Title: Ended Up
Disclaimer: Konomi's gay boys, not mine.
Rating: PG just in case this might scar some kiddies
Warnings: BL, speculation
Author's Note: They'd be so cute together. ♥
Sometimes, Ryoma wonders how he ended up here.
He wasn't intending on any of this, really. He wasn't intending on moving to England, of all places, though he hadn't really had any intentions on the subject, he supposes. He wasn't intending on becoming a professional when he had started, but he supposes it was middle school that changed that. He wasn't intending on becoming famous, or winning a Grand Slam title, or appearing in the newspapers and magazines and tabloids (even tabloids!), though he supposes those annoying reporters even since the seventh grade should have been somewhat of a hint. He wasn't intending on living in a ridiculous, sprawling mansion with fifteen bedrooms, and he wasn't planning on owning a private jet or a yacht or a helicopter or anything of the sort, because those sorts of things had never even crossed his mind, not to mentions his plans for his future, realistically speaking.
But yet, realistically speaking, here he is, laying in bed in his ridiculous, fifteen bedroom mansion in England, and tomorrow he will board his private jet and go off to America for the US Open, and, and while he's there, he will probably end up in various newspapers and magazines and tabloids and things, and it will be just another day in Ryoma's life. And it's annoying and troublesome, as being famous always is, and the travel is tiring and being away from family and friends is tough, but Ryoma is happy.
And, as much as he will never admit it out loud, as much as he hates to admit it even to himself, the reason he has ended up here, the reason he's happy can be attributed to none other than the obnoxious form currently laying beside him in bed, smirking at him like he rules the world.
Ryoma scowls. "What do you want, Monkey King?"
"You were thinking about me, weren't you?"
"I can tell. You were."
"I was not."
"You're so cute when you pout, too."
"Shut up and leave me alone."
"Yes, you really ought to go to sleep, dear. You do have a big day ahead of you--"
"Who's the one who's been keeping me up?"
"Certainly not Ore-sama!"
"Oh, don't start."
Ryoma rolls over as he rolls his eyes in his best show of I'm-ignoring-you-now, and, for a moment, the bedroom is silent again. But then there's the rustle of sheets as an arm snakes around his waist and lips press against the back of his neck in a gentle kiss.
"Sweet dreams, Ryoma."
It's times like these that Ryoma stops wondering how he got here, and simply knows that here is where he wants to stay.