End. I'm so going to enjoy writing this. I know the last one wasn't as emotion-ridden as the first. I think my writing reflects my state of mind – I am so exhausted from exams… but I just have to finish this! ^.^ I just came out of my last midterm, sat down in the library and wrote to my heart's content.
It's OK, but it's unedited and I'm not fully satisfied with the end. I may revise it someday when I become better at writing conclusions.
Title: Retry
Part: 3/3 (I swear it's the last, I swear it's the last… I want to write about my Hyoutei boys now…)
Rating: PG-R. Staying on the safe side. ::nods::
WC: 1849
Disclaimer: So glad the tenipuri boys are living in happier worlds than the ones I draw for them. (read: not mine)
-~-~-~-
Muscles that had almost forgotten how to not smile slacked in shock.
"Not for much longer, that is," Tezuka rectified his last statement, realizing how strange it had sounded. "She left before I woke today – she'd left a note." Tezuka pulled a neatly folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and handed it over. The fingers that offered and the fingers that accepted were careful to avoid direct contact, because nerves were already stretched to breaking and souls were reaching, desperate for the contact that hadn't been for seven years and could never be again.
Slowly, Fuji unfolded the familiar stationary, which he recognized as the one the family used for important letters and documents. He skimmed through the distinctly feminine handwriting, too high-strung to carefully read anything. When he figured he got the main gist of it, he looked up at the staring Tezuka, who was looking rather out of it. His eyes had been glued to Fuji's face, as though memorizing every part of that face, looking at the gentleness still displayed everywhere, even on the more defined, more angular cheeks, down which no tears had flown since that night.
"Did she really leave them? Signed?"
"The papers are being processed by my lawyer as we speak."
"Does that mean…"
Fuji never got to finish his sentence. Unable to suppress years of yearning anymore, and without a wife to make the action one of infidelity, Tezuka reached an arm out and pulled Fuji into the tightest embrace they had ever shared, burying his face into the smaller man's mop of hair and breathing pure Fuji, arms wrapped so tightly around the slim frame he feared he'd crush the other's ribcage, but knowing the prodigy was stronger than he looked, he only pressed him closer, unable to control himself anymore.
It wasn't like Fuji minded. He was still shocked, from the embrace, from the letter, from the fact that he was here, in his apartment, with him, holding him, loving him. After telling himself to stop dreaming of – dreaming for – Tezuka, to be held by the man again was impossible except in dreams. But sometimes, if you wish hard enough, if you wish so much harder than you ever did for that bicycle you so wanted when you were five, with all your heart and soul, with every fiber of your being, even the impossible can become real, can't they?
The paper fluttered slowly to the floor as Fuji forgot its existence, wrapping his arms around Tezuka instead. "Buchou," he whispered affectionately. "Tezuka. Kunimitsu."
Crystal droplet met crystal droplet, joining and mixing, becoming one, as did the souls that shed them. Eyes that had been dry since the day all sadness hid itself behind a mask overflowed with floods of pain that had been building up behind the heart's dam, washing away with it all the despair that had slowly collected and grew in the empty recesses of the hollowed out shell of a muscle. Two souls sighed as they finally got the contact they had been reaching out for for years, repressed by the mind and the body, controlled by society. They transgressed Joyce's governmental, societal, whatever, net over souls. Eternally, the souls would be together, bond between them all the stronger from the knowledge of the pain that even an ephemeral separation caused.
From the real world that seemed so far away, a ringing finally broke through the silent stillness the two had stayed in, afraid to move, talk, breath, lest it all be a dream that faded into the morning light when reality knocked – or called, as the case was. But nothing lasts forever, and Fuji firmly fixed his smile back into place as Tezuka pulled out a golden cell phone, heart preparing itself for the crash of the real world's wake up call, telling him that Tezuka's wife was waiting for him, that it had all been a cruel joke. But he had gotten Tezuka once again, right? Maybe it wouldn't be as bad alone anymore?
No, that was denial, and Fuji Syuusuke didn't do denial. Nothing would ever be OK if Tezuka wasn't him, wasn't by his side. Hadn't that already been proven when Tezuka left him the first time? How would this ever-so-brief moment of a dream that would most certainly someday mix with his other memories of happy times make him feel once he could no longer touch Tezuka again, could no longer have him, again?
"It's done? It's official? Thank you!" Tezuka's voice, usually so stoic, unemotional, surprised Fuji with its pure, unbridled, ecstatic joy. Fuji watched, eyes widening as he realized this was the real world this was the real thing this wasn't a dream and Tezuka was his. "The divorce is official, Fuji. My lawyer will be contacting my family to tell them the situation. I'm no longer married."
Fuji could only stare. It was real this time. So very very real. And the world turned black.
It was warm. It was winter, but he felt warmer than he had in the past several summers. And it was dark. And there was a body next to him in bed.
