Indiana Colleges & Cheerleading Scholarships

Prince of Tennis - general - 003.Ende

Title: Farewell
Author: rei17
Fandom: Prince of Tennis characters
: Tezuka, Fuji
topic: 003.Ende
warnings: a bit Fear, a bit of kitsch, that's
Rating: PG



As Tezuka finally emerges from the clubhouse, it's already dark outside.
at his fingertips ink sticks. The air is cold and tastes like stale snow and the pain of parting.
He has three hours of paperwork behind. Lists, invoices for new balls, match ups, old training plans. The end of an era, he thinks, reduced to numbers and data, and ink stains on his hands.

It puts a bit of sadness in that thought and a little bitter sweet, this feels like melancholy. It's his team and he is as long as their captain have been that he sometimes more with the title, Buchou 'identified as his name. The old, small club house have been more at home than any other room.
And now it's over.

The door closes behind him in the lock with a noise that sounds heavier than usual and the final few seconds he stops and takes a deep breath.
He is not even surprised when he sees Fuji.

Fuji sits on a bench in his gym bag at his feet. Silver Shining snow crystals stick to his cap, two sizes too big and horrible reason. He is wrapped in a warm, brown coat and has his hands under the thighs pushed, perhaps in a vain attempt to warm them. It looks as if it freezes, but his gaze is directed upward, and he smiles softly and humanities repellent.
The silence around him is oddly fragile.

"You would have to wait inside," says Tezuka, of all the things he could say at this moment. But the finding that it is freezing cold out here is so unnecessary, that he can save himself.

"I already had my resignation," Fuji replied dreamily without averting his eyes from the sky.
The whole world thinks that Tezuka is the one who closed and secretive is.
In truth speaks simply do not like Tezuka.
Fuji is the one that rewinds all the time well-formed sentences from his smiling mouth, which have no content and never reveal what goes on in his head before him.

When he had read his thoughts (and the Fuji is quite be trusted), he turns his head at that moment. His face is almost white in the moonlight. "I also distracting you when I am with you in a room. Then you would have needed to midnight, "he notes. He sounds amused.

Tezuka pushes his glasses with his finger tips a bit higher.
Any denial would be a lie and this statement affirming is out of the question. In this kind of dilemma Fuji brings him all the time. Maybe that's the main reason why Tezuka stopped anything to say.

Instead of answering, he reduced the distance between them in a few measured steps. Fuji takes the hand which he stretches out to him without a word and can be drawn from the bank.
His fingers are cold.

Fuji has the annoying tendency to look more fragile than he really is. This is one of the many things about him, which does not like Tezuka. He likes things that sound, stable, manageable and are somewhat predictable. He likes stability, and unfortunately, he also likes anything that is uniform and boring.
Fuji is anything that can not use it.

any commentary Tezuka pulls his own gloves from his pocket. Even as he wanders through his fingers, is Fuji on tiptoe and pressed him a kiss on the cheek. Even his lips are cold. But he smiles and his smile is warm.
"Let's go home," he says softly.

He shoves his hand into Tezuka and Tezuka gets almost nothing to grasp than leather because Fuji's hand fills the fabric so much.
But somewhere in the vacuum he feels Fuji's finger, stable and secure and reliable, and at that moment, he thinks, is home, right here '.

And when they turn around and go, he does not feel to leave some.