Part 2

Time changes people.

It is right to some extent, but Ohtori has never fully agreed to the particular saying. People may change –in fact, he believes that people will change eventually– but definitely not in two years time into someone he hardly knows. At least not Shishido-san.

Ohtori knows he has upset the older guy with his sudden decision to go to New York –when Shishido-san called him to say that he couldn't make it to the airport to see him leave, Ohtori couldn't help but to think that it was merely a reason, for what he wasn't sure. He had expected Shishido-san to feel as happy as he was, but perhaps he had hoped too much.

After six months, e-mails were but scarce occasions, and he started to think that maybe they were not as close as he had assumed. His violin overwhelmed him, inevitably because Ohtori buried himself in it and its music, because if to remember were that painful, to forget wouldn't be so bad.

A year later, Ohtori learned that to forget could be more painful when you tried to forget the unforgettable.

It was one of the nights after late practices with New York autumn wind biting his sore fingers, wandering his mind to faint reminiscences of a senpai whose birthday was at the same season but whose demeanor was as brash as summer. He thought of his class's upcoming recording, of their great expectation to his indubitable talent and couldn't help but to feel slightly anxious.

He walked the same street everyday, passed the same lines of stores and billboards, but that night, when he strayed his gaze to the lamp-flooded sky, his hastened steps halted, not because he was waiting for a chance to cross since the green light was so unmistakable even to his occupied thoughts, but because of something his eyes caught. Ohtori had never paid much attention to the colossal billboard standing so protuberantly at the south corner of the junction –it mostly advertised latest fashion and to him, trend was not in his priority list– but he recognized a face posed there. Two faces, in fact.

The advertisement was taken from Gucci's autumn collection, which made finding his former captain there barely surprising. But Shishido-san... it was rather unexpected. Not that he seemed to be misplaced or something –if anything, Shishido-san looked really good in those outfits– but to look at him there as a model was... well, unexpected. And the hair. It didn't escape Ohtori that his former partner had grown his hair long again.

After standing like a statue at the crossroads for about five minutes, he rushed home, writing a song which had all of a sudden popped in his mind. It took him all night to practice and restructure it, thoroughly envisaging the Rising Shot in his mind, until he could perfectly picture his Shishido-san. At the next morning meeting, he suggested the song and they agreed.

He titled it 'Rising'.

But even though Shishido-san listened to it, he didn't seem to recognize the title. Maybe people do change even with a short span of time.

There is something white and cool lands on the bridge of his nose and Ohtori blinks, pulled out of his deep reveries. He looks up, frowning as the realization hits him that the dull cloudy sky is beginning to snow and the fact that his feet has been walking aimlessly. Well, not really, he thinks when he notices a well-known building looming at a distance –Hyoutei Gakuen, still as the same as he remembers from what his eyes could see.

"Choutarou!"

Another one of the unexpected. Ohtori turns around, hardly able to summon enough strength to force him doing otherwise. Because it is his Shishido-san's voice.

Like an old movie has reeled back through impenetrable time, he watches as his former partner comes up to him, noticing with a slight surprise at the blue cap covering russet hair, worn backward as usually he saw it. The long strands still manage to stand out, however, and they sink his hope which has flared before at the calling of his name. Silently he wonders if hair can do that much difference to a person, since seeing Shishido-san now is like looking through time to a figure he used to find mildly annoying, an aloof senpai so drowned in his hollow vanity.

But the old Shishido-senpai didn't call him Choutarou. He probably didn't have any intention to know him beyond the name 'Ohtori' and the notorious Scud Serve.

"I didn't mean that!" Shishido-san is panting but at the same time, trying to speak as quickly as he could. "I- yes, I don't understand your song but I like it! I really do!"

There is a moment of silence when the slighter one busily adjusts his breath and the other is still stunned to immobility.

"You have every right to be angry," Shishido continues, tugging at the brim of his cap nervously, "I mean... yeah, I said something really stupid. I don't even know what made me say it."

The voice is truthful and when Ohtori discerns into those blue eyes, there is sincerity in them. He thinks he can understand, because he too doesn't know what made him run away back then. And when Shishido-san looks at him like that, he isn't sure there is anything he can say 'no' to. Slowly, a smile touches his lips, so soft and warm amidst falling beads of white snow.

"It's alright."

Shishido is NOT convinced at all; his former partner is smiling, yes, but he recognizes the wistful smile, the poignant breath in it, in the way Choutarou tilts his head to the left slightly, like he is yearning to have his violin with him. For some reasons, it makes the ashen clouds in the background past the taller guy's shoulder look so interesting, no matter how bleak they are compared to unruly strands of hair of the same colour. It is too painful to look him in the eye and Shishido can't bring himself to do it.

"Shishido-san, I have a favor to ask."

His voice is serious, too serious to Shishido's liking even though the Choutarou he knew before also seldom preferred flippancy as his fashion. And he doesn't like the way his kouhai averts his eyes to his feet.

"You know this is my first return to Japan since I went to New York," Choutarou seems to have difficulty in choosing his word but Shishido says nothing. To tell the truth, he doesn't know –even if Choutarou says he was here in Japan last summer, Shishido doesn't think he will doubt it. That is just how close their relationship was after the taller guy left.

