Disclaimer: Why, yes, I do indeed own TeniPuri. Konomi Takeshi stole it from me. -Rolls eyes- Ha. I wish. xDD I laugh at myself in… muffinness. o.0
Rating: … PG? Maybe?
Warnings: Shounen-ai, angst.
Chapter summary: Three am… from Tezuka's point of view.
Author's notes: Yep, still going with the anime canon regarding Tezuka's rehab thingy. Which means he's in Germany, NOT Kyuushu.
Dedicated to everyone who reviewed the first chapter of Three am. Even though it was meant to be a one-shot, damnit. 3 Namely, HellRaiserAlchemist, Chirella, Evilfrogger86, Yamatoforever, Konekokonekoneko and Milenalupin (did I mention that one of my best friends is called Milena? xDD).
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Everything is quiet in the room in Germany that is temporarily Tezuka's own. It's a hollow quiet though, and although it's far from restless Tezuka still finds it far from peaceful.
The mobile phone finally decides that it's charged enough of its battery to let Tezuka use it. He hadn't realised that it ran out; he discovered it only a moment ago when he remembered something important that he should text to Oishi before he forgets.
He opens up the text system and begins to press buttons with his thumb before suddenly realising that it must be three am in Japan right now. Damn. He gets the feeling that Oishi probably keeps his mobile in his room, although he doesn't know for sure, and he knows that Oishi's text alert is very loud.
Still, this is pretty important. Tezuka debates a little, not sure what to do. Then he hits upon the perfect solution. He can text Fuji instead, and ask him to pass the message on to Oishi. He knows that Fuji often has trouble sleeping at night, for some reason or another, and chances are he's awake anyway. And if not, then something as simple as a beep from his phone won't wake him. Even the loud, bouncy Eiji has difficulty waking the tensai up once he's fallen asleep.
Nodding a little to himself, Tezuka takes his phone over to his bed and tucks himself into the covers, although of course he's not sleepy yet and probably won't be until at least ten, which isn't for another two hours. It's comfortable though, even if Tezuka vastly prefers futons to western-style beds, and he spends a lot of his evenings in Germany tucked up with a good book or tennis magazine.
'I'm sorry if I have woken you,' he texts. 'But chances are you're awake anyway, yes?' He immediately deletes that last sentence; it sounds too familiar, too friendly. Tezuka doesn't want to put anything that could lead anyone to read between the lines.
He tries a variety of different sentences, but in the end he decides on the first one anyway. It doesn't sound stupid, at the very least.
'Could you tell Oishi tomorrow that he should pick up my notebooks from my house tomorrow after school if he still wants them for the mathematics test,' he continues. Neat and to the point. Good.
His thumb keeps moving, and Tezuka watches it with a detached interest. 'I hope you have been well. I've been missi' he stops himself with an effort, and quickly puts, 'ng everyone at Seigaku.' No, too sentimental. He deletes that too. 'I hope this finds you well,' he tries again. 'I'm sorry for not replying to your emails, but the computers here don't have Japanese keyboards. I know that you are semi-fluent in English, but I'm not.' No, wait – that sounds as though he thinks he has some sort of obligation to reply to Fuji's emails. No, no, it doesn't; he's being overly careful. Paranoid.
He deletes the entire mini-paragraph anyway. He reads over what he has so far, and it's not much. 'I'm sorry if I have woken you. But chances are you're awake anyway, yes? I remembered something important and wanted to ask before I forget. Could you tell Oishi tomorrow that he should pick up my notebooks from my house tomorrow after school if he still wants them for the mathematics test,' it says.
What else can he say? He wants to say something, anything that'll show something apart from polite friendship.
Leaning back against the wooden headboard, Tezuka lets a silent sigh escape him. He knows, and that's the problem. He knows what he's not even sure Fuji himself knows.
He tried out Fuji's trick of ignoring it at first. But after a couple of weeks he had to admit that it was getting complicated.
Kawamura, Taka-san, was completely infatuated with Fuji. Everyone knew that. However, Tezuka had long felt something for the short boy that ran deeper than he could at the time understand. And Fuji himself, although he didn't seem to realise it, was beginning to fall for Tezuka.
