Clary: ...Um. Long time no see? I'm really sorry you guys, I'm being constantly buried by my uni workload, and there's just no time to sit down and actually accomplish things I want to finish. Not to mention the fact that Lia's completely sucked into med hype, and she has like only heaven knows how many majors to work with. And without Lia, well... Let's just say she's the one who bugs me into writing when I get lazy and find reasons to justify my procrastination.

So... uh... Yeah... Updates might be really slow for a while. I'll do my best to finish this, promise.

Oh, thanks to all the lovely reviews, by the way! I'm sorry I can't reply to them, but Lia's not around, and it feels off to make review replies without her little snarky comments about my not being a nice enough author.

PS: Lia has not touched this, and I tried my best to fix it, but please forgive any grammar mistakes. Or, if you will, point them out so I can fix them?

Enjoy the chapter, you guys :)

Happy birthday to me, Tezuka raised his glass and downed the rest of the shot. Automatically, the man at the bar moved to refill his glass in almost no time at all, despite the fact that there were a million other people clamoring for attention. It was good service, but Tezuka couldn't muster enough feeling to be grateful.

He shouldn't have come here.

It was too bright, too wild, too happy. It had started well enough, formal speeches and toasts, but he should have expected Atobe to turn some straight-laced event into a full-force party, especially if he had every right to because it was his birthday. Tezuka gave a moment to glance at the gyrating bodies in the dance floor, illuminated by the pulsing lights, dancing to incoherent music, and wished he hadn't. He wished he hadn't looked, hadn't drunk, he wished he hadn't come at all.

He knew from the start that this was going to be a bad idea.

"Tezuka!"

Tezuka came out of his thoughts only to be aware of worried jade eyes staring at him quizzically. "Oishi," he acknowledged, recalling how his former vice captain had showed up in the party with the hyper, bouncing Kikumaru Eiji in tow. And how he watched Kikumaru's heartfelt reunion with his long-lost best friend from afar.

In fact, Fuji had been going out of the way to avoid him all night, staying as far away from him as humanly possible. And everywhere he went, Milly Ashford clung to him like second skin, looking utterly comfortable and terribly victorious, hanging off of Fuji's arm.

Tezuka picked up his glass and contemplated whether or not he should just make things easier for himself and drink some more.

"You look good tonight," Oishi began conversationally, picking at the straw of his ordered soda water.

Tezuka turned his head fully so he could really look at his friend. He wondered if Oishi was joking, or being sarcastic.

"No, I mean it, Tezuka!" There was a slight quirk to Oishi's smile now, as if he was just seconds away from laughter. Kikumaru must be rubbing off of Oishi, because the Oishi he knew would never have been as comical as this one.

He downed his drink.

"Hn."

"So, how does it feel like to be one year away from thirty?"

It wasn't any different, except for the fact that Fuji was here now, in the same room, so close and yet so very very far away. He let his gaze wander until they found who he was searching for – Fuji, dancing with Milly Ashford. The girl had her arms around her fiance, and they moved with a rhythm that seemed almost natural, like second nature, to them.

And why wouldn't they?

They were getting married soon, after all.

A little voice inside his head supplied that yes, they look good together.

Tezuka hated that voice.

He took another shot, except this time, the alcohol was bitter on his lips. "You would know," he snapped, the glass banging into the table loudly.

"Tezuka?" Oishi was blinking incredulously at his uncharacteristic display of emotion.

Tezuka sighed, and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He counted slowly to ten and tried to erase the image firmly from his mind.

"Sorry," he said finally.

When he opened his eyes, Oishi was staring at him with understanding, compassionate eyes. They were emotions that he did not want to see, but emotions that he knew by heart. He'd been seeing them far too much lately these days, and far too often for his liking.

Unwillingly, his eyes darted back to Fuji and his fiancee. Without even checking, or pausing to look, he knew Oishi was following his gaze. For a moment, they were both silent, watching Milly and Fuji be happy and look like the perfect couple together.

"It's not good, you know."

Tezuka switched his gaze to Oishi questioningly. His best friend had been watching him, Tezuka realized, with a disapproving frown that did not look right on his face.

"What you're doing," Oishi clarified. "It's not good."

Tezuka sighed and turned back to his drink. He should not have expected anything less, Oishi had always been perceptive. In fact, Oishi had been one of the few people who didn't to be told that Tezuka and Fuji were in love.

