title: Over Years and Under Bridges
fandom: Prince of Tennis
characters/pairings: Yukimura/Sanada
rating: G
warnings: sap
summary: Time heals most wounds.
notes: for kneazles's time request on fic on demand. also, somewhat a sequel to this evil fic, though it isn't necessary to read it first. also, i know the title is weird and stupid, but I couldn't convince the fic that it wasn't the right title. =/

It had been one year, five months, and three days since they had last seen each other. They had been cordial to each other at Renji's graduation party. There was, between them, a deep sense of what was lost, and it never went away. They had shared a drink on Renji's parent's patio, and gazed at the stars. They'd had little to say to each other, and their time alone ended fairly quickly as the rest of their friends joined them, but they'd had that moment.

Yukimura hadn't gone looking for him, though he had gotten his new phone number from Renji eleven months and six days ago. He had it on a business card for a sushi delivery place, written in red ink. He kept the card in his wallet at all times, the edges now frayed from occasionally being taken out and flipped over and over in between his fingers.

He didn't even know he was working in this part of town. He couldn't recall what Sanada was planning on doing after college, though they'd had an awkward conversation about it four months before graduation. At that time, the pain had dulled, the betrayal was better understood, and they were able to look each other in the eye and speak frankly. Yukimura could remember what Sanada was wearing, and the tone of his voice, softened, as it always had been, so long ago, for Yukimura. Sanada had a tone of voice that was just for him.

It had been nine years, two months, and six days since Sanada had stayed the night at Yukimura's house, but left after a few hours. Nearly a decade, and yet, Yukimura can still remember what it felt like to have Sanada touching him and moving inside of him. There were so many things that he'd forgotten about that happened in that time, but he remembered the way Sanada unbuttoned his shirt perfectly.

He could feel Sanada's hands on him as he watched Sanada with the young man, across the park. Sanada wore a suit, and no hat, which made him look like he was middle-aged. The young man was in a dress shirt and a tie, but no suit coat, and his hair was shaggy, dyed blonde. Yukimura was too far away to see their facial expressions or hear them, but the young man kept grabbing Sanada's arm. He should have stayed where he was, but he had started to think of Sanada as his on the fourth day of tennis practice, so many years ago, and he didn't like to see anyone else touching him.

He walked closer, slowly, staying in the shadows of the trees. He was still too far away when the young man stood up and slapped Sanada across the face, and yelled, "Asshole!" He ran away, right past Yukimura, and he had tears streaming down his face. Yukimura stopped to watch him go, shocked.

Sanada sighed, and stood up, walking slowly to Yukimura. Yukimura could feel the distance between them getting smaller, his heartbeat measuring the pace of Sanada's footfalls.

"Yukimura," and it was gratifying to hear that there was a still a tone that Sanada used just for him.

"That didn't go very well," Yukimura sympathized, smiling brightly. There was once a time, eons ago, that Sanada had thought Yukimura's smile was the reason he existed.

Sanada blushed, fumbling for words in an uncharacteristic fashion. "It was a mistake to go out with him. He's my boss' son. I'm sure to be in trouble now. He got... so attached... so quickly. He admires my sword. But there was no way I could have a relationship with someone so spoiled."

"Your sword? Did he get many opportunities to see your sword, then?" Yukimura teased, straightening Sanada's collar unnecessarily as an excuse to touch him.

"Seiichi," Sanada blushed, speaking under his breath.

Yukimura was swept up in a flood of desire that stopped time between heavy heartbeats. He wanted to kiss Sanada or drag him off to some quiet corner to rip off his gentlemanly clothes or burst into tears and throw a tantrum over just why Sanada hasn't been taking care of him for so long. "Genichirou. It was supposed to be us, you know." He looked at Sanada significantly, reproachfully.

Sanada bent his head, as he always did when he was upset. "Is that past tense? I... I still can't bear to think that it really is..."

"It doesn't have to be," Yukimura replied quickly, and he smiled as Sanada raised his head. "There should be... we're adults now, and..."

Sanada reached out, and put a hand under Yukimura's elbow. "I wasn't ready then. I was hasty, and I acted out of fear. Obviously, things have changed."

Yukimura stepped closer to Sanada, close enough to smell the clean, masculine scent of Sanada's aftershave. "We can't step across time, and undo things that are already done. We've grown up with this between us. But... there is such a thing as second chances, isn't there?"

Sanada tipped Yukimura's chin up gently, and kissed him, so lightly, so purely, on the lips, even though Yukimura licked his lips right after, he had left no trace for Yukimura to taste. "I have to believe in second chances, or else nothing in life matters."

Yukimura put his hand in Sanada's, and smiled.

He could stop counting off the time that has past since he had last like he wasn't alone.