Chapter 2 - Deceit

Tezuka was playing his first professional tournament in Barcelona in April to test the waters. The school year had just barely begun in Japan, but Atobe dropped his student council and tennis team duties to run off to Western Europe to watch his rival play. This sudden appearance was enough to mildly annoy the bespectacled teenage boy, but he knew most of his answers to his questions were either "I'm rich" or "I'm bored". He was not the type to bother asking either way. The two were rallying against each other at one of the practice courts while having a conversation because neither of them could sit still.

"Join me for dinner tonight?" Atobe asked.

"No," Tezuka responded plainly.

"Why not? I'm paying."

"Your generosity is duly noted, Atobe," he said in a sarcastic tone.

"That doesn't sound like a 'no' to me, Tezuka." He hit a complicated backshot that landed outside of the court. "So, what do you say? I know this great place along the coastline. They have the most amazing jamón ibérico you'll never get to try."

Tezuka wiped the sweat off of his forehead with his wristband. "I am not sure what that even is."

"Better start learning. You won't be a commoner very soon."

He gave the boastful man across the net an annoyed glare. "Atobe, seriously, why are you here?"

"Ahn? A friend can't support his other friend's budding professional career?" Atobe walked towards a bench, where his tennis bag and its contents were scattered about.

Tezuka walked over and took a seat at the same bench. "Last I checked, you were neither my friend nor someone who wanted me to have this career," he said with a slight hint of malice.

He laughed. "Still bitter about the Kanto Regionals?"

Tezuka said nothing, but Atobe knew what he wanted to say.

"Come on, Tezuka. It's just one dinner. I promise I am not out to poison you."

"What is it that you wish to do, Atobe?"

The prideful man smirked. "To go on a date with you."

"Is this a joke?" he scoffed.

"Of course not, but you can choose to believe that it is or accept that I am trying to make amends for what happened, Tezuka." Atobe rested his hand on Tezuka's shoulder. "I mean it."

The former Seigaku captain had no idea what to make of those words, but chose to believe that it was just some form of humour that he did not understand. "Fine. I finish at 8 tonight."

"I'll see you then," he smiled before picking up his tennis bag and leaving the courts.

Seven hours ahead on the opposite side of the globe, it was just another average weekday. Classes were over and club activities were wrapping up for the day as well. The ranking matches to determine this year's regular team for Rikkai's high school team had just concluded. There were no surprises when seven of the eight positions went to the first years who were on the middle school team from last year. It was a reunion of the same team that won the middle school nationals two years prior, only this time, the first years no longer had a reason to be malicious towards their lone second year senpai anymore. Now that they were done for the day, Yukimura, Sanada and Yanagi decided to head to a café to celebrate before heading home.

After their drinks had arrived, Yukimura raised his cup of chamomile tea to toast. "Here's to having the championship team back together again," he chuckled.

"Seiichi, I really wish you didn't joke about that so often," Yanagi groaned.

"Lighten up, Renji. Seigaku's lost Tezuka and Oishi. Whoever made up the Shitenhouji roster is scattered across the entire Kansai region by now. Our only threat is Hyoutei, but that pompous ass has been flying around this planet instead of actually trying to put together his team," the frail boy snorted.

Sanada felt himself choke on his espresso. "You were actually serious about Atobe going after Tezuka?"

"Do I ever lie to you, Sanada?" Yukimura smiled, rather amused. "Actually, I take that back; I lie to you all the time."

The scowling man folded his arms over his chest. "Regardless, just because our competition is scattered about, doesn't mean we can slack on our training."

"This year is the best for us to claim the title," the data master reluctantly admitted. "If we stick to the same training regime and Mouri-senpai doesn't skip practices, our probability of winning this year is... almost one hundred percent."

Yukimura clinked his mug with Sanada's and Yanagi's. "And I shall celebrate those wonderful odds."

