A/N: This is my first independent fanfiction in Prince of Tennis fandom. Plot bunnies decided to pester me this morning and won't leave me alone until I write a new series! Please pardon any possible OOC-ness. Enjoy.
Rating: T
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Fuji Syuusuke will never be mine; he is Ryoma's and his other lovers'. Sadly, those boys will never be mine too. They all belong to one man - Konomi Takeshi. Go figure.
Prologue (Whisper)
This truth drives me into madness...
I know I can stop the pain if I will it all away, if I will it all away.
He peered up at the boy hovering above him; large smouldering brown stared down icily at him.
"Maa, look at what our dear little Yuu-chan is planning to do~" the pale boy teased condescending, albeit his position, "Pinning down his elder nii-san and all – "
"Shut up! You're not even my brother!" snapped out the younger boy harshly, cutting off the former abruptly. He tightened his vice grip around the cerulean-eyed form's wrists. Ignoring the hisses of discomfort and protest, he proceeded to defile, destroy and break the very being which he abhorred with his every essence.
He woke up with a start. A stabbing, excruciating, but yet so familiar pain laced around his left chest. His breathing came in as harsh and erratic as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He bit down his pale lower lip to keep any noise from escaping, lest he'd wake up –
Then, he came to a startled realisation that the usual sleeping silhouette was no longer there. No one? A pair of misty azure eyes flitted around the dark, sombre room. His clammy hands skimmed around the large, empty bed frantically – struggling to search, to grasp onto any other existence to assure himself. To assure himself that he wasn't left all alone, that he wasn't abandoned.
He found none.
None. Nothing, at all. He let out a bitter biting laugh; mocking his pathetic state, mocking him of what he deserved. His mirthless laughter soon morphed into violent coughing fits. He squeezed his eyes tight shut, willing the pain – both physical and emotional manifested –away.
After all, this was how things used to be, wasn't it?
Review?