For a moment, the other halts his speech, teeth biting his lower lips, brow crinkling into a nervous frown, absurdly reminding Shishido to a girl who was about to confess her love to him. There is a long intake of breath before Choutarou continues, "I miss my family and all of my friends. And you. And I have a confession to make to someone."

Shishido listens attentively to the silence, as if hoping there was more following, and when none comes, he notices that his temper is starting to flare, reasons unknown. Forcing his voice to stay as neutral as possible, he states flatly, "A confession. You mean a love confession."

Another blush takes over his taller friend's face and for once Shishido doesn't find it amusing. "Ah, well...sort of. Can you accompany me?"

"To confess your love." It, again, is hardly a question. The urge to beat something into a fine pulp suddenly grows so overwhelming that it astonishes even himself. Choutarou, he notes, seemed to have detected the rapid descent of his mood as well.

"Yes. I will meet her in Hyoutei," the reply is now careful, but as a matter of fact, it doesn't do anything to ease Shishido's growing irritation since it basically won't change anything and Choutarou will still go to this random anonymous girl to confess. And why is he being all possessive like that? He was the one who was so determined to ignore Choutarou –no matter how self-sacrificing the reason sounds– and now he feels furious that his former partner has decided to have a girlfriend. Perhaps Atobe's egoism is contagious after all.

There are too many words and emotions cramming his head that he practically jumps in surprise when his friend's voice echoes, penetrating the muddled crowd with the elegance of a long fine lance. "Please, Shishido-san?"

"No," he deadpans, ignoring the slight wince which flashes across the other's face.

"Shishi-"

"You can confess by yourself!" Shishido's tone rises, which ensures himself that he is indeed outraged by the request. The fact that they are standing amidst cold shower of snow doesn't seem to affect the heat of his fury. "I don't want to hear this– I mean... I'm not your babysitter or something!

The other guy also raises his voice, but to a desperate plea, not a threatening anger. "Please, Shishido-san! I can't do it without you!"

Shishido finds himself gritting his teeth with the ferocity of a tyrannosaur grinding its dinner's flesh. To consider things coherently, all he has to do is to accompany Choutarou, giving him a few encouraging smiles or perhaps some pats on the back –maybe his former partner doesn't have enough guts to confess alone, even though it sounds so weird because if it were Shishido, he would choose to confess alone where disgrace wouldn't feel so humiliating if he got refused– and perhaps, celebrate it together afterwards. So what's the big deal?

Yeah, what's the big deal?

His hands curl into tight fists. "Alright."

It is so unfair that Choutarou looks that pleased, that truly happy with his ultimate decision, because he shouldn't. Between the injurious smile and his repulsion to himself for being so weak, Shishido is not able to find a space to complain. He sighs inwardly, making a note that that look will be his downfall someday if it isn't now.

"Let's go then." Choutarou looks so cheerful and it somewhat subsides his anger, which makes Shishido realize that beneath thick layers of rage, he finds sharp blades of disappointment. Silently, still bewildered by the unexpected discovery, he falls into steps next to Choutarou, noticing that his companion also doesn't attempt any conversation to lighten the mood. Thin lines are visible tarnishing the taller guy's smooth temple, an obvious evidence of his anxiety. Anybody will be nervous before making a love confession.

Shishido decided that he too, can act altruistic, and thus chooses to give his former partner some moments of quiet. At least, he can stay calm, not letting his temper to ruin Choutarou's chance to take happiness into his hand.

It is when they made a turn to a place he recognizes so well that he openes his mouth.

"The tennis courts?"

The smile which answeres to his phrase of disbelief depicts awkward reluctance, which almost makes Shishido feel guilty that he has asked. "This was where we met."

Of course. Shishido can still picture clearly in his mind the horde of girls stuffing the area behind tall green fence of interlacing wires every time the tennis club had its practice, half of them of course screaming Atobe's name. But he knows Choutarou had his share of fangirls and one can barely claim them small in term of quantity. It is only too natural if one of them eventually manages to catch his former partner's attention, given their relentless effort to cry and shriek in high-pitched voice which should hurt their throat if his agonizing pain to just listen to them is something to count.

He is being really sarcastic.

Shishido snorts, carefully inaudibly to prevent Choutarou from suspecting his still breeding disinclination, and slumps himself on one of the many benches there at the court, slightly grateful that snow can no longer reach him now. The other guy insists on standing –obviously nervous– and repeatedly glances to his direction, to which Shishido can't bring himself to give any heartening smile. Instead, his eyes sweep across the deserted line of courts, half-expecting to see a pretty girl emerging from a corner with a stupid happy smile on her face.

He doesn't expect –even for a half– to see Choutarou kneeling before him. The next thing he knows, he is being kissed.

It is one of the weirdest moments for Ohtori Choutarou, when for the first time in his life he braces himself to collect enough bravery and finally lean forward. How grateful he is that Shishido-san always wears his cap backward, or else, the peak of the cap would prevent him from kissing his senpai. While it isn't exactly his first kiss, it feels different when you do it with a person you really care about.

