Title: Time
Rating: PG-13 (BL)
Author: scube
E-mail: frivolity @ forbidden-lover . net
Pairings: TezuFuji, AtoFuji(!), ...AtoTezu?
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: I hope nobody is going to shoot me for writing this couple... ^^; yoroshiku ne.
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What did it feel like to drown?
Fuji knew very well.
He knew exactly how it felt to drown... in someone else's body. There was that inevitable sense of unfulfilment every time and the craving that kept digging its claws at him relentlessly. Digging and digging, until scratches turned to abrasions, and abrasions, to gashes. But the physical pain that burnt was nothing compared to the anguish he felt.
He knew too well, that all too familiar feelings of arousal and escalation of emotions that preceded. Yet the moment he let his body rule his mind, he plunged... further than ever before. With every new peak he ascended to, he only felt himself plummet to a yet deeper low. And each time it happened, he was repeatedly bitterly amused at how he never knew the depths of hell could be so very vastly infinite.
He knew he was beyond redemption, yet there was nothing he could do to cling on to these fleeting moments of heaven and hell.
After all, he had let himself fall like this.
All the while, at the back of his mind, he saw nothing other than the same silhouette that continually haunted his already weary mind.
Tezuka Kunimitsu.
He was Fuji's only source of fulfillment yet Fuji had never known what fulfillment felt like.
Fuji wondered how long he was going to go on like this.
It was five years after Tezuka left Japan forever.
-----
That afternoon, Tezuka had stayed back after tennis practice with Fuji, and looked him meaningfully in the eye.
"Fuji, I have to go back there," he whispered, with a lilt of regret.
Fuji said nothing because there was nothing that needed to be said. It wasn't a question that called for an answer because Fuji knew that Tezuka would understand. Yet, the silence they exchanged now was no longer comforting and reassuring like it used to be.
It was deafening.
Fuji couldn't bring himself to smile like he usually did. The situation seemed to have become quite a serious one, if it meant that Fuji was losing Tezuka to his shoulder for the second time now. And truthfully, even though Fuji was not totally surprised at such an outcome, he didn't really know if he could cope with being alone again after having had Tezuka by his side for so long.
Things were starting to change.
Fuji's piercing blue eyes briefly met Tezuka's, in an almost desperate attempt to decipher the intangible within. Tezuka's eyes were clear yet untelling, imploring yet distant.
No more words.
Until Tezuka grabbed Fuji's slender wrist so abruptly that even Fuji felt slightly taken aback.
"... Wait for me."
Seeing Fuji's tensed quivering lips made Tezuka loosen his grip, as if on cue. But when it happened, Fuji instantaneously felt an overwhelming sense of loss.
It was too late, perhaps.
He was sure if he had asked Yumiko-neesan what this wretched ill feeling of foreboding meant, he would only feel worse.
It didn't take him too long to realise. Tezuka just never came back.
-----
"Since Tezuka's gone for good, say you'll be by my side."
To put things simply, Atobe Keigo was a flirt. He had had so many flings and relationships that he couldn't even remember how many were with members of the opposite gender, and how many were simply... not.
Atobe had always displayed a keen interest in Fuji. Fuji, on the other hand, preferred to live life for the experience rather than the rules. He never really minded what gender his partners were, as long as the feeling was right. Fuji never openly rejected Atobe's advances, yet he had never shown any signs of acceptance either. He liked to just play along.
"No," Fuji's trademark smile floated on his face as he went straight to the point this time. "You're just not serious about me."
That straightforward statement seemed to have stirred something within Atobe yet nothing on his face was changed, except for those condescending eyes. Fuji wasn't sure if he was imagining things but Atobe's eyes seemed to have softened for a very brief moment.
Atobe said nothing but continued to look sharply at Fuji.
"Want to try me?" Atobe said these words in his usual drawl, seemingly relishing every word that came upon his tongue.
"Hmm."
"I know. It's been years but you just can't forget Tezuka."
"..."
"You still bear a grudge towards me, don't you? You think I took Tezuka away."
"Well, admittedly, that was... unforgivable. But then again, it is not my business and I don't usually bear grudges."
Atobe remained silent but his expression readily told Fuji that he was totally unconvinced.
"You don't belie-- ..." And he was abruptly silenced by Atobe's kiss.
Fuji's gut reaction was to struggle but the more he did so, the more he felt trapped in Atobe's suffocating embrace. Fuji wasn't sure if he liked being controlled like this, since control was something he usually prided himself on. Yet now, he felt all the more vulnerable, as if Atobe alone had insight upon what exactly went through Fuji's mind.
"... Uh... Ato--..."
Interrupted by the foreign invasion of Atobe's tongue.
Too overpowering. Too late.
Atobe's charms were usually not to be resisted and Fuji knew this was exactly what Atobe wanted to prove to him.
