{SPORADICALLY} Bern ♫ (mushrooms) wrote in temps_mort,

Fic challenge~

Title: Water Under The Bridge
Author: mushrooms
Challenge: Water
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Type: Graduation fic [again]
Pairing/Characters: Inui X Kaidoh
Rating: PG
Time: 25 mins [out of a given 75]
Disclaimer: I can only wish I were making money from this.
Notes: Because graduation fics are skipping non-stop through my head. LOL. My first ever second-person POV. Congratulate me. [So pardon me if the grammar is weird.]
Summary: Thinking about water leads to thinking like water. Inui discovers this interesting fact one evening.

Sunset has become something of importance to you. Or, to be more specific, it's become a memory. A fond memory. It's only been five months since those weeks of training together, but it seems like years have passed. Yet, at the same time, it happened only yesterday. The soft sound of waves lapping at the artificial shore, the almost-tinkle of droplets as they whisk past your face, flung away from a toned, tanned, shirtless body... they still ring clear in your mind.

This is what Einstein meant when he tried to explain relativity, you think. Time spent together always seems to be too short, yet it is dark by the time you realise that indeed, you've spent the whole day together.

Water is liquid, like the juice you feed the team day after day, whether they like it or not. It represents the trust he has in you, the blind faith he has as he swallows the green mixture with a look of part-horror, part-disgust and part-resignation on that usually expressionless face. Water is tasteless, bland, like the things you talk about, everyday things that made no sense now that you think back on them. Water is fluid, like his movements when he reaches up to pull his bandanna off his head, when he whips the towel from the river, when he does the move that you worked so hard with him to perfect.

The river is also a memory. The water, dyed scarlet by the paint of the setting sun, will always remain a representation of you, of sorts. The way his bronze skin turns a shade of gold that cannot be rivaled by anything in this world under the toast-warm light will remain imprinted in your memory, such that every time you see a river during the sunset, you will think of him.

When the Chinese invented astrological signs based on the elements, they meant water as a fluid thing. Too much water and the person will be like the sea, flowing this way and that, never settling. But they forgot that water freezes into ice, like the way he froze when you first touched him in a way that could never have been interpreted as platonic. The way he turns into a frigid block whenever Momoshiro teases him about something. You know now how to make him melt under your hands, how to turn that scowling gaze into something else.

You're sitting by that same river now, notebook loosely gripped in one hand. Notes are useless in situations such as this, you've learnt. You can't take notes properly when his lips are on yours, when his hand is in yours, when his gaze meets yours. You are like water, too, in a way. From higher ground to low, from high pressure to low, from high temperature to low, that's the way the world works, and that's how you feel when you are near him, like the world drops away and the two of you are suspended in air, alone, together.

Your thoughts are like water, too, you muse. Rushing in every direction with hardly any end in sight. You rise to your feet. He's approaching, right on time, as always, and you smile at him. His lips twitch in something that passes as a returned smile, and you reach out a hand to him, knowing he will take it. He's predictable, kind of like the river that's now under the bridge you're standing on, holding his hand.

You won't be seeing him for another year, not until the day he graduates as well and enters the high school. Doubles partners for half a year, and even that is water under the bridge. No, that isn't the correct term to use. Water under the bridge refers to things that you want to forget, that are not worth thinking of again.

He is like water, soft and fluid and warm against your skin, but yet he, like water, cuts away everything in his path to flow into the sea, where you know you will be waiting.

Tags: *type: m/m, [animanga] prince of tennis, author: burnein

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