Sanada stood up from his seat and excused himself from the conversation. When he disappeared behind the restroom door, Yukimura's cheery demeanour instantly changed into something more glum. Yanagi reached across the table and held his friend's hand.

"Seiichi-"

"Renji, enough," Yukimura butted in before his friend could finish his thought. "Let me dream."

Yanagi let out a frustrated sigh. "You know I hate seeing you like this."

"And you know that I can't tell him how I feel. It would make all of this," he gestured around the table, "just disappear."

Yanagi tightened his grip. "You know that's not true. Genichirou wouldn't let something like that get in the way of your very long friendship."

"I don't want to be his friend, Renji."

"What is it that you want, Seiichi? Even after knowing you for the better part of three years, I am still nowhere close to understanding."

Sanada's reappearance cut their conversation short. "Yukimura, are you alright?"

He nodded his head and smiled. "Just a little tired," he lied.

The stoic demeanour quickly changed into a panicked and concerned expression. "Should I escort you home, then?"

"Yes!" he blurted out before covering his mouth with his hands. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be so loud."

Sanada nodded and offered his arm for Yukimura to take. "Renji, are you coming with us?"

Yanagi shook his head. "Go on ahead. I have to go check on Akaya and make sure he hasn't killed Yoshio-kun yet. I'll take care of the bill today."

"Thanks, Renji," Yukimura smiled as he hung onto Sanada's arm. "Lead the way, Sanada."

Yanagi watched as his two friends walked out of the small establishment with frustration. He wanted to slam his fist into the table, but knew it was a futile action. It pained him to see Yukimura be so helpless and so reliant on Sanada and the latter being so clueless about the former's ulterior motives. He also knew that there was nothing he could do about it other than watch himself be hurt over and over again.

Tezuka had no expectations for how outlandish his new "friend" would make a simple dinner, but he was still blown away by the extravagance of it all. He felt very out of place by the business casual attire he was wearing, even though that's what Atobe told him to wear in his text. Somehow, the dark grey blazer over a dotted button down with a thin matching grey tie and black chinos felt like he was wearing a clown suit when everyone around him looked severely under or overdressed. The people who were entering and leaving the restaurant were all part of a socioeconomic class that he would never be a part of nor would he ever understand. He just didn't understand the need to spend exorbitant amounts of money on food when it could be spent on rent or better training equipment. Atobe knew that and made it a challenge to change his point of view.

"You actually showed up overdressed. I'm impressed," the haughty man chuckled.

"You said to dress business casual."

"Ditch the jacket. It's too warm for one."

Tezuka removed his blazer and draped it over his arm. Atobe eyed the man standing in front of him, indulging in the sight of the ever-stoic Tezuka Kunimitsu trying to hide his uneasiness with the situation. His mind began to race towards more unsavoury thoughts of what he would do to the up-and-coming tennis pro later that night. Though his imagination was insatiably wild, Atobe knew that his reality was much more different.

As the two entered the establishment, the maître'd looked at the two with a very excited face. "Señor Keigo! What an absolute delight to see you again."

"I have missed you so, Emillio. Your best table for two," Atobe responded.

"I did not know you spoke Spanish, Atobe," Tezuka remarked.

"I also do English, German, Dutch, French, Italian, Portuguese and Greek rather well should you ever need the assistance."

Once they were settled into their table that overlooked the tourist trap Barcelona beaches, Atobe took the liberty of ordering for the both of them. Normally, Tezuka would protest, but he could barely read the menu himself.

"Relax, Tezuka," he smirked. "I won't feed you anything that could give you food poisoning."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"You have little faith in me. What purpose would eliminating you do?"

"And, yet, I am still unsure as to why you are here. It simply cannot be because you are bored and have nothing else to do," Tezuka retorted.

Atobe propped himself up on the table. "If you must know, my father asked me to oversee some business in our Spanish operations. It also happened to coincide with your debut."

"And school? Your team?"

