Title: Smile: Lose Me

Author: Arithion

Disclaimer: If they were mine, the series wouldn't just be implied shonen-ai in certain bits… trust me... not mine
Rating: PG13
Genre: Angstish, bit of drama… um… yeah

Pairing: TezxFuji …

Chapter: 36/45
Summary: What's behind a smile…

Warnings: Pretty much down right nothing!

Dedication: sansillion LETH! You are down right insane and I luff you for it! Thank you in so many ways!

Note: Please note, this fic has been finished for a long time, I just keep forgetting to upload it here as well as well as my LJ =x I do want to thank everyone who's reading and reviewing this – it's nice to know it still hits a spot even after so long

Smile: Lose Me

Fuji watched, because that was all he could do. With a smile, and some appropriate words, he managed to somehow be himself to everyone else, but to himself, he was in turmoil, lost. There was a part of him that paid attention to the match, a part that saw the way Ryoma played, the way in which he evolved. It felt like he was watching himself from the outside, and everything he did, and everything he said, wasn't really him.

Numb, it was the only sensation to describe what he was or, more accurately, wasn't feeling. The him he could see, that parody of himself and how he was feeling, it saw the match for what it was, an utter whitewash, a complete humiliation as their freshman flexed his growing pains. Fuji might have felt impressed, had he been able to remember just how to feel at all.

His eyes kept flickering back to Tezuka's shoulder. It looked completely normal, as if nothing was wrong with it, as if the older boy would just be able to stand back up and play again. Fuji wanted to frown, but his mouth wouldn't work, all he could do was smile, smile so hard it was making his face ache.

The match came to an end, and if Fuji remembered correctly he went through the celebratory motions with the others. His head ached, it felt like it was going to explode, and he couldn't bring himself to look at Tezuka. What would this mean? An injury like that wasn't something easily gotten over.

He watched as Tezuka made his way off the courts, following Ryuzaki-sensai to the hospital. It felt like all the air that was in him drained out, leaving a dry, empty husk of Fuji. That almost made him laugh, but he just managed to refrain. Instead, he made his way off the courts and began the trudge home, because he just didn't feel up to taking a bus.

The thing was, he didn't head home. Falling into a daze once again, which seemed to have developed into a habit, Fuji's feet took him to Tezuka's house. It was empty, as per usual, his family away, not unlike Fuji's own.

Cerulean eyes focused on the steps, not really seeing them, not really acknowledging that he'd arrived where he had. The expression of defeat that past so briefly over Tezuka's face at the end of the match had etched itself in Fuji's mind, and so, it was all he could see. Defeated just wasn't the way Tezuka was. He didn't give up; he didn't give in, because his tenacious nature wouldn't let him.

And yet, that same tenacity had just caused an injury Fuji wasn't sure the other boy would be able to recover from. Still, did it really? Was it just Tezuka's stubborn pride that caused it, or had it been lying dormant and waiting? To be honest, Fuji didn't think that made one whit of difference, and he couldn't decide what irked him more; that Tezuka had pushed such potential injury to the brink, or that he hadn't told Fuji the danger existed in the first place.

Fuji wondered for a brief moment at the selfish thought flitting through his mind. His anger was partially directed at the fact that Tezuka might not be able to play in the Nationals now. If Tezuka didn't play, Fuji wasn't one hundred percent that they would win. Oh, Fuji himself had no intention of losing his match, not with so much riding on the line, not after the ultimatum he'd thrown down to his father.

Dropping his bag, Fuji sat down on the front steps, face cushioned with his hands, eyes not really seeing anything in front of him. He waited, giving himself so many reasons for doing so. It wasn't possible to deny the fact that he was angry, and yet, at the same time, he felt concern. As he'd thought, no one was home, hell, it was worse than at Fuji's. And not being the sort of person to request assistance, Tezuka would try to attempt doing everything himself.

Well, if Tezuka wouldn't let him in, Fuji was going to wedge the door open with his foot. Of course, if probably would have helped had he been paying more attention to his surroundings. As it was, Fuji turned sullen eyes and scowling mouth up to the person blocking the afternoon sunlight from him, and started just a little. He'd been too lost in his thoughts to even notice the cab that dropped Tezuka off.

Standing swiftly, Fuji got out of the way so that Tezuka could open the door. Eyeing the bag on Tezuka's right shoulder, Fuji wondered just what the doctor had said, and suddenly regretted not having gone to the hospital with his friend. He'd decided not to say anything until they actually got into the house, and it was one of those times where the silence between them was actually tense.

Fuji was fairly sure what was going through the other boy's head, and he couldn't really blame Tezuka for those thoughts, because he knew Fuji far better than anyone else. With a sigh, Fuji headed into the kitchen first, knowing Tezuka would follow in his own good time. It felt a little strange to rummage through someone else's food stores, but Fuji thought it for the best, and he knew, even if Tezuka didn't show it, that the other boy would appreciate it.

He really wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say, but he knew Tezuka would think that he was going to say something else, which Fuji wasn't. It made him feel almost guilty that his behaviour would lead Tezuka to assume that Fuji would want to run from him for this, but Fuji was tired of running, at least from Tezuka. He realised that the older boy was probably already confused, considering Fuji was standing in the kitchen making food for him.

