Little by little, I'm beginning to hate this more and more. There shouldn't be much more that I'm planning to do, six or seven chapters at the most unless something else happens to prolong that.

Please review; reviews are what help keep me going when my muses have quit on me or are beating me up for some reason or another. Any advice, input, observations, or constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Thank you, thank you to all my reviews before. I really appreciate it when I get feedback. I am sorry about not posting this earlier. With band, exams, family, and everything else, I haven't had much of any time to write for the past two weeks.

As always, the disclaimer is the same. I am in no way affiliated with the creator or animators creating the series in either manga form or anime form. All rights are reserved to the copyright holders, and I am only borrowing the characters created by them for a while. However, the characters I have created, along with the plot, are of my own creation.


To Sedate- Chapter 12

Fuji was beginning to strongly dislike the liquid medicine he was being given every day for many reasons, not just because of fact that it made him gag, but the horrible aftertaste that it left him with. Always, Fuji would end up with an unbearably bitter taste on his lips, and it would end in him downing a few glasses of water too quickly for his own good. Now he was reminded of how Momoshiro or Eiji had reacted when first asked to drink Inui juice. They had been frightened by the bright, almost neon color and the awful smell. Fuji, however, with his strange taste buds, enjoyed it. Now, he felt himself gag at the very smell of that medicine. Surely, it could be used as some sort of torture device. In Fuji's eyes, if they wanted to get information out of somebody, they should keep giving them the medicine until they snapped.

This was all to fight off infection, and though the infection was now almost gone, it still seemed like they were shoving amazing amounts of medicine down his throat, be it in pill form or liquid form. Really, Fuji shouldn't have complained, but he didn't like having to take so much medicine. It made him feel like he was sickly. The doctor kept telling him that it was to make sure that the infection didn't come back, but sometimes he had to wonder if that was what it was really meant for.

Now he was feeling lucky. After three and a half weeks in the hospital, three and a half boring, uneventful, trying weeks, he was going to be allowed to go home, though on severe conditions. He wasn't allowed any strenuous physical activity until he was fully healed, which ruled out tennis. They told him that until he was able to walk and stand with his legs stable, he wouldn't be allowed to walk up stairs. His mother had already agreed with him that she would set up a futon in the downstairs living room for him. Fuji might have grumbled, but the doctor kept saying that he was lucky he wasn't one of the types of people who needed to stay in intensive care for months on end in a coma. Fuji didn't feel so lucky. The hospital was such a miserable place, and with a certain monotony settling into his life, Fuji felt like he would sooner die from insanity than be permitted to return home.

Yet, what really bothered him was the fact that he was advised not to go to school until his broken leg was completely healed. Sure, usually, he would be allowed to, but with the state of his other leg, they wanted full support from that one before he tried walking around his school. Sure, he was still on break, but not for long. High school was starting very soon, and he was going to at least miss the first week or two of it. Fuji felt pathetic in that, though Yuuta had tried to console him whenever he managed to come to visit him after school, which was something that surprised Fuji. Yuuta had never thought of doing such a thing before the incident. His and Yuuta's bond had become strong. Without tennis on his mind, he began to worry about his older brother. They still had their spats, or at least from Yuuta's point of view. Fuji loved to tease his younger brother, but he was happy to see that Yuuta was at least giving him a little affection, as a brother should.

"How are you walking?" Each day, when he saw Tenshi, he was asked that question, and it was funny that when Tezuka came for one of his seldom visits, he also asked the same. Maybe it had gotten harder for Tezuka to come see Fuji anymore. Now, it seemed like Tezuka had been so strongly affected by that physical therapy session. He never seemed to come any more, despite the fact that his visits before had been pretty frequent. There was an inner pain brewing within Tezuka that Fuji could sense. Trouble was, Fuji didn't know what it was. Tezuka never spoke of it and denied the idea when asked. Maybe, he had a girlfriend or something that was giving him trouble, or there were problems going on at home. Fuji really did know better now than to ask. All he would receive from the stoic ex-captain would be a generic "It's nothing."

His bonds with Tezuka lately had been strange. Fuji liked to be close to him, and it seemed that after all the time, Tezuka was finally beginning to notice Fuji's fondness of him. The idea seemed to frighten him a little, that, or confuse him. Whenever Fuji tried to get close to him, he would make a comment about how the gesture wasn't proper. Every time he said that, Fuji felt a tearing pain through his heart, even though he knew it was the truth. (The truth hurt sometimes, though, didn't it? They were too young to be taken seriously for such a thing. They were both boys, too.