"He's getting married." It seemed like his prime, favorite excuse these days. "There is nothing left to do."

"Tezuka, you know, when I said you looked good, I meant, you're back." For the first time in his life, Oishi sounded like he was genuinely exasperated. And perhaps he had the right to be, except he shouldn't be taking it out on Tezuka, shouldn't he? Tezuka was fine exactly where he was. And he was going to stay where he was, because everything that could have been fixed was gone.

And there was nothing he could do to get it back.

"Ever since Fuji... went away, you haven't quite looked like yourself anymore. And now that he's back, it's like the Tezuka that I know is back along with him. Tezuka, don't you see?"

Tezuka raised his eyes to meet Oishi's. There was that compassionate gaze again, and it killed Tezuka, because it was one emotion away from pity. He didn't want pity. He didn't quite deserve it, either.

"You love him," Oishi gently declared. "You can't deny it."

Tezuka's grip tightened on his glass. "It doesn't matter," he said crossly. "It doesn't matter. What good will that do me if it wasn't even enough to-" Tezuka cut himself off, and poured the bitter drink down his throat. "Things aren't that simple."

"Are they?"

"It's not what he needed, Oishi." It wasn't enough. His love couldn't save Fuji, because it had been lacking. And because his love wasn't even enough to do just that, Tezuka had to throw that worthless love away.

"Tezuka." Gently, Oishi took the empty glass away from his hands. "You're not the one who gets to decide that." Oishi paused. "And Fuji's made his decision a long time ago."

"He could have changed his mind."

"Do you really believe that?" Oishi's eyes were fierce, determined. "I've only just seen him again, and for only a few minutes. But it seemed pretty clear to me."

Tezuka raised an eyebrow. "It should. Milly Ashford wears his ring on her finger."

"Maybe, if you stop pretending to be blind, Tezuka," Oishi shook his head, and sighed deeply. "You could fix things. Make him happy."

"I-"

"Hello boys," Milly Ashford cut in, squeezing herself so she was in between the both of them.

"Oishi-san," she acknowledged. "Would you excuse me and Tezuka-san for a bit of a moment?"

But Oishi wasn't looking at her. He was staring hard at Tezuka, before his gaze transferred to the dance floor, then back to Tezuka, and finally, to Milly. He gave a polite smile.

"Of course," he said accomodatingly. "I'll see you around, then, Tezuka." His voice was pleasant, almost careless, but his eyes were serious. Tezuka watched him leave, his words weighing Tezuka down like big, heavy rocks.

When he turned back to Milly Ashford, she had comandeered Oishi's previous seat, and was amusedly swirling the blue liquid in her cocktail glass around.

She leaned against the counter provocatively, and Tezuka had to admit to himself that she was quite the attractive woman. She was wearing a strapless white number, that hugged her body tightly, doing what it should to show off what needed to be showed off. It ended somewhere in the middle of her white thighs, and her feet were clad in heels so thin and so high, they looked dangerous. Her hair was in an artfully-messy bun, and a few curling blond strands framed her perfectly made-up face.

"Tezuka-san," she said, too sweet to be innocent. "Let's, you and I, have a little talk, hm?"

Her eyes were blue, but not in the way that Fuji's were. And they were dark with an emotion that Tezuka could swear was hate.

The feeling, Tezuka thought, was mutual. "What do you want?"

"Oh, nothing much," she replied, fingering her engagement ring. She was trying for thoughtless, Tezuka knew, but it wasn't working. He could see through her little deceptions; he knew that movement was deliberate.

See this ring? she was saying. Syusuke gave it to me. He gave it to me on the day he asked me to marry him.

She was telling Tezuka that, Syusuke is mine.

"What do you want?" Tezuka repeated, more fiercely this time.

She turned to face him fully, the sliver of hatred taking over her features, until even her face was contorted in hate. "I thought you would already know," she spat. "Or are you really so blind?"

Tezuka kept quiet, though he knew exactly what she wanted. He would have readily given it, too, or at least, he thought he would have been strong enough to, but Oishi's words swam to the top of his head, and they stopped his own words from coming out.

("Fuji's made his decision a long time ago.")

A long time ago. When Milly wasn't in the picture. When Fuji loved him, before he drove Fuji away.

