This is for all the Royal Pair and Pillar Pair shippers out there. I hope you don't hate me.

A special thanks to AtobeLover for being a fellow Horio/ Ryoma shipper and listening to my ramblings. Your great. And four for MeadowWoods despite the fact she's quite disturbingly disappeared. You go, Glen Coco.

The next chapter is longer and sadder so I had to get the humor out for this chapter. The last part is a dream sequence.

Note, well, two actually: Don't ever play Strip War. It's so unfair. Honestly. Just don't. And, secondly, Thrill Pair and Cat Pair get their spotlight next chapter. God, I hope none of you guys will hate me.

Warnings: Anorexia. Bulimia. Language. An extreme game of Strip War. OOCness but hello, AU.

By the way, if I owned Prince of Tennis (Which I don't) then Ryoma would have a whole secret past and flirt and be kind of greatly manwhorish.

"The fear of an unknown never resolves, because the unknown expands infinitely outward, leaving you to cling pitifully to any small shelter of the known: a cracker has twelve calories; the skin, when cut, bleeds."

― Caroline Kettlewell

The weekend was hard. Not just for himself but for Ryoga. His brother was uncharacteristically silent and his movements were sluggish. You had to really love a person, that their absence made you less of who you were. Ryoma stayed in bed, staring at the pictures on his wall. Tezuka's jackets were lying over the desk, reminding him to return them. Food made his stomach ache but he forced some things down and tried not to find fault in eating.

But he missed tennis.

A real passion for something doesn't go away no matter where you are, was what his brother had said. But how did if you know if something was real? How did you know?

Week 2

Playing piano again was as difficult as he knew it would be. It'd been awhile since he'd played and even then he'd never been particularly fantastic. He played a note then another until he saw Tezuka's face. He stopped. "It's not right?"

Tezuka shook his head, but didn't say anything, just demonstrated the notes. He concentrated on the sounds. High, flat, high, flat, flat. It took a few minutes but Ryoma finally got the hang of it, relaxing into the emptiness of the room. The band had left early, claiming they all had things to do. Fuji had shot him an unreadable glance as he walked out.

It was insane, the way they all worked. He really didn't care if they were screwing each other but they could have been a little more subtle about it.

There was something warm lying on top of his fingers suddenly and when he realized it was Tezuka's hand he pulled away. The blonde spoke, pushing the glasses that had fallen down back up. "You're playing something else."

Which he had a tendency to do because the piano reminded him of his mother and her favorite song had been "Because I love you" by Yumira. It was the saddest song he'd ever heard but she discovered something joyous in it. There were only certain types of people who found the good things in the bad and he'd never been one of them.

"Sorry," It was weird that he'd just noticed how close Tezuka was. Nothing disturbing, but they were close enough that they were quite possibly breathing the same air. He shook it all way. The piano. They were playing the piano. "It's familiar."

"It's nice." And apparently, the pianist was one of those people too.

"Want me to teach it to you?"

It was the closest he could go to making a joke, being sarcastic. It tasted like cereal without milk. He didn't think he'd ever get used to it despite the fact that some people were. Tezuka didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he ignored it. Just nodded, face scrunched together in concentration. Well.

Ryoma taught him the piece, closing his eyes into the melody that he knew as well he knew pain.

Oishi was in the kitchen when he came home. He was humming, stirring a pot on the stove. Shizuka was in a high chair, playing with a cheerio like it was a difficult crossword puzzle. Ryoma cleared his throat and Oishi spun around, brushing a tendril off his forehead.

"Ryoma," There was a moment where Oishi seemed to wrestle with something but then he was smiling and it didn't seem to matter. "It's good to see you."

You left. He shouldn't have let it bother him because he'd known his brother's boyfriend for no more then a week. But a part of him didn't think it was fair how much everyone was keeping him in the dark. As much he wished he could rewind time he wasn't a kid anymore. Wasn't sure he'd ever been.

He shrugged at the sentiment, tolerating but not returning. Shizuka babbled something from her chair but it was too low for him to hear.

Oishi tilted his head. "Are you okay? Have you been eating? I'm sorry I wasn't here. I stayed with Shizuka's grandmother for a few days."

"Because you and my brother were fighting." Ryoma filled in the rest and straightened when he received a wince for his troubles. But it didn't matter because he didn't care, he didn't care.

"Yes. I'm sorry for that." Oishi had sad eyes, he noticed. Just like Kikumaru. No matter what they never shook the darkness in them, even when there was a light. Maybe that's why they didn't force conversation on him, because they understood the things he didn't say more then the things he did.

