Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis belongs to Konomi.

Love, and his Affairs

Chapter 1:

Tezuka Kunimitsu could never remember how it first started, who first initiated it, or even where it was that they had met. Yukimura Seiichi, to him, had been convenient in an "oh-I'll-be-surprisingly-good-for-you" kind of way, and they had simply gotten together. In first year of university, Yukimura had moved in with him, and that was that. It was merely for convenience, Yukimura had said, now they didn't have to travel around Japan to have sex.

Tezuka had felt that he could live with the detachment, the nonchalance in their relationship. It had always been no strings attached on both their parts, and the Seigaku captain had never been the type to be open with his emotions. Or at least, that was what Fuji had yelled at him before slamming the door in his face. To say that it didn't bother him back then was an understatement. He had always been aware of Fuji's feelings for him, but reciprocation had not been in the club rules.

Now, at 28, and as the new promising upstart in one of Tokyo's largest law firms, Tezuka was afraid that he was falling in love. Worse still, if 4 years was long enough to know a person, Yukimura had never felt the slightest inclination to fall in love with him. Tezuka wasn't a fool, or at least, would never deem himself as one, and he knew that Yukimura's breathtaking eyes, clouded with lust, were not seeing him, and the name dying on those soft lips might as well be another's.

Well, whatever. Such thoughts were for people who clinged onto feelings or emotions. Not for lawyers, oh no. They were an unfeeling bunch, and Tezuka liked it that way. With such a successful end to his train of thoughts, he stood up from behind his desk (his long line of successive accomplishments in his field have given him benefits, such as an office), and prepared to go back to the posh house they shared in the ritzier area of Tokyo. Throwing a fleeting glance at the clock, Tezuka entered the elevator while noting that it was already 9 o'clock. Not that it matter, their non-commitment to each other meant that relationship came second to career. With luck, Yukimura would still be at the hospital.

He strolled through the elegant lobby and out the glass doors, barely pausing to nod at the women at the information counter. Their excessive giggling got on his nerves and damn it, woman! Can't they tell he's uninterested! Suppressing the innate urge to run, he quickened his pace a little and made it to his car in two minutes. The ride back was uneventful, and Tezuka checked his handphone only once for messages. His inbox was empty as always, he wasn't the kind to keep any read messages, unless they were important. This was a habit he picked up, when Eiji, at a reunion party, had gone through his inbox without permission, and read some of the naughtier messages Yukimura had sent him when the man was bored at work.

While he had been relatively indifferent to Fuji's feelings for him, Tezuka had felt a tiny bit guilty that Fuji had to find out about his relationship with Yukimura so abruptly, but that was Eiji's fault, Oishi should have checked his lover's mouth. Tezuka had more things to worry about, such as how bad was the stain the Chateau Cache-Phloe that Fuji poured on him was on his suit.

Tezuka pulled up in the driveway and sighed. His luck was running dry; the kitchen lights were on, the doctor was in the house. His keys were heavy in his hands, and he did not feel like going back to the same wintry indifference.

"Kunimitsu," The voice was soft, steadily carrying unbreakable confidence, and Tezuka couldn't help but look at the beautiful man who had belonged to him for so long now. The corridor was dark, and as clichéd situations led to clichéd observations, Yukimura's silhouette against the warm light of the kitchen was bathed in the glow and Tezuka couldn't help but note his perfectly chiselled features, the slender body that he knew so well, the slight parting of lips that begged to be touched…

"Are you just going to stand there?" Yukimura's voice was calm and liquid, and Tezuka felt his throat stick together, felt the sudden heat in the room. This shouldn't be happening, Tezuka thought. Surely he had more discipline against his own bloody materialistic needs. "Kunimitsu?"

He wasn't going to dance on Yukimura's strings anymore.

He didn't want to replace Sanada. He didn't even fucking wear a cap.

"I love you."

The instant change in Yukimura's demeanour was painfully evident. There was no more faux concern, no more soft smiles on a face radiant with what Tezuka was supposed to believe was love. And he did make that mistake. Now, the smile remained, but it reminded Tezuka of the cold winter's day when he left Fuji in the club room. Yukimura's eyes were glassy, and Tezuka had never known of a material harder than adamantine…

And with all that, he couldn't help but notice how much lovelier Yukimura became, all marble and ivory; cold, perfect and unfeeling. Tezuka's eyes were fixated on his lover's, both seemingly blasé, but Yukimura's were narrowed and intent, ignited with a brilliant flame that burned into and yet chilled Tezuka's soul. Forbidden grounds, Kunimitsu, the eyes suggested coldly. Then, Yukimura's smile became more mocking, less angry, almost as if he had suspected Tezuka's inner dilemma all along.

"I don't."

A long five minutes later, Yukimura stood at his main door, his now, and watched in quiet serenity as Tezuka's car pulled away. It was such a shame, really. Tezuka was so beautiful, and yet, he couldn't quite fill in the gaps in Yukimura's life.

"Shame on you, Kunimitsu," he murmured gently as he proceeded back into the house, "for all your claims of love, you didn't even kiss me goodbye."

AN: Heyhey! Another new story. Sorrrry! Really couldn't help it. Promise I'll work on the others too. Constructive criticism is most welcome! Any pairings you might like are also welcome! Just sort of angle it around Tezuka and Yukimura and I won't go off tangent that badly, I suppose.  Thanks for reading!