After what seems like an eternity, he pulls back, noticing how the look on Shishido-san's face becomes less antagonistic, melting into unconcealed surprise. It is when his senpai still says nothing after a minute that he begins to feel worried.

"Shishido-san... please say something?"

The other's reply finally comes slowly in the form of quiet uncertain mumble, as if he is afraid to put his vocal chords into function, blue eyes shifting to meet his anxious gaze with an agonizing slowness. "Only if you promise you won't run away again."

A relieved sigh slips past his lips as soon as Ohtori can force his brain to process the answer, sensing the beginning of what could be the widest stupidest grin he has ever let his face to make bloom, engulfed in warmth. And he leans in again, nestling his head at his Shishido-san's shoulder, loving the scent he has missed for two long years. Shutting his eyes, he realizes that he feels exhausted like he has run all the way from New York. But it is probably no wonder, since he needs that long of time to finally comprehend his own feeling. Shishido-san's voice told him that he is amused, although still a little jaded, when he murmurs closely in front of his ear, "So, this is why you said you couldn't do it without me."

Ohtori smiles to the soft fabric of sweater his senpai is wearing, enjoying the way Shishido-san runs his fingers through the short locks of his hair. "How can I confess to someone who isn't even there?"

How he loves to hear his Shishido-san laugh. "I see the point."

"I think I was really stupid for needing to go as far as to New York to realize that," Ohtori declares seriously as he sets his balance back to his knees to have a better look of his smiling senpai. True, he feels like an idiot. How he managed to go through those two years without seeing this face smiling at him is beyond his reckoning. "We were too close, weren't we?"

"Who got you that idea?" Suddenly Shishido asks, eyes out of the blue gaining a quality of sharpness and inquisitiveness when his former partner pronounces his conclusion.

"Eh?"

"That we were too close."

"I think Atobe-san said it," Ohtori answers hesitantly, still puzzled by the abrupt query, "when he called me some times ago."

While he shouldn't be too surprised at the mentioning of his captain's name, Shishido still feels his jaw drop when he recognizes it. If someone ever says again that Atobe does practice altruism, Shishido will never doubt it anymore. Never.

But that doesn't matter anymore, right?

Ohtori feels himself smiling as he tugs his senpai's cap, letting the flowing hair to flood freely out of their blue confinement. The blue cap is put on the bench next to him as if it is a piece of his past he now wishes to discard. Hesitantly he bringst his fingers up, touching the long strands that cascade past his Shishido-san's shoulder, wondering why he hated them before since they look so perfect on Shishido-san.

It is purely impulse which guides him to lean in and kiss the soft mahogany hair. "Love your hair, Shishido-san."

His Shishido-san chuckles, and says teasingly before closing the gap between their lips, "I really hope you love me more."

"What do you want?"

"Cheesed off, aren't we?"

"Your call is late for seven days. That means a-hundred-and-sixty-eight hours are put to waste and a person with no sense of punctuality doesn't impress me one bit."

"I was busy, Keigo."

"The same old reason. Find a new, a more creative explanation, Genichirou."

"I'm not lying, okay? I was that busy. I could hardly call my parents, let alone you."

"Of course."

"Keigo-"

"No, I mean it, I almost believe you. But when you watch a pair of lovebirds drowned in pure bliss you call love, you can't help but to wonder where your boyfriend is."

"Shishido... isn't it?"

"As perceptive as always, aren't you?"

"Good to hear that, at least you will leave him alone now that he is someone other's. Ohtori Choutarou, right? Renji told me about him being a world-class violinist and all."

"Isn't it convenient to have a roommate to remember everything for you?"

"Why does it sound to me like you are jealous?"

"You talk utter nonsense."

"Really jealous then."

"We're NOT having this conversation, Genichirou. Or I'll hang up."

"Keigo."

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"For which one?"

"..."

"I'm asking, in case you don't hear me."

"...do I have a really good reason as why I'm putting up with you in the first place?"

"Because Atobe Keigo is the most beautiful of all mortals?"

"I've met a girl here prettier than you."

"You're starting to irritate Ore-sama. What exactly is your point?"

"I don't know that for sure, but...well..."

"Hmm?"

"... maybe... just maybe, remember that, because the possibility of what I'm about to say is the tiniest little-"

"Get to the point, Genichirou"

"...maybe I miss you."

"What brought that up?"

"Can't you just accept it, plain with no hostility?"

"Perhaps not in your standard of no hostility. You know what, Genichirou?"

"What now?"

"I think I miss you too."

Notes: Boys can be dense, but after I reread this, I feel that they're so incredibly stupid. Sorry for making them like this... Can't say that I like this fic much, but if I didn't get the idea out, it would kick every grey cells of my brain so... well, whatever. And I wrote half of this while I was having a cold, so if you find that some parts are slightly disturbing or weird, really sorry. You can't imagine how grateful I am to finish this long thing.

In case you're confused, the fist short dialogue is between Atobe and Ohtori via-phone line and the second (the long one in the end) is Sanada-Atobe's conversation from that silver cell phone.

The End

Back to Ohtori/Shishido Fanfiction Index (Authors A — K)