In bed?
Fuji blinked and sat up, trying to recall what happened and figure out where he was. It wasn't hard to realize he was in his own bed, and that it was Tezuka's arm around his waist, Tezuka's body keeping him warm – oh! Tezuka? Looking down at the peacefully sleeping form next to him, Fuji smiled – really smiled – recalling the events before he'd passed out - probably from sheer exhaustion from his all nighter and the excitement and emotions. He remembered the note, and untangling himself from Tezuka's possessive hold - as much as he didn't ever want to leave Tezuka's side again, he was secure in the knowledge that nothing could keep them apart now - he went out to the living room, spotting the lavender paper easily against his hardwood floor. Picking it up, he sat on the sofa again, white moonlight still pouring in, just like the night before. He it really been less than a day ago when he had been looking at those pictures, soul crying inside at the hopelessness of life, made worse by the second reality check of Tezuka's marriage through his son?
He carefully read the note this time, calmer than before and curious as to the woman's own reasons for wanting the end of the marriage.
Dearest Kunimitsu,
I'm sorry it had to be this way, but I cannot live without the man I love anymore. I tried to love you, and I really did, but it wasn't the once-in-a-lifetime love that tears at you when you're not together. When your friend came yesterday, I realized that you and he also suffered through our marriage. I met my love in junior high, as I remember hearing you and Fuji-san had. Now seems like a good time, too – we've done our duty and joined our families forever in blood. Our son is that union – we need not live the rest of our lives in pain for the union anymore. I have not been faithless to you these years, as I know you have not been to me. This is the first time I have called him since our wedding day. He has come for me. I signed the papers necessary for our divorce. Please reach for your own love, and sign these papers also. I always will love you, but it cannot be compared with what I feel for him, and what I know you feel for Fuji-san. Take care of our son, or leave him with our families. I will return for him soon, and to get the hopeful confirmation of our divorce. Goodbye.
Fuji sighed, and leaned his head back. And froze. He head snapped forward. Junior high. That picture – she had attended Hyoutei! And she was wearing the a jacket from the boy's club… Fuji grabbed the album he'd put the photo in. There she was, with a guy's arm around her shoulder. A guy wearing a jersey, no jacket. Now just who was that again?
"Fuji. You're awake." Tezuka's voice made Fuji look up, as the man sat down next to him, gently cupped his chin, and leaned in for what made Fuji feel like he was experiencing his first kiss all over again. Soft lips moved against each other, sweet, innocent, pure, almost making Fuji forget.
Almost.
Breaking for air, gasping, Fuji grinned up at his smiling lover. "Tezuka, you've got a good memory, right? This picture caught my eye last night and I blew it up, but I can't quite recall who this is. Do you remember?" He held up the photo for Tezuka's inspection.
"Fuji, I don't want to look at Hyoutei pictures," Tezuka replied, eyebrow slightly twitching in what Fuji recognized as annoyance. Tezuka was back to his old self. He smiled.
"Oh but it's not just any Hyoutei picture. Look closely."
"Why? Wait… is that… oh..."
"It is, isn't it?"
"I remember her telling me she went to Hyoutei… I never knew she dated Wakashi."
"Who?"
"Wakashi Hiyoshi. The boy who lost to Echizen. That must be who she was talking about in the letter…"
"Yes, it must have." Fuji looked at the letter again. Then he set both the letter and the picture down on his coffee table, and leaned into Tezuka again, who put his arm about Fuji. "It doesn't matter though. I'm just glad she had him, because if she didn't, then I wouldn't have gotten you back."
"Yes. That Wakashi… we sure owe him a lot, you and I."
"What?"
"He was one of those who pushed Echizen to a higher level of play, remember?"
"Not in particular. I do remember Hyoutei's Atobe, though. He was the one who took you away from me, but he also gave you to me."
"Was he now."
"Mmm. It took your going away to make me realize how much exactly you meant to me. Then I thought we'd be together forever when you came back. But it all ended that night you told me about your engagement."
"I remember. I felt the same."
"Who knew she did also… her life must have also ended that night she said goodbye to that Hyoutei guy."
"Yea…"
There was a comfortable silence as they both thought about the years when they weren't together. The happiest times of your life should never happen when you're so young, because then you're always left with an empty feeling inside of you and your mind is filled with wishes of wanting to go back to that time and you're consumed by your emotions and your memories and your dusty volumes of photo albums of a time long past. And once they start, they don't end until the end of your life. Because once that person you love more than anything else is taken away from you, you're as good as dead.
He should call Eiji tomorrow.
"Tezuka?"
"Hm?"
"Hold me?"
"I'll never let go again."
-~-~-~-
Whew! Finished! ^.^ Happy now.
Oh, and I only used Hiyoshi 'cause I figured he was the only one of Hyoutei honorable enough to stay away from his girl if she married. =.= Can't imagine Atobe ever doing anything like that.