If people got the wrong idea, negative rumors would spread. Rumors could sometimes cut deeper than actual words could, and Fuji marveled at it. What would be worse than the rumors would be the reaction of their parents upon discovering said rumors. Fuji's mother was pretty accepting, but from the little impressions that Fuji got from Tezuka's, they wouldn't be as understanding. Tezuka's small family was very caring, but the idea that their son was gay (hypothetically) would probably upset them greatly. It always had to be about Tezuka, right?

So, sighing, he kept his hands tightly woven in his lap so that he wouldn't try out and touch Tezuka. It was becoming harder and harder though. Sometimes, he would unconsciously lift his hand and it would quiver over the sheets before dropping again. Tezuka could nearly make his heart stop by placing his hand gently over the one that had quivered, only as a gesture to quell Fuji's nerves. Tezuka never seemed to notice what he was doing, since at other times, he commented that the gesture was inappropriate. Those little times were maddening. Every time, a strange heat overcame Fuji, and he would have to swallow and stay still. Through a spinning world of confusion, Fuji felt like he was falling more and more hopelessly in love. He didn't want that, even though it only came faster when he tried to shove it away.

Sometimes, he still wondered about that kiss, touching his lips every so often when he was alone. Vivid memories cut through his thoughts easily, tearing the fabric of his very consciousness. All of it had happened so fast, but the feeling of such heat drove his mind and body to a sort of frenzy. Passion, Fuji soon learned, could either be short-lived, or long-lived, strong, or weak. It wasn't that Fuji didn't want to let it go; he couldn't. Whenever he tried, it hurt too much, and he'd have to push himself still closer to stone-cold Tezuka.

To let go, or not to let go; the question was based off an old, yet still famous quote from a famous Shakespearian play. Fuji was quite sure that play's name had been Hamlet, but he could never be quite certain. To let go mean pain, but it also meant a final freedom. Not letting go also meant pain. Fuji would be caught in a vicious cycle. One seemed far more tempting than the other; somehow, though, Fuji was still unable to bare the pain of finally forgetting Tezuka. It was too much.

That passion couldn't be killed, at least in Fuji's case. No matter how painful or undesirable, it was impossible. Though softened sometimes by Tenshi or Arai's comforting words, it never completely vanished. His mother never knew. Fuji was getting better and better at hiding such agony behind his smile. Before, that sort of mask had been meant for anger, and above all, was his poker face. Nowadays, the only purpose it seemed to serve was shielding the weaker side of him from the rest of the world.

Tenshi taught him certain philosophies of life, even though he never put them into words. Tenshi was an odd sort of person, Fuji though. His way of thinking certainly wasn't anything he'd ever seen before. He was such a positive person, who didn't seem to understand the meaning of hardship when it came to goals. From that, Fuji had learned that it was better to use both instinct and rational thought in companionship with each other. Going into things was brash, but second-guessing somebody's first instinct wasn't very good. Tenshi taught him the meaning of that. Now he was learning to find proper balance, like yin and yang. That was much like Tezuka and Tenshi, who seemed to be foils of each other. Tezuka, with his dark hair, slightly lighter eyes, and silent personality was like a shadow to the light-haired, dark-eyed, charismatic Tenshi. Tezuka was normal, and Tenshi was very, very strange.

Tenshi was just funny in general. Fuji found him odd in almost every aspect. From what he said, to what he did, to the stories that he told, there seemed to be nothing that could be considered very normal about Tenshi. Psychologists would probably be in some sort of frenzy over his odd character and strange morals. That was, except for Tenshi's strong loyalty. Tenshi was almost like a dog would be to Fuji. Drawn to Fuji, he stayed by Fuji's side whenever possible. He was kind to Fuji, and listened to whatever. He was a true friend in the sense that he provided support and a kind ear. Fuji got the sense that Tenshi wasn't sure about Tezuka, but he supported him wholeheartedly about it. He always told Fuji that if he wanted to be with Tezuka, then he should shoot for it. In case of rejection, if Fuji ever got up the courage, he felt that Tenshi would always be there for him.

That feeling in itself was irreplaceable. Fuji would never forget how great it was.

