( imagined you saw me ) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
imaginedyou) wrote2007-02-18 11:12 pm
imaginedyou) wrote2007-02-18 11:12 pm
Love In The Milky Way [Prince of Tennis: Fuji, Tezuka, pot500 prompt]
title: Love In The Milky Way
characters: Fuji, Tezuka.
summary: A little bit of angst, a tiny bit of progress.
notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pot500's Festivals Challenge, #7.
word count: 474 words.
-
"So you think yourself a poet now?" Tezuka asks flatly, holding the scrap of paper between his fingers. He stands in the doorway, framed by the sunlight streaming in through the window behind him. Fuji sits at his desk, last to leave because he must complete the homework he purposely forgot to do the night before.
"I need to improve my handwriting." He says in reply, watching Tezuka openly until he flinches and leaves with the paper still in his hand.
Years later, Fuji goes down to the river and finds Tezuka sitting in his usual spot, matchbox in one hand, folded paper boat in the other. He drives himself to this choice everytime, and not once yet has Fuji seen him choose other than to put the poem back into his pocket as dawn breaks.
"You're missing the festivities once again," he says.
"So are you." Tezuka retorts. He does not pretend to be making a decision.
"Isn't it sad," Fuji says, sitting down beside Tezuka, but not close enough to irritate him, "that people would celebrate such a thing?"
"What?" Tezuka asks. "Wishing for skills and attributes they do not currently have? Or the reunion of lovers?"
"The celebration of a relationship destroyed by a single lie." Fuji says. He reaches far down and dips his hand into the water. "Celebrating the fact that they get to meet once a year, like that is something worthwhile."
Tezuka stays silent.
"I never thought we would end up down the same path." Fuji sighs. He stands up again. "I think if I were you, I would burn it."
Tezuka stares at the poem on the piece of paper so that he does not have to look at Fuji, even in the dark.
"If you let it float away," he continues, "it will still exist. Someone else might find it. You never know what that could lead to. Best to destroy it completely, if you are so insistent on pretending it never happened. Even if it is right in front of your face."
Tezuka frowns, and strikes a match. The fire reflects in both of their eyes; Fuji's are wide with disbelief. Tezuka touches the match to the corner of the paper and does not let go until the flames have spread almost across the entire page. Then he lets it drop to the ground and burn itself out.
Fuji wants to leave, but he cannot make his feet work. Tezuka stands up in front of him, arms hanging at his sides like they don't know where to be.
"No matter how violently I choose to erase it, those words will always be burnt into my mind." He says softly.
"And yet, you never think about them." Fuji smiles. He takes a step backwards, away. "I guess I shall see you again next year."
-
characters: Fuji, Tezuka.
summary: A little bit of angst, a tiny bit of progress.
notes: Written for
pot500's Festivals Challenge, #7. word count: 474 words.
-
"So you think yourself a poet now?" Tezuka asks flatly, holding the scrap of paper between his fingers. He stands in the doorway, framed by the sunlight streaming in through the window behind him. Fuji sits at his desk, last to leave because he must complete the homework he purposely forgot to do the night before.
"I need to improve my handwriting." He says in reply, watching Tezuka openly until he flinches and leaves with the paper still in his hand.
Years later, Fuji goes down to the river and finds Tezuka sitting in his usual spot, matchbox in one hand, folded paper boat in the other. He drives himself to this choice everytime, and not once yet has Fuji seen him choose other than to put the poem back into his pocket as dawn breaks.
"You're missing the festivities once again," he says.
"So are you." Tezuka retorts. He does not pretend to be making a decision.
"Isn't it sad," Fuji says, sitting down beside Tezuka, but not close enough to irritate him, "that people would celebrate such a thing?"
"What?" Tezuka asks. "Wishing for skills and attributes they do not currently have? Or the reunion of lovers?"
"The celebration of a relationship destroyed by a single lie." Fuji says. He reaches far down and dips his hand into the water. "Celebrating the fact that they get to meet once a year, like that is something worthwhile."
Tezuka stays silent.
"I never thought we would end up down the same path." Fuji sighs. He stands up again. "I think if I were you, I would burn it."
Tezuka stares at the poem on the piece of paper so that he does not have to look at Fuji, even in the dark.
"If you let it float away," he continues, "it will still exist. Someone else might find it. You never know what that could lead to. Best to destroy it completely, if you are so insistent on pretending it never happened. Even if it is right in front of your face."
Tezuka frowns, and strikes a match. The fire reflects in both of their eyes; Fuji's are wide with disbelief. Tezuka touches the match to the corner of the paper and does not let go until the flames have spread almost across the entire page. Then he lets it drop to the ground and burn itself out.
Fuji wants to leave, but he cannot make his feet work. Tezuka stands up in front of him, arms hanging at his sides like they don't know where to be.
"No matter how violently I choose to erase it, those words will always be burnt into my mind." He says softly.
"And yet, you never think about them." Fuji smiles. He takes a step backwards, away. "I guess I shall see you again next year."
-