A/N: Hey this is my first Prince of Tennis piece of work despite the fact
that I have read every and any Tezufuji fics that I can find on
FanFiction.net.
I hope you find it at least mildly enjoyable. This was written in honor of Fuji Syuusuke's birthday on Feb. 29. Happy belated birthday Fuji! ^_^
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Thinking of You
By: Stardustangel
Pairing: TezuFuji
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
*beep beep beep*
*thunk*
Fuji smacked the silly, annoying alarm clock over the head, rubbed his eyes, and yawned. It was Sunday, and he had forgotten to turn off his alarm clock. There was no reason for him to get up this early; no school, no practice, no nothing. He lay in bed for a few more minutes before deciding to climb out and start the day.
Slipping into a pair of house slippers, he paused to wonder once again if he would be better off back in his warm bed.
Nah, there were plots to be carried out and people to scare and annoy. Time to get up and get a head start.
Fuji walked, still not completely awake, to the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom and proceeded to run through his morning routine.
Feeling far more awake after he finished, the tensai strode back to his room and changed into clothes fit for displaying to the rest of humanity. Upon finishing he plopped himself onto the now made-up bed to ponder about which task he should engage in first.
Should he good visit his brother at St. Rudolph? Or would it be better to drop by Eiji's house first to pester his best friend about being oblivious to Oishi's feelings for him?
Decisions, decisions.
Or should he drop by Tezuka's house to see if he would be interested in a friendly game of tennis later?
After realizing what he just thought, Fuji mentally scolded himself.
Tezuka was not in Japan anymore, he had been gone for over three months already, but Fuji's usually intelligent brain just wasn't processing this bit of information well.
It didn't matter that Tezuka had been his friend and fellow tennis club member for nearly three years. It didn't matter that they had finally started going out a year ago.
Tezuka was not here. He was not here and Fuji needed him, needed his presence.
Tezuka was his anchor, the rock that was always there. Except now he wasn't. Fuji promised himself when Tezuka left that he would NOT fall apart. As hard as he tried, however, it got more difficult with each passing day to keep his ever present smile in place.
That train of thought unconsciously led Fuji's eyes to a corner of him room; there was where his tennis bag and gear usually lie. For the last three months, however, it was not alone. Another bag sat beside it emitting an almost pliable aura, drawing Fuji to it.
Not fighting this urge, the blue eyed tensai crossed the room to kneel by the foreign yet similar object.
It was Tezuka's tennis bag.
He reached out a hand to play with the zipper, slightly hesitating before pulling on it to reveal its contents: Seigaku's Regular jersey and a tennis racket with a T embedded at the end of the handle.
Before leaving for Germany, Tezuka had paid Fuji one last visit to entrust his precious tennis racket to the one whom he would miss most. The buchou had left without turning back after bestowing upon his love a hug, a kiss, and his tennis racket: a promise to return.
A promise which had kept Fuji afloat while trapped in a sea of depression.
Fuji didn't like dependence, and his need for Tezuka's presence frustrated him to no end.
Sighing, Fuji gave up on trying to decipher why; he supposed that some things were not meant to be figured out after all, not even by a genius.
He skimmed his hand lightly over the clean unused uniform and a persistent image of Tezuka buchou shouting "twenty laps now!" popped up without warning. This memory somehow managed to bring a hint of a true smile about his face and bring a little warmth into his heart.
Now his fingers lay on Tezuka's infamous racket which had helped its owner to an almost scary number of victories. Tezuka's life was tennis and the prodigy had been very surprised, to say the least, when the former had announced that he would leave such a precious object in his care. The trust in that action spoke volumes and Fuji's soul bathed in it for weeks following.
Wrapping his hand gently around the grip, Fuji picked the racket up and took it back with him to his bed. Sitting on the edge, Fuji played with its strings and tested them to see if they still retained their tension. A hand then moved to trace the T at the base of the handle. The sharp blue eyes which were almost always hidden now glittered quietly, giving away the pain that he had bottled up inside.
Then, deciding that it was safe to break down, he hugged the tennis racket close to his body and hung on to it tightly as he lowered his back onto his bed.
There was no one to witness this break down, no one to comment on his weakness. Holding a piece of his beloved close to him, life seemed a tad bit brighter as he stared out the window from his position on the covers at the innocent morning sky and wondered if Tezuka was also looking up into the vast canvas of blue thousands of miles away; thinking of him.
A/N: Yay! ^_^ This fic was done in two hours and it didn't turn out too happy, my original plot was less angsty but it seems like my angst muse ran away with the story. *sweatdrops* I'm thinking about adding another chapter to compensate for the angst fest, but I'm not sure if I should or not. ^_^ Tell me what you think!