And that kiss in his office that still seemed so fresh in his mind...

Perhaps... Tezuka didn't want to think like this, but what if Oishi was right?

Milly's hand shot out to grip his arm, her painted nails digging into his skin. "You'll stay away from my fiance, Tezuka-san." Her hand tightened, but Tezuka was too angry to feel pained. "And you'll keep your hands to yourself."

"Why do you expect me to do something you can't even do yourself?" Tezuka asked, eyeing her hand on his arm pointedly.

"Do you really want me to spell it out for you?" Milly ripped her hand away, but she closed in on him, invading his personal space. "Direct your sexual urges somewhere else. Syusuke is mine."

"He wasn't always." Tezuka's eyes widened at his quiet reply. He didn't know where that came from. He hadn't even been thinking about...

But Milly had already heard. She pulled away, her mouth spreading into a slow, slow smile. "And how much good did that do him, I wonder?"

"Deny it, if you want," Tezuka told her. "But Syusuke and I were in love."

"Once," Milly added quickly. "Not anymore. Whatever feelings you still have for him, don't project it onto him. Syusuke has nothing left for you."

"If it is as you say," Tezuka felt dreamlike, saying it like this, but all he could think of was those times when Milly had been overly-close, and how he'd wanted to rip her off of Fuji's grasp. "Then, why are you threatened by me?"

Milly gaped at him. For a very long moment, she just stared at him, her mouth half-open, her eyes wide. Tezuka, in those moments, felt quite vindicated. That was until she threw her head back and laughed.

It wasn't a very beautiful laugh.

"Oh, this is precious. So precious," she breathed between her laughs. "You selfish, selfish man, you think this is about you?"

"I was merely stating the truth." Tezuka narrowed his eyes, not sure of where she wanted to take this conversation anymore.

"You know," she said, finally catching her breath. "All you're doing right now is proving to me that Syusuke was right. He was right to have left you." Milly gave him a grin, showing off a perfectly sharp row of teeth. "He was right to have chosen me."

Tezuka felt the words like a strong blow to his stomach. For a moment he couldn't breathe, and he clung to his stoic mask like a lifeline. Here were his darkest thoughts, his greatest fears come to life. Perhaps there was something that shattered.

Perhaps that was his world.

"Tezuka-san," Milly was saying, her blue eyes darkening. "I never thought you would be this selfish." She turned back to the bar, and asked for another of her blue cocktail. "Or blind."

She pinned him down with a sharp gaze, judging him, condemning him, giving him nothing less than what he really deserved. "Can't you see how unhappy you make him? Can't you see how much you hurt him?" She gaze down at her glass, a smirk tugging her lips up. "And can't you see how happy I make him?

"I care for him, Tezuka-san. I love him. That is why I do not wish for you to hurt him anymore. I don't want to see him cry. Doesn't that make sense to you?"

Tezuka remained quiet, because it made sense, it made so much sense. It was what he wanted a long time ago, it was still what he wanted now.

Because he loved Fuji then, and he loved him still.

Milly met his eyes, and held them, all trace of humor gone from her face. "Tezuka-san, I know I don't really know that much, Syusuke rarely talks about his past. I may not understand your relationship, or what you both had gone through, but I know one thing.

"After you've thrown him away, Tezuka-san, don't mess with his feelings anymore. You no longer have the right to."

Milly said nothing more, she didn't have to. She stood from her place, her hand still holding the glass, moving to walk away. Tezuka let her, because she was right, after all. Despite his good intentions, Tezuka had still hurt Fuji.

Tezuka was still hurting him now. It seemed as if that was all he was capable of is hurting Fuji.

"Oh, and Tezuka-san," she called, and Tezuka slowly, mechanically, turned around to face her.

Milly Ashford gave him what seemed to Tezuka a mockery of a friendly smile. The multi-colored lights dyed her blond hair in changing colors, wrapping around her perfectly sculpted face like a halo. She looked beatific. Even at faux-friendship, she was quite the angel. Tezuka could see why Fuji could love her.

Tezuka hated it.

She raised her blue cocktail, tilting her head to the side coyly. "Happy birthday."

THE MELODY OF TWO HEARTS

Verse 09

How can I?

Kikumaru Eiji had a secret.

Now, it wasn't a particularly good secret, it was actually only just something he had made up for himself, but he knew things, and because he knew things, he had secrets. Sometimes, he was wrong, but most times, he was right.

