Author's Note: I'm always striving to improve myself as a writer, so if there are any critiques you'd like to dish out, please do not hesitate. Reviews truly make my day, everybody. It's thrilling to know that somebody out there cares enough about my writing to take the time out of their day and write me a review. So...pretty please with a cheery on top review?
Thank you to Meadow Wood's one-shots, especially Castling, and her writing style for inspiration!
Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis.
-[+]-
"Fuck," Ryoma uttered as her head suddenly shot up. Just a few moments before, she had been slumped on her desk, head buried in her hands, as she endeavored to steal a few precious moments of sleep before break was over.
Now, however...
"Damn it," she swore once again, frustratedly biting down her lips in tandem. Damn it, she didn't even want to imagine how pissed off he was right now.
What was worse was that she couldn't even rebuke him when he unleashed his wrath; she bore full blame. A tendril of guilt wrenched its way into her stomach as a chilling shudder scampered its way up her back.
"R-Ryoma!" Sakuno cried, shocked at her friend's vulgarity. A few desks away, she had been studiously studying her flashcards in preparation for the small English quiz next period.
Recollecting herself after the brief shock, she gently chided, "Watch your language. You know better."
Ryoma scowled heavily at her but Sakuno stood her ground and gazed back defiantly. No longer was the younger Ryuzaki a shy, feeble, stuttering train wreck. Though she would never espouse a more bubbly and enthusiastic exterior- demurity and modesty would forever be ingrained in her psyche-, Sakuno refused to be classified as a weakling any longer.
She had grown.
Sakuno's brows furrowed and she carefully inquired, "Ryoma, did something bad happen?" She hesitated to press further on but from the troubled (and slightly frightened) look stewing on Ryoma's face, something was clearly wrong.
Was it...?
"Did Fuji-senpai and you have a fight?"
Oh, so that was the problem, Sakuno mused with grim satisfaction as she watched Ryoma jump slightly at her abrupt but correct conjecture.
A quick glance at the clock fixed above the board confirmed that there were still three more minutes before break ended. With a resigned sigh- she would have to scrape by with a C on the quiz then-, she pocketed her flashcards and folded her hands, swiveling her seat in Ryoma's direction.
Three minutes would buy her more than enough time to get to the bottom of this. There was no need for a Sherlock Holmes to worm the truth out of Ryoma.
A pang of conscience and a twinge of self-reproach for her blunt, almost callous attitude toward Ryoma's current demise surfaced.
But, Sakuno argued, it's the truth, isn't it? Whenever Ryoma and Fuji have a fight and Ryoma's the sole culprit, it's usually because-
Sakuno sighed and guessed wearily, "You forgot to do something important for Fuji-senpai because you were too busy playing tennis, correct?"
Ryoma stiffened, pursing her lips as she stubbornly honed her gaze at a nondescript spot on the desk.
Finally, she let loose an answer. "I overextended myself while playing against Oyaji," she grumbled.
That did nothing, however, to lessen the guilt pooling around her.
Sakuno was of the same thought. "Ryoma," she lamented. "You can't continue to blow Fuji-senpai off like this. It's not fair to him or to you."
Ryoma straightened herself and lifted her gaze to stare challengingly at Sakuno, who was scrutinizing her friend with skepticism and resignation. A hint of sorrow lingered on her face.
"I didn't blow him off!" Ryoma protested. "I just- I just-"
"Forgot," Sakuno finished with an air of ominous finality. "You forgot, Ryoma. Face the truth. You forgot. Again."
Ryoma rushed to defend herself, despite the growing feeling of defeat stirring within her. It was a defense mechanism.
"When I get back home after tennis practice, you know Oyaji and I usually play tennis until Kaa-san calls us to dinner, right? Well, Kaa-san found out that we no longer had any udon noodles in the house, so she hurried out to buy some. Dinner was later than usual, so Oyaji and I played later than usual. By the time dinner was finished, it was already really late and I was exhausted." Ryoma gestured, hapless.
