Hello, everyone! This is the tenth vignette in the series, Borrow my Glasses, featuring the Pillar Pair.

You haven't seen me for quite a while, and I haven't heard from you, either. Plainly said, I received only a single review for the previous chapter (not counting the surprising and wonderful review/answer I got from a certain JROTC cadet—you know who you are). I admit that it was rather depressing. I believe I speak for all the writers on ffnet that reviews are important. Not only do they help improve our writing, but it also encourages us. However, this wasn't the whole reason for my disappearance. I went on a trip to the mountains for several days.

Still, even though it really is a sad thing not to hear from readers, I will not force you to write a review for the sake of statistics. Instead, I will just encourage you to do so. Sure, it feels lonely, but I will still continue to write not solely for you, but more for myself. Here's to self-encouragement.

I don't own anything of the Prince of Tennis, nor its characters. I also do not own the song "Have I Told You Lately," by Rod Stewart.

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Jukebox

By Seyyan

08-21-08

"Gochisousama."

I set my chopsticks to the side as I finished my breakfast. Ryoma was such an excellent cook. He has never been partial to Western breakfasts, which is why he took the trouble of learning how to make Japanese ones. I have never bothered to take my breakfasts before, so I rarely, if ever, made breakfast. But since he and I started living together, I have trained myself to stomach food early in the morning. He would never let me leave the house without eating anything. And because he was not a morning person, he would become downright vicious if I refused to eat.

He smiled as best as he could, his lips barely reaching a smirk. I knew he was still sleepy. It was still seven in the morning, after all.

I stood up and started to clear up the table.

"Kuni-bu, just leave it on the table." His hand shot out to my arm, preventing me clearing up any further.

I smiled at him. I don't think he ever realizes how much of a housewife he acts.

"It's okay, Ryo. I still have some time before class. I can at least help you with this."

"No, you go to class. I can take care of it. My class doesn't start till noon, after all." He placed his chin on his palm, his elbow supported by the table.

"Are you sure?"

He switched to his other palm and giggled—Ryoma only giggles when he's half-asleep. "Yes, Kuni-bu? Haven't I always done this?"

I chuckled and shook my head briefly. He got me there. "Alright, then. But don't think of starting on dinner. I'll take care of that."

He stood up to give me a hug and a kiss. "I'll see you later in school."

I nuzzled my nose in his still-uncombed hair and kissed his nose. "I will. I'll be off now."

With one last kiss, this time on the lips, I picked up my bag and headed out the door. There was no need for me to hurry. I still had a little more than an hour to spare, and the campus was just 10 minutes away from our apartment.

When I reached the first bus stop, I suddenly felt an impulse to check my bag. As always, my bag was full of several steno pads and lecture packs. I pawed through them quickly, to see if I was missing something. And then I remembered. Last night, I was typing out my brief report and printed it out, but I forgot to take it from the printer. Suppressing a groan at my carelessness, I patted my pockets for my mobile phone. I wanted to call Ryoma and tell him to be ready with my paper at our doorstep, but it turned out that I had forgotten my phone as well. Suppressing another groan, I started retracing my steps back to the apartment.

Two and a half minutes of speed-walking, and I was already at our doorstep. The door opened noiselessly. As I stepped inside, I was greeted by faint singing. My curiosity was piqued. I have never heard Ryoma sing before.

I followed the voice, keeping my footsteps as quiet as possible. Soon enough, it led me to the kitchen, where an apron-clad Ryoma was washing the dishes while warbling out a song. An old song. It seemed to be almost finished.

"…And at the end of the day, we should give thanks and pray to the one. Oh, to the one."

Suddenly, he grabbed the soapy wooden spoon and held it like a microphone. His head was partly bowed, and he raised it slowly as he sang the next part.

"Have I told…you lately…that I love you. Have I told you, there's no one else above you."

I flinched in surprise as he turned away from the sink and faced me. But his eyes were closed. He continued singing into his mic.

"You fill my heart with gladness, take away all my sadness, ease my troubles; that's what you do."

I couldn't help smiling as he swayed his head to the invisible beat, knitting his eyebrows every so often. He really was feeling the song.

"Take away all my sadness, fill my life with gladness, ease my troubles; that's what—Kunimitsu!"

He dropped the spoon in surprise when he opened his eyes. Within milliseconds, his face turned bright red.

"K-Kuni-bu, why are you here?" He quickly picked up the wooden spoon and dropped it in the sink.

I chuckled at his discomfort. Even the tips of his ears were bright red.

"I was halfway to school, when I realized that I had forgotten my paper on the printer tray."

"Th-then why didn't you call me? I could've just handed it to you at the door."

My smile turned into an embarrassed grimace. "Well, I had forgotten my phone, too."

"…Oh."

Deciding to spare him from further embarrassment, I headed to the computer desk in the study room, and grabbed my paper and my phone.

When I walked out of the study, Ryoma was still standing in front of the sink, fidgeting uncomfortably, though his blush had lessened somewhat.

I stepped closer to him, pulling him into an embrace. "That was a nice song," I whispered to his ear. "Rod Stewart, was it?"

I felt his head nod faintly.

"But I like Ryoma Echizen's version better."

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Omake:

He turned bright red again. "Mou…that was cheesy, Kuni-bu," he mumbled.

I pulled away from the embrace and laughed, mirth dancing in my eyes. "But it was really cute."

"Mou!"

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Only one more week to go before Fall semester begins for me. And so, I will now act on OPERATION: Last Chance. Go Seyyan! Write as much as you can!

P. S.

The cost of my textbooks is so depressing. I'm taking only two subjects this coming semester, but I have to purchase 5-6 books. You know, the ones that cost more or less a hundred dollars each. Woe is me…