He might not look it, but he was actually a very observant, very perceptive guy.

Moreso to the people he knew better than he knew his own heart.

Fuji Syusuke, once upon a time, was one of those people.

They've been best friends. They've joined the same club, later on joined the same regular lineup, and they even had the same class together. And somewhere, right along where they were journeying towards the Nationals trophy together, they both fell in love. The only difference being that Eiji had his happy ending, while Fuji... well, Fuji just upped and left and fell off the face of the earth.

Eiji wasn't told anything, it was lucky if you actually got Tezuka to react to anything in those days, but he could have pretty much guessed from there anyway. Eiji wasn't stupid, after all.

He didn't know why, he didn't know how, frankly Eiji thought they should have married a long time ago, but Tezuka and Fuji had, by some wrong twist in the wheels of the universe, broken up.

Yeah, Eiji was surprised about why the end of the world didn't happen then, too.

But that wasn't the point. The point was that Tezuka and Fuji were soulmates. Eiji didn't have to be a psychic to know that his best friend and his tennis captain were connected with the red string of fate.

So what was Fujiko doing letting a girl hang off of his arm? (And why was the universe not protesting against it?)

Was it a try-to-get-Tezuka-back-by-making-him-jealous stunt? Because it seriously needed work, because while Tezuka was very obviously jealous, Tezuka was very obviously not doing anything about it either. And what's it matter, if Tezuka doesn't do anything about it?

Why wasn't he doing anything about it in the first place?

Argh. Eiji flopped his head down into the small table, laying his face against the cold glass. He hated thinking too much. It hurt his head. Fujiko always makes things so complicated. Did he get some sort of sadistic relief out of making Eiji think like this? Eiji wouldn't put it past him.

"Where's Milly?"

Speak of the devil.

Eiji turned his head to the side so he could watch his best friend settle into the seat next to him, bringing those little shot glasses some of the waiters are bringing around. It must have taken quite the stroke of genius, snatching those little things before they ran out. Then again, Fuji was a genius, so Eiji shouldn't really be surprised.

"How should I know?" Eiji answered, turning his head away. "She's your friend, not mine."

"Are you still mad at me?" Eiji could just see the amusement in Fujiko's eyes. It really wasn't funny. Even if Eiji forgave him for it, that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. He didn't even say a proper goodbye.

Nor did he try to stay in contact. Eiji had wasted so much money trying to contact him. What, Fuji was too busy to give him a phone call? It wasn't as if Eiji was asking for too much, was he? It's just a phone call. Fujiko had a phone, and Eiji's number, and all he had to do was press the call button.

Eiji wasn't asking him to win a six-set tennis match, moving a finger didn't even take that much effort. You can't even burn calories with that.

"You know, Fujiko, you're so unfair. You're so unfair. You're so mean and you're so unfair," Eiji informed him. "I should hate you. I should be really, really mad at you, you unfair meanie."

There was a brief pause, before Fuji replied quietly, "Go ahead. I suppose I deserve that, don't I?"

Oh, hell, why did he have to be so... "See!" Eiji whirled around and pointed at Fuji accusingly. "See! Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Fuji inquired, the perfect picture of innocence. Like Eiji didn't know any better.

"That!" And sensing that his outburst was getting him nowhere, Eiji threw up his hands in surrender. "Never mind. I can never win against you."

"Of course you could Eiji," Fuji told him consolingly.

Eiji rolled his eyes and gave a snort. As if.

Fuji only smiled, sliding the other shot glass towards him. "So, where's Milly?"

"I'm not her keeper, okay? Geez." Eiji tilted back his head and gulped down his drink in one go. He wondered if he should ask Fuji the question. He looked at his best friend's open face and decided that maybe he should get drunk first.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Milly Ashford sidling in beside Tezuka and decided he did not have enough time for that.

"Fujiko," Eiji looked down at his glass and wished there was more time to get drunk. "She's wearing an engagement ring..." He trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

How do you ask your best friend if he was that woman's... mistress (was there even a male equivalent for this)?

Fuji's smile didn't faze. "Yes, I know."

"Are you..." The words were on the tip of his tongue. Eiji decided to screw it, and he stole Fuji's still-full glass from his grasp and poured it down his mouth, too.

