't anymore.
Without another word, you pull him close, and wrap your free hand around him.
' Idiot. ' is the only thought thatcomes to your mind, as his grip on your wrist loosens, and you allow him to hold you.
This time, you are not struggling. You can feel him sniffle a little as he buries his head in the crevice of your neck, his eyelashes tickle your skin, and slowly you find yourself breathing easily again; your shoulders which had gone stiff from all that tension before, relax, and you entwine your fingers with his soft red hair.
After a brief embrace, he pulls back. " Arigatou nya." , he smiles, bright.
" I'm the one who should be thanking you." You smile back, your smile is small. But it is nevertheless, real.
You are surprised to discover, you are actually feeling better.
" Why did you come? " you ask softly.
" You said you would be gone just a minute nya…." he almost whimpers, " And you didn't come back….. and I couldn't……"
You clasp your hand with his.
" Shall we leave? " you murmur.
" Um. " Not one fond of classrooms, he is only too happy at that suggestion.
You grab your book in your free hand.
Also you conveniently manage to forget the photograph on the desk, as you step outside, together with him.
And as he laughs, a tinkling sound and you two decide to stop for some ice-cream, you look up at the clear night sky.
Yesterday's snapshot was best left forgotten.
Not to mention, you have a feeling, you will be taking some new pictures very soon.
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A/N: hope it was okay. i'm not too confident about this one, but posting it anyway... so apologies in advance it was too troublesome!!
reveiws loved, so if you like it, do reveiw nya!! thats pretty much all!!