Disclaimer: I do not own Prince of Tennis
A/N: Just something I had fun writing, and decided to share, hoping that someone else would also find it amusing.
Comments and critique appreciated.
Oshitari liked watching people.
At the way someone would frown, or lift an eyebrow. The way they would laugh in the most inappropriate occasions, or scrunch up their faces instead of cry when they were distressed. He was fascinated by the smiles and the frowns, by the little wrinkles that would form on the corner of the eyes, by the way they would stomp their feet against the ground, wave their hand in the air, wiggle their fingers, shift their feet nervously or just refused to react at all.
He didn't think anyone had noticed it, his habit of watching, and he didn't think it was a problem. It never got in the way of his school work or his hobbies, and it was not as if it was limited to a single person.
The little fact that he looked a little longer at a certain person's frown, than he did at someone else's smile was just an accident, not something that happened every day. And when it did start to happen every day, he still didn't think it was a problem.
After all, he was only watching.
"So, Oshitari," Shishido said, sitting down next to him, on the bench he'd been sitting on for the past few minutes. "On a scale of one to ten, how'd you grade Atobe's but?"
"Nine," Oshitari mumbled, keeping his eyes on the court, not really thinking about the question or the answer. "It was a ten, but he's changed his training regimen."
Oshitari turned at the freakish tone to see a disturbingly wide grin on Shishido's face, and when the realization of what he'd just said struck home, he could only hope it would bring Shishido more amusement to know a humiliating secret about him, than it would to actually humiliate him.
It's scary, really, how much people can rationalize their own actions.
How it didn't seem so bad to stand just a little bit closer, because they had an umbrella, it was raining and you'd forgotten you had your own at the bottom of your school bag. You knew you had it even if you didn't look, because it was there every day, just in case, but you could pretend you didn't. And it would be strange, to step away now and say you'd forgotten you had your own. And what was the harm, really, sharing an umbrella with a friend, brushing your shoulder against theirs, to inhale a little more deeply than usual.
It still wasn't a problem, Oshitari thought. Because he really hadn't remembered the umbrella at first.
"Oshitari," Atobe spoke his name calmly, in an almost bored manner, but a little twitch in the corner of his mouth, and the narrowing of his eyes revealed his irritation. "It's not that I mind sharing an umbrella with you, but as it stopped raining five minutes ago, would you mind letting go of my hands so I can put it away?"
Watching made him notice all the other people that were watching. Particularly the people that were watching what he was watching.
And it wasn't a pleasant feeling, to notice you weren't the only one who noticed the little changes on the face, the tiniest twitches that would – when you knew what you were watching – tell you the exact mood or a thought behind the action.
"I heard Sanada's got crabs," Oshitari said, leaning against the railing.
"What?" Atobe almost spluttered, and tore his eyes away from the match between Sanada and Tezuka.
"Just a rumour I heard," Oshitari shrugged. "Thought you might be interested."
"Why the hell would I be interested in something like that?" Atobe asked, eyes wider than they had ever been, mouth twisted in a strange expression, that was almost like a mockery of his usual smirk.
Although not among Oshitari's favourite expressions on Atobe, it still made it to the top ten.