"So I forgot to call him. It's just a call!" she protested, hopeful for a glimmer of understanding from Sakuno.
Judging from the stoic expression Sakuno was currently espousing, however, Sakuno remained unmoved.
Ryoma was a little unnerved. Very few things could grace such seriousness on her friend's face.
And as insensitive and heartless as it was, normally Ryoma wouldn't give a damn. For the most part, she didn't feel the need to better her reputation in the eyes of others. If they weren't tennis opponents, then she found it hard to invest herself and her time in their lives.
Even with her friends, even with her senpai-tachi on the tennis team, she maintained distance.
A piece of Ryoma was thunderstruck, however, when Sakuno spoke up.
"Ryoma, I know Fuji-senpai and you don't speak much about your relationship. And I know I don't have any experience in that department yet, so it may seem hypocritical of me to lecture on you about something I have barely any clue about."
She took a deep breath and collected herself, mentally preparing for what was to come next and then she spoke, those harsh words grating on Ryoma's ears.
"But I do know that you can't continue to do this, Ryoma. Forget to go through something you promised someone you would do. Write off Fuji-senpai time and time again. It's hurtful and demeaning to do that to another person.
"Look," she continued in a softer, kinder tone. "Maybe this isn't entirely your fault, Ryoma. Maybe you're just too young. It's been proven that females tend to mature at a faster rate than males, but there are outliers."
Sakuno poked Ryoma.
"Maybe you're that outlier."
Ryoma wrinkled her nose, displeased with her classification on the maturity scale. She opened her mouth, ready to lodge a protest but Sakuno held up a hand.
"Maybe you're too young, Ryoma. You're only fifteen after all, and Fuji-senpai is two years older than you. He's taking the entrance exam and applying to university in a few months, while you're still adjusting to high school. Have you ever considered simply breaking up with him?"
And the three minutes were up as the bell's shrill ringing tampered any further discussion.
Nishimura-senpai trooped inside the classroom.
Ryoma was left stewing in her storm of thoughts.
-[+]-
The wind tousled Ryoma's hair as she restlessly shifted through the contents of her bento.
Just a few minutes prior, she had sent Syusuke a terse text message: I'm on the school's rooftop. Bring your lunch. Will explain.
The more romantic populace, if they were ensnared in a fight with their significant other, would have bombarded their lover with roses and poems. Ryoma was practical; there were no roses to be bought at school and she would rather shoot herself in her foot than recite a Shakespearean sonnet.
Of course, that did nothing to loosen the spider web of knots tangled in her stomach.
She picked at the rice; she had no appetite.
For the umpeeth time, Ryoma gazed anxiously at the door. Her nerves were in jitters, her heart was pounding erratically against her chest, and her palms were sweating profusely.
Please, please come. Let's deal with this now, she prayed as Sakuno's direful words droned on in her mind.
Can't continue to do this...Write off Fuji-senpai again and again...Hurtful and demeaning...Too young...Have you ever thought about simply breaking u-
The door flew open and Ryoma's boyfriend soundlessly strolled in. As usual, his eyes were closed and on his lips perched a deceptively benign smile.
He looked the picture of content and tranquility. Ryoma, who had long attuned herself to Syusuke's ways, first as a kouhai, then a tennis player, and finally a girlfriend, knew better.
Syusuke was furious, Ryoma realized with dismay.
He was moving towards her stiffly, almost robotically, certainly unwillingly. His hands were rigid by his side and his face was smoothed in a tightly controlled mask of impasse. And that smile resembled more of a leer and a sneer the closer Syusuke loomed.
He stopped right before her, throwing his shadow over her. Once, the shadow gave her comfort; it served to remind her that he was nearby, a quasi-guardian and protector when things fell wayside. Now though it was insidious, sinister, a writhing snake waiting to pounce.