Even when he finally got to go home, Tenshi was there by his side. After his family had gone off to do their own things, and Fuji was left alone to pass time by either reading or watching television, Tenshi was there. That was when his mom couldn't, because she did a pretty good job of keeping near him to make sure that he son was well taken care of. Then, in a contrast to his feelings of despair around Tezuka, he was at peace, almost like he was able to sleep by Tezuka's side without having to worry. Tenshi's affection irked him, in a way.

At first, the man had been bursting full of it, and then he withdrew completely as if some strong force withheld him. Tenshi's signs of affection were more frequent as of late, and slightly bothersome. The man seemed paranoid now about people seeing them, though Fuji had long since come to the conclusion that the man was some sort of hallucination. Nobody ever seemed to see him, and besides, if Tenshi had been real, his mother would have screamed at the top of her lungs ages ago because she realized there was a stranger in the house that was chasing Fuji around.

"So, how are you walking today?" That was what Tenshi had been asking him at least once everyday for what seemed like forever. Today, Fuji had his broken leg propped on another chair with as many pillows Fuji's mother could fit. It was slightly swollen, so her intent had been to keep it elevated. Fuji was feeling slightly uncomfortable, and his leg was beginning to go numb. Tenshi, on the other hand, looked quite comfortable lying on his stomach on the floor, with his chin resting in the palm of his hand.

"I'm fine," had been very repetitive, but Fuji still said it over and over again. As if the tape player was rewinding, Tenshi frowned. This scene occurred daily. He stood up slowly and sat next to Fuji, drawing his knees up to his chest in a rather childlike manner. Fuji sometimes wondered how old the man was. Fuji was feeling déjà vu for about the umpteenth time.

"Hey, Shuusuke, why don't you tell me what's on you mind? Maybe I would be able to help you out." He'd been saying this since day one, but there was nothing that he was able to do with Fuji's broken leg or Tezuka. Tenshi knew it, but he still liked to ask. Asking such seemed to gratify him, as if his duty was to make sure that Fuji was fine when clearly, he was not. The question, which had been repeated so many times, made Fuji squint. All the days would blur into one, and he would give himself a headache sometimes when he tried to think of how many times Tenshi had asked him that. Those thoughts brought him back to that cold dreary day when he had first met the man. Fuji shivered at such thoughts. He didn't really like them.

"You always ask me that, Tenshi." Fuji said it with a slight chuckle. At least it wasn't a frown, though Tenshi. A frown was the last thing he liked to see on Fuji's face. "No, I'm fine. There isn't anything I'm thinking about that you don't already know about." Did it look like he was talking to thin air? If his mother were around, would she get worried about the mental state of her son? His eyes were closed gently. Sometimes, Tenshi wondered what sort of emotions brewed beneath those eyes. After all, some people said they were into a window into a person's soul. Albeit, Fuji seemed to perceive happiness through closed eyes, Tenshi felt as if he couldn't be completely sure anymore.

"Just wondering," he replied in a pensive tone. "I worry, you know. You haven't proven to me that worry is unwarranted." If the Tenshi who he had been a long time ago had heard that, it would've been unspeakable. He sounded uncannily like a parent.

"You sound like my mother," Fuji said in a slightly exasperated tone. Dark eyes blinked, looking over to Fuji. Only smiling and chuckling, he returned to his original position on the floor, with his chin supported under the palm of his hand.

"Really, Shuusuke. You give me every reason to worry as much as your mother does. As time goes on, it seems that you've just been getting yourself into more and more trouble. Has somebody cast a curse on you, or are you just trying to get hurt?" For a moment, it looked like Fuji was going to reply to what Tenshi said, but soon thought better. Shaking his head slightly in disapproval of the statement, he closed his mouth and disregarded it. After a few minutes of silence, Tenshi seemed a little ruffled at the fact that Fuji was ignoring what he had said. Sticking his hand up in the air, he raised his voice slightly in protest. The gesture seemed hardly serious, more amusing.

"I'm serious! Curses are bad. One moment you think you're all right, and then the next you're being attacked by a mad dog!" Fuji couldn't take the tone he was saying it in, because it was so corny that Tenshi had to have done it to be funny. After all, only five year olds said such things. He shook with laughter, and Tenshi stopped what he was saying to stare at him for a minute. "Is something funny?" he asked, tilting his head to the side slightly. If not for Tenshi's strange expression, it wouldn't have been funny. All in all, this situation was very strange, and not even Fuji knew what exactly he found amusing about their current situation. Fuji put a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

"No, of course not." He replied, though with little success.