"Ahn? Since when did you care about my excellent grades or my invincible tennis team?"

Tezuka wondered the same thing, but chose not to press it further.

"I would never leave any job I do half-finished. Just sit back and enjoy the experience while you can with someone you know. Soon enough, the people surrounding you will just be fakes who are afraid of showing their true selves."

The expressionless boy sighed as the wait staff came to their table and began placing down a mouth-watering assortment of delicacies and dishes. What caught his eyes the most was the strange board of wood with paper-thin slices of an equally strange, fatty meat and accompaniments, laid out in a manner that evoked his appetite.

Atobe could see the drool his friend was holding back. "Give it a try, Tezuka. I want to watch your face as you experience black label jamón ibérico for the first time."

Tezuka struggled to determine what the proper etiquette for picking up the food item was before throwing all caution to the wind and using his slender fingers to pick up a small slice of the meat. He carefully brought it to his mouth, noting that it gave off a slight nutty scent and left a thin layer of fatty oil on his fingertips. The meat instantly melted when his tongue touched it, releasing an indescribable taste behind. The experience of consuming that one piece by itself was something Tezuka could never quantify.

"Magical, isn't it?" Atobe smirked. "For the amount of effort they put into raising those pigs, it's almost a crime to kill them to make this ham."

"What makes you say that?" he inquired.

"The black Iberian pigs used in this come from a protected purebred lineage. They are allowed to roam around freely and feast on as many acorns, chestnuts, grass and herbs as they want to before they are slaughtered, salted and cured. Personally, I prefer it with a slice of Yubari King, but it's quite difficult to procure such a melon in this part of Western Europe." Atobe took a sip from his chilly glass of water. "It's a shame that such a majestic creature exists and we chose to eat it."

"I had no idea you felt this way about animals, Atobe."

"Darwin calls it 'natural selection'. Merely just the dominant species dictating order," he stated.

Tezuka noted that Atobe's answer seemed to fit the refined, yet prideful character that his mind made him out to be. The two ate their meal mostly in silence, except for when Atobe would interject with his thoughts and trivia on the food they were eating. It was a strange, yet comforting experience for the soon-to-be pro tennis player. He could never really recall any time in his past where he simply enjoyed a meal with someone he knew that wasn't his family. His companion, however, was having a much harder time trying not to think of what he wanted to do to Tezuka right then and there. Atobe tried desperately to suppress these hormone-driven thoughts as the meal dragged on. Thankfully, Tezuka was unaware of Atobe's growing attraction towards him.

"Thank you again for the meal, Atobe," Tezuka said as he finished his plate and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "It was quite unexpected. I learned a lot."

"Of course," Atobe smiled. "We shall do this again."

Tezuka's expression soured slightly. "Really, I think this is plenty. You and I have our own responsibilities to attend to."

"You really are too serious and proper for your own good, Tezuka," he commented. "Not that I mind that at all, coming from you."

"I am unsure of your intentions, Atobe."

"Ahn? I did make my intentions very clear from the start."

Tezuka did not buy the date scenario Atobe made the meal out to be. He did not see the other man through the same rose-coloured lenses he was being viewed under. "Right..."

"Well," Atobe pushed his chair out and stood up, "shall we get going? I can get my driver to drop you off at your hotel for the night."

Tezuka nodded without saying another word in response.

Later that night, the same egocentric moron laid in his bed, struggling to close his eyes and rest. He couldn't get the thought of grabbing and fiercely kissing Tezuka Kunimitsu out of his head. It was an especially dangerous thought, as this was the first time he couldn't get what he wanted. The bespectacled boy was not an item he could just buy with the snap of his fingers and money; he was an autonomous being with free will. Atobe began to obsess over the thousands of ways he would try to make his love interest fall for him, failing to realize that the same boy would likely never feel the same way towards him.

Just as he was beginning to nod off, his phone pinged with a notification massage. Cursing himself for forgetting to put it on silent, he turned on the screen and blinded himself to check and see who it was.

