by Kira
Why had he let Atobe let him go?
The question circulated in his head. Why? Nothing in his life had made any sense until Atobe had come along. He might have still been trapped living day by day without any meaning, any purpose, any hope at all if Atobe had not come into his life and forced him to live. Why had he let the words of someone who had abandoned him long ago, left him alone and pushed him into that hopeless cycle, bother him so damned much? Why did it have to ruin the only good thing he had in his life?
How stupid could he have been?
But maybe the most important question of all he should have been asking was not why had he let Atobe let him go. Not why had he allowed Ryoma's words to bother him so much, and not why had it ruined the only thing that made sense in his life. The better question to ask was...
Why the hell had he let Ohtori drive?
Momo had left that morning when Atobe had told him he should go. He wasn't sure why he had gone, what at all had kept him moving, but as he had walked, each step had felt heavier than the one before it, and he'd realized something. He was making a mistake, the same mistake Ryoma had made. He was leaving behind the only good thing he had in his life.
Atobe had wanted him to go to Ryoma, thought it would be the best thing for him, wanted him to be happy. It was the only selfless thing Atobe Keigo had ever done. It was too bad that Momo could not accept it. He realized what Atobe was doing, and it meant something to him, but he could not let him do it. It would be a mistake neither of them would ever be able to recover from.
And Momo was damned if he was going to be like Ryoma. He was not going to live his entire life regretting one mistake.
But when he had gone back to the apartment Atobe had shared with him, it'd been empty. There had only been a brief note left on the kitchen counter: 'The new semester starts soon. I'm going back to Germany tomorrow. I'll call you.'
He had always known Atobe would eventually go back -- the time they had spent together had only been for a brief stay in Japan while Atobe attended the few classes that could not be offered to him in Germany. They had never talked about it much. It had never seemed like it was necessary to mention it. Momo had once asked about that-- when Atobe went back to Germany, would it be over between them? But Atobe had only shaken his head and said that he never thought that far into the future.
Now he was going back, and Momo had no idea if he would see him again. But for some reason, he had done nothing when he had read the note. Why bother? Even if tried to find Atobe, tell him that it was all stupid, it was all a mistake, what did he expect him to do? Accept that and stay with him? It almost laughable. Why, he wondered, did he even think that Atobe would want to?
Atobe had said once, 'This won't last.' Momo hadn't known what he meant then -- did he mean that when he went back to Germany, it would be over, or did he mean that because Momo had not yet given up Ryoma, it would end between them? He had not asked, partly because he'd been afraid of what the answer would be... and partly because he thought he knew what the answer was.
Neither had meant for it to last. It was not something they had put labels on, not anything that they were able to name. Atobe once told him, almost teasingly, that it was simply a mutually beneficial agreement. It was the only label they had ever been able to give the strange thing most would have called a relationship.
Momo supposed, maybe... he had fallen in love. And that was not what either of them had wanted to happen.
That was why he could not make the mistake of letting Atobe go. He did not know what was going to happen when he saw him. Maybe Atobe would tell him that he was chasing after something he could not have, maybe he would tell him that it was nothing but a fling, a casual fling that had meant nothing to him. But Momo was not going to live his life wondering.
But the only way he was ever going to know was if he ever reached the airport.
Waking up in the morning, alone, knowing that Atobe would be leaving soon and he would not see him again, he had contacted the only two people that Atobe considered friends. Shishido and Ohtori knew everything. Atobe must have told them what happened, a shortened, brief version, and given them the flight information on his departing, one-way ticket into Germany. Ohtori asked why Momo wanted to know; what did he want to do?
Momo had not known what to say. Finally, he'd answered, 'I just have to see him one last time.'
It was a good thing that Ohtori was a 'pathetic, romantic sap at heart' as Shishido was fond of describing him, because that had been reason enough for Ohtori to do everything within his power to help Momo. That was why he found himself traveling down the highway with Shishido and Ohtori, moving at the most impossibly slow pace imaginable. Ohtori did not believe in going the speed limit, it seemed.
Why was he driving, again?