Tenshi stood up and plopped down next to him once again, looking him straight in the eye. "You know, Tezuka's right. You need to keep you guard up. You never know when a part of the curse might sneak up and pounce." His wording was strange, and Fuji had to keep his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. "You seem to have a problem taking me very seriously, but who knows, maybe I'm part of the curse." He pressed his face closer to Fuji's and raised an eyebrow. "Eh? Eh?"

"You're strange," he letting the last of his laughter out.

"Yes, but it made you laugh, didn't it? That was my goal." Fuji stopped laughing for a minute. Though he was happy, he felt a sudden weariness overtaken him. With his eyes drooping slightly, he relaxed, his head coming to rest on Tenshi's shoulder. Breathing calmly, he enjoyed the feeling of leaning against someone's chest. He would've liked to think that it was Tezuka's.

"Yeah." He murmured. "You know," he continued pensively. "I'm too focused on Tezuka. I wish it would go away." Tenshi knew full well about what he was speaking about now. Fuji had always either been able to get what he wanted through the use of skill. That, or he didn't care about it. Tezuka was the one thing out of his reach that he really strained to get. Why didn't he get tired of it? Why was he so focused on one person? Tenshi was thinking to himself that it was silly to watch the two stay firmly apart when they could've been together already.

Maybe he was one of those "closet cases" After all, not everyone came to terms with the idea of homosexuality easily, especially when it came to being gay. Maybe even Shuusuke had gone through such a thing at one time, though he had obviously since come to accept the idea of being homosexual. Tenshi wasn't sure. In his eyes, Tezuka was the one who was strange. His mannerisms, seriousness, and involvement in school was what any Japanese parent would want for their child. However, Tenshi, who hadn't grown up in a society so focused on that sort of thing, was confused by it. Often times, he would wonder how a boy his age was able to act in such a way. It seemed like Tezuka never had any fun; his sole purpose in life seemed to be to excel in tennis, with a few strange hobbies on the side.

"Things will pass as they will," Tenshi said. The statement was probably born off Fuji's frustration that he would miss a week or two of school, on medical excuses, of course. Spring break wasn't that long before term would start up again. In junior high, it had become too easy. Everything was scheduled, and Fuji had grown used to it. However, now, he'd be facing the task of adjusting to a new club environment, getting to know new teachers, and many other things. The place would be unfamiliar. Fuji was even traveling more to get there.

Then again, it wasn't like that sort of thing ever seemed to have mattered with Tenshi's sort of morals. Not being as focused on the idea of school as Fuji was, he would often not be able to understand why Fuji went to such extents to get superb grades in his classes, even though he was already doing well as it was. Fuji had even talked about cram school, which Tenshi had learned to be a place that Japanese students went after school to study more, to try and improve test grades.

It had been a month now since he'd initially been injured. Well, technically speaking, a month and six days. That meant that school had started up again, though only for a few days. He'd missed his first few days of term, and it was a slightly disappointing feeling. Even with the excuse of his injury, his absence wouldn't make a good impression on his new teachers.

"So, why are you so upset about not being able to return to school? You've been telling me that school was stressful, so why not be glad that for a few weeks you get to miss it?" he asked. Fuji squinted for a moment, shifting lightly against Tenshi. The man put a hand on his shoulder to try and help steady him slightly. Fuji seemed calmer now, at least.

"Yes, but I didn't want to miss it. It'll be such a difficult start getting into everything that late. It wasn't fun spending the entire break, either. I'm going to have a lot of things I might not understand, even if we're lucky enough we can get all my work over here." He sighed for a moment. "I wanted to be in the tennis club." His voice sounded defeated at that, and Tenshi was able to sense what exactly he was worried about. This time, it wasn't just Tezuka. It was something deeper, more emotional.

"You can always go back to the tennis club," he said. "It isn't as if you're condemned to join something else. You're going to get better and then you can go for it again. All you need to do is give it a little time." His argument was valid, but it fell deaf upon Fuji's ears.

