Story: Keep the Faith
chapter title: keep the faith (wonderfully originally yours)
Rating: PG-13. Kissing doesn't kill unless you've got Britney germs.
Summary: Because if you think too much about it and you try to save it, it promptly dies. Or something similar. IMPERIAL.
Notes: Revamp'd. Song by KAT-TUN.

...O_O

"Tezuka, what if ore-sama told you I loved you?"

"I'd make you go to the hospital."

"No, if I really loved you."

"But you don't," Tezuka said matter-of-factly, plucking at the fluff dangling around his shoulders. In the middle of it, their second pillow had split and the feathers had drifted around while they had clung to each other, covering the surface of everything and giving it a glazed-look of a snowy day.

It was midsummer.

Atobe peeks out the window at the gathering sunlight. "We have to go, you know. The tournaments are in a few hours and I have to shower."

And suddenly Tezuka's got him gripped at the elbow, and he feels the other man leaning forward on his side and there's a gentle kiss on his shoulder, so tender that he wonders whether or not it had actually been Tezuka kissing his shoulder.

"Hn. I have to make a trip back to Germany."

They kiss fiercely, Tezuka's got him still locked at the elbow and he's starting to feel himself grow hot and the room's beginning to look cramped and hollow in comparison to the bed, sheets mussed-up and pillows still split.

"Why don't we ever stop?" He asks a question when they sputter in the middle of a pillow feather.

"Why don't we?"

Lazy days.

--

He nudges for the shower tap, feeling the cold droplets formulate in the nozzle at first and then the steady drum of it begins to ring against the shower doors, against the glass and across the tiles and across his own chest.

He wishes that there was someone to staunch the loneliness here. The mood is so stagnant, he could almost picture the cypress trees growing around him in the swamp, ever-silent and ever-watchful, sucking up the nutrients from under the ground until he's sunk out of sight and there's nothing there but complete stillness. The man falling in the swamp, and no one there to hear his last cry.

"Why isn't he here anymore?"

--

Of course he knows why.

He's standing in front of the why. He should've been able to see the who, complain to the what, see fault in the how, and even exact the when, but of course it's not there and it won't ever be there and he's feeling a little dreadful now for leaving the house first.

It's a very pretty stone. No, pretty won't do it justice. It's a beautiful, silvery rock. Smooth and semi-luminescent, it's planted about five inches into the earth behind a box of dirt with several words intricately carved into the background.

"What if I told you I loved you?"

That was what Fuji had asked him.

A/N: Efforts at trying to write PoT again. I fail. T.T

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