A/N: here it is! the pair story i promised. Again, i didn't write this story, my friend catherine did. I came up with the idea and edited it.
I'm not sure when the next update will be since i don't think the second chapter is even typed up yet, but the story is all planned out and we know were we want to go with it, so please be patient and don't forget to review! they will be passed on to the writer :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"talking"
thinking
enjoy ;)
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A slight breeze gently swept a few strands of light brunette hair away from the young mans face as he stared out from the school's roof. To his peers he appeared to be calm and quiet with an eternal smile plastered on his face almost a hundred percent of the time (outside of tennis of course). But anyone who ever succeeded in pulling the mask away, would find cerulean eyes reflecting a sense of melancholy with a slightly furrowed brow which appeared to be concentrating on the letter in front of him.
His hand stopped and his eyes quickly scanned the letter again checking for spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. Not like it mattered, it wasn't a school assignment or anything. No, he just imagined that a certain person would appreciate a well thought out letter, clear of any and all blemishes.
The corners of the young mans lips drew up in a little smile and his turquoise eyes seemed to be far and distant; as if disconnected from the rest of the world.
Every word written was carefully contemplated and composed in an almost artistic manner. Every syllable, word and sentence had the same secret and passionate desire hidden behind it. Not unlike the authors own face and personality; veiled from prying eyes.
He wrote this letter for one reason, like one would write a letter of anger and frustration towards an individual, but never actually sends it to said person. It's writing it only for the purpose of venting bottled up emotions. He was using this very method. Only he wasn't unleashing anger or hate, quite the contrary. This was a letter composed to a person he loved, but could never have.
This would never accept his love because it certainly wasn't accepted well by most of society. The deep care he harbored towards this particular person was of the forbidden type; look all you want, but touch and be prepared to accept any and all consequences that follow.
Oh and how much he wanted to touch. Not just in an assumed sexual manner, but in ways that normal couples touched in order to express their feelings. Hand holding, arm around the waist, hugging, kiss on check, kiss on the…
The light brunette haired man let out a small, dreamy sigh; the only hint to the outside world of his genuine emotions. That would never happen. He considered himself lucky just to get handshake after a practice match or a hand on his shoulder as a small congratulatory gesture for winning a match against an opposing team.
He sometimes would purposefully brush against that special individual in the crowded halls, or let their fingers touch when passing him a pen whenever he felt his self control waver. Each and every little bit of contact resulted in an electric shock sensation shot through his entire body.
He let out a small chuckle. This was the second time in a matter of minutes he let a hint of his mood escape. This was pathetic. All he had were unrealistic daydreams, which rated from PG-13, where his crush confessing his love then kissing the tensai passionately; to NC-17, which was hot shower sex after practice, no confession, just unspoken raw emotions.
He wandered if this particular individual ever had daydreams about the person he loved. Probably…Not. That person would look down on such behavior. It's a distraction to tennis, the only love in life.
The tensai laughed. Damn-it, again, the mask was crumbling. Tennis was his crushes first and only love. This stoic person put all his time and energy into practice. Despite being ranked number one in Japan and possessing God like abilities, this stoic individual always believed there was much room for improvement.
As a certain cocky freshman would say, "Mada Mada Dane."
Maybe the prodigy's love for this person was due to their obsessive love for the game.
The stoic individual was determined and driven, never letting anything, not even an injured left arm, sway him from his goal. Going to any lengths to set an example for his team and help them improve to make it to Nationals, and ensure their underclassmen are ready to lead the team once the third years graduate. Despite the stoic façade, this person cared deeply for his friends and team.
The tensai was opposite in some ways. He played for the thrill of going up against a new and challenging opponent. He never had to work hard he was simply blessed with athletic abilities suited for tennis. He also lacked the incentive to improve and win. The cerulean eyed individual was only able to draw out his opponent's potential, and never had to get serious. He often wondered if this was his only talent. Maybe he unconsciously hoped this stoic and rather oblivious tennis player could fill in the blanks; make up for what he lacked, but longed to have.
Speaking of longing to have…
"Fuji."
A young man with hazelnut hair and brown eyes opened the door to the roof. The sunlight hit his hair revealing gold highlights which seemed to give off a bright, god-like aura which nearly caused Fuji's knees to give out.
Tezuka began to walk towards Fuji with a masculine elegance no male could ever hope to achieve, even in adult hood. Of course all these superficial qualities were acknowledged by Seigaku's female population, which was the reason the captain kept a garbage bin by his locker in order to dispose of all love letters that spilled out of his locker every morning. Fuji and the rest of the Regular's had the same problem, but it wasn't nearly as bad.
One unfortunate morning, Tezuka arrived to find his locker graffitied with hearts and streamers, all various colors of pink. His school books had hearts and messages such as "I love you Tezuka-sama!" written on every page. And every book was bombed with pink Valentine's Day confetti. Every now and again, Fuji would come across a small red heart on the floor.