'Heard about your disaster of a date. You seriously spent a whole dinner talking about the nuances of Spanish cuisine? How lame, even for you.'

Irritated, he fired off his equally snarky reply. 'At least I have the balls to admit to him that it was a date. How much longer will you play the sick card in front of him?'

The reply was almost instant. 'Rot in hell :)'

'See you there.'

Lunchtime at Rikkai was eventful, thanks to a certain silver-haired trickster and his equally unwilling student council accomplice. Rather than sticking around in their classrooms to fall victim to one of Niou's many pranks, Yukimura had taken Sanada up to a secret rooftop spot. It was a secluded area on the top of the campus library that Yukimura was only recently made aware of. No one else was there, but the both of them could easily tell that someone had been there recently. There was a pillow and sleeping bag being stored under a strangely placed bench and a plastic bag filled with various wrappers from snack foods and empty soda cans. Sanada instantly knew who that belonged to.

"Please do not tell me he was here," Sanada pleaded.

Yukimura chuckled. "Sorry, Sanada, but it was Drink Fairy-senpai who told me about this place. He says it's the best place to hide from teachers, the public morals committee and you."

"Me? Why the hell would he need to hide from me?" he demanded to know.

"Didn't you threaten him and say you would kill our darling senpai if you caught him skipping practice?"

"I will, now that I know he'll be here," he cursed under his breath.

Yukimura bent down and dusted off a part of the bench before sitting down. "Relax a little, Sanada. It's lunchtime and Niou will never find us here."

Sanada felt a splitting headache beginning to form. He was not looking forward to the incident reports he would have to fill out later. "Fine."

He took a seat beside his friend and the two began to hastily eat their food. When Yukimura was finished, he placed his lunchbox away and laid down on the bench, using Sanada's lap as a makeshift pillow for a quick nap.

"H-hey, Yukimura! It's n-not good to lie d-down r-right after a meal," Sanada stammered.

"You worry too much, Sanada," Yukimura replied as he closed his eyes. "The weather is too nice not to enjoy a nice nap after a good meal."

If it was anyone else, Sanada would have either snapped their neck in a fit of rage or pushed them off of him. With Yukimura, he couldn't bring himself to do anything to hurt his friend, especially after watching him go through a lot of hardships during his hospitalization. Instead, he just accepted whatever strange actions his friend did and tried not to think more about them.

"Sanada, what would you think if I got myself a girlfriend?" Yukimura asked out of the blue.

He almost choked. "Why are you asking such ridiculous questions, Yukimura?"

"I want to know what you would think," he reaffirmed. "Do you think it would be a good idea?"

"No! Are you crazy? How can we possibly win the Nationals this year if you are spending half your time tending to some girl? What utter nonsense!"

His heart skipped a beat. "I'm only joking, Sanada. I would only ever date you."

Sanada sighed as his body eased up. "I can't tell if you're serious or joking sometimes..."

"What if I wasn't joking?"

"Yukimura, there's no way I would ever start a relationship with you."

A sad smile began to form as Yukimura slowly started to drift off. "I know. I'm just teasing you, Sanada..."

When Yukimura woke up from his nap, an absurdly taller person was standing over him, calling out to him using various bastardizations of his name. Sanada's lap had been replaced by the hidden pillow from underneath the bench. He sat himself up and rubbed his eyes as they readjusted to the light around him.

"I demand payment for the usage of my pillow," the person standing over him said in a playful tone. "What do you think of my super secret napping spot? Pretty good, right?"

"So good that Sanada will personally come and kill you the next time you skip practice, Drink Fairy-senpai," he yawned.

Mouri Jusaburou laughed at the empty threat. "I expected nothing less from our new vice captain, but it's not like you to skip afternoon classes."

"Is it that late already? I didn't even hear the bell."

Mouri laughed again. "You're not late, yet. I woke you up just in time for the warning bell!"

