He's doing it again, Ryoma thought with a sigh. Tezuka Kunimitsu was the most infuriatingly stubborn man he knew. He invites me to dinner, but refuses to look at me. He asks me stupid yes-no questions that he can barely answer when I ask them back at him. Ryoma firmly clamped down on the urge to grab the man and kiss him right there in the restaurant. Public scenes would only make things worse, even if it would momentarily make him feel better.

He watched with grim amusement as Tezuka seemed to be trying to calm his nerves by drinking. He doubted it was going to help, but he wasn't about to stop him.

You keep refusing to admit it. You keep refusing to see. You keep refusing me.

Ryoma knew Tezuka loved him, as much as he could ever love anyone. Tezuka had two modes: utterly suppressed and totally out of control. The things he did, and said, when he was out of control spoke volumes about his actual feelings, and the depths of them. Ryoma felt like he was being devoured whole by Tezuka's intensity at those times. But otherwise Tezuka was his incredibly stoic, constipated self. He had, somehow, convinced himself that he was wrong. Or his feelings were wrong. Or the world was wrong. In any case, something was wrong and it was up to Tezuka to keep things from becoming more wrong. It had taken Ryoma a long time to figure out that much of Tezuka's fucked up reasoning.

He loved answering Tezuka's awkward attempts at small talk with monosyllables. He knew it was childish, just as his delight in Tezuka's increasing drunkenness was, but he didn't care. He hadn't expected to run into Tezuka while in Japan. It was just as much of a shock to him as it must have been for Tezuka. He had thought he was over him. Or at least, more or less over him.

I guess I'm not. Ryoma smiled bitterly, looking down so that Tezuka, if he happened to glance at him, wouldn't see.

Ryoma wasn't surprised when Tezuka grabbed his arm when they left the restaurant and headed straight for a hotel. He had been drinking before they had met, and had drunk quite a lot during dinner. He wasn't surprised when Tezuka fell upon him the moment they were alone. He wasn't surprised at how heated and furious Tezuka was. What did surprise him was how much he found himself drowning in Tezuka's heat, how much he had longed for his embrace.

Ryoma knew he was only making it harder for himself. He knew he should let go. He wanted to cry in anguish even as he cried out in pleasure.

The morning was as much of a disaster as the more rational part of him had expected. Other parts of him did not take it as well. This had to stop. He only hurt himself by foolishly hoping for a different outcome every time. Every single damn time.

"Goodbye, Tezuka-sempai."

He didn't want to face him, so he didn't. As he walked out of the room, his mouth twisted into a crumbling smile, he whispered, "Mada mada da ne."