Beep beep beep beep...
Fuji watched the monitor, the only thing keeping his love alive. How could it be like this? It was only a couple hours ago that he'd sent Tezuka off to work, a gentle kiss and murmured words, his heart already aching for his companion. Tezuka had been smiling, though not visible, his body thrummed in excitement and his eyes danced with joy. But now he was gone, in place lay an unmoving body, still and silent with dull eyes. Fuji didn't want the body, he wanted Tezuka, his soul, the one that brought him life and joy, a unique person that was his to love, not the God above trying to steal him. No one was to take what was his, and especially Tezuka, who was the only one that understood him.
Everyone else had left him, apologizing but blaming him with their eyes. Ryoma was the first. They'd had their first date together, a slow walk into the park before sharing a kiss. Fuji had felt happiness, his trust finally extending itself outside his family. But betrayal took Ryoma, stealing his first love the moment Fuji was no longer a danger to him and his tennis.
Atobe had come after that, his flashiness drawing in the interest of the brokenhearted tensai. And once again he'd trusted, giving himself to the rich heir that took him but never kept him. Soon after their first night together Fuji found his boyfriend fucking a pretty girl in the school bathrooms, explaining to Fuji that he wasn't good enough. Later that night Atobe found his home ransacked and a farewell note. The pair never spoke to each other again.
Two days later, he disappeared. His blood splattered his room, the silent witness that told nothing. Evidence never came and no one searched, he was only one of many, the police had more interest in the scandal of a business opportunity than a stranger. Instead an random man had found him, his dirty rotting flesh in a field of flies and brought him to the hospital.
High school came and went, each going their different directions. Eiji and Oishi moved to Kyuushu, the glow in their eyes a disgust to Fuji. Kawamura decided not to enter high school, instead focusing on the family business and Tezuka moved to Germany, perhaps for tennis or to continue his schooling. Fuji could'nt did know since the two never formed communication after their separation.
It was that year Fuji discovered the wonders of drugs, they gave him the peace and oblivion he needed. Each night he'd take it, the pain of the injections a mere foreplay to the happiness he knew was underneath, he thought he could trust it. But what a fool he had been, they came and went, in the end he was still alone, the ecstasy only a sliver compared to the pain he held hidden. So he turned to manipulation, in hopes that the pain of others may bury his own, but even that brought nothing but kept him cold, aching and empty.
Was just a little relief too much? He found his answer when Sanada came to him six months into dating to end their relationship. Fuji was a curse, but to no one but himself. His will to live had long been lost and so he let go. Yet he couldn't die. Policemen found his body floating in a lake two hours after he disappeared. He'd been so close, if he had been more careful, and strategic, he'd be happy. But instead he lived.
The suicidal boy woke up to see Tezuka sleeping near his hospital bed, the soft breathing peaceful and alluring to him. But even as he listened, his eyes darkened and his heart grew black, he hated this world. He hated the oblivious people who didn't care, he hated the people that couldn't understand. Fuji despised them all, and Tezuka was one of them.
A maniac smile touched his lips, widening as he wrapped his broken hands around the other boys neck and squeezed. The reaction was immediate and Fuji bathed in the ecstasy of the panic and fear in the waking boys eyes whom struggled desperately to escaped, but Fuji only tightened his grip, moaning in delight. He practically taste the pain and it was delicious. Yes, the other boy must suffer, he must pay for the joy he had, the joy he stole from Fuji….
Flashback:
"Look at you, practically begging for my dick," the masked man laughed, leaning closer to Fuji's broken body, his eyes gleaming as it roamed the slender frame. "You want it don't you, you little whore. That slutty hole is just twitching. But don't worry, it'll be satisfied soon enough."
It just kept going. Every day he'd come, forcing himself onto the captive boy then leave. And each time he'd hear a voice outside, an angel, but his voice would never be heard, his pain would stay with him. That voice, that person, that soul, Fuji would never forget it. That traitor will be found, and that traitor would be killed. Tezuka could not be let alive.