He tilted his head to the side.
"Ryoma." Syusuke's voice was emotionless.
Ryoma cleared her throat. "Um...Syusuke. Hi," she finished lamely.
"Hello." Ryoma knew that sneer in his voice was not accidental. She supposed she deserved it.
"So I, um, called you here because I, uh..." Suddenly, Ryoma was unable to push the words she so desperately needed, to mend the broken bridge between them, out
Syusuke dispassionately observed Ryoma's struggle with herself. After a few moments of tense silence, he issued an ultimatum.
"Since you ordered me here for no reason at all, I suppose I'll be going." He turned on his heel and began walking away.
"Sorry," Ryoma blurted out, scrambling up and throwing her bento to the side "Don't go, Syusuke!" she pleaded with outstretched hands. "Look, I'm sorry I forgot to call you yesterday, I-"
The words died in her throat as Syusuke whipped around, anger and bitterness etched in his face.
"You're sorry?" he hissed in a deadly whisper.
"That's it? I waited until 1 in the morning for that fucking call that never came and you only tell me you're sorry?"
Suddenly he was at eye level with a shell-shocked Ryoma, who could only watch on with dawning horror as Syusuke jabbed a finger at her.
He never touched her, but Ryoma felt as if she had just been punched in the stomach.
"Is that all you're going to say, Ryoma? That's all? All those times you blew me off on our dates for tennis and you have the audacity, the nerve to beckon me as a queen would a servant? Do you think I'm your servant, Echizen Ryoma?" Syusuke growled.
"Do you think I'm here to obey your every whim? Do you think I came to you and that I'm here right now because you told me to?"
Ryoma choked out. "Of course not. I would never do something-"
Her pleas fell on deaf ears as Syusuke plowed on, unleashing all his hurt and feelings of abandonment on the perpetuator.
"Just to clear things up, I didn't come here because you told me in that shitty little text message of yours," he snarled. "Why should I? Did you come to me when I asked you to? Did you even bother to call me when I asked you to? Do you even listen to me when I talk to you?"
Syusuke brought his face so close to Ryoma's that only a centimeter separated the tips of their noses. "Do you," he whispered softly, almost resignedly. His voice cracked. "Do you even care about me?"
And then Ryoma was lost in a sea of blue, equally entranced and terrified, as she stared into the cerulean eyes of Fuji Syusuke.
She had never seen them up so close before, Ryoma thought with some wonderment. They were so beautiful.
Unbidden, Ryoma's hands rose hesitatingly and neared Syusuke's face. Her boyfriend, if Ryoma could still refer to him as such, stilled as Ryoma brought her trembling hands closer and closer to his face. A millimeter away they wavered slightly and an unfathomable look flitted across his face.
Was it disappointment? Anguish? Ryoma didn't know but her resolve hardened and with her hands placed on the side of Syusuke's head, she brought his head so close to her's that their noses were bumping into each other and their foreheads were scraping against each other and their mouths were hovering over the other's...
..(Ryoma had only desired an opportunity to more closely examine Syusuke's eyes. What for, she didn't know but if she could just glean some secrets from it, then perhaps she'd be allowed entry into Syusuke's mind and soul)...
But then Syusuke was kissing her.
Any immediate thoughts not associated with the man ravaging her lips with his faded into oblivion. Certainly, Ryoma and Syusuke had kissed each other before. They weren't prudes and lingering pecks and kisses were relatively common.
But this kiss was simply animalistic.
His tongue entwined with hers as he roughly cupped her chin, tugging Ryoma even closer to him until they molded into each other, their bodies writhing in a single entity of moving mass.
Ryoma hungrily deepened the kiss, her mouth driven on by primal instinct. She slipped her arms around Syusuke's neck, who responded by pulling her down onto the ground with him. Her weight resting on top of his lithe frame, they continued on this tug of war of the mouth as they each sought dominance and victory.
