Title: Waiting Unknown
Author: exwaiz
Pairings: FujiRyo
Summary: Echizen Ryoma doesn't wait for anyone
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters.

There are two types of people in this world. Those who wait and those who don't. Echizen Ryoma, unfortunately for others, belongs to the second group. Waiting has never been his specialty; he simply didn't have the patience. It was an unchanging vice.

When Tezuka advised him to finish his degree first and then go pro, he gave it a shot. He registered for the first semester at Tokyo University. Many were pleased to see him in such a respected university, his mother and teachers were proud. But Echizen lasted for only one month, dropping out from the English Literature program to finally focus on tennis.

When his trainer told him to wait for at least another month before going back to the tennis world after a rather serious shoulder injury, he tried to. He waited one whole week and then he played in the tournament anyway. Luckily he didn't aggravate his newly healed injury but he did lose his trainer. A very good trainer at that. Despite her age, Ryuuzaki Sumire had been an excellent trainer, but she refused to see Echizen hurt himself any longer for his inability to sit down and wait.

But the limit to this weakness had not been known. It was tested, time and time again. Those who knew him and cared about him honestly thought that he would wait for a loved one, at least. It was quite a blow, to all of them, to see that he couldn't manage even that.

There were a lot of "could have" in Echizen's life and a few "should have". The tentatively made suggestion that came from his senpai from school-who had been studying for three years for his degree in photography--was for Echizen to wait one year for him. An entire year. 12 months, 48 weeks, 365 days. It looked bad at first, but Echizen did wait, albeit he looked reluctant--even petulant--the whole time. The first three months were trying, the fourth and fifth months were alright and on the sixth month, the future looked bright. His friends and families' faith in him was strengthened and they all believed that he could make it Perhaps that was why it was so shocking for them all.

Things were running smoothly and everything seemed fine and then suddenly, like a pebble marring the tranquil surface of the lake, Echizen left. He left on a fourteen hours one-way flight to Los Angeles with 6 months to go.

Tezuka felt uneasy being the only person to see Ryoma off like that.

"You want to go into the terminal already? Isn't it a little early?" He asked, looking at the departure gate ahead of them. "You still have enough time to-"

Echizen shook his head. He tried to ignore the fact that Tezuka was checking his watch yet again. It was the tenth time in the past fifteen minutes.

"I'm going to go now." Echizen said, slipping the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. The two of them exchanged quiet looks and in that instant Tezuka knew that the secret was out.

"At least wait fifteen more minutes." He sighed, softly. "You owe him that much." Echizen smiled ruefully at him.

"You of all people should know, captain," Tezuka winced at the former title. "I don't wait for anyone." And with a nod, he turned around and walked through the gate, leaving every person who ever cared for him behind.

Tezuka watched him go through immigration and saw him turn around. Echizen waved at the former Seigaku captain one last time before blending into the crowd and disappearing amidst weary travelers and loud businessmen.

Five minutes later a breathless Fuji Syuusuke tore through the automatic doors of Narita airport. He stopped twenty feet away from Tezuka, still clutching his portfolio, rushing all the way from campus just to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend.

His breathing was still labored as he walked quietly to Tezuka's side, eyes fixed at the doors ahead. The same doors that opened and swallowed the last trace of his boyfriend not too long ago. It was strange, to Fuji, how he could feel so isolated at the moment.

There he was, standing in the middle of a crowded airport with his best friend standing beside him. Yet for all he knows he could be some castaway standing on the beach of a deserted island with an endless ocean stretched out in front of him and his salvation sailing further and further away into the horizon. And disappearing. He could almost hear the waves now. Not the excited chatter coming from the small group of girls not too far away or the tearful farewells that a mother and daughter were exchanging, just the sound of waves crashing on the shore.

"Ryoma." He whispered quietly, effectively shattering the image and bringing to life a cacophony of sounds.

"I tried. I'm sorry, Fuji." Tezuka's voice became his focus, the noise seemed to recede and slowly reality filtered in. Fuji smiled softly, shaking his head.

"It's not your fault. I should have seen this coming." He paused, correcting himself. "I did see this coming. Ryoma doesn't wait for anyone." He closed his eyes, smile disappearing. He looked tired as if he hadn't slept for months. Both friends were quiet for a long time but Fuji had to murmur it one more time.

"Ryoma doesn't wait for anyone." Tezuka's eyes shifted to stare at Fuji.

"Funny," He said, shifting his gaze back towards the doors. "That's exactly what he said to me."