"What a kind and generous senpai you are," Yukimura replied, sarcastically.

The carefree redhead noticed some stray tears on the younger boy's face and instantly grew concerned. "H-hey, don't tell me you were just rejected by a girl..."

"Huh?" Yukimura touched his eyes with his fingers and felt a slightly cool and damp feeling. He smiled sadly as a slight pain in his chest began to grow. "Maybe I was."

Another week had passed and it was time for another omiai. As the sole heir to the entire Atobe fortune, attendance at these archaic matchmaking events was mandatory. Even though his family was on a completely different socioeconomic level, Yukimura's father was convinced by Atobe's to bring him to this one. There were many once-in-a-millenium opportunities to network with some very big names and Yukimura's father had to use his son as a means to an end just for this reason. Yukimura understood his father's reasoning and was initially willing to go until he learned who else would be in attendance.

"Nice suit, King," he smiled coldly.

The flamboyant boy gave him an equally cold gaze back. "Ahn? Jealous of my custom-tailored Italian blazer, Child of God?"

Neither of them would refer to each other by their names and opted to use a childish tennis nickname instead. There was a lot of veiled malice and vitriol with their intonation.

A girl almost half their size approached the two during their banter. "You two must be the tennis players my mother told me about."

Yukimura snorted. "One of us is."

"And one of us can't admit that they're just not as good," Atobe hissed back.

"Oh? Last I checked, you've never won against me."

"Who said I had to win the head-to-head to be better than you?"

"Every tennis ranking system ever invented?"

As their argument intensified, the two failed to see that the small person they had just met had disappeared. By the time they did notice, their fathers were within their peripheral visions and they immediately straightened up.

"Keigo, come with me," his father called out. "The Takayasus' daughter has taken a special interest in you and they would like to meet."

"Of course, father," he replied obediently as he followed the older Atobe into a different room.

Yukimura's father came up to his son with a small plate filled with hors d'oeuvres and petit fours. "I'm sorry again, Seiichi. I don't want you to think that I'm using you."

"Father, you know that's exactly what you're doing," the younger one remarked. "It's alright, though. I understand that this is integral to your business and I want to support you as much as I can."

His father gave him a pat on his shoulder. "You're the best."

"Just don't make me marry anyone here," Yukimura chuckled.

Atobe and his father returned not too long afterwards and the two older men wandered elsewhere. The tension between the two captains began to permeate through the room once again.

"Found your new wife yet?" Yukimura sneered.

"You haven't?" Atobe snapped back. "Did Sanada accept your marriage proposal?"

The azure-haired boy's expression darkened. "Did Tezuka reject you hard enough to turn you straight?"

Atobe felt the anger that he was holding back begin to surface.

"Don't say things if you can't handle it being thrown back at you," Yukimura spat as he walked away from the arrogant king.

Atobe followed the delusional Child of God and dragged him into the coat closet, locking them both in the small, sound-dampening room. "It wouldn't kill you to take your own advice either."

"Do you expect me to take my own advice while trapped in this tiny room with you?"

Atobe pinned the smaller one to the door and leaned in. "I expect you to take back what you said, Child of God," he whispered.

A sudden chill went down Yukimura's spine. "Not unless you do the same, King."

The two stared deeply into each other's hate-filled eyes as their faces inched dangerously closer together.

"Ahn? Not going to back down?"

"I mean what I say and say what I mean."

Their lips brushed against each other briefly until Yukimura took the initiative and pulled on the seams of Atobe's overpriced blazer. A smirk began to form on the latter's lips as he pulled the smaller one closer to him.

Yukimura turned away for a brief second to catch his breath. "I hate you so much, Atobe Keigo."

Atobe grabbed Yukimura's chin and turned his head to face him. "Know that the sentiment is mutual, Yukimura Seiichi."