Flashback end:
His revenge. He'd nearly given up. But it'd come back, right into his hands. The gods had given him another chance and he would not waste it. But as he crushed the choking boys neck, he saw a scar, a small one, nearly unnoticeable but a scar nonetheless. "Where'd you get that scar?" He leaned forward, his pain unnoticeable from the adrenaline coursing through as he waited for an answer.
Tezuka wheezed, "Atobe," and Fuji let go, puzzlement clouding his mind. Had Atobe tortured Tezuka too? Was he not the only one to be hurt by the childish diva? No, it can't be. He stared at the brunette on the floor who watched him back calmly, almost as though the incident had never happened. But I can still have him make up for it.
That day. Fuji felt tears slowly run down his cheeks, he'd raped Tezuka, forcing the one he loved to suffer a pain only he should've beared. And he never did apologize for it, he'd thought nothing of it, even as their relationship changed. Especially the pain he'd put Tezuka through, a way he'd thought would heal himself, to punish the one person who broke his soul. But it wasn't the pain that healed him, but the joy he felt when Tezuka stayed. Tezuka never left him, not when he'd beaten him till sunrise or when he'd whipped his back until the skin peeled off. Even when he ended the brunette's tennis career by destroying his arm, he wouldn't be broken and he always stayed. In the end, he was the one to give up, but he'd realized something by then. He was in love, and this love would kill him. So he left, leaving the large Japanese city to pursue a lonely future with only the clothes on his back, and a small photo he'd snuck of Tezuka.
Homeless and lost, Fuji spent the couple months wandering aimlessly, his days haunted by his hateful actions and nights running from the nightmares, and yet he couldn't die. His mind demanded him to kill himself, and he agreed, but his heart and soul would stop him, yearning for the one person who he would never deserved. Life continued, his hair grew and reaching his lower back covered in dirt and matted, and his once beautiful face grew gaunt while his body became a skeleton. He looked like a woman and he got treated like one. It became a repetition of the horror he'd suffered, but this time he knew he deserved it and made no effort to stop it.
Six months later, and fate looked down, seeing the pitiful man and it's heart cried. So it sent a messenger, an angel that would not leave behind the one person that deserved so much more than what it got. That day, Fuji woke up from his cardboard home to see the most beautiful man he'd thought he'd save. And although he'd tried again to run, this time Tezuka was here and he would not lose the beautiful devil that had escaped. So he grabbed on, pulling in the homeless man that had stolen his heart ten years before at their first meeting on the tennis court. The man with a broken mind but a beautiful soul that had suffered alone and given up on life so many times only to be cruelly pulled back, Fuji had given up on himself but Tezuka hadn't. I'll give you back your life he'd promised, even if I have to die for it.
But can he, tears flowed, each drop only to be followed by another and his heart broke as he gently combed back the tousled hair brushing his lovers face. He'd always reprimanded Tezuka for it, not liking the messiness and he wished he could take it all back. Every cruel word he'd said, the tantrums he threw and the pain he'd caused. But by now it was too late, he knew as the heartbeat slowed, the soft thumps gently rumbling to a stop.
Fate watched in horror as a string broke, the single red strand twisted and ugly, screaming in pain as it unraveled the weaving, slowly unwinding time as it desperately sought for the partner it had lost. She grabbed the broken string, gently bringing them together as she wept for the misery it held inside.
Outside the sun shone, illuminating the small flower field and washing the two gravestones with light. Gentle wind swept the trees, bringing the sweet floral scent to the lone man who stood silently. Atobe gently set the flowers down, giving a low bow in respect to the dead couple. They'd died together, the two within seconds of each other and Atobe knew it was his fault. He'd been angry, Tezuka having left him for a man he'd thought he'd destroyed a long time ago by kidnapping and abuse. Who knew they'd fall in love and find happiness. So he killed Tezuka, a rage that had been quelled when he'd realized the full extent of what he'd done and regretted, though never punished for. But he knew he'd given them peace, and that was the one reason Atobe would do it again if he had to. They deserved it.
Alone in the distance, two birds danced, their joyful radiance incomprehensible to any other. But they were happy, and to us spectators, thats all that mattered.