What do you think? Please leave me comments – they really do help when I'm working on improving my writing and all. ^.^ I know the grammar wasn't perfect throughout this story – I decided to forgo grammar for content & feeling. Did that work?
And must I keep plugging the website and asking for help? =/ I'll just hafta take it down if there's no interest...
http://www.yinguang.tk
I haven't gotten any submissions. =/ I promise I'll work on it more this weekend! I finished my last midterm and now I just have a project to code, so I should have more time to work on that. ^.^ Please submit stories/graphics/etc.!
It's OK, but it's unedited and I'm not fully satisfied with the end. I may revise it someday when I become better at writing conclusions.
Title: Retry
Part: 3/3 (I swear it's the last, I swear it's the last… I want to write about my Hyoutei boys now…)
Rating: PG-R. Staying on the safe side. ::nods::
WC: 1849
Disclaimer: So glad the tenipuri boys are living in happier worlds than the ones I draw for them. (read: not mine)
-~-~-~-
Muscles that had almost forgotten how to not smile slacked in shock.
"Not for much longer, that is," Tezuka rectified his last statement, realizing how strange it had sounded. "She left before I woke today – she'd left a note." Tezuka pulled a neatly folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket and handed it over. The fingers that offered and the fingers that accepted were careful to avoid direct contact, because nerves were already stretched to breaking and souls were reaching, desperate for the contact that hadn't been for seven years and could never be again.
Slowly, Fuji unfolded the familiar stationary, which he recognized as the one the family used for important letters and documents. He skimmed through the distinctly feminine handwriting, too high-strung to carefully read anything. When he figured he got the main gist of it, he looked up at the staring Tezuka, who was looking rather out of it. His eyes had been glued to Fuji's face, as though memorizing every part of that face, looking at the gentleness still displayed everywhere, even on the more defined, more angular cheeks, down which no tears had flown since that night.
"Did she really leave them? Signed?"
"The papers are being processed by my lawyer as we speak."
"Does that mean…"
Fuji never got to finish his sentence. Unable to suppress years of yearning anymore, and without a wife to make the action one of infidelity, Tezuka reached an arm out and pulled Fuji into the tightest embrace they had ever shared, burying his face into the smaller man's mop of hair and breathing pure Fuji, arms wrapped so tightly around the slim frame he feared he'd crush the other's ribcage, but knowing the prodigy was stronger than he looked, he only pressed him closer, unable to control himself anymore.
It wasn't like Fuji minded. He was still shocked, from the embrace, from the letter, from the fact that he was here, in his apartment, with him, holding him, loving him. After telling himself to stop dreaming of – dreaming for – Tezuka, to be held by the man again was impossible except in dreams. But sometimes, if you wish hard enough, if you wish so much harder than you ever did for that bicycle you so wanted when you were five, with all your heart and soul, with every fiber of your being, even the impossible can become real, can't they?
The paper fluttered slowly to the floor as Fuji forgot its existence, wrapping his arms around Tezuka instead. "Buchou," he whispered affectionately. "Tezuka. Kunimitsu."
Crystal droplet met crystal droplet, joining and mixing, becoming one, as did the souls that shed them. Eyes that had been dry since the day all sadness hid itself behind a mask overflowed with floods of pain that had been building up behind the heart's dam, washing away with it all the despair that had slowly collected and grew in the empty recesses of the hollowed out shell of a muscle. Two souls sighed as they finally got the contact they had been reaching out for for years, repressed by the mind and the body, controlled by society. They transgressed Joyce's governmental, societal, whatever, net over souls. Eternally, the souls would be together, bond between them all the stronger from the knowledge of the pain that even an ephemeral separation caused.
From the real world that seemed so far away, a ringing finally broke through the silent stillness the two had stayed in, afraid to move, talk, breath, lest it all be a dream that faded into the morning light when reality knocked – or called, as the case was. But nothing lasts forever, and Fuji firmly fixed his smile back into place as Tezuka pulled out a golden cell phone, heart preparing itself for the crash of the real world's wake up call, telling him that Tezuka's wife was waiting for him, that it had all been a cruel joke. But he had gotten Tezuka once again, right? Maybe it wouldn't be as bad alone anymore?
No, that was denial, and Fuji Syuusuke didn't do denial. Nothing would ever be OK if Tezuka wasn't him, wasn't by his side. Hadn't that already been proven when Tezuka left him the first time? How would this ever-so-brief moment of a dream that would most certainly someday mix with his other memories of happy times make him feel once he could no longer touch Tezuka again, could no longer have him, again?
"It's done? It's official? Thank you!" Tezuka's voice, usually so stoic, unemotional, surprised Fuji with its pure, unbridled, ecstatic joy. Fuji watched, eyes widening as he realized this was the real world this was the real thing this wasn't a dream and Tezuka was his. "The divorce is official, Fuji. My lawyer will be contacting my family to tell them the situation. I'm no longer married."
