Disclaimer: Prince of Tennis is the property of Konomi Takeshi-sensei.

I'm Strong for You

Fuji entered the bedroom quietly. The room was dark. No sign betrayed the presence of another occupant in the space.

Except…

"Mitsu," the young photojournalist switched on the light. A brown-haired bespectacled man was sitting on the bed, quiet like a statue, back leaning against the cold wall.

Fuji closed the door just as noiselessly and locked it, even though it would be of no use. There was no one else in the apartment besides the two of them.

"Shusuke," a deep, slightly hoarse voice replied. Those hazel eyes were still fixed at some point on the tiled floor.

"Why?" was the only word escaping the honey-haired journalist's mouth.

Fuji waited patiently for an explanation, but the other man did not seem to take the bait. Tezuka opted on silence.

Fuji sighed.

"Do you know how much I was worried back then? I rushed to the stadium, thinking that you would still be engaged in an hour-long match with Sanada, only to find that Sanada had beaten you long ago, your arm looked like hurt as hell and yet you refused to forfeit."

Tezuka remained impassive.

"He didn't think he won, you know," Fuji said again. "He had been waiting for so long to beat you in your top condition. Yet you failed him again. He gained a win he didn't think he deserved."

"He deserved it," Tezuka finally spoke up. "Sanada deserved the win."

"That's what you think," Fuji countered. "He is now waiting again for the chance to play you. In your top condition," he added, just for emphasis.

As if the other hadn't understood. They were pondering the same thing.

Maybe Sanada has to wait forever…

"Why?" Fuji asked for the second time, inching towards the still man and sitting on the edge of the bed. Tezuka resisted the urge to flinch at the hurt in that voice. "Do you think I deserve it?"

The bespectacled tennis-player finally looked up to meet the other's gaze. He looked confused, though for untrained eyes, he looked just indifferent.

"The worry you have caused me," cerulean eyes pinned their prey on place. "Do you think I deserve it, the way Sanada deserved his win? The things we got because of your… your…" for the first time in a very long time, Tezuka saw Fuji struggling with words. "…your foolish sacrifice?"

Defiant glints that weren't there before flashed within Tezuka's determined brown orbs. They were of pride, maybe, of determination or even of anger.

But they died before Fuji even built a counter of defense. Not that he needed to. He knew he had every right to be angry, although when or why had he gained those rights he didn't know.

"I'm sorry," Tezuka muttered almost inaudibly, looking down like a scolded child.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Fuji asked, voice much softer this time. "That your injury was acting up again?"

Tezuka mumbled something that sounded like 'don't wanna you to fret' and 'I want to play Sanada too'.

Fuji sighed again. He also looked downcast. "You think I would stop you from playing?" he whispered, voice cracking a little. "All this time I thought I could be your pillar of support. It seems that instead I've turned out to be a burden, ne?"

The chocolate-eyed man looked up at the lithe honey-haired lad who still had his head bowed.

"Shusuke," Tezuka moved closer to his roommate and lover. "That's not what I mean."

"Mitsu," Fuji's blue eyes were somber as he locked his gaze onto Tezuka's. A small hand raised to place a light touch on Tezuka's left shoulder. "Does it still hurt?"

Tezuka looked at the hand on his shoulder. "Aa, a bit. The doctor has had it checked. The swelling will most likely subside by tomorrow morning. But to use it to play again…" Tezuka heaved a deep sigh. "It still needs further examination."

Fuji nodded solemnly, extracting his hand. He locked eyes again with Tezuka and surprised the ex-captain with unshed tears glistening in those blue orbs.

Tezuka's hand stretched out to touch the other's shoulder. Fuji shrugged the hand off with a slight move of shoulder, looking away in dismay. The hand moved to pat silky honey hair, but Fuji raised a hand to remove it from his head.

"Shuu…" Tezuka tried again, this time encircling the slender body in his arms. Fuji stayed still for a while before disentangling himself from the warm embrace.

Tezuka stared helplessly at the smaller man, who was trying to keep his tears in check. The bespectacled man was more than startled when Fuji's trembling lips slowly curved up, creating a shaky but sincere smile.

"Maybe I'll never be as strong as you," Fuji started. "The world leans on you and yet you never complain. At times I lean on you, be a burden to you and yet you never complain…" he murmured in a small voice, making Tezuka want to deny and embrace him. The brown-eyed man hadn't move so much as a single muscle when Fuji spoke again, tone low but stronger than ever. "But when it becomes too much… when the world leans on you and it becomes too much… I want you to know… that you have someone to lean on, too."

Tezuka stared speechless at his boyfriend, who was awkwardly spreading his arms in a welcoming manner. "For now, let me be the one to touch your shoulder and support you. Let me be the one to stroke your hair and comfort you. Let me be the one to hold you in my arms and protect you. Like you always do to the world. Like you always do to me."

A soft smile slowly appeared on the usually stern face. Burying his face into Fuji's shoulder and wrapping his arms around the slim waist, Tezuka let the smaller man stroke his hair and comfort him.

"I'm strong for everyone I love and you are the one I love most. I'll be strong for you whenever you need me," Fuji said into Tezuka's golden-brown hair, smiling encouragingly.

"My strong Shuusuke…" Tezuka murmured against Fuji's shirt, melting deeper into the soothing arms. "I need you… through and through… forever."

END

A/N: I'm on my way to fight writer's block. I am attacked by a severe case of writer's block. Please save me! A review will be much of a help.

Thank you for reading! ;)