"Choutarou," Shishido tried, "the plane will be taking off by the time we get there at this rate."
"If we get pulled over," Ohtori answered matter-of-factly, "then we won't reach there in time at all."
Both valid points, Momo thought absently. The only problem was neither of them were getting them to the airport any faster. Momo rapped his fingertips against the door, tapping his foot impatiently. He was beginning to tally up in his head how much it would cost him to fly to Germany. More than he could afford, his mind promptly informed him, and if he did that, there was no telling what 'you are absolutely stupid' expression Atobe would give him upon his arrival.
Shishido glanced back at him suddenly. "You buckled?"
"Erh, yeah, why?"
Shishido did not answer. Instead, he promptly reached over to the driver's side, grabbed the wheel, and, extending a foot across the floor, flattened down the gas pedal.
They reached the airport in record time, but probably left Ohtori's stomach somewhere far behind.
Shishido was kind enough to relinquish control of the vehicle long enough to allow Ohtori to maneuver through the busy, crammed airport parking lot, though whether Ohtori had quite regained his senses enough to be able to do it was debatable. The moment the car came to a complete stop, Momo bounded from the backseat, and after apologizing profusely to Ohtori for scaring the life out of him, Shishido was able to coax the younger man from his seat.
Momo had not the slightest clue where he was going. There had never been any reason for him come to the airport before; he had not once flown to another part of Japan, much less left the country. Fortunately, Ohtori and Shishido seemed to have a better idea of where they were going.
"It's supposed to take off in another ten minutes," Shishido interjected, glancing around at the flight schedules in search of a direct route into Munich, Germany. Momo was not nearly as patient.
"What gate?"
Ohtori answered, and he was gone. The fact he did not know where he was going hardly mattered -- he would find it some way or another. There were only so many gates.
He did know not what it was that moved him. What was he doing, anyway? This was so... stupid. Atobe had told him to go to Ryoma; what was he going to do if by saying he should go, Atobe was telling him that it was over? What was he going to do if Atobe only stared blankly at him and said there was no reason for him to be there, no reason they had ever been together at all? He was not sure if it would hurt... at some point his life, Momo had become numb to pain. But he would feel... well, hopeless.
Or what if coming at all was a mistake? Maybe he should have gone to Ryoma. Maybe somehow, it would work out, and they could be happy again.
There were a whole lot of maybes, and no definite answers.
And there was no way of knowing unless he kept going.
Somehow he found the gate. By then, he was breathless, feeling hopelessly lost, and ready to give up the search for nothing. But that moment was when he finally found where he was going.
"Momoshiro."
His head snapped up. Atobe stood, bemused, watching him with a raised eyebrow.
"Good," Momo panted, pressing his hands against his knees and leaning forward, "plane hasn't taken off yet."
"It was delayed," someone interjected, and Momo turned around to see Ohtori and Shishido, Shishido smirking slightly. All that running for no reason, Momo thought absently. That was wonderful.
"What are you doing here?"
Ohtori and Shishido knew when to make themselves scarce. Without a word, the two turned and walked away, leaving Momo alone with Atobe.
It was now or never. Either he decided now what he was doing there, or be forced to always wonder what might have happened.
The only problem was he had no idea what he was supposed to say. 'I don't want you to go to Germany' maybe? Or maybe, 'I don't want to go back to Ryoma.' Somehow, he imagined that if he were to say, 'I want to stay with you'... it would inspire nothing in Atobe. There were too many things he could and should say, he did not know which one was right and which was wrong.
So he settled on something neutral.
"I came this far. You could at least have a cup of coffee with me."
It seemed like the most intelligent thing to say.
Atobe continued to stare at a moment longer, then blinked, and conceded with a bemused, "... all right."
It was hardly that impressive of coffee -- in fact, it tasted something more like sludge mixed with some water to give it a bit of liquid consistency -- but it was enough to keep Atobe sitting across from him in a small cafe booth, watching silently as people came and went. Some ran, some walked leisurely. Everyone seemed to have somewhere they needed to be. Atobe, too, but he seemed... unconcerned.
