Author: Hyatt Insomnia
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is property of Konomi Takashi
Time: 44 minutes
I have a propensity to exult infinite enamorization towards you.
Like water, you’re something that I need but take far too much advantage of. I abuse you, exploiting you as if you were something that would never run dry when indeed you are already more than half-gone. And I do realize that some day I will wake up with a throat too arid to swallow only to find that you are no longer there. What I’ll do in those days I have yet to figure out. I just pray that it’s a day that will approach me slowly so that even though I will never be fully prepared, I won’t be completely lost.
Unfortunately--albeit I know that this is going to happen someday (at this point its happening is inevitable)--I find myself unable to stop it. You are one of those things in which I could deem as a ‘favorite’ in the sense that you are held in higher regard than anything else in existence, but you still manage to be one of those things that I’ve grown so accustom to that even though you will always be in the front of my mind and the tip of my tongue you are generally passed over for something much more obvious and new.
But you know, I no longer remember what it feels like to wake up in a bed that isn’t yours. I can’t recall a day that I haven’t woken up with my arm around your waist and the tip of my nose half-buried in the gray tendrils of your honey-scented hair. I can’t even remember a time where I didn’t pass through the front door to be greeted by the long curve of your smile.
The funny thing is, of all the years that we’ve been together, I don’t believe I’ve ever once called you ‘Choutarou’. That seems as if it were something that I should be apologizing for but I truly can’t bring myself to feel repentant towards the subject. ‘Ohtori’ just seems to suit you better.
Do you find it weird that I can’t manage to call you by your given name even once when you always begin with a far too warm ‘Yuushi’ when speaking to me?
Keigo often asks me how I can manage to keep a relationship with you when I can’t even manage to call you by your familiar name. I tell him that I got to use to our days at Hyoutei Gakuen. We were always trying to cover things up so I was always careful to call you ‘Ohtori’, even when we were alone. What he fails to realize (or maybe he does realize it--Keigo’s mind has always been sharper than anyone I’ve ever known) is that I’m not the one who’s holding our relationship together.
I fear for the day that you discover that this whole time it’s been inside of your hands. Just as humans cannot force rain to fall from the sky during a drought, I can’t force you to stay. You’ve been free to leave me for so, so long and you haven’t even realized it yet.
This is something I have never been sure whether or not you should be informed of. I’m afraid that if I were to ever try to say it to you, you would take it the wrong way and I would lose you much sooner than I would like, but at the same time, it’s something I wish you to not realize on your own. If you did, it leaves filling in the details of the situation up to you yourself and thus landing me in a spot where I wouldn’t be able to explain myself. The ending would have already been written; you wouldn’t need my side of the story.
Both of those things are things I can’t bear. My fear of losing you is just as strong as my fear of never getting to apologize to you. You see, Ohtori, I don’t mean to treat you the way that I do. I’ve never meant to brush you aside for the rush of a crowd or a person whose conversation has a sweeter, more unfamiliar flavor. Regrettably it’s something that I’ve done countless times. But, you know, each time, I’ve never failed to remember at the end of the day that the person I truly wish to converse with is you. Because although some conversations are more appealing when they’re in process, yours is always the one that leaves me satisfied.
I suppose what it is that I’m trying to say with all of this (although at this point I’m sure it sounds more like ramblings of a man far too lost for his own good) is that I need you, Ohtori. I need you more than you will ever realize, more than I will ever be able to say, and I hope that maybe by some small chance of luck, that by the time the water in my canteen runs out, I will have found a well.
Cross-posted to: temps_mort, crack_pot, and hyattinsomnia