All the Regulars found it hilarious when their captain came into practice with pink confetti spilling from the hems of his clothes that somehow found their way there. Tezuka of course, was livid.
That day Tezuka assigned 50 laps to anyone who annoyed him, even in the most ridiculous and miniscule of ways. Fuji could remember his captain assigning 100 laps to Echizen, simply because he didn't like the way the rookie had swung his racket on a particular shot. Needless to say, everyone spent a week trying to complete all the laps that had been ordered that day.
Fuji was brought out of his reverie when he noticed a shadow looming over him. He quickly recomposed himself and fixed his mask which was on the verge of crumbling.
"Tezuka what are you doing here?"
"I came to find you-"
He came to find me! He cares…
"-Kikumaru sent me."
Of course. You would never notice my absence outside tennis practice.
"Oh I see lunch must be almost over." Fuji said numbly. He began to gather his stuff when Tezuka noticed the piece of paper in his hand he had been focused on all lunch.
"What are you writing?"
"Oh this…" Fuji felt his cheeks turn pink as he glanced down at the paper, a reproduced copy of his soul in ink, the forbidden letter that held his most inappropriate desire. "It's just an English assignment."
"English assignment?"
"We had to write an essay on the person you admire most." Fuji said, smiling up at his friend.
"Can I read it?"
"W-what?" His heart quickened.
"To check for spelling mistakes and grammatical errors."
I've already done that! thought Fuji irritated.
"Uhh…" Fuji wasn't sure what happened, but in that moment cerulean eyes met deep brown, he lost all control of his body movement. He was only vaguely aware of his arm extending out to hand Tezuka the note. It was like those brown eyes were hypnotizing him with the message, 'Give me the paper now.' And how could he refuse the guy he loves?!
The tensai leaned back slightly against the fence for support, luckily it went unnoticed by the stoic captain before him. The impact of what he had done was starting. He had actually handed over what was the equivalent of his heart to one person who could break it. He just destroyed his friendship with the one person he couldn't stand to be away from, even for a couple of hours.
Fuji could never take it back. He quickly shot a glance at Tezuka. The captain's stoic façade was still intact. Not looking perturbed at all by the inappropriate feelings revealed in this letter. The tensai's heart dropped.
He could only guess what Tezuka was thinking. Disgust. Repulsion. Hatred. How could a man love another man?
The tensai's throat burned. He knew what was about to come.
He heard the rustling of paper and almost an inaudible sigh, signaling that the stoic buchou was finished.
"Fuji." He said in a low mournful tone, "I…"
For the second time that day, he found himself lost in those brown, hawk-like eyes. All control over body movement temporarily forgotten. Looking back and later analyzing these recent memories for the thousandth time, Fuji could still not find an explanation for his actions.
Some would say the reason he handed over the letter was because he was a masochist. He wanted to feel the pain of rejection.
Others would say he was tired of keeping his feelings bottled up and just wanted a straight answer.
Tennis members would probably say he was just looking for the thrill of doing something inappropriate in their society.
Other reasons are too ridiculous for explanation…
However none of these reasons seemed to explain why Fuji lost all sense of reality and in a fit of impulse and desperation, grabbed Tezuka's face in his hands and pulled him into a passionate kiss.
Fuji pressed his lips against Tezuka's warm soft ones. He felt Tezuka's hot breath against his skin as he proceeded to nibble on the captain's lower lip and run his fingers through the tousled hazelnut hair. But it was when he licked the stoic individuals lower lip, asking for entry, he suddenly felt a strange sensation; like gravity pulling him back down to earth and crashing him into the ground. The impact of what he was doing finally dawned on him. The fuzzy, dream-like state he was in suddenly became sharp and focused as reason finally returned to the impulsive tensai.
Tezuka was not responding to the kiss. He was stiff and clearly uncomfortable. Why? Well another male was kissing him. Fuji wondered what made him think a kiss could change everything; could change Tezuka's heart. The blue eyed prodigy had to accept this was one game he could not win, even if he was finally serious. Tezuka Kunimitsu would never be his.
Fuji felt familiar masculine hands on his shoulders that pushed him away. He hung his head, not daring to even make eye contact with his captain.
Tezuka wiped his mouth and adjusted his glasses before taking a deep breath.
"Fuji. I can't do this. I'm flattered that you have… feelings… for me, but I'm sorry, I cannot return them. I-"
"NO! I'm sorry!" Fuji shouted before bowing deeply. "My actions were selfish and inappropriate. I apologize for my actions, I'm sorry they made you feel uncomfortable and understand if you are disgusted and never wish to speak to me again. Please, just… forget this ever happened!"
Fuji was breathing hard, the pace of his heart was too fast and he was trembling. He felt a lump form in his throat and he bit his lip trying to hold back tears.
It was a mistake. Everything was a mistake. He wished he could just take back everything. Losing Tezuka's friendship would kill him.
"I accept your apology. Let's not speak of this, and move on."
Tezuka walked away, leaving Fuji alone, still in a deep bow with his body trembling, and silent, mournful tears rolling down his angelic face.