Actually, he seemed to be mostly unconcerned with everything. Momo knew that he was surprised to see him -- that much he could tell from the odd look he had given him upon his arrival -- but the surprise had faded. And something about the casual, disregarding way Atobe sat, glancing around, almost bored... was not reassuring.
Well, what had he expected anyway? For Atobe to accept him with open arms? Hardly. Sometimes, Momo forgot that it was Atobe Keigo he was dealing with -- and even if he was able to see the him beyond the egotistical, self-absorbed bastard sometimes... that person was still there.
Momo thought that maybe... it was a shield Atobe wore. He had never said anything to Atobe, Atobe would have only given him a blank stare and said that he was being ridiculous, but sometimes he thought that attitude was a mask. It was not that he thought Atobe was hiding. Deep down, Atobe was a self-absorbed person, concerned predominantly with his own being. But deeper, beyond that, he cared. Momo had seen it. He had seen it in the way he interacted with his teammates, the way Atobe treated and spoke to him, and he had felt it, in the gentle way Atobe touched him.
"Momo," Atobe began, slowly, and Momo was only slightly surprised that he did not use the formal Momoshiro, "I doubt you came all this way for a cup of... questionable coffee."
Momo glanced down at his cup, smiling despite himself. It was... somewhat questionable. He pushed the cup away. He would need something to get out that awful taste in his mouth later.
"No," Momo answered, "didn't come for coffee."
"Then what is it?"
Atobe hated to waste time. Always had, always would. That was why things had moved so quickly for them. One moment, they were playing street tennis, a casual, simple game; the next, Atobe was inviting him to spend Christmas evening with he and his teammates. And then Atobe had him pressed back against the wall, smirking in that inwardly amused way, sliding a hand up his side, and asking when had been the last time he'd been laid.
Then there had been no turning back. That was why he was here. Maybe it had meant nothing to Atobe; maybe for him, it had been a casual fling, just a nonchalant nothing, but for Momo, it had meant something.
But how was he supposed to put that into words? Momo had never been exactly what one would call adept at sorting through his emotions, and worse yet, at putting them into words... and Atobe had never been the kind that bothered with that sort of thing. That was the reason why their relationship had never had any labels. Neither had known what to say. Hell, he had never been able to put into words what Ryoma meant to him, and maybe that had been only the beginning of their problems...
"Obviously," Atobe spoke again, voice a casual, bored drawl, "you didn't see Echizen."
Momo glanced up at him. "No."
"Why not?"
"Because..."
"Because?"
"It's not that easy!" He hadn't mean for it to be said that loudly -- hardly meant to draw the attention of the people around them, and quite a few affronted glares from several older women, who muttered to one another about the 'rudeness of today's youth.' Atobe was... vaguely surprised, and it showed in the way he arched an eyebrow, watching Momo carefully. Momo swallowed hard.
"It's not that easy," he repeated, softer now. "You can't... you can't just tell me to go back to him and expect it all to be okay. What about you?"
"What about me?" Atobe repeated, almost curious.
What in the hell was he doing? Atobe didn't care. Why had he been so stupid to think he would? Atobe had told him to go back to Ryoma; that was what he had expected and wanted him to do. Maybe he had just been waiting for an opportunity to come around that would enable him to leave, guilt free, and coming out on top as the good one in the end.
Bastard.
"Never mind," Momo muttered. He stood. "I was stupid for coming. Sorry."
It hurt to admit aloud how stupid he was being.
But as he turned, wanting to leave so badly, to not ever look back again, fingers slipped around his wrist and held him in place. The movement was so familiar, Momo found himself drawing a breath involuntarily. Atobe never actually took his hand, only reached out in a single casual, fluid movement, fingers sliding around his wrist to clasp there, and then his hand would slide down until their fingers were twined together. Momo never knew why he did it -- had never bothered to ask. But it was a touch he grew too accustomed to feeling. The way Atobe would slip their hands together when they were walking down the street, the way he would sneak up behind him and do the same... it was... comforting, somehow.
Only it wasn't comforting now. It only made the dull ache he felt grow.