"It's fine."

He was going to have to start going around with a calculater to add up how many times he said that a day.

Week 3

Babysitting was fine. Babysitting Shizuka was fine. Babysitting Shizuka with Atobe? Not fine.

They were spread out on the floor in the living room trying to get Shizuka to stop crying. Ryoga and Oishi had gone out for dinner to some fancy restaurant. Ryoma didn't understand why they hadn't just left him to take care of the baby, but Ryoga had said something about bonding and Oishi had agreed. He raked his free hand through his hair, hoping the loud wailing would end soon.

"Here, Ore-sama will take her." Atobe stretched his arms out.

She doesn't like you. "I've got her."

"Yes, and obviously you shouldn't because she's crying."

Well, fuck you too then. Cautiously, he handed Shizuka over. She was light, for someone who looked so chubby and he couldn't help but be afraid that she was going to fall apart every time she was held. For a second, she kept howling and Ryoma was going spew out some nasty comment about kids finding him annoying too but then-

Silence.

Atobe's dark blue eyes glittered with smugness. Shizuka's head rested on the man's shoulder, her brown lashes closing. The traitor. Ryoma rested his head on the bottom of the couch, ignoring the body near him until it stood up.

"Ore-sama's going to put her in her crib."

Whatever.

Atobe sat in the kitchen, swirling a cup of water around beside him. There in the middle of the table was a deck of cards with a note attached to the joker on plain copy paper. He recognized the harsh contrast of his brother's loopy letters and Oishi's tiny scrawl.

Dear R,

Don't do anything I wouldn't do.

-Ryoga

And right below that:

Don't listen to your brother. Have fun.

-Oishi

P.S: But really don't do anything that I wouldn't do.

Atobe sighed into his drink, gesturing to the note with a wave of his hand. "Strip poker?"

How cliché. "How about we don't and say we did?"

"Scared, brat?" There was a challenge in the curve of violinist's mouth that irritated him.

He wasn't stupid. Strip poker was pratically foreplay. And having foreplay with someone who looked like they'd just escaped the zoo was not on his list of life goals. He was bored but he wasn't that bored.

"I don't want to play."

Neither said anything for awhile. He listened to the drone of the refrigerator which was making his headache worse then it already was. But then Atobe asked, "Where are your parents?"

"Dead."

Atobe set his cup down with a loud thump, features shading into softer lines. "I'm sorry."

He wanted to say something cruelly detached like, "Don't be, I'm not." But that was a lie. And he'd never been one to lie unnecessarily. So he forced out a strangled, "Thanks."

"Your welcome, brat." Atobe said self-importantly then eyed the deck of cards again with a smirk. "How about Strip War then?"

An hour later, he and Atobe were arguing about who had actually won even though it was obvious that he had. Atobe didn't have his pants, his shoes, his socks, his shirt and other random acessories. The only thing Ryoma had lost was his shirt but then Atobe had made him put his on anyways. It was long-sleeved and huge on him but it smelled good. Like vanilla.

"You were probably cheating the entire time. Ore-sama knew he shouldn't have let you shuffle the cards."

"You can't cheat in Strip War, idiot. "

"You can cheat in just about anything. "

"You would know, wouldn't you?"

Someone cleared their throat's behind them and they turned to see a laughing Ryoga and an amused Oishi. Ryoma quickly forced his way back into his own shirt but Atobe just leaned back in his chair, seemingly content to be observed in his underwear. His brother started to say something but paused when a loud cry from down the hall was heard. Oishi padded out the room to get Shizuka, Ryoga on his heels.

He shook his head at Atobe sardonically. "I knew she didn't like you."

It was a carnival. He knew because there were lights and people and music. He was on the tea cups with no one beside him. He could hear a baby crying. Two boys fighting. But he was alone. The ride lazily turned and he threw his head back, getting lost in the endlessness of the sky. But then there was someone next to him cheering him on. Unexpectedly, he was spinning, so fast that everything blurred together like water color. There was a low keen, a sort of sound one would associate with crying, and it was only after closing his eyes that he realized it was coming from him.

"Ryoma? Ryoma? It'll be alright. It'll be fine." The voice beside him said soothingly and he tried to find some comfort in the tone, the words, but he was going too fast and all he wanted to do was slow down. He lurched forward and threw up into the grass.

I should never be allowed to write a dream again.