If Prince of Tennis were mine, Atobe would force Kabaji to wear Pikachu ears and shout; "Ore-sama chooses you, Kabaji! Be awed by Ore-sama's prowess!"
Kay, so this was written (I know, I know. I still haven't updated Look and You Will Find. I have no muse.) due to a prompt from the lovely FimbulvetrIce. The prompt was a set of pictures that she drew, and here are their links;
http://fimbulvetrice(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/Reach-123359846
http://fimbulvetrice(dot)deviantart(dot)com/art/For-You-124720346
and their titles put together makes Reach For You. So, this oneshot isn't directly linked to the pictures, but if you look at Fuji's face in Fimby's Reach, I'm kind of trying to capture that kind of emotion. If you're a writer, take Fimby's promt and write something based on the pictures! :D.
Also, for my story Dark, an anonymous reviewer named Lusterless said that it seemed semi-rushed and the emotions seemed dead. I don't think I can fix the rushedness, LOL, but I am working to fix the empty emotions. Admittedly, when I wrote Dark, I did not feel a thing and I think that reflects in the story. By the way, Lusterless, I am not in any way upset by your review! Your critiques(along with any other readers) are very welcomed and your honesty only helps me improve! (:
So basically, this oneshot is dedicated to both FimbulvetrIce and Lusterless. Also, I am basically suffering from absolute lack of muse. Seriously, I wrote like, five oneshots, hated them all and then deleted them all.
SAFE
untouchable - taylor swift
x.lithiumx.lithiumx.lithium;
untouchable; like a distant diamond sky. I'm reaching out and I just can't tell you why.
untouchable; burning brighter than the sun, and when you're close I feel like coming undone.
Dear Diary,
Sunday 3:02 pm,
Didn't you know, Tezuka?
You're killing me.
It was the way he ran all the way to Tezuka's house at three in the morning after an argument with Yuuta and the way Tezuka had let his hand linger just a second too long on his shoulder. Despite his parents' sleepily incredulous looks, (their Kunimitsu didn't exactly seem to be the comforting type) Tezuka had ushered Fuji up to his room.
Some nights were darker and heavier on Fuji's shoulders than most, but curled up on Tezuka's bed with his head in the captain's lap that night, it was the warmth in his heart that killed Fuji.
Dear Diary,
Monday 5:43 pm,
I know that you're not afraid of anything at all, Tezuka.
But I am. I'm afraid you will kill me, break me.
I'm afraid, Tezuka.
It was the way they passed by each other on the staircase from first to second period. It was the way on certain days, the crowded staircases would result in Tezuka's shoulder pressing against Fuji's as they walked by one another.
He had briefly toyed with the idea of taking the longer route to his class using the other staircase, but Eiji's perceptiveness was nothing to be underestimated.
It was the way sometimes Tezuka looked Fuji with an acknowledging nod as they met briefly on the staircase. The captain's brown eyes reminded Fuji of that of a horse's, because Tezuka's eyes were invariably understanding. It was the way those familiar eyes read and analysed every breath Fuji took, much more observant than Inui could ever hope to be. Tezuka's quiet eyes were never really reprimanding or scolding, but it was worse because Tezuka's eyes looked at him instead of through him and that was something Fuji could never escape.
Dear Diary,
Tuesday 4:32 am,
I want to run, Tezuka, I want to run as far as I can from you.
But I also want you to chase after me. What is it like to be caught, Tezuka?
It was the sweetness in Tezuka's personality that killed Fuji the most on some days.
On some days when it was just the two of them picking up the tennis balls, Fuji couldn't deny the almost shy flickering of Tezuka's long eyelashes as they both looked at the last remaining tennis ball. It was the way they both took a step forward and then stopped, looking at the other awkwardly.
It was the way Tezuka smiled shyly and rubbed his elbow nervously and the way Fuji couldn't ignore his own similar actions. How they managed to both take a step at the same time, Fuji would never know but the way they both halted immediately and made eye contact again made the prodigy's insides flutter.
It was the sweetness in Tezuka's awkward and shy smile as the captain always, after momentary pauses, ended up telling Fuji that it was okay, he would pick it up.
Dear Diary,
Thursday 11:02 pm,
Sometimes I want to run and leave you and despise you and hate you.
But would I even have the strength to walk away from you, Tezuka?
It was the way Tezuka found him at lunch on the hill near the apple tree whenever he was feeling upset.