Atobe's kiss was almost hypnotic. It tasted urgent and experimental at first, but as Atobe continued exploring Fuji's mouth, and even Fuji was hesitant to admit this, he knew that any more resistance was just merely futile. He closed his eyes and felt himself being drawn deeper and deeper in. He was beginning to drift away despite himself.
To be very honest, a part of him was already involuntarily convinced now.
The other part in him saw the familiar shadow of a bespectacled young man, and he found his mind absently wondering what Tezuka tasted like.
It was a most difficult position, to be caught in the gap between attraction and rivalry. Here was the man who had almost destroyed Tezuka during the prefectural match five years ago; yet, here was the same man who was now offering to fulfill all the promises that Fuji ever asked for.
Bring Tezuka back... to me...
At this juncture, he instinctively pushed against Atobe's chest but Atobe didn't seem to have noticed anything.
Until.
"A..Atobe-senpai? ..."
Suddenly, the thin thread of tension snapped.
A quick glance towards the doorway showed that they probably should have been more cautious than to let random people walk in on them just like that. But then again, that wasn't quite the point.
Fuji had let Atobe kiss him.
Decidedly disturbed at his somewhat involuntary indulgence, he quickly picked up his belongings and left the room whilst Atobe was still occupied speaking to the intruder. Atobe took a brief moment to glance sharply at the slightly flustered Fuji, before he smirked and continued the conversation. He knew there was no need to run after Fuji.
Atobe was momentarily struck by an overwhelming revelation of how it must have felt for Tezuka when he performed his Tezuka Zone.
-----
To Atobe's mild surprise, there was indeed a time when flirts decide to call it a day.
Somehow, two years have passed since Atobe and Fuji came to share a life together, despite Fuji's initial objections and rejections.
To Fuji, it was never love more than it was a physical need to fill up the gaping hole in his life. Yet to Atobe, it intrigued him to know that he still hadn't found a way to sustain that tennis prodigy's interest in himself. He was not used to this at all, for people usually came and went at his bidding. In Atobe's world, he felt like King. In Fuji's world, however, Atobe gradually came to understand how his subjects must have felt in his own world. Yet, he couldn't let go. Whether it was a question of pride or a matter of compulsion, the idea of "giving up" never quite crossed Atobe's mind.
All the while, Atobe knew even if he refused to admit, that whilst he had won Tezuka during that one match between Hyotei and Seigaku seven years ago, he was losing everything now, including the big stakes that he had laid. Yet, it just seemed too late to withdraw. Love was much more complicated than a game of tennis. He couldn't just call "Time" and re-evaluate his strategies in a game of love. There was no room for regret. He just had to go on.
Atobe Keigo. He had learned to accept that not everything went his way.
"Atobe. You know it, don't you."
Atobe remained wearily silent. He didn't feel like answering.
"He's still on my mind."
Atobe watched the faraway look settle upon Fuji's clear blue eyes. Suddenly, he felt a little envious. Envious when he realised how Fuji's feelings for Tezuka could be so self-sustaining even without any reinforcements from Tezuka himself. Envious when he realised how Tezuka didn't even need to do anything to keep Fuji by his side.
Atobe Keigo. He was no more than an outsider trying to find the entrance to that rumoured Secret Garden.
He leaned forward and kissed Fuji, deep and rough, as if meaning to vent all his frustrations with this one passionate kiss. As if meaning to, as a last resort, lure Fuji back into his territory and to keep him there forever.
Fuji never retaliated; in fact, he never did anymore but merely took it slow and easy as he indulged in the eternity of that moment.
But this time, when they finally had to part for air, Fuji looked intently at Atobe.
"Atobe," Fuji whispered breathily.
Always the impersonal "Atobe", and never "Keigo".
"Atobe, it's time to let go."
Atobe still refused to say a word. He never really knew whether he was supposed to hate Tezuka or not. For whilst he did feel some sort of bitter resentment towards the former Seigaku captain, Atobe was always filled with admiration and deep respect for him. Their sheer power and control over people and everything else made them both different sides of the very same coin. Yet, Atobe had come to realise that Tezuka was also exactly everything Atobe just never was.
"Atobe, I've finally thought it through. I'm going to free myself from those three words that have led to this mental imprisonment."
Atobe, Atobe, Atobe. He half-heartedly wished that Fuji would stop calling his name so gently.
"Seven years, Atobe. I'm not going to drown like this anymore."
Atobe lovingly ran long, calloused fingers through Fuji's soft brown hair.
"Atobe, you know, I bought a ticket. I'm going to find him."
Atobe looked wistfully into Fuji's determined eyes. It was surely too late, but if only he could still stop himself now. And suddenly, he loosened his hold on Fuji. The comprehension that dawned upon him instantaneously was crystal.
Because. Neither could Fuji.