My aim was to have this in a calm atmosphere but still bring out the strong emotions that are leaking behind the words. Habits could be horrible at times, don't you think so?
Habits
Ryoma woke up with a start, looking at the spot right next to him. Expecting to find the person who was always there; only to be met with an empty white sheet, he sighed and sat up, ran his fingers through the messy green hair. He should have expected it, so why did he even bother to find her shadow?
He closed his eyes, not letting himself to feel any emotions, or let any thoughts to creep into his mind, nothing was going to affect his match today, nothing. He washed his face to clear the tiredness inside him, waking him up from the deep slumber he once let himself to fall in. When was the last time he wasn't drifting off?
"Can you give me a cup of coffee?" his voice rang through the empty house, for a second he forgot the fact that he was the only one in the mansion, as he laughed at himself mockingly, he walked down the stairs towards the kitchen, studying the coffee machine. He sighed in surrender, it was then had he realise that he had never made coffee for himself. Was he too reliant on her?
Giving up on making Japanese breakfast himself, he changed and set out to the nearby restaurant his senpai had opened. It was uneventful, nothing ever was since she left, and he knew that, though he would never admit it. "Hey Echizen!" Kawamura voice boomed into Ryoma's mind as he entered, he nodded in acknowledgement at his senpai and he ordered the set breakfast that was written on the menu. He didn't even bother to look what he's going to eat; making a few polite replies, he didn't catch the worried look on Kawamura's face nor when he had drifted into silence. Ryoma didn't even have any idea when he had finish the food that was presented in front of him. When he left the restaurant, the only thing he realised was: Didn't the food tasted a little different?
Walking home, not noticing the lady across the street or the many children in the playground nor anything he would normally see, he found the street eerily empty, only seeing the lone figure, who wrapped himself with newspaper, lying on the bench. Ryoma looked up noticing the dying leaves that turned in the shade of yellow and red; oblivious of the beauty of nature, he found the day a little cooler than normal. Knowing that it's finally autumn, he made a little huff into his hands, wondering, where did he put all his coats and jerseys?
"Echizen! It's time to go to the court," his manager voice reached his ears as he held his cell phone a little further from his ears, somehow he didn't want to hear his voice, he wanted to hear her voice. Tidying himself up and picked up the already packed tennis bag, he stepped out of the house, going to the match alone for the first time. He knows he's all alone, so why did he look back and expect to see her running down the stairs and told him to wait? Why?
The solitariness was crashing him, even if he didn't want to confess it, warming up had never felt so stressed, a match was never so pressured. He couldn't hear the 'good luck's targeted at him, nor did he hear bitter venom in the opponent's words, his eyes just kept searching, looking, hoping to see the familiar auburn colour that would always be there; but why wasn't it there this time?
"Ochibi! Bring yourself together!" he would've sworn that was Eiji-senpai, but he couldn't see him anywhere. Not like he had seen any of them until today. Fixing his eyes on court he wasn't sure whether he would win. As the voice he heard, or imagined, suggested, he was lost; he lost his arrogance, his confidence, he couldn't bring himself together, it was too hard. Without her, everything seems so much more difficult. Then why did he let her go?
He missed her, she became his habit. He was so used to wake up and see her first thing in the morning, so used to the fact that she'll be there greeting him a good morning when he was preforming all the morning routines. So used to her sweet voice, and how she would automatically brew a cup of coffee for him before breakfast. How she would cook Japanese-style breakfast for him, according to his taste. Or that she would be telling him about her day, her work and her difficulties while sitting down in the kitchen table. She taught him to look at the children in the playground as a way of relaxing, absorbing their joy and innocence. He was so used to her presence, her being in his matches, her always being there for him. He took her for granted; he thought she would never leave. If he actually care for her a little more, if he would realise his feelings a little earlier, if only he know how important she is to him, would everything be different?
"Fifteen-Love!" Ryoma snapped back into reality, hearing the referee's shout. He couldn't loose, he wouldn't let that happened, because he know he'll regret it, like how he let her go. Swinging the racket strong as the ball contacted his racket, a strange feeling rushed back into him; the feeling of her in his arms. "Fifteen-Fifteen!" another shout, as people roared in the stands. Ryoma looked at his hand, it wasn't the feeling of her in his arms, it's the feeling of satisfactory; the feeling he had never felt after she left. It hit him again, about the importance of her, how she left such deep marks in his life; it hit him more when he realise how her departure had ruined him. Why couldn't he have realised any of this earlier?
He was angry with himself, his idiocy, his ignorance, his stupidity, he express all his anger in the match, in tennis. Smashing the ball with all his strength, anger misted his eyes. Regret ate him alive, hatred filled the emptiness. His opponent held no chance, under the tough and intimidating attacks of Ryoma it seems to be impossible to fight back; and he felt fear. Fear of Ryoma's anger that was openly expressing in the court, he was different, he was only playing fair by marginal measures, all his hits were directed to him. "Change courts!" the referee's voice echoed in the near-silence court, everyone had sensed the strange atmosphere in the court, everyone was aware of Ryoma's anger. Ryoma wiped his sweat with the fluffy white towel; a small smile crept on his lips. Would she be mad at him, for being so diluted?
Winning was sweet, being champion was glorious, unconsciously he searched for the girl that would always glow for him whenever he win; again disappointment punched him mercilessly, the moment of satisfactory was gone within a second. The game was hard, not because of the competitor, but because of the fact that she wasn't there. Yet he won; no matter how hard, he knew he needed to move on. She left him for good. Right?
Since, he doesn't know when, she became his habit. His eyes follows her wherever she goes, her happiness would affect his emotions, her words and stories became his, he would look at her until she blushes and runs away; he would pull her towards himself, enjoying her softness, her tenderness. A habit was easy to establish, just like how she had easily left scratched and marks in his life; but impossible to get rid of. If only he cared, if only he didn't take it as granted, if only he had told Ryuzaki Sakuno how much he loved her. Would he have her forever?
He didn't know a seemingly harmless habit could be so deadly.
Hope you like it! I hope the end doesn't seem a little detached? 'Cause by the time I'm at the end, I'm having this horrendous stomach ache that's basically killing me. Hope I achieved my aim eh? ;) it took me so many hours to write this, and I have no idea why, but I hope you like it. Maybe this is a different approach to Ryoma's feeling? I've always imagine him weak and regretful but so arrogant that he wouldn't shed a tear.
Oh well! Sorry for any grammatical or spelling mistakes, hope you like it! I'm dying.