The wind caressed Fuji's light brown hair and the sun illuminated the pretty sparkle of Tezuka's eyes. Sometimes, it was the need to reach out for Tezuka and hold him that killed Fuji. It was the way Tezuka reached out, his hand hovering inches from Fuji's face and a perplexed look on his face before the captain made a decision and reached forward. It wasn't an intimate touch, but the way the long, pale fingers rested on Fuji's cheek for a moment before tucking soft brown strands behind Fuji's ear killed Fuji.
It was when the bell rang and Tezuka's hand retreated to his person, a confused look hidden behind the clarity of his glasses.
Dear Diary,
Friday 4:03 pm,
Tezuka, did you know?
You shine like the brightest stars in the sky.
It was the awkwardness they felt when Eiji and Oishi abandoned them at the mandatory school dance, leaving the two of them to sit quietly at the table.
Tezuka's slender waist was accentuated by the black pants of Tezuka's suit and he looked lovely, in Fuji's opinion. His opinion must have been shared because despite the glare Tezuka shot any anyone who came within a two meter radius of the two of them, girls asked him for dances.
Tezuka politely rejected any dance offers, but he didn't look annoyed except for when the girls came and asked Fuji for a dance. The flutter in his heart killed Fuji, and without quite knowing when or why, at some point he must have reached under the table cloth because now Tezuka's hand was clasped in his. Later, when they were away from the harsh beat of the music and noise of the dance, they would pretend that Tezuka's hand had not entwined in Fuji's, because this pretense was easier than explaining the alternative.
And this killed Fuji.
Dear Diary,
Saturday 7:49 am,
We have been dancing this dance for a while now, Tezuka.
The ties between us are ones I don't know whether I want to cut or not.
It was the quietness in Tezuka that night that Fuji knew the captain would kill more of him. The meadow was quiet around them and Fuji hurt when Tezuka told him he would be leaving for Germany. It was the way Tezuka cradled Fuji's head against his chest.
It was the feeling of belonging that killed Fuji.
The night was clear and Fuji didn't know how long Tezuka spent whispering things to him, but when he was alone in his room with nothing but the piercing cries of his violin as his companion, Fuji lowered his face to the front of his shirt and breathed in the scent of Tezuka. It was the loneliness that broke him, then.
Dear Diary,
Monday 5:29 am,
Tezuka, what am I supposed to do now that you're gone?
It was the brilliance in Tezuka's eyes when he returned from Germany. They didn't have tennis practice that morning and Tezuka must have known Fuji would arrive at school fourty five minutes before class started. The halls were more or less empty.
It was the way Tezuka looked beautiful leaning against Fuji's locker with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. It was the light that splayed across Tezuka's face from the nearby window and the way Tezuka tapped his fingers anxiously against the pockets of his jeans.
Fuji allowed one, just one, sob to tear from its prison against Fuji's throat before his books dropped to the floor with a clutter. If either of them knew why Fuji's eyes were wide open or why he was crying, neither of them said.
It was Tezuka's whispers against his ears and Tezuka's hands on his back. It was Fuji's arms wrapped around Tezuka's neck without understanding why, that killed Fuji.
Dear Diary,
Wednesday 5:59 pm,
Are you there, Tezuka?
Are you close or far?
It was the two of them walking home and Tezuka's arm around Fuji's waist. They took the route going through the forest to avoid prying eyes and Tezuka detoured to drop Fuji off. It was the tenderness with which Tezuka tugged Fuji by the waist towards a spot under a tree and sat down with his hand reaching up for Fuji and the other patting the spot beside him.
It was hard to breathe when Tezuka was being that charming.
It was the sweet way Tezuka's breath ghosted over Fuji's face when he sat down and leant his head against the crock of the captain's neck. It was Tezuka's arm around him and everything that he couldn't say. It was many things; Tezuka's little hum of appreciation and the way Tezuka's eyes shone.
It was Tezuka holding his wrist when Fuji was trying to run away and their weekly tennis games. It was Tezuka picking him up by the waist and spinning him around like Fuji had always dreamt but never believed. It was Tezuka ready with a water bottle and towel for Fuji when he played his matches. It was Tezuka reading a book to him and Tezuka sleeping with his head resting against Fuji's. It was Tezuka and his MSN conversations about absolutely nothing and Tezuka's little affectionate pats.
It was Tezuka tugging his sleeve and Tezuka holding him when he cried. It was Tezuka holding him down when all he wanted to do was run and Tezuka's eyelashes brushing his cheeks when they kissed.
It was Tezuka's love that saved him.
Dear Diary,
Saturday 1:30 pm,
Tezuka, Tezuka, Tezuka, Tezuka, Tezuka.
Didn't you know, Tezuka?
You're the one who saves me.
--
I think this was okay, not wonderful but .. I don't know. Leave a review?
Lithium;