You can't look back. You stopped looking back and feeling guilty a long time ago. If you hadn't, surely the grief would've killed you by this point. If you can call what you're doing living. Part of you whispers the truth; you're not living; you haven't lived for years. No, what you're doing is surviving, coping.

In a world where no day is good, some are manageable, and some are downright painful, you find yourself wondering when this became your reality. You, who were once so strong, so proud, so full of life. What has become of you?

Your teammates, your family, really, cast pitying glances your way. There are subtle differences, but they're there all the same. They're present in the way Ryoh hesitates and looks away instead of rising to your halfhearted bait, Jiroh won't even use you as a pillow anymore. While once you would have been outraged and indignant, now you are only resigned. They won't let that image of who you once were be tarnished. They know Ore-sama is tired, but they also know that he is still there inside you, somewhere, hurting. They still think of you as their captain and all that the title entails. They won't let you go.

You are grateful to them, they keep you grounded. Sometimes, though, you hate them for it. It will be only that much harder when they realize the truth.

Indeed, it's only a matter of time because this heartbreak is so all consuming that no smile, it doesn't matter how fake, can conceal the pain. You know they don't have your Insight, but any day now they will see how low you, their captain, have fallen.

You don't think you can return to how you once were; you never realized how hard it was to hold up the façade, weren't even aware you had one, until he told you to stop pretending. And you did; he was the first to see beneath the surface, who were you to refuse? Deep down, though, you know you could never refuse him. Not a match, not your attention, not your love.

Yes, you are still beautiful, that hasn't changed. But you're also broken in ways no one but those who truly know you can tell. You're damaged but it can't be helped.

Because the one person who could fix you, the first person who ever loved you for you, the only person who could put the shattered pieces of your life together, is gone. And you've long accepted the fact that he's not coming back.

You would think that they, your family, would understand that you are no longer the same. Ore-sama has changed. For a time, the looks and comments hurt, but now…But now you don't care. At least, you try not to.

You always used to dream of the future but now you can only dwell and long for the past. Before he walked out, before you lost him forever, before you didn't fight as hard as you should have to make him stay, make things work.

But you had your pride, too. He wanted to go pro- you didn't want to be left behind. You could've easily made pro, too, and indeed that was your dream for a while. Until your father stepped in and changed everything; he didn't want you going anywhere. No, you were to be a good son and take over the business.

You were known for molding reality to match your desires, alas this ability failed as did most things when they regarded your father. Your obstacle in life and even in death he still managed to firmly hold you in the palm of his hand.

When he left for America, a part of you died. If people think you're exaggerating, they have only to see the hollow expression on your face to know the truth. You are broken and only one person can fix you. But he's off living the dream you both once shared. All that's left are memories which are too hurtful to call upon but they're all you have left and you cling to them, needing them to breathe.

You don't know why you're thinking of this now; it's been three years since he left. And then you know exactly why. Today is the day he took it upon himself to cut you out of life, and he out of yours. The day when you hesitated and thought foolishly your business's success was more rewarding than his slight smile.

It's ironic in a way: you didn't care about him enough while he was in Japan, but now that's he's gone, off to play in the Grand Slam, the French Open, he's the only one you care about.

No, you don't look back, only look ahead, but you can't see things as clearly anymore. The days pass by and only grow more lackluster. This you find funny on some days, such as today, as you stand in the center of a particular room, surrounded by sparkling objects which are priceless and worthless. On other days, however, it hurts and only serves to remind you how much he hated this room.

The room is suddenly closing in on you and you must. Get. Out. Exhaling heavily, you move out onto the patio and notice with disinterest that the grass needs to be trimmed. Is it your imagination or is the scenery a bit greyer? It is as though your world is losing color. A part of you is alarmed, but only a small part. A much bigger part of you, which today is particularly loud, knows with a familiar ache that the world will never be as vibrant and you will never laugh as freely, as that time shared with him.

But like most things these days, it is hard to be sure about because water droplets are blurring your vision. Funny, you checked the weather this morning and it did not say anything about rain.

You catch a glimpse of an important looking card sitting on a table. You walk forward, drawn for some inexplicable reason, hand outstretched. Suddenly, you draw back as though burned.

Despite the sudden tilt of the world, you can still make out the words, now lancing into your brain, reopening wounds that, while never healed, were at least subdued. Your heart beats unsteadily as you read:

Tezuka Kunimitsu, Fuji Syuusuke, and wedding

But the misery feels fresh and you feel yourself pulled, inexorable, into the past.

You stand, uncomprehending, right arm extended forward. Reaching, almost.

You close your open mouth, and now there's no chance of calling him back. Your arm drops back to your side, limp. His words echo, piercing and tearing all that you two used to share.

"Keigo, I'm going to America. Don't follow me." A slight, heartbreaking grin. "Not that you would, but…"A dismissive shrug "I hope you're happy and wish you luck with your business." He raises an eyebrow and mock solutes you. "Sayonara."

His speech is said politely but your eyes narrow because that isn't what he means. The two of you have never been all that good with words and what you hear hurts more than anything that could have been said. It translates into a message that grips your heart, making it tear: Keigo, don't follow me, I don't want you. I don't love you anymore. Goodbye.

The words rankle and burn like acid and bring you jarringly back to reality.

You feel as though you're suffocating, which is ridiculous because you're outside- and then you can't think anymore because it just hurts too much. The pain washes over you and you sink to your knees. If this was your old self, you would never concede defeat. But you are far from the self-confident captain of Hyoutei as you will ever be and besides, Tezuka Kunimitsu, ex-buchou of Seishun Gakuen's tennis team, has always been your one exception in tennis. It figures that with love, it'd be no different.

You're going to have to make a call to the weather people, they're abysmal and--here you sigh. You know it's not raining, but you afford yourself this lie. It's no bigger than the ones you tell yourself daily, when the sun rises in the morning, that one day it will rise for you again, too. That you are Atobe Keigo and you can stand on your own without him to support you. Maybe if you repeat it enough times, it will start sounding true.