Pairing: Atobe Keigo/ Fuji Syuusuke
Fandom: Tennis no Oujisama
Theme: #2 News;Letter
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: The receiver may feel hurt, receiving news or an expired relationship… But there are two sides to every scenario, more than one point of view.
A series of angry black smears and blots covered the rest- or what would’ve been the rest of the letter, cutting off any form of coherency that was needed to get the point across.
How was he supposed to do this…? Even now, he still doubted his choice to break the news by letter. It was impersonal, and it seemed like cowardice, to not say it straight to Shuu-Fuji’s face, to see the reaction, to experience it firsthand.
It was the least he could suffer through as penance.
This was, after all, his fault entirely, and he knew, he knew all too well, how much pain he would cause.
Not that he wanted to, but—
Slamming the pen he held down onto the table, Atobe stood up and with a swipe, all the crushed paper balls, the pen, the soon-to-have-been discarded paper, and anything his hand caught, fell with a resounding clash onto the floor.
The sign pen rolled around, staining the study carpet with a black arch, before finally stopping against one of the books he had also thrown off the desk, staining the carpet with a large black blot, growing larger and larger, staining the book’s cover, staining any paper nearby…
Soon, any other paper ball nearby began to absorb the ink, turning dark-blue, and soft…
He could only look intently, grey eyes unwavering. Staring straight into, and past, the mess, his gaze glassed over, and his eyes saw something else, somewhere, sometime, other than the present.
There were no words, but two piercingly blue eyes stared right into his, questioning, definite, yet unsure. There was one clear question; no words were needed to express it. The air around them screamed the question, and a hundred other small ones pressed into them, running through their being, pushing to get out, to be laid bare, to be answered.
What was that about?
It wasn’t something either of them expected. They were simply resting after a tough workout. One moment, they were talking, the other…
It wasn’t as if he had been in control, neither had he been the one to initiate the kiss. But… nor was it Fuji who did. 50% of the way, he had taken, the other 50%, Fuji did. And in the next moment, their lips were pressed together. Just that small action, simple and dry. Just…
If it could be called that… though he would’ve described it as pressing of lips together. The way Gakuto and Oshitari, and the people in the movies did it was way different, involving much more, but substantially less..
Atobe wasn’t some romantic, neither was he a poet, but at that period of time, he could feel the sudden wanting to be closer, to be nearer, to know Fuji better than he did. There was no ‘jolt of electricity’, neither was there ‘liquid fire spreading through his veins’, but there was an infinite sense of calmness, as if he was as close to complete he could ever get- not that Fuji was ‘a part of him’, it was simply… as if something, an empty space in front of him had been filled up.
Fuji would understand.
Fuji was right in front of him.
Fuji would not go away…
And all of this was proved true and definite by the simple feeling of their lips pressed together.
Atobe smiled ruefully, and turned away from the mess he made- someone would see, someone would clean it up- and walked out of the room, and rang for the chauffeur. A letter… wouldn’t suffice.
No amount of black ink, an impersonal piece of paper, or carefully penned words, no matter how true, could replace the version of someone saying it, all truthfully.
“There’s someone at the door for you!”
Atobe watched, as Fuji, smiling as always, opened his eyes and regarded Atobe with a mix of apprehension and a bit of something else he couldn’t place.
“I’ll just grab my coat- Atobe-kun, let’s go for a walk, shall we?”
A/N: Done. My Biology notes aren’t. T^T