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Circular Reality

Chapter 9: The Inner Workings of His Mind

Have you ever had the feeling that you've already done something that you were currently in the process of doing? And you know—you know—that you haven't, yet you still think you have?

Fuji Syuusuke hates the feeling of déjà vu. It makes him feel something akin to vulnerable, and he has always hated feeling as though he were open to the world—as though he had some weakness that would reveal itself if he were to stop and think for just a moment. Perhaps it was the knowledge that there were hundreds of people—hundreds, not ten, not twenty, but hundreds—that thirst for his blood was what caused this strange paranoia to spring up, but he found that one day he began to dislike the feeling of showing his emotions to others.

Ever since that day, he has found himself hiding behind a mask of indifference—one that grins at all in an empty parody of a smile—and wondering just what it would take to make the feeling go away. Of course, since he finds that same fake grin still plastered to his face, one could say that he was nowhere near finding the answer to his unasked question. Instead, he hides his eyes—beautifully blue, especially when they reflect the light just so—in an attempt to hide from the world. It doesn't work, and he finds—with the slightest bit of encouragement: a smile here, a light touch there, and a half-hearted smirk—that maybe he can find a way to get rid of this god-forsaken 'smile' that has plagued him for over 20 years.

No one knows just what goes on in Fuji Syuusuke's mind and Fuji likes it that way. But he supposes that he would like it much more if he knew what was going on in his own mind. Then, he supposed, he could feel much more accomplished and perhaps a bit more satisfied. And then he wonders whether or not he had ever felt satisfied with anything he had ever done. Which sets him off on a track that he does not like to go down; however, he follows it and ends up knee-deep in sorrowful memories that he would do anything—anything—to get rid of. Yet he stays there, wallowing—sometimes in self-loathing, other times in sorrow—as his body begins to feel weary and then he pulls himself up for air and sees the worried face of someone he would rather not see at the moment—one that plagued his memories in a good way, which hurt all that much more.

He pulls away and wonders just what Atobe could be doing in his room. His eyes roam, settling on the bright red numbers of the alarm clock on the beautifully-carved wooden nightstand next to his bed. It blinks at him—or perhaps he was the one blinking at it?—reading that it was currently 2:31 in the morning. And… just what was Atobe doing in his room? Fuji's eyebrows furrow. He is sure he'd already asked that. Fighting an internal battle, Fuji sits up and pinches the bridge of his nose—to keep away the headache threatening to unfold, or so he tells himself—and sighs in resignation.

"Atobe, it is extremely early. Just what do you think you're doing in my room?" he bites out. He was getting tired of asking the same questions and not getting any answers.

"Well, if you think about it, this is actually ore-sama's room, since this is ore-sama's castle," he pauses for dramatic effect—or at least that's what Fuji thinks he is doing, Atobe really could be annoying sometimes—and then continues on, "However, ore-sama is only here to inform you that your brother and your sister have both arrived and are currently sleeping in two other guest rooms." Here he tapers off, leaving Fuji time to come up with some indignant remark.

"As I should be doing," he scowls up at Atobe, "And why couldn't you inform me of this in the morning?"

"Ore-sama thought that you would much rather know now so that you wouldn't be so surprised in the morning. Ore-sama knows how much you dislike showing your emotions."

Fuji—had he been a normal vampire—would have gaped then and there, but, as he is more reserved than most, he simply stares up at the man who he had thought was shallow and self-centered. This assumption was quickly shot down. And Fuji wasn't so sure he liked the idea of someone else knowing what went on in his head—because he, himself, did not.

After several seconds of delay, Fuji finally manages to get out a half-hearted "And here I thought you were an egotistical, vain bastard."

Atobe scoffs, "Am not."

"But you're still childish after all these years," Fuji states in a singsong voice.

"…Am not." Was that a blush?

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

This conversation—if it could be called that—goes on for sometime, before Fuji pauses amidst the light bantering, becoming serious almost immediately.

"But you know… you sure have changed these last 50 years." Fuji sounds reminiscent, as though he is thinking of good times that had long past—and perhaps he is.

Atobe chuckles and Fuji thinks that the world is right again—he had never thought of Atobe as the childish type, he was a leader, after all.

Then, there is a slight lull in the conversation—pleasant and not at all uncomfortable—as each takes time to think of what had been and what was.

"You know…" they speak in unison. They're surprised—one blinks and the other stares—then they burst out in laughter that had been long in coming.

"You… first," Atobe manages to get out through his mirth. But Fuji is too winded and having too much fun laughing as though he has no worries to really care that neither of them are talking, or that it is already past three in the morning. Finally, after a few minutes of quiet laughter, they both manage to get their acts together and start to wonder just what was so funny in the first place.

"I was just going to say that those two years were the best two years of my life." And Fuji knows that Atobe knows what he is talking about. Atobe practically beams.

"And I was going to say that I miss what we had 50 years ago." Fuji notices the lapse before Atobe does and smiles smugly.

Fuji lets out a large yawn and mumbles something about talking about in the morning before moving over to make room for Atobe. Smirking, Atobe lays down next to the other and before he knows it, he's floating in the land of dreams.


The morning finds them curled up together with several people banging at the door. Obviously Eiji and Saeki are back in town—as well as Oishi—and the redhead wants to be a human alarm clock. However, he doesn't take into account that Fuji just isn't a morning person and ends up against the wall on the other side of the hall with a pillow in his face and Saeki standing somewhere near him shaking his head like he had just done something stupid. And he had, but he will never admit it.


Well this didn't take very long to come out. I had this sudden urge to do something other than homework, so… I decided to write. Hope you enjoyed!


Reviews-

Ai-Kusabana- The relationship between these two is still a bit shaky, but it's clearing up I hope. It'll be clearer in the next couple chapters, I promise.

I don't think I answered where all those people you asked were, but now they're there and where they were will be discussed in the next chapter.

I'll think about the jealousy thing, I'm not really good with those, but I'll try my best!

Ah, the surprise. Well, they really weren't expecting to see him there—he did get kidnapped after all—so when they did it was a sort of pleasant surprise, thus the smiles.

Atobe's smirk, however, is still a mystery -insert big grin here-

yoshikochan- Yeah, I figured that they had to be friends. Otherwise I'd have a very hard time fitting them in the story lol.

It's all coming together. I get sidetracked really easily, so it's getting kinda tough, but it's getting to where I want it to.

Thank you for the reviews up 'til now—and yes a smirking Atobe is a very good mental image.