Fuji squinted slightly. The concept was becoming harder and harder to grasp for him, the idea of a complete recovery. Now, he was having so much trouble with even trying to stand up. Fuji was grounded, limited, cornered. Here, Tenshi was confident, yet knew nothing on the subject as far as Fuji knew. The idea of walking was becoming a blurred fantasy. Fuji didn't believe that he would be able to do it able. "But it's so hard,"

After all, it had to be remembered that before the incident, everything in life had come fairly easy to Fuji. He had been able to successfully maintain his position as a regular once he was old enough. Until his match with Tezuka, he had never tasted defeat, so much that when he actually was defeated, it made a bitter taste in his mouth. He'd been smart, calculating, and everything that a prodigy should be. With that came ignorance. Since Fuji had never needed to try at almost anything, the feeling of hardship was devastating, and Fuji didn't know what to do. It should have been one of those life lessons, but now, with so much that he already had lost, Fuji didn't want to stake anything else. His drive was slowly diminishing, leaving behind a weak version of Fuji that nobody had thought to exist. The side existed in all humans, but it was more exaggerated in the boy. Acclaimed prodigy of Seigaku, somebody an enemy wouldn't want to meet or challenge, and someone who hadn't been defeated in tennis until his mach with Tezuka Kunimitsu, wouldn't have ever seemed to be that weak. Sure, he looked fragile, but anybody who knew him or his reputation knew better than to think that he could be taken advantage of.

Well, that had been until emotions came into the picture. They destroyed Fuji like they had so many others, leeched him of energy and the boyish confidence he once had. Emotions were a weakness, and Fuji felt them slowly sapping the life out of him. Surely, all love couldn't be this bad. His was, and he was growing to resent Tezuka more and more for being able to this to him while remaining so ignorant about it all the way through. Could Tezuka not see his pain? Could he not spare a little kindness and try and extinguish it?

All Tenshi could do anymore was make Fuji feel slightly better with his words of comfort, though not for long. He had never seen somebody so latched on to a single person. No, this wasn't something that happened in real life. Tenshi only thought that it happened in those silly romantic dramas. Yet, before his eyes Fuji was decaying because of his emotions, and though he was able to delay the process, there wasn't anything he was able to prevent it. In essence, it happened to all humans. Nobody was immortal, nobody was invincible; still, and Fuji seemed to be taking it extra hard, harder than most people would. He probably had clinical depression or something, but there wasn't anything that Tenshi would have been able to do about it.

"You don't know how hard it is." He protested, trying to sit up but failing because Tenshi pulled him back. In his state and position, he wouldn't have had the strength to push Tenshi away. "Let me go." He carefully removed himself from Tenshi's grip and sat back. Tenshi gave him a stern, disapproving look, as if he wasn't supposed to have said such a thing. Fuji wondered why. "Tenshi, it's hard. I've tried. Why should my legs get any better? How could I ever possibly be able to play tennis again."

"Because you have to try harder," he said firmly, tucking a strand of hair behind Fuji's ear. "You should remember that no matter what the situation, it's important that you do your best to get back on your feet whenever wounded." Fuji was having trouble comprehending it. Even after his match with Tezuka, his potential was something he was very unsure about it. Before everything, he'd expected that he would be able to make it. Everything came so easy to him before that he never had to worry. If he needed to defend his brother, he could pound people into the ground. If he needed to overcome any sort of trouble, he made it through with relative ease. Fuji now resented Tezuka for doing this to him. It had to be intentional. He'd never thought that Tezuka was the sort of person to enjoy causing people pain, especially ones that were classmates, teammates, and friends.

Maybe Tezuka just didn't trust him anymore, not with how things had been going.

"Fuji, this has nothing to do with Tezuka," he told him seriously. "All you need to do for now is get up and worry about yourself for a while. Get on your two feet and stop being so negative about not being able to walk. You will walk." The statement seemed to be spoken with such defiance. Fuji didn't really believe it at all. With shining eyes, he pressed his face close to Fuji's "You will." He said, with the softest of whispers. After lightly brushing a kiss to his forehead, Tenshi moved away before Fuji decided to push him away.

"Shuusuke! There's a phone call for you!" called his mother from across the house. She came carrying a wireless phone. "I think its Tezuka-kun," she mentioned before handing him the phone. Tezuka had never really called him. In fact, if he hadn't been the captain of the tennis club, he wouldn't have known how Tezuka got his number. Right now, his foggy mind couldn't recall if he had given him his home number or if Tezuka had gotten it originally from school records. His mother seemed to have taken a liking to Tezuka, though that was probably because he had been the one with him after the accident. He was almost like a hero in her eyes.