The flow of time is a tricky thing. It flows too fast for those who are unwilling to part and it flows too slow for those waiting. Sometimes an hour can feel like a second and five minutes can stretch to a lifetime. Only those who have no worries and have nothing to lose have a good relationship with time.

For the rest of us, it is the sweetest torture.

Fuji never expected Echizen to return to Japan, for a good reason. A year after the prodigy left, the Echizen family moved back to America. When they left, they took with them the only reason for Echizen Ryoma to come back to Japan.

Fortunately Fuji was far too busy with work to notice. When he did hear the news, however, over sake and beer and various other alcoholic drinks with his former Seigaku teammates, he was too numb to react. Of course, it could have been the endless flow of sake. Or maybe the many shots that he downed, courtesy of Eiji.

He half-suspected that his best friend made sure he was too wasted to actually react to it before dropping the bomb. He faintly recalled Tezuka's stunned face when Eiji told him, however, knowing that his former captain had no idea either. It made him feel better to know that he wasn't the only one in the dark.

So when his agent told him that his recent job compelled him to attend a celebrity event next week, he assumed that it would be just another day on the job. But when he found his camera trained on an older--taller!--Echizen Ryoma, he had to command his fingers not to lose their grip on his prized possession and equipment responsible for his high income.

"It's been a while, Syuusuke."

"Yes it has, Ryoma."

Not by my choice. Fuji wanted to add, but kept quite for the sake of professionalism.

Not to mention of course, there were other photographers there too. Lower-paying ones, the ones who were practically salivating as they snapped picture after picture paying no mind to artistic merit. To them one picture could mean a promotion, a better salary and a better life. It was different for Fuji, an artist at heart, his camera was his paintbrush, his pictures were his masterpieces and the world was the paint to create his works of art.

"I wasn't aware that tennis players were also invited to this function." Fuji commented, trying his best not to be too snide. Unfortunately the comment merely amused Ryoma and he made itself known, smirking at the older man.

"This is an event to celebrate Japan's success in the area of entertainment, technology, politics and sports." Ryoma reminded him. "I'm a top ten player and I'm Japanese, or did you not know that?"

Fuji wanted to point out that Ryoma was the world's number two player, but he figured that he shouldn't offer support to the tennis player's argument.

"Have dinner with me."

Fuji's mouth parted slightly as he stared at the smirking man with blue eyes wide open.

"Pardon?"

"Tomorrow night." Ryoma clarified. "Let's have dinner, just the two of us."

When the shock dissipated, Fuji's eyes were distinctively cold. In fact it held the same kind of frost that Ryoma saw during their high school days, when an overzealous admirer had slammed Ryoma against the lockers and Fuji just happened to be there to witness it.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull, Echizen-kun, but I'm afraid I would have to decline your offer."

"It's only dinner, Syuusuke." The tone shifted from smug and amused to soft and pleading, something Ryoma was good at and Fuji knew this all too well.

"It's not just dinner, Ryoma. Not with you."

Dinner was an awkward and painful affair. Not because they were exchanging verbal insults but because they were both silent, focusing on their meals rather than each other. And the silence that reigned was more hurtful than a thousand insults.

We used to be closer, Fuji thought. We used to mean the world to each other. At least, that's what I thought...

Fuji set his chopsticks down, staring intently at his plate yet focusing his thoughts on the man sitting across the table. It would be so much easier to just reach out to Ryoma. Fuji had to admit to himself that he longed to touch the younger man yet the pain held him back.

Forgiveness did not come easy.

"You should have kept playing." Ryoma said quietly.

"Oh?"

"You've always been good at tennis."

"I found something that I love more. I had to give one up, so I did."

"You could have done both, Syuusuke, we both know this." Ryoma pointed out. Thankfully his tone hadn't been petulant, because Fuji had enough fuel, he just needed the spark to create the inferno.

"Forgive me for choosing one, then." His jaw was clenched tight, his hands fisted, nails digging slightly into the palm.

"Is that why you left?" Fuji asked, his voice was soft but the anger was hidden just below the surface, ready to burst out like molten lava once it finds a crack in the surface. "I didn't want to play tennis anymore, so I lost my value? Is that it?"

"Of course not." Muttered Ryoma, he was growing angry himself.

"Then why did you?"

Silence.

"Because I don't wait." Ryoma said, hesitantly. "You know that."

Fuji wanted to say something scathing, but he felt too drained to do that. It was true, after all. Ryoma had warned him from the beginning that he would never wait for anyone. And despite knowing this, Fuji had hoped that Ryoma would anyway.