That was enough to make Fuji chuckle, which was enough to make Tezuka look up at him in even more obvious confusion when he walked through the doorway. Fuji's smile broke down, for the first time since Tezuka's match, and became a real smile, a smile that didn't hurt to keep fixed on his face. Gesturing that Tezuka should take a seat; Fuji placed a sandwich in front of his friend before picking up one himself and seating himself opposite.

Tezuka couldn't seem to hide his surprise at the fact that there wasn't anything on the bread even remotely resembling a chilli like spice. Fuji watched him eat, nibbling on his own. He wasn't really hungry when it got right down to it; he was worried, annoyed and well almost scared, if he ever admitted to being scared.

He could feel Tezuka watching him as he bent his head and studied his food. Fuji just didn't know how to deal with what was going through his head. One way was snapping, which really never got them anywhere, another way was calmly talking about things, and well, he couldn't really think of a third so he decided to go with the second.

"I almost thought it might not be important to you anymore." It was the only way Fuji could think of to start, and cerulean eyes found Tezuka's own, holding the gaze.

Tezuka's eyes didn't break the hold, but there were questions deep inside that made Fuji want to know exactly what they were. The older boy answered about as hesitantly as was possible for his nature to allow. "It's always important to me." He didn't need to add that he'd already said this before.

Fuji chewed on his lip for a second, putting down his sandwich, and decided to try a different approach, for once, a more direct approach. "You didn't tell me about it. Why?" Because he had to know, he just had to, or else he'd always want to. And Fuji hated not getting what he wanted.

With a sigh, Tezuka leaned back in his chair, right arm rubbing absently at his left. In just a brief second a myriad of emotions passed over his face before it settled into the smooth, slightly frowning lines it usually wore. "It was just a danger, not a certainty, I didn't want to worry people." He glanced at Fuji, as if to see if he'd said enough, but knew he hadn't. They both knew exactly what Fuji had meant when he asked why.

Fuji was prepared to wait for as long as it took Tezuka to answer him. Hell, he'd be prepared to coerce the answer out of the other boy, if that sort of thing would work. He was relatively sure he knew the reason Tezuka had pushed himself so far, in fact, Fuji was almost certain of it. Still, he wanted to hear the other boy say it, wanted to know for sure.

Tezuka seemed to resign himself to the fact, and sat up a little straighter in his chair. "I needed to know, Syusuke…"

Fuji closed his eyes. It was all he'd needed to hear, because in those few words, Tezuka had let out so very much. The determination he had to make it in the sport he loved more than anything, the pain he felt at having to hold himself back and protect an injury he should by all rights not have had, and the confusion he felt when he thought it was healed, only to be told that he'd have to be careful.

A professional tennis player couldn't afford an injury like that; it would be his undoing. And so, Tezuka had pushed it, hard and far, long and determined, to see just how far it could be pressed. Obviously, at the moment, not far enough.

Opening his eyes again, Fuji could see the pain etched so subtly in the lines of Tezuka's face. Just the way he held his head, the way his lips dipped just that tiny bit more in a frown, and the way his eyes roamed with that hint of dissatisfaction. Fuji dismissed the argument they'd had before the matches had begun that day, he pushed the guilt to the back of his mind to be dealt with later, because right then, Tezuka didn't need that. Right then Tezuka needed, what Fuji was fairly certain, only he could give him.

Fingers traced circles around the table, as Fuji's thoughts chased themselves, finally catching what it was he wanted to say. "Some obstacles can't be moved out the way, but need to be compensated for. That detour might prove longer than you think." He waited, hoping he'd said enough, and not too much.

The tension in Tezuka's shoulders eased, just that little bit, and he leaned forward, careful not to place weight on his injured arm. "The road is darker than I thought, and more difficult than I imagined it would be." Brown eyes sought out Fuji's seeking an understanding, an acceptance.

But Fuji couldn't bring himself to smile, not quite, because it just wasn't enough. He needed to be sure. "Rome will always be there, it's just a matter of how long it takes to reach it. Detour, or no..." Fuji needed to take a breath before continuing, not quite sure how well what he was about to say would be taken. "The feel of the way won't change, you don't need to see in the dark…"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tezuka smiled, just a short, almost tight smile, but it was more than Fuji had been expecting, and he waited, with almost baited breath, for what Tezuka would say.

"I believe you, but…" And it seemed like Tezuka was struggling with what he had to say, with what he wanted to say. Almost as if he feared rejection. "Just don't lose me in the dark…"

And Fuji realised exactly what Tezuka meant, because Tezuka wasn't the only one who'd fought a battle that day. Every time Fuji played, he fought against a side of himself he wasn't overly fond of. That Tezuka realised this, that Tezuka had obviously seen that darker side of Fuji and accepted him just the same, it made Fuji wish he could do more for the other boy. Instead, he just smiled, and propped his chin in his hands. "They might seem a little dim, but I wasn't planning on letting the lights go out in the first place…"

For a brief second, Tezuka's face lit up, the pain fell away, the worry melted, and his face looked like it did when he slept, except happier. For a while they sat like that, just knowing, just feeling, just accepting, just being themselves.

And Fuji decided he liked it when Tezuka smiled.

~~**~~

Well yeah, it kinda did what I wanted it to…

Hope you enjoyed it! Feedback lurved!