"Who said anything about you being stupid?" Atobe asked quietly.
Momo didn't turn around. He didn't want to. He wanted to walk away and pretend he had never come at all, forget that he had ever known an Echizen Ryoma, forget he had ever been in love with an Echizen Ryoma, and forget that the only person who had been able to make him feel that way again was Atobe Keigo. Running may have been a coward's way, but he was tired. Tired of pretending he was okay, tired of pretending that he didn't hurt, tired of always wondering. Running was the only way to get away.
"Why," he began, and he was surprised by how dry his throat felt, "did you want me to go?"
"You're in love with him."
Momo jerked his hand from Atobe's grip. He only saw it for a brief moment as he turned, only for a brief second, the vague look of hurt in his eyes, but then it was gone, replaced with a face that gave away nothing.
"You always were," Atobe continued, "and you always will be. You and I both knew that going in."
"That isn't true."
"Isn't it?"
"It's not. I... I did, but not anymore." Goddammit, what was it Atobe that could... do this to him? Why was Atobe the only person who could dumbfound him so much, make him feel so stupid and so helpless all at the same time? Why the hell did he even let it get to him?
Why the hell couldn't he find the words to say?
"So? What?"
Sometimes, it would be so easy to break his perfect nose.
But instead of taking a swing at him, Momo said, "Don't go to Germany."
Atobe was silent, and almost afraid to look up at him, Momo stared down. That was not what he'd wanted to say. No, that was the last thing he had wanted to say. It was the stupidest, the dumbest, the most idiotic thing he could possibly have said, and yet there it was, tumbling out of his mouth before he had the chance to realize what it was.
But that was what he wanted, wasn't it?
Oishi and Eiji had not known what to think when Momo began to spend more time with Atobe. Neither had been able to say anything for a long time, but in their glances, the way they looked at him, and they way they looked at each other, Momo had known that they were not sure of the relationship. It had bothered him. They were his friends. He wanted -- needed them to accept it, to understand and approve.
Atobe had taken it in stride. It had never bothered him knowing he did not have the approval of Momoshiro's friends, even when his own had accepted Momo so willingly. Finally, he had told Momo something he had not forgotten.
'Don't feel guilty for something that feels right to you.'
It felt right to be asking Atobe to stay.
"My flight--"
"Change it."
Atobe raised an eyebrow. "The new semester?"
"I--I don't know. Just don't go."
Fingers slipped around his wrist again, and this time he let them, letting the hand slide down to twine their fingers together, and gently tug him over. Atobe was far from an exhibitionist, but neither was he a person who cared one way or another about the people around him, and he lifted a hand to touch Momo's chin.
There had been a time that looking into his eyes had been hard. Atobe had a harsh, even gaze that weaker men might have crumpled before. But Momo was able to meet his eyes and looked back at him, determined, and giving way no ground.
"What is it about you?" Atobe murmured, and Momo knew it not a question he meant to be answered.
The hand dropped from his chin and slowly, Atobe sighed. "Are you sure?"
Momo grinned. It felt good to be able to smile. "Wouldn't be here if I wasn't."
Pulling gently on his hand, Atobe drew Momo closer to him, tilting his own head back to meet his lips with his own. It felt good to be able to smile again, but it felt better to be able to kiss him. Even if only briefly, everything melted away, and for that single moment, it felt like everything would be okay. That feeling, that warmth and security he felt when Atobe was pressed against him, his arms around him, lips against his, it was all he wanted.
"One week, Momoshiro," Atobe said quietly. He drew away, and Momo could see a slight smirk playing across his face. "From there..."
"What?"
Atobe shrugged slightly. "Maybe you can relocate yourself."
"You... you want me to go to Germany with you?"
Atobe rolled his eyes. "Well, you could use some culture."
Momo growled. "Hey--"
"Oh, good," a voice interjected, "they made up."
"Shishido-san!"
Momo smiled.
Maybe it was strange. Maybe it was not where anyone expected, or ever thought he would be; it was nowhere he had intended to go. But the only thing that mattered was that when he was with Atobe, his life made sense.
And maybe it would last after all.