I hope you find it at least mildly enjoyable. This was written in honor of Fuji Syuusuke's birthday on Feb. 29. Happy belated birthday Fuji! ^_^
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
Thinking of You
By: Stardustangel
Pairing: TezuFuji
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~
*beep beep beep*
*thunk*
Fuji smacked the silly, annoying alarm clock over the head, rubbed his eyes, and yawned. It was Sunday, and he had forgotten to turn off his alarm clock. There was no reason for him to get up this early; no school, no practice, no nothing. He lay in bed for a few more minutes before deciding to climb out and start the day.
Slipping into a pair of house slippers, he paused to wonder once again if he would be better off back in his warm bed.
Nah, there were plots to be carried out and people to scare and annoy. Time to get up and get a head start.
Fuji walked, still not completely awake, to the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom and proceeded to run through his morning routine.
Feeling far more awake after he finished, the tensai strode back to his room and changed into clothes fit for displaying to the rest of humanity. Upon finishing he plopped himself onto the now made-up bed to ponder about which task he should engage in first.
Should he good visit his brother at St. Rudolph? Or would it be better to drop by Eiji's house first to pester his best friend about being oblivious to Oishi's feelings for him?
Decisions, decisions.
Or should he drop by Tezuka's house to see if he would be interested in a friendly game of tennis later?
After realizing what he just thought, Fuji mentally scolded himself.
Tezuka was not in Japan anymore, he had been gone for over three months already, but Fuji's usually intelligent brain just wasn't processing this bit of information well.
It didn't matter that Tezuka had been his friend and fellow tennis club member for nearly three years. It didn't matter that they had finally started going out a year ago.
Tezuka was not here. He was not here and Fuji needed him, needed his presence.
Tezuka was his anchor, the rock that was always there. Except now he wasn't. Fuji promised himself when Tezuka left that he would NOT fall apart. As hard as he tried, however, it got more difficult with each passing day to keep his ever present smile in place.
That train of thought unconsciously led Fuji's eyes to a corner of him room; there was where his tennis bag and gear usually lie. For the last three months, however, it was not alone. Another bag sat beside it emitting an almost pliable aura, drawing Fuji to it.
Not fighting this urge, the blue eyed tensai crossed the room to kneel by the foreign yet similar object.
It was Tezuka's tennis bag.
He reached out a hand to play with the zipper, slightly hesitating before pulling on it to reveal its contents: Seigaku's Regular jersey and a tennis racket with a T embedded at the end of the handle.
Before leaving for Germany, Tezuka had paid Fuji one last visit to entrust his precious tennis racket to the one whom he would miss most. The buchou had left without turning back after bestowing upon his love a hug, a kiss, and his tennis racket: a promise to return.
A promise which had kept Fuji afloat while trapped in a sea of depression.
Fuji didn't like dependence, and his need for Tezuka's presence frustrated him to no end.
Sighing, Fuji gave up on trying to decipher why; he supposed that some things were not meant to be figured out after all, not even by a genius.
He skimmed his hand lightly over the clean unused uniform and a persistent image of Tezuka buchou shouting "twenty laps now!" popped up without warning. This memory somehow managed to bring a hint of a true smile about his face and bring a little warmth into his heart.
Now his fingers lay on Tezuka's infamous racket which had helped its owner to an almost scary number of victories. Tezuka's life was tennis and the prodigy had been very surprised, to say the least, when the former had announced that he would leave such a precious object in his care. The trust in that action spoke volumes and Fuji's soul bathed in it for weeks following.
Wrapping his hand gently around the grip, Fuji picked the racket up and took it back with him to his bed. Sitting on the edge, Fuji played with its strings and tested them to see if they still retained their tension. A hand then moved to trace the T at the base of the handle. The sharp blue eyes which were almost always hidden now glittered quietly, giving away the pain that he had bottled up inside.
Then, deciding that it was safe to break down, he hugged the tennis racket close to his body and hung on to it tightly as he lowered his back onto his bed.
There was no one to witness this break down, no one to comment on his weakness. Holding a piece of his beloved close to him, life seemed a tad bit brighter as he stared out the window from his position on the covers at the innocent morning sky and wondered if Tezuka was also looking up into the vast canvas of blue thousands of miles away; thinking of him.
A/N: Yay! ^_^ This fic was done in two hours and it didn't turn out too happy, my original plot was less angsty but it seems like my angst muse ran away with the story. *sweatdrops* I'm thinking about adding another chapter to compensate for the angst fest, but I'm not sure if I should or not. ^_^ Tell me what you think!