All things that begin are destined to end in some manner... [Shishido Ryou x Ohtori Choutarou]
Author: Grasshopper (A.K.A. The Undertaker's Muse)
Warnings: Complete and utter crack, with a (major) bit of angst. And the haaaaaaaat (barely). Plus, the fanon Hyoutei dorms and the obligatory shounen-ai.
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Spoilers: Not a one, to my knowledge.
Pairings: Shishido Ryou x Ohtori Choutarou
Summary: All things that begin are destined to end in some manner...
Author's Notes: Blame it all on Crystal (tenshiforgotten on LJ) and Yun (tokkitsu on LJ). I just had to see the lurvely haaaaaaat picture and read "Later"... sighs It's now official: I suck at writing ShishiTori. I should just work on my Naughty pair fic; I can handle the sex-addicts much easier than I can these two... This deviated completely from my original plot - making it not quite match up with the hat picture like it was meant to do - but since my Tenipuri muses have been so quiet, I think that can be forgiven. Besides - angst!
Disclaimer: All things Prince of Tennis belong to Konomi Takeshi. All that the Grassy owns around here is the plot.
He wasn't crying.
He, Ohtori Choutarou, was not crying. No, indeed, he was not. He might seem like a fluffy puppy that would whimper at the lightest bit of mistreatment, but he wasn't a girl and he was not crying. A bit of lint from his pillow was irritating his eyes, that was all. It had nothing - absolutely nothing - to do with his Shishido-san graduating.
Nope, not a thing.
It had nothing to do with his Shishido-san going on to high school, leaving Ohtori alone for a year.
It had nothing to do with his Shishido-san being at the "mercy" of whomever he roomed with in his new school.
It had nothing to do with his Shishido-san at all. Nothing. At all. Honestly.
And he wasn't crying.
He wasn't crying.
He, Shishido Ryou, was most definitely not crying. No way, no how, not a chance. If he appeared a bit teary, it was only because his eyes were reacting to the darkness in their dorm room after being out in the sun for so long. That was all. It had nothing to do with graduating. Or Choutarou.
Nope, nothing at all.
It had nothing to do with Choutarou being a year below him, meaning they had to wait to room together again.
It had nothing to do with Choutarou being at the mercy of whomever he roomed with in his third year at Hyoutei.
It had nothing to do with Choutarou at all. Nothing whatsoever. Really.
And he was not crying.
He still wasn't crying.
As his Shishido-san crawled onto Ohtori's bed, sliding up to rest his slighter frame upon the silver-haired boy's back, he was most certainly not crying. It wouldn't do for his Shishido-san to see Ohtori like that, so he wasn't. And he wouldn't. It was just lint, damn it all! There was absolutely no reason to cry.
Definitely not because his Shishido-san had that slight hiccup in his breathing that only presented itself when the dark-haired beauty was upset.
Definitely not because his Shishido-san was gripping the back of Ohtori's shirt in a grip almost tight enough to tear the material.
Definitely not because his Shishido-san seemed to be just as distraught as he, himself, was.
Because neither of them had anything to be upset about. Not a thing.
And he still wasn't crying.
He still wasn't crying.
As Choutarou trembled slightly, vibrating Shishido's body from its perch upon the other boy's back, the former Hyoutei student wasn't crying at all. It would only get the puppyish boy crying in sympathy, so he wasn't. Nor would he. His eyes were just light-sensitive, that was all! There was no reason whatsoever for him to cry.
Definitely not because the ever-polite Choutarou still hadn't said a word since Shishido had arrived; not even to greet his former doubles partner.
Definitely not because Choutarou was unconsciously tugging at the loose string on his pillowcase hard enough to fray the stitching in only a handful of moments.
Definitely not because Choutarou was obviously upset, just as Shishido, himself, happened to be.
Because there weren't any reasons for them to be upset. No reasons at all.
And he was still not crying.
Neither of them were crying.
While callus-roughened fingers slid a well-loved blue hat from its spot upon dark spikes of hair onto a new perch of silver locks, they both continued to not cry. If either of them were to breathe a word otherwise, then they probably would cry. So they were staying quiet and tear-free.
They could still see one another during breaks and whatnot, so it wasn't as if they were being separated forever.
They could still talk to one another on the phone or text message during classes, so they could still interact with one another throughout their days.
They could still play together at the street courts, so their partnership wasn't ending forever; just being put on hold.
So they had no reasons to be upset. And they weren't. So they wouldn't.
And neither of them were crying.