(no subject)
Title: Take Heart
Fandom: Prince of Tennis.
Featuring: SanaYuki.
Genre: Angst.
Words: ~ 1000.
Rating: PG.
Warnings: Language in small amounts.
Notes: Title from Anberlin's "Time and Confusion," inspired by a roleplay.
Sanada was tense, his brow furrowed, his hands rigid and his jaw set. In front of him, Yukimura was the apparent picture of nonchalance, arms folded loosely over his chest and head tilted idly to one side.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't walk out there and tell them everything."
Sanada's words were a low hiss. "It's New Year's Eve, my parents will disown me, and there are about twenty other people out there who don't need to know. That's three, Seiichi. Why can't you just deal with it?"
Dropping his arms and straightening, Yukimura gave his boyfriend a disbelieving stare. "Because I've been dealing with it for eight months," he snapped, not bothering to lower his voice. "You have absolutely no right to ask me to deal with it. This isn't fair."
Sanada was pained. It wasn't fair, and he knew it. He'd known it all along. It wasn't fair to him and it wasn't fair to his parents, but it was even less fair to Yukimura.
The entire tennis team knew. Hell, other tennis teams knew. People in the kendo club knew that he was dating Yukimura Seiichi. No one dared say a word, of course, and Sanada preferred it that way. On the whole, he didn't enjoy other people involving themselves in his personal business. And in a way, he resented Yukimura's insistence on honesty as if it were an intrusion, as well, but he knew better than to pursue that school of thought.
If Yukimura walked out of the room right now and ripped his shirt open, Sanada wouldn't be surprised. He'd be angry, a little hurt, and immediately apprehensive, but he wouldn't be surprised. His captain had every right and reason, after all.
"How long do you want this to go on?" Yukimura asked when Sanada was silent. "Will we marry someday, without them ever knowing that you're with a man? How do you expect me to produce a child? How will you cover that up? Telling them I had too many abortions in highschool?"
"Stop that, now." Sanada's eyes were sharp. "Don't you dare."
Yukimura flung an arm out illustratively. "I'm frustrated, Gen'ichirou! I'm frustrated and I'm hurt, and I don't understand why you can't just stand by me! I'm asking you to, just this fucking once, Gen'ichirou! You've always done it before, so what's stopping you now?!"
Tears were standing in Yukimura's eyes, and the injury in them held a desperate, pleading shine and a smouldering edge. Their gazes locked for long, protracted seconds, moments that died gradually of cancer and slow-acting poisons. Sanada could feel his throat tightening, his eyes threatening to burn.
What was stopping him? Fear, he reflected, but he didn't speak, because he didn't trust his voice. He was afraid of disappointing his father, of losing his way if his family shunned him. All his life, his family's traditional ways and his father and grandfather's rigid teachings had kept him straight and true, and he didn't know what was beyond that. He was all of eighteen, and he didn't know if he could stand outside his family name.
With Yukimura standing in front of him, pain gleaming in his eyes and glaring on his face, an outstretched, expressive hand trembling, Sanada became aware of a more quickly-impending new fear.
If he kept this up, Yukimura would leave him. It would hurt them both, but he knew Yukimura to be strong enough to do it. There were only a few months before they parted ways, anyway. Yukimura would go pro - international, Sanada was sure - and Sanada would probably stop playing tennis altogether, once highschool was over. And if they weren't together, they'd probably never see each other again.
Years would pass, and Sanada would wind up married. The TV would be on while he was on the couch, looking over the newspaper, and 'Yukimura Seiichi' would come from the announcer's mouth. The glass in Sanada's hand would slip, and he'd look up as it fell, just in time to see Yukimura, as ridiculously beautiful as he'd always been, if a little thin. His wife would scold him lightly, but he'd likely never hear her.
Sanada shook himself from his reverie, distantly aware that his eyelashes were wet, clinging together as he blinked. He swallowed thickly, twice, and said, "I - I don't know if I can, Seiichi."
All of the anger and hurt melted from Yukimura's face, and he came forward, putting his arms around Sanada and pulling the older boy's head to his chest. Sanada reached blindly, wrapping him up and tightening his grip until he was sure Yukimura shouldn't be breathing.
"Then I'll stand by you, Gen'ichirou." A terrifying thought struck Sanada at the waver in his captain's voice - Yukimura was crying. Yukimura was crying, and it was his fault, and he'd broken something made of steel and diamonds with his bare fucking hands. He was no longer breathing as Yukimura continued, "I'll stand by you this time, because I love you, and because I owe it to you."
Rising slowly, Sanada pressed his lips to Yukimura's, needing to feel the other boy kiss back with all the iron will and vitality that Sanada admired in him. Yukimura didn't disappoint; the taste of sake was light on his tongue.
When they remembered to breathe, their mouths came apart gasping, and their foreheads touched. Sanada wiped Yukimura's eyes and his own with shaking thumbs and fingertips until Yukimura caught his hands and held them firmly.
"We need each other, this time," the smaller boy said, holding his boyfriend's gaze just as steadily as his hands. "And if we have each other, we can't need anything else."
Of course, Sanada thought, I could need nothing else. He held Yukimura's hand as they walked out together, through the crowds of relatives, and he didn't let it go until they'd finished confessing and kissing, fervently, in front of all of them.