Tezuka had spent an evening after realising this deep in thought, trying to sort out this tangle in his mind and come up with a solution. The problem was, Tezuka didn't want a relationship. Not yet. He wanted to understand these odd new feelings first; clichéd as it might sound, they had frightened him somewhat.He didn't like the sensation of suddenly wanting to be so close to someone that God himself couldn't tear them apart.
So he chose to put aside what he wanted for now and wait. Wait until the Kantou Tournament had begun, at least.
But then he'd damaged his shoulder dangerously close to being beyond repair, and he'd been forced to go to Germany for rehabilitation. So he chose to wait until he came back to confess to Fuji what he felt, and then try to work out from there whether they had a chance together.
Then Oishi had mentioned in one of his thrice-a-week emails that Taka-san and Fuji had finally gotten together, and wasn't that wonderful?
That… had hurt. And Tezuka had cursed himself for being a million times a fool. Why had he waited for so long? Why hadn't he just told him? He'd probably driven Fuji away by being overly careful to hide his feelings. He must have hurt Fuji's own feelings so badly by doing that.
He sighs again, and it's full of regret and pain.
Maybe it's all for the best, he reasons with himself. After all, Kawamura must be an easy person to fall in love with, especially for someone like Fuji who craves the sort of affection and tender care that only people like Taka-san can give. The kind that Tezuka wouldn't be able to provide; he's not given to displays of affection of any kind.
People call him very mature for his age. Tezuka's never been quite sure whether to take it as a compliment or otherwise. Whichever it is, it's a useful thing to have. He finds it easy to understand people, although he might not seem to. Even people as ridiculously complex as Fuji. He understands Fuji's very peculiar sense of humour that's largely fuelled by cynicism. He himself is not nearly so cynical, and thus doesn't share the same sense of humour. But that doesn't change the fact that he understands it. Something he reckons the innocent, kind Taka-san never will.
Four or five days ago, he reached a conclusion that came as close as he'd ever been to having his heart broken. He realised that he wouldn't be able to make Fuji happy. Not now, not in ten years time, not ever. Their personalities aren't compatible. Fuji needs words, needs that reassurance that someone cares deeply about him. Tezuka needs someone that can be happy with his own brand of stoic, never-spoken love.
It would never work between them. It would only end in further heartbreak.
That doesn't change the fact that Tezuka aches every time he sees or hears Fuji's name.
He realises that his mobile phone is reaching the end of its miniature battery boost.
Tezuka reads over his text once more, and then settles for putting a simple, 'Thank you. Tezuka.' on the end. He stares at the tiny phrase, wishing that he could convey in it everything he felt for the boy that would always be out of his reach. He knows he can't.
He sends the text and reluctantly pulls himself out of the blankets to plug his phone back into the charger. He pads back to the bed but by the time he's sat down again, his text alert goes off. He'd forgotten how fast a texter Fuji was.
It reads, 'Yes, I'm awake. But not for long. ;) I'll remember to tell Oishi. Good night.'
He stares at the words until the light automatically blinks off. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine Fuji saying them, complete with the daft little winking smiley.
"Good night," he murmurs, startling himself. He blinks and shakes his head, kind of amused despite himself.
No-one can hear him, he realises. Unless he shouts, no-one would hear even if he started holding whole dialogues with himself.
"I miss you," he tries, starting off in a whisper but rising to normal volume. There's no answer, of course there isn't, and Tezuka relaxes, feeling foolish.
He switches off his phone and leaves it to charge on the desk across the room. He gets back into bed, suddenly feeling tired from the rigorous exercise he'd put himself through that day in rehab.
Hazel eyes stare up at the ceiling. He wonders if Fuji misses him.
Then he shuts his eyes and lets the now-familiar ache wash through his body.
Of course he does. Tezuka is one of his best friends after all, as well as his inspiration. But he won't be missing Tezuka the way Tezuka wishes he would. To hope that would be foolish.
"I love you," Tezuka breathes. And he never knows that, on the other side of the world, Fuji has whispered it first.
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Sandy: Yeh huh. Tezuka's version of Three am. With me shamelessly stealing bits from Fuji's chapter. xDD Good thing I can't sue myself, ne?
Review, please? Lemme know what you thought of it, good or bad :)