"At least you're happy." Fuji sighed. To his surprise, Ryoma laughed bitterly, shifting his gaze to his right, looking out of the window.

"What makes you say that?"

"You'd hurt your boyfriend or girlfriend, talking like that, Ryoma."

"It's always been you, Syuusuke." The honesty in Ryoma's voice and in his eyes caused Fuji to fall silent. He stared at the man for a long moment, contemplating something. Finally, he sighed, eyes sliding open as he gazed at Ryoma.

"My place isn't too far from here."

Ryoma nodded, smug smirk absent from his face. But he did smile and it looked so bittersweet that Fuji had to look away, but he didn't take back his comment.

I'll just let what will happen...happen.

It was probably a bad idea, the frenzied lovemaking session they fell into, but neither cared. It wasn't until much later, when they were lying in bed, Fuji's arms around Ryoma's waist, that both of them realized that it did nothing to solve their problems. And Ryoma was still going to leave the next day.

"Why did it take you so long to come back?" Fuji whispered, not quite ready to relinquish his hold on Ryoma just yet. The man in his arms was quiet. Ryoma's had his back to Fuji, using his arm as a pillow as he gazed at the wall. After hearing no response for some time, Fuji had thought that the man had drifted to sleep.

But the answer did come, quiet, subdued--so unlike Ryoma.

"You never came to me." When the whispered words fell from Ryoma's lips they sounded as if they had been said hundreds of times before. In the middle of the night when Ryoma was alone, on some foreign tennis court that felt strangely familiar and whenever the tennis player was reminded of Japan and Fuji.

Fuji was silent, knowing an answer would not change anything. Tears fell unbidden and when Ryoma sensed it, he grasped Fuji's hand and squeezed.

I didn't think you were waiting. Fuji wanted to say.

"I can't ask you to stay." He said instead.

"I know." Ryoma replied.

It felt strangely easy to keep the smile on his face, blue eyes thankfully shut as he gazed at Ryoma. But controlling his impulses was harder. All he wanted to do was hold onto Ryoma and never let go.

"Safe trip home." He found it amazing that he was able to make his voice so steady even when he was quaking from within. "Come back and visit some time."

"I will." Seigaku's former prodigy said easily, grinning that same petulant grin from their tennis club years. He raised his hand casually, turning around to walk where he would receive a stamp on his passport and leave Japan for good.

As he watched from the other side, Fuji wondered if this was how their last goodbye was suppose to go. The one he never had the chance to say. When Ryoma was finally through, Fuji looked up, eyes sliding open to gaze sadly at his one chance of happiness.

Ryoma waved and Fuji waved back and their goodbye seemed so meaningless and anti-climatic and all Fuji wanted to do was curl up in a corner and drift to sleep. Or go to the tennis courts and take out his anger, frustration and all of his pain on some random stranger who would probably be five levels below him.

Blue eyes were wide with shock, taking in the sight of a younger, more impatient man who was carrying a racket bag on his shoulder. A man who should be flying well over the Pacific Ocean right at that moment.

"Ryoma..." A slow smile made its way across his face.

"My flight got delayed."

"For how long?"

"Indefinitely." That was all the warning that Fuji got before Ryoma's hand clutched at his shoulders and yanked. The feel of their lips crushing against each other opened a flood of memories but he pushed them away, focusing on now. The way they adjusted to each other, how Fuji's arms wrapped themselves around Ryoma's waist almost automatically and how Ryoma's hands immediately sought Fuji's hair, running through the soft strands and clutching to the point of pain.

They broke apart moments later, panting and clutching at each other as if their lives depended on it.

"I thought you didn't like waiting?" The words tickled at Ryoma's wet and bruised lips, a breath away from Fuji's and it caused the younger man to shiver. His eyes slid closed and a satisfied smirk appeared on his face even as he rested his forehead on Fuji's shoulder.

"You waited for me. It's only fair that I do the same." Fuji tightened his hold on Ryoma, nuzzling Ryoma's neck.

"If you go away again, I'll hunt you down and make you pay." Fuji muttered, prompting Ryoma to laugh softly.

"I'll be waiting."

Now let's hope I've just uploaded the revised version of this and not the old version found on my LJ. Hah.

If Fuji seems OOC, well, keep in mind that he's older. And if you know anyone in their early to mid-twenties who hasn't changed at all since they were 13, please introduce me to them.

Comments? Death threats? Declarations of love….yeah, right. Review!