They continued their passionate, hate-filled lip-locking, only this time, their positions were reversed. Atobe was intrigued that the unassuming captain of the championship-winning Rikkai tennis team was capable of being so bold. He was equally surprised at how skilled Yukimura was at kissing. His mind was drowning in the light floral scent wafting by his nose and the sweet taste of their tongues dancing within his mouth. He wanted more than just this one moment.

"How about we ditch this party and continue this elsewhere?"

The azure-haired boy scoffed. "As if I would ever sleep with you."

"Ahn? If I remember correctly, we did exactly that," he grinned. "Or, did you forget all of that?"

Yukimura's cheeks began to flush. "Like I could forget such a terrible experience so easily."

"You were so into it then," Atobe sighed.

Yukimura let go of him and straightened up his suit and hair before unlocking and opening the door. "This never happened."

"My bedroom door is always open for you if you ever change your mind."

When Yukimura had arrived at home and retired for the night, he wanted to scream and kick himself. He couldn't believe what he did earlier at the omiai after swearing up and down that he would never get involved with Atobe Keigo ever again. The worst part was that he knew exactly what he was doing at that moment and he hated everything about it. He was lonely and lovesick for a man who couldn't even tell if a girl fancied him without it being pointed out to him. For a brief, yet spiteful moment, the self-centered Hyoutei captain made that pitiful feeling disappear.

As he wallowed in his own frustrations, his phone alerted him about an incoming text.

'Offer is still on the table.'

He unnecessarily smashed the screen to input his reply. 'What happened between us was a mistake.'

The reply took much longer to arrive. 'I don't regret any of it.'

Yukimura could not fathom why Atobe never felt any sort of remorse for what happened between them during the U-17 World Cup. They were teammates, but also unfortunate roommates during their stay in Australia. Though they had the ability to stay out of each other's hairs, both of their growing romantic and sexual frustrations were enough to drive them closer towards each other.

It first started with Yukimura spotting his roommate with the German representative that used to be on their team. Yukimura could tell that the prideful middle school team captain was feeling more than just admiration for Tezuka. His piercingly cold blue eyes had the same unrequited, longing look to them that his own soft, azure ones had. He confronted Atobe about it later that night as they began to settle down for the night.

"How was Tezuka?" he asked, nonchalantly.

"He is quite confident," Atobe stated. "Whoever designed those German uniforms really has a keen eye for aesthetics."

"Yes, they are quite pleasing to look at," he agreed. "Why were you with him earlier, then? Are you trading team secrets with each other?"

Atobe laughed. "What would that achieve? Tezuka and I were simply declaring war on behalf of the countries we represent."

"Is that all you spoke about?"

"Why the sudden curiosity, Yukimura Seiichi?" he asked in a rather accusatory tone.

"As the captain of Japan's middle school team, you know a lot of privileged information. I am merely trying to protect the team's best interests."

"Are you accusing me of being a spy or defecting?"

"Not unless you can prove otherwise, Atobe Keigo."

His obnoxiously loud laugh echoed through their hotel room. "Just when I was beginning to believe that you had no sense of humour... For your information, I was merely flirting with him."

Yukimura was taken aback by the shamelessness of Atobe's response. "'Flirting'?"

"Surprised?"

"Coming from you? No, I can't say that I am."

"Then, we have nothing further to discuss."

"I suppose not."

Atobe was no stranger to love, having been in several unsuccessful relationships with his many fangirls at school. He knew that his roommate was clearly pining for someone based on the longing he saw in his eyes every time they were alone together. It didn't take him long to see the light in his eyes every time Sanada Genichirou was in the picture. For a brief moment, Yukimura and Sanada looked as if they were destined to be together if it weren't for the fact that one of them could never love another man.

On one of their off days, Atobe caught Yukimura humming a strangely familiar melody as he entered their shared room. He couldn't remember where he had heard it before nor the name of the song. Sanada was also at the door, dropping off his friend for the night. Tooyama Kintarou was slung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and snoring loudly.