Whatever happened now couldn't matter.
Fandom: Prince of Tennis.
Featuring: SanaYuki.
Genre: Angst.
Words: ~ 1000.
Rating: PG.
Warnings: Language in small amounts.
Notes: Title from Anberlin's "Time and Confusion," inspired by a roleplay.
Sanada was tense, his brow furrowed, his hands rigid and his jaw set. In front of him, Yukimura was the apparent picture of nonchalance, arms folded loosely over his chest and head tilted idly to one side.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't walk out there and tell them everything."
Sanada's words were a low hiss. "It's New Year's Eve, my parents will disown me, and there are about twenty other people out there who don't need to know. That's three, Seiichi. Why can't you just deal with it?"
Dropping his arms and straightening, Yukimura gave his boyfriend a disbelieving stare. "Because I've been dealing with it for eight months," he snapped, not bothering to lower his voice. "You have absolutely no right to ask me to deal with it. This isn't fair."
Sanada was pained. It wasn't fair, and he knew it. He'd known it all along. It wasn't fair to him and it wasn't fair to his parents, but it was even less fair to Yukimura.
The entire tennis team knew. Hell, other tennis teams knew. People in the kendo club knew that he was dating Yukimura Seiichi. No one dared say a word, of course, and Sanada preferred it that way. On the whole, he didn't enjoy other people involving themselves in his personal business. And in a way, he resented Yukimura's insistence on honesty as if it were an intrusion, as well, but he knew better than to pursue that school of thought.
If Yukimura walked out of the room right now and ripped his shirt open, Sanada wouldn't be surprised. He'd be angry, a little hurt, and immediately apprehensive, but he wouldn't be surprised. His captain had every right and reason, after all.
"How long do you want this to go on?" Yukimura asked when Sanada was silent. "Will we marry someday, without them ever knowing that you're with a man? How do you expect me to produce a child? How will you cover that up? Telling them I had too many abortions in highschool?"
"Stop that, now." Sanada's eyes were sharp. "Don't you dare."
Yukimura flung an arm out illustratively. "I'm frustrated, Gen'ichirou! I'm frustrated and I'm hurt, and I don't understand why you can't just stand by me! I'm asking you to, just this fucking once, Gen'ichirou! You've always done it before, so what's stopping you now?!"
Tears were standing in Yukimura's eyes, and the injury in them held a desperate, pleading shine and a smouldering edge. Their gazes locked for long, protracted seconds, moments that died gradually of cancer and slow-acting poisons. Sanada could feel his throat tightening, his eyes threatening to burn.
What was stopping him? Fear, he reflected, but he didn't speak, because he didn't trust his voice. He was afraid of disappointing his father, of losing his way if his family shunned him. All his life, his family's traditional ways and his father and grandfather's rigid teachings had kept him straight and true, and he didn't know what was beyond that. He was all of eighteen, and he didn't know if he could stand outside his family name.
With Yukimura standing in front of him, pain gleaming in his eyes and glaring on his face, an outstretched, expressive hand trembling, Sanada became aware of a more quickly-impending new fear.
If he kept this up, Yukimura would leave him. It would hurt them both, but he knew Yukimura to be strong enough to do it. There were only a few months before they parted ways, anyway. Yukimura would go pro - international, Sanada was sure - and Sanada would probably stop playing tennis altogether, once highschool was over. And if they weren't together, they'd probably never see each other again.
Years would pass, and Sanada would wind up married. The TV would be on while he was on the couch, looking over the newspaper, and 'Yukimura Seiichi' would come from the announcer's mouth. The glass in Sanada's hand would slip, and he'd look up as it fell, just in time to see Yukimura, as ridiculously beautiful as he'd always been, if a little thin. His wife would scold him lightly, but he'd likely never hear her.
Sanada shook himself from his reverie, distantly aware that his eyelashes were wet, clinging together as he blinked. He swallowed thickly, twice, and said, "I - I don't know if I can, Seiichi."
All of the anger and hurt melted from Yukimura's face, and he came forward, putting his arms around Sanada and pulling the older boy's head to his chest. Sanada reached blindly, wrapping him up and tightening his grip until he was sure Yukimura shouldn't be breathing.
"Then I'll stand by you, Gen'ichirou." A terrifying thought struck Sanada at the waver in his captain's voice - Yukimura was crying. Yukimura was crying, and it was his fault, and he'd broken something made of steel and diamonds with his bare fucking hands. He was no longer breathing as Yukimura continued, "I'll stand by you this time, because I love you, and because I owe it to you."
Rising slowly, Sanada pressed his lips to Yukimura's, needing to feel the other boy kiss back with all the iron will and vitality that Sanada admired in him. Yukimura didn't disappoint; the taste of sake was light on his tongue.
When they remembered to breathe, their mouths came apart gasping, and their foreheads touched. Sanada wiped Yukimura's eyes and his own with shaking thumbs and fingertips until Yukimura caught his hands and held them firmly.
"We need each other, this time," the smaller boy said, holding his boyfriend's gaze just as steadily as his hands. "And if we have each other, we can't need anything else."
Of course, Sanada thought, I could need nothing else. He held Yukimura's hand as they walked out together, through the crowds of relatives, and he didn't let it go until they'd finished confessing and kissing, fervently, in front of all of them.
Whatever happened now couldn't matter.