"Getting married?" Fuji filled the sentence in for him.

The alcohol spewed out undelicately from Eiji's mouth right into Fuji's shirt.

Fuji chuckled, before patting Eiji in the back as he coughed. And he sat by calmly as Eiji frantically tried to fix the now-wet shirt, assuring Eiji that it was just a piece of clothing.

But really, it was soaked in alcohol.

"Why do you always think it's funny to joke around me like this?" Eiji demanded, dabbing the shirt with more paper towels. "Getting married, my ass."

"But Eiji-"

Eiji really didn't want to listen to Fujiko's stupid protests. "Look Fujiko, I know you're friends with her and all, because that's exactly all you look like. Friends. She looks like she's in love, but not with you." Eiji raised his eyes to that they were looking straight at Fuji's open ones. "And I could say the exact same thing about you."

Fuji gave him a weak smile in response, and Eiji knew he somehow hit a mark. He didn't know which mark he hit, but he hit something nonetheless. It wasn't like he couldn't guess, anyway. "Eiji, Milly and I are-"

"What about Tezuka?"

"What about him?" Fuji's voice was sharp, but Eiji could not back down now.

He pulled back so he was looking at his best friend face-to-face. "What's not about him, Fujiko?" Eiji asked. "The Fujiko I know is madly in love with him."

Fuji averted his gaze, dropping his eyes until they were not visible underneath his bangs. His hands on his lap were trembling. "It's been a long time," Fuji said, quietly. "Perhaps I'm no longer the Fuji that you know."

"Fujiko, trust me, with you being like this, you're the Fujiko I know." Eiji clutched his best friend's shoulders tightly, until vulnerable blue eyes peeked out from underneath the shield of honey hair. "Now, more than ever."

./.

In the mirror, there was the haunted face. It didn't scare him anymore, not really. He'd gotten used to seeing his face like this over the years. He couldn't handle anymore of Eiji's eyes or Eiji's words, because Eiji was telling him the truth he'd been denying himself all along.

So he fled to the only solace he could find – the bathroom. It wasn't as if he had no excuse for it, anyway, his shirt was wet. He didn't care about it enough to try to wash it off here, but it was an excuse and he grabbed at it desperately.

("The Fujiko I know is madly in love with Tezuka.")

Fuji knew that. He'd always been in love with Tezuka. He still was. He always will.

It was Tezuka who didn't feel the same way.

It was Tezuka who lied, who broke everything off, who told Fuji to go because he didn't need Fuji anymore. It was Tezuka who hadn't felt that love, Tezuka who was only playing with Fuji's feelings, Tezuka who was using what he needed to use to get what he wanted.

It showed, didn't it, how much of a pathetic masochist he was that Tezuka did all that, and all Fuji could do was love him still.

As if brought forth by his thoughts, the bathroom door swung open, and through his view in the mirror, Fuji came face-to-face with Tezuka.

For a moment, they stared at each other, and a million and one thoughts started running through Fuji's head. Then, Tezuka took one small step, and that was all Fuji needed to snap back to reality.

I should leave, he told himself. It was the smart thing to do, because that way, no one would have to hurt anymore. That way, he wouldn't think of making another stupid mistake that would just kill him even more inside and ignite the flames of hope he tried to pretend didn't exist anymore.

That way, he could move on.

I should leave.

But his body wasn't moving.

("The Fujiko I know is madly in love with Tezuka.")

Fuji could feel Tezuka's gaze on him, like a smooth caress of gentle fingers, and he shivered at the memories that gaze brought up. He clutched at the sleeves of his button-up shirt and tried to keep his attention on dressing. He felt Tezuka's eyes follow his every movement, and, as always, his entire body yearned to throw himself towards him, begging to be taken back and loved again.

("Now, more than ever.")

But he can't be that Fuji anymore. He can't. It hurt to be that Fuji too much.

He took a deep breath to control himself, and turned around, only to realize that Tezuka had quietly taken the few steps that would get their bodies together. He trembled at the contact, because this is what he had been missing all throughout these years. This was what he saw in the half-formed dreams that he pretended not to have, that left him gasping and weeping to the sheets when he woke up.

