Work Text:
Time zones. The killer of relationships, romantic or otherwise. At least, when the difference amounts to six hours or more.
Even his parents were starting to get affected. It showed in his mother's slumping shoulders, or his father's set ones, as though they had decided to exact punishment on him for evading their calls for so long. Not that they would and not that he had, but their painfully neutral voices and rigid faces made it clear they felt like they were talking to a stranger whenever they got ahold of him on Skype.
It was strange to think that the distance of 8,000 kilometers affected them more than his almost constant absence from home when he had still been living with them. The increase in conversations compared to back then didn't matter.
"I don't need to sit here with my laptop running if you're going to fall asleep. There's something more interesting going on, after all," a voice said from his speakers.
Shiraishi pried his eyes open. He had not noticed they had fallen shut. Again. He rubbed them and looked at his television set: Novak and Murray stood at their respective benches, wiping the sweat off their temples and swallowing their drinks. He could almost feel the electricity in their limbs. This was what he had been waiting for. How he wished he could be there himself.
It almost made him forget that the "8:30 PM" in the top right corner did not correspond to the time his alarm clock sported. He hugged his blanket tighter around himself.
"Cut me some slack, Seiichi. I've been working all day," he mumbled.
"There won't be any slack to cut soon, if you keep asking me. Man up already, or I'll send Genichirou over to teach you some perserverance."
Sometimes Shiraishi wondered whether Seiichi had always been this mean. Then again, he >could be pretty cold toward him. It was part of the fun. Also endearing, although he probably shouldn't say so (but often did anyway, no matter how it annoyed Seiichi).
Shiraishi liked to coax him out of the vexation he sometimes wore like a cocoon.
"If you have enough money to send over your lackey, I'd appreciate it if you would rather send over yourself. Your methods are more effective anyway." Shiraishi dared a wag of eyebrows to which Seiichi only responded by raising his own and pursing his lips. Then he shook his head and fixed his eyes to something to the left of the laptop: Murray's serve.
Shiraishi smiled. No matter the miles, Seiichi behaved the same toward him. Their busy schedules had familiarized them to being apart; maybe that's why time zones didn't come between them.
Long-distance video chatting might be a far cry from watching the Australian Open finals together and the grainy quality might hamper communication, but it was an attempt at togetherness all the same. It sufficed to heal the cracks in his sunny countenance the Canadian winter had frozen over.