"Thanks for today, Sanada. I had fun," Yukimura smiled.

Sanada nodded. "I will see you tomorrow," he responded before continuing down the hallway towards his room.

The soft-spoken boy closed and locked the door to the room with a sigh before all of the glow and joy from his face disappeared. The transformation was night and day, which saddened Atobe slightly to see one of Japan's strongest players look so pitiful.

Yukimura noticed the strange look his roommate was giving him. "May I help you, your highness?"

"The light in your eyes..." Atobe got up from his bed and approached him to get a closer look.

"Huh?" Yukimura took a step back until he was pressed up against the door. "What on earth do you mean by that?"

"Just now, the light in your eyes disappeared. Why?"

Yukimura blinked twice before shoving his deranged roommate out of the way. "I'm sorry. I don't speak 'insane'."

There was a long, suffocating silence that began to grow between them. Right before Yukimura disappeared into the other room, he felt Atobe grab his wrist.

"You love him, don't you?" he blurted out.

The azure-haired boy felt tongue-tied. He hesitated to answer. "I do."

"Are you content just watching and never saying anything, then?"

Yukimura didn't respond. Instead, he just smiled coldly as the pain in his chest grew more and more unbearable. His eyes welled up as the lump in his throat got bigger.

Tension between the two middle school captains reached a boiling point the night before their semifinal match against Germany. Yukimura was the one selected to face off against Tezuka, meaning he would be the one to bear the feelings all of the middle schoolers wished to convey to their former teammate, rival and fellow countryman. Though he was tactful at the selection meeting, it infuriated Atobe that he wasn't the one that would carry the torch. When they were back in their rooms for the night, he cursed to himself, unaware that Yukimura was eavesdropping on his venting session.

"It should have been me," he muttered to himself as he laid down on his bed.

Yukimura sat down beside him and taunted him by poking at his cheek. "Jealous that I get to dance with your partner on the court instead of you?"

Atobe glared at him. "I am really starting to wonder who the hell came up with our room assignments."

"You know, I just love seeing you fuming like this," he continued, leaning down closer towards his face. "How the mighty King has fallen."

The annoyed king grabbed the collar of Yukimura's shirt and pulled himself up. "If your goal is to push my buttons, know that it will take more than just that to piss me off, Child of God."

There was a mischievous glint in the unassuming boy's eyes. "It sounds like I don't need to do anything else," he grinned.

"Do you get joy from this?"

"Only when it's you."

Something within Atobe's mind snapped and he tackled Yukimura, pinning the frail man underneath him. His hands were wrapped around his slender neck, ready to choke him, but he hesitated. Deep within his azure eyes, he could see the darkness that lurked within his soul and a mirror that reflected back. He felt drawn to them.

"What's stopping you? Kill me now and Singles 2 is all yours," Yukimura taunted.

Rather than reply, Atobe leaned in and fiercely kissed him, taking Yukimura by surprise. Using his inexperience to his advantage, Atobe took the initiative and controlled the rhythm and tempo. He was expecting the man underneath him to kick him off, but was surprised when Yukimura reached up and wrapped his arms around his broad figure. What followed stemmed from the hate-filled passion between the two. Clothes started flying off as they both became intoxicated by the moment.

"Last chance," the king smirked.

"Shut up," was the response he got.

When they woke up the next morning in the same bed with nothing else on but the lingering feelings from the night before, they both agreed to never speak of it to anyone. It was probably the only time they ever agreed on something. The guilt tore at both of them in its own unique way, but Atobe never once regretted it. To him, it just reaffirmed the fact that he had needs to be satisfied and that he could separate these feelings from his romantic ones without hurting himself. Yukimura could never truly forgive himself for it because he felt like he betrayed himself and the man he loved. His first kiss and more were both with someone he has despised to the core and he could never forget it. Most of all, he hated himself for enjoying every moment of it. He wanted more, even if it took a major emotional toll on him.