He raised his head, though perhaps he should not have, and was met once again by Tezuka's intense hazel stare. It left a strange feeling in his gut, a strange kind of fluttering and tingling, and once again he felt that pull, that indescribable need to get closer and closer to Tezuka until nothing separated them. He shouldn't have, but he was raising his head, drawing up his entire body, and Tezuka was lowering his, as if he felt that pull, too, as if he felt that desperate need to get nearer.

They were getting closer, so close now, that he could feel Tezuka's breath of air caress his lips, and it sent his blood tingling. His eyes fluttered close and, even though he had not conjured it, a memory came of that wretched afternoon, and he could see Tezuka's almost-cruel half-smile again, and Tezuka's words were filling his head, incessantly loud and hurtful.

("You were only convenient.")

He gasped and turned his head, so that Tezuka's lips on brushed his cheek. It tingled there, where he had touched it, but Fuji stumbled back, feeling suffocated, and a sudden need to get farther and farther away filled his entire being.

He met Tezuka's eyes, but he refused to acknowledge what he could see lurking in their depths, because that was just the result of a combination of wishful thinking and imagination.

Tezuka has made very, very clear, after all, what Fuji was to him that afternoon many years ago.

Very, very clear.

The tears came, unbidden to his eyes, but he would not shed them. Not here, not in front of Tezuka.

He saw Tezuka about to speak, but he turned his head away, and forced himself to say something, because if he were to hear Tezuka's voice, that voice that loved him and hurt him at the same time, he might not be able to retain what measure of control he still had.

"Tezuka," he said, minutely realizing how his hands were trembling. "That's okay. I'm convenient again today, ne?" And he forced himself to accompany his words with a closed-eyed smile. It was easy, even though it hurt. He had more than enough practice.

"Syusuke, I..." And Tezuka's words were filled with so much remorse, Fuji couldn't help that little spark of hope that bloomed in his heart. His mind screamed at him to think rationally, but his heart was beating so loud, it was drowning out the screaming.

He had to know.

"Tezuka..." He stopped before his voice could crack, and drew a deep breath before he spoke again. "Did you mean what you said, that afternoon when you... when we... when it ended?"

All these years, Fuji had thought he had meant every word. And that cruel half-smile that seemed to be mocking him had figured prominently in his many nightmares, the words that cut him like glass reverberating over and over and over. But now, with Tezuka acting like this, and the kiss that they had shared and the almost-kiss just now... Fuji wasn't sure anymore.

What if he'd been wrong? What if it had all been a misunderstanding? What if the past years of pain could all go away because they weren't supposed to exist in the first place?

What if he could be happy?

"Can you tell me they weren't true?"

At Fuji's words, Tezuka's face hardened and he looked away. Any spark of hope Fuji might have still harbored through the years, the spark of hope he took great care to enkindle, died out and a ragged breath made its way past his lips. His heart clenched painfully, and the tears burned behind his eyes.

How desperate he must have sounded, asking Tezuka something like that. Of course he had meant it. Of course he had. More than a decade now and Fuji still couldn't get himself to believe it.

He realized his hands were clenched into trembling fists, so tight he must have been drawing blood. His entire body was trembling, and he realized he had to get away before Tezuka would see him cry. He'd probably just end up making Tezuka more disgusted of him.

"I see," he managed in an even voice. And he forced himself to walk. He should have done it before he embarrassed himself in the first place. "Excuse me, then."

He walked swiftly, even though he was shaking, until he was stopped by Tezuka's grip on his wrist, strong and unyielding. He drew in another ragged breath, the tears dangerously close to falling. He wouldn't turn around. He wouldn't. Because if he did, and he was met with Tezuka's eyes, eyes that still haunted his every dream, eyes that he still loved, he knew he would start to cry.

And he couldn't.

He would not cry in front of Tezuka. He had humiliated himself enough.

"Please let go, Tezuka." His voice sounded pitifully weak to his ears, but he didn't care.

"Syusuke, I..."

"Please," he said desperately.

Any more words and he was sure he couldn't bear it. Please, please, please just let go. Leave him alone. He meant next to nothing to Tezuka anyway, why did Tezuka care how he felt?

The grip loosened slowly, almost as if Tezuka was unwilling, but why would he be? Tezuka did not love Fuji now any more than he did that afternoon. He was just convenient, that was all. It was high time Fuji let go of his delusions.

Fuji snatched his hand back and only made it as far as the other side of the door before his tears started to fall.

Clary: Review, please, with a pretty cherry on top :)