White Snow
"I've tried. We've tried. But, what I realize now is that what we had was nothing more than pity. Pity for ourselves. Pity for each other. We were both torn. And, we sought each other to heal. We sought each other because we both knew how the other felt and we thought that perhaps, the pain would disappear. We were tangled then, in a web of pan, lust and desire. What we did, what happened, we have nothing more. No ground."
"That's not true!"
"Is it, Tezuka? Think about it, we were both in pain. We were both torn. There you were and there I was. We were just looking for someone to hold onto, so the pain would go away forever."
"That's no–"
"No. Please. Don't say anything anymore. I know what there is. This. Us. It will never work out. Because we had nothing in common except the pain we felt. We didn't want to feel alone. So we looked for someone to cling to, so we wouldn't be alone in the darkness."
With that, the other boy turned away and walked out of his life.
Perhaps, it was the sun or perhaps it was the strong gust of wind. Or perhaps it had been those words that were said. But he couldn't help the pain. He couldn't help the sting, the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes.
But, he held back, if only to keep his dignity. If only to hide. From those eyes.
'But, that's not true. Not true at all.' He thought. 'I do love you. If only, if only you would give me a chance.' He wanted to say it aloud. To profess what he really felt. But he saw it. Those eyes, those eyes were dull. They held no love. They held him back. They trapped him. Soulless.
A few days later, Tezuka saw them together. Fuji, and another. And then, he could see the soul in Fuji's eyes as he looked at Atobe. He could see the love. He could see the happiness.
And it stung. He realized, that the shorter boy had never looked at him that way.
And Tezuka realized then, that even before, even when they started, the shorter boy had never had the same feeling as he did. It had always been one sided. It had always been about loneliness, despair and pain. And he, Tezuka, never minded. Because Tezuka felt that perhaps, one day, Fuji will come to love him, as much as he did him. And, until then, he would just wait.
Maybe he had been too caught up in his own feelings and trying to show Fuji how much he loved the boy too much to realize the other boy had drifted away from him. He already knew. But he kept hoping, that maybe, just maybe. There's a little chance. For them. For their love.
Cold. Statue. Unmoving. Emotionless. He supposed that's what he exemplified the most. To others. But inside, he felt torn apart, weak and trembling. It was as if he was made of glass and he fell to the floor, shattered into tiny, million pieces. He felt as if the sun could melt him away and a slight gust of wind could knock him off his feet.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise, really. He took what he could have of the other boy. And it should come as no surprise when this happened, when it would stop. But, he kept moving.
And so, he wasn't supposed to feel this way. He was supposed to be strong – an unmoving statue against the army of death. He knew this would happen. He could take it, just like he took all those years, hoping. But, he didn't, he couldn't. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much effort he put, he couldn't bring himself to believe that. He couldn't bring himself to make the pain disappear.
It was not surprising. Yes, that much is true. But it still hurt.
Tezuka looked, then, at the stars. It was dark. The sky was dark, the park was dark. There were still people, but not as much as this afternoon. He clutched the cup of coffee in his hands, and he leaned back, once more at the bench.
There was so much, so much in his mind now. There were exams, there were games, and there were things, much more important things he had to think of. But, on a day like today, he couldn't help but think of the past. He couldn't help but recount the memories of the yesteryears.
It had been an abrupt decision of his. Everyone was surprised. However, he had thought it over for a long time, he said to everyone. "It was a difficult decision to make, but in the end, it was for the best." He added when he saw them about to protest.
His family could do no more but support his decision. What could they do, after all? Their son was adamant, and stubborn. It would change nothing if they try to convince him otherwise. His friends, they could object, but they cannot sway their decision. There was only one who could have. Fuji. But, it was over with. No matter how much he wished it, the other boy would only say "Go for it." or "Good luck, we'll miss you." And give that everlasting smile he always has.
No other words were spoken, then. And he left. It was for the best. He had to start over. And, no matter where he went, he could always see the other boy lingering. Fuji was always there, everywhere. No matter where he went, Japan would remind him of Fuji. He had to go far, far away, to a place where there was no mention of the other boy. Where, he would not be reminded of Fuji.
It was here, then, that he started anew. London. It was good. His school was on an island, not far from mainland. It was isolated, but not so much. He could still go back and forth from here to mainland. It was a quiet place, with only a few residents, most of which are students. The facilities were good. There was no hustle and bustle of the city. But it was no countryside. It was perfect for him, just what he needed.
He had settled in just fine. He was doing quite well in his studies and is in fact he is one of the top students of his class. He's in his tip top condition in the courts. He's an unbeatable force out in the courts. Students and teachers admire him. He is well respected by his peers, chased after by the women.
All's well. But, he still had not forgotten. Two years has passed. The pain still lingered. Only, it stings now. Just a sting. It still hurt, but slowly, the pain has dissipated little by little, ever since he came here. Perhaps one day, it will disappear all together, and he'll never feel the pain anymore when he thinks of the past. Or perhaps, it will never fade. But he hopes.
Tezuka stood up and brushed imaginary dust from his clothes. He tucked in his gloved hands into his coat pocket and walked off.
It was cold in December, here in London. It was nearing Christmas and the shops are filled with people buying Christmas gifts. He wasn't going home. As much as he wanted to be with his family and old friends, he just wanted to stay here. It doesn't hurt much anymore. He could handle it. But for now, he wanted to spend Christmas here.
He stepped into the dormitory building and gave a nod to the guard and the receptionist. He waited for the elevator and stepped in as soon as the doors opened. As soon as he was in, he started humming a little Christmas tune in his head. When the elevator stopped, he got out and started towards the door at the end of the hallway. He was about to take his keys out when the door opened, and revealed a young man with silver hair.
"Okaeri. Tezuka. Come on, and take off those clothes and change before you catch a cold. I'll be in the balcony. I made hot chocolate and apple pie and we can watch the snow fall down."
"Thank You. Saeki."
He smiled a little as he put on a white shirt and loose black pants, and grinned at the thought that this Christmas will be a white one.