"Thank you, mother," he said, before putting the receiver up to his ear. His fingers cradled the phone shakily, delicately. "Moshi moshi," he said in his usual, bright voice. Tenshi drew lightly away from him, eyes flicking shut for a moment. He smiled, but Fuji didn't seem to notice. Shifting to a slightly more comfortable position, he pulled his leg to the side slightly. It had been pretty sore as of late. Fuji winced as his muscles took a few seconds to react.

"Fuji," sounded a deep voice from the other line. "I wanted to see how you were doing," he continued. Fuji smiled brightly at the thought that Tezuka was checking up on him. Flexing the fingers of his free hand lightly, he replied.

"It's nice to hear from you, Tezuka. Now what's that you were saying?" His question might have annoyed Tezuka slightly, but Fuji didn't mind. It would be nice to hear it again, anyways.

"I wanted to know how you are healing. Is physical therapy coming along?" Tezuka hadn't come to one physical therapy session since his first one, and Fuji didn't really blame him. To Fuji, they were dull, and a waste of time altogether. Really, it was too bad that he was being forced to go to them, now a few times a week for an hour or two at a time.

"It's going well, Tezuka. I'm getting better everyday." His tone was casual, intent on starting a casual conversation. "How is the tennis club there?" he asked, slightly curious. Surely, Tezuka had to like it. He liked tennis, so this was another way to further his experience.

"It's nice." His curt statement didn't surprise Fuji at all. It was much like Tezuka to do that, just give what needed to be said.

"That's nice, Tezuka. What homeroom are you in?" His questions were getting a little tedious, and the thought probably going through Tezuka's head at the moment might have been something like…What is Fuji thinking? Is he so bored that he starts asking questions that shouldn't be thinking about. Then again, Tezuka knew that Fuji had always been a little too preoccupied by the little details. Somehow, though, he seemed like he was trying to get at.

"1-C. You should be in the same homeroom as me, your name was called during role call until they realized you were out on medical leave." That was probably one of the longer sentences that Tezuka had spoken to Fuji. The fact made Fuji smile.

"That's great. I'm glad to be in your homeroom. It will be very nice to see a friendly face once I go back." This statement was more meant to tease than anything, and Tezuka sensed it. Tezuka wasn't exactly cruel to people, but with how serious he was, he didn't outwardly look like the sort of person who could be considered a friendly face. Afterwards, there was a pregnant pause, and Fuji began to frown slightly in slight disappointment. Tezuka had only called to check up on him. He wasn't at all interested in really having too much of a conversation with him over the phone. Tezuka didn't resent it, he knew that much, but he probably had other things to do, other, more important things. Tezuka hadn't ever been skilled at picking up emotions, but somehow, as if by magic, he seemed to sense the sudden disappointment at something strange. Fuji hadn't been himself for a long time, and Tezuka was getting sick of something worrying.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked. Is there something wrong that you might like to tell me? Fuji was overcome by a strange anger that he'd never possessed before. Fuji needed to get a grip on his emotions. He was acting like a girl now, and it wasn't something pleasing to him. With his frustration growing, and his patience wearing thin, Fuji didn't feel like he had much else to do.

"I like you. Do you know that, Tezuka?" He asked, his voice deadly soft, in a dangerous whisper that might have even made Tezuka shiver in slight fear. The tone that could make anybody squirm wore away quickly, as did Fuji's expression. The happiness disintegrated into a look of fatigue. There was nothing from the other line, only silence. Fuji wouldn't have been surprise d to hear the buzz of the phone line when Tezuka hung up. However, he didn't, all there was happened to be an uneasy silence, as if Fuji had frightened away Tezuka's will to speak. "I have for a long time." Before he noticed, his emotions were spilling out before him, all in a tangled mess. His speech was a blur to him Fuji hadn't meant to be so rude, especially not to Tezuka, but he couldn't control his own actions at this point. He knew he'd feel rather guilty for this afterwards.

It all came too fast for Tezuka to voice his thoughts at all, and as soon as he finished, he pulled the receiver away from his ear. Distantly, he heard Tezuka's voice, soft and muffled now that he wasn't listening to it directly. "Fuji-" Tezuka didn't have enough time to say whatever he wanted to, because he was greeted with an unpleasant click, followed by a beep alerting him that Fuji had hung up. Tezuka, befuddled by Fuji's actions, wondered if he'd done something wrong. It was very much unlike Fuji to hang up the phone without so much as a single goodbye or at least a warning. Faintly, he was worried, but more startled than anything. After listening to the unresponsive line for a moment or two, he hung the phone up, replacing it in it's cradle.