She supposed this was one of the reasons why Syusuke and she had begun dating. A clash of two headstrong personalities hidden away by a mask of affability for the former and an armor of indifference for the latter had somehow spiraled into...into...what they had right now.
What did they have right now?
Breaking away from the kiss, Ryoma craned her head up to her boyfriend. An unreadable expression adorned her face.
However, she was not able to cover up the small, slight pants churning themselves out of her throat.
Syusuke's lips curled into a smirk and the arms wrapped around Ryoma's waist tightened as he quirked a challenging brow. His eyes, still wide open, roamed all over her body.
Ryoma suddenly felt very self-conscious. Her skirt had ridden to her thighs and her hair was a tangled mess. She fought to keep down the blush slyly working its way up her face. It didn't work.
Syusuke wasn't far better off, however. With his wrinkled shirt and messy hair, she wasn't the only one worse for the wear. Plus, it wasn't as if he was breathing evenly either. And that look in his eyes...
Ryoma almost recoiled at the lust brewing in there.
In her defense, it was a knee-jerk reaction but she did flinch back slightly. Syusuke's eyes dimmed and a contemplating, almost pensive, atmosphere took hold in his eyes. His grip around her waist loosened considerably.
"Syusuke?" Ryoma broached uncertainly. Her neck ached from its prolong augmentation, so she settled it between the crook of Syusuke's neck.
A wisp of a chuckle- dry and hollow- escaped between Sysuske's lips, ferrying itself down into Ryoma's ears.
But he didn't push Ryoma away and she took comfort in this.
She had to.
For a moment, the wind rustled.
The wind rippled once more and with a slight jerk of the head, Ryoma realized that it was not the wind breathing into her ear. It was Syusuke.
He was speaking, his voice a velvety cream.
"Our seventh month anniversary is coming up, you know."
There was a pause and then Syusuke repeated what he had said previously, a harder, almost desperate tilt in his voice. "You do remember? Right? Right?"
Uncharacteristic of his usual serene, if dispassionate, tone, his voice had grown into an almost frenzied pitch.
"Yes!" Ryoma said stoutly, fixing Syusuke with what she hoped was a convincing stare. Even she wouldn't forget that.
"Yes," Ryoma said softer. "I remember. Give me some credit. Of course, I haven't forgotten."
Syusuke's breathing evened out and Ryoma cautiously laid back down onto his chest. His hearbeat, beating frantically, wildly a moment beofore, eventually regressed back onto its usual monotonic thudding.
Rising up and moving her head slightly to the right, Ryoma kissed the patch of skin directly above Syusuke's heart. Technically, his shirt barred Ryoma from making contact with his skin, but she figured he would understand where she was coming from.
He had to.
There was a sigh and then a effeminate but calloused hand tangled itself in Ryoma's hair. "What am I going to do with you?" Syusuke lamented.
Ryoma peeked up, observing Syusuke's mindless stare at the cloudless sky.
"I was thinking," Ryoma hesitated, "if you wanted to do anything after school?"
Syusuke stared her down, his lips twisted in a half-grimace. "You don't have extra tennis obligations?" he retorted, clearly skeptical.
Flushing red, Ryoma shook her head vehemently. "Both of us have tennis practice but besides that, no. You're important too," she mumbled, half-ashamed.
"Go eat your bento."
"W-What?"
"Go eat your bento. While you're eating, I'll think about it."
Slowly, Ryoma sat up, her lips twisted in a disappointed frown. Head hung and shoulders slumped, she removed himself from Syusuke, turned, and reached over for the bento lying a few feet away-
Only for Syusuke's arms to encircle her in a tight embrace.
Syusuke breathed into her ear, "We're going to the cafe right across the bookstore. Right after tennis practice ends, you're all mine. Alright?"
Leaning against her boyfriend's chest, Ryoma interlocked her hands with his. "Alright," she echoed with a hidden smile.
"Promise?"
"Promise."