Fuji could only stare. It was real this time. So very very real. And the world turned black.
It was warm. It was winter, but he felt warmer than he had in the past several summers. And it was dark. And there was a body next to him in bed.
In bed?
Fuji blinked and sat up, trying to recall what happened and figure out where he was. It wasn't hard to realize he was in his own bed, and that it was Tezuka's arm around his waist, Tezuka's body keeping him warm – oh! Tezuka? Looking down at the peacefully sleeping form next to him, Fuji smiled – really smiled – recalling the events before he'd passed out - probably from sheer exhaustion from his all nighter and the excitement and emotions. He remembered the note, and untangling himself from Tezuka's possessive hold - as much as he didn't ever want to leave Tezuka's side again, he was secure in the knowledge that nothing could keep them apart now - he went out to the living room, spotting the lavender paper easily against his hardwood floor. Picking it up, he sat on the sofa again, white moonlight still pouring in, just like the night before. He it really been less than a day ago when he had been looking at those pictures, soul crying inside at the hopelessness of life, made worse by the second reality check of Tezuka's marriage through his son?
He carefully read the note this time, calmer than before and curious as to the woman's own reasons for wanting the end of the marriage.
Dearest Kunimitsu,
I'm sorry it had to be this way, but I cannot live without the man I love anymore. I tried to love you, and I really did, but it wasn't the once-in-a-lifetime love that tears at you when you're not together. When your friend came yesterday, I realized that you and he also suffered through our marriage. I met my love in junior high, as I remember hearing you and Fuji-san had. Now seems like a good time, too – we've done our duty and joined our families forever in blood. Our son is that union – we need not live the rest of our lives in pain for the union anymore. I have not been faithless to you these years, as I know you have not been to me. This is the first time I have called him since our wedding day. He has come for me. I signed the papers necessary for our divorce. Please reach for your own love, and sign these papers also. I always will love you, but it cannot be compared with what I feel for him, and what I know you feel for Fuji-san. Take care of our son, or leave him with our families. I will return for him soon, and to get the hopeful confirmation of our divorce. Goodbye.
Fuji sighed, and leaned his head back. And froze. He head snapped forward. Junior high. That picture – she had attended Hyoutei! And she was wearing the a jacket from the boy's club… Fuji grabbed the album he'd put the photo in. There she was, with a guy's arm around her shoulder. A guy wearing a jersey, no jacket. Now just who was that again?
"Fuji. You're awake." Tezuka's voice made Fuji look up, as the man sat down next to him, gently cupped his chin, and leaned in for what made Fuji feel like he was experiencing his first kiss all over again. Soft lips moved against each other, sweet, innocent, pure, almost making Fuji forget.
Almost.
Breaking for air, gasping, Fuji grinned up at his smiling lover. "Tezuka, you've got a good memory, right? This picture caught my eye last night and I blew it up, but I can't quite recall who this is. Do you remember?" He held up the photo for Tezuka's inspection.
"Fuji, I don't want to look at Hyoutei pictures," Tezuka replied, eyebrow slightly twitching in what Fuji recognized as annoyance. Tezuka was back to his old self. He smiled.
"Oh but it's not just any Hyoutei picture. Look closely."
"Why? Wait… is that… oh..."
"It is, isn't it?"
"I remember her telling me she went to Hyoutei… I never knew she dated Wakashi."
"Who?"
"Wakashi Hiyoshi. The boy who lost to Echizen. That must be who she was talking about in the letter…"
"Yes, it must have." Fuji looked at the letter again. Then he set both the letter and the picture down on his coffee table, and leaned into Tezuka again, who put his arm about Fuji. "It doesn't matter though. I'm just glad she had him, because if she didn't, then I wouldn't have gotten you back."
"Yes. That Wakashi… we sure owe him a lot, you and I."
"What?"
"He was one of those who pushed Echizen to a higher level of play, remember?"
"Not in particular. I do remember Hyoutei's Atobe, though. He was the one who took you away from me, but he also gave you to me."
"Was he now."
"Mmm. It took your going away to make me realize how much exactly you meant to me. Then I thought we'd be together forever when you came back. But it all ended that night you told me about your engagement."
"I remember. I felt the same."
"Who knew she did also… her life must have also ended that night she said goodbye to that Hyoutei guy."
"Yea…"
There was a comfortable silence as they both thought about the years when they weren't together. The happiest times of your life should never happen when you're so young, because then you're always left with an empty feeling inside of you and your mind is filled with wishes of wanting to go back to that time and you're consumed by your emotions and your memories and your dusty volumes of photo albums of a time long past. And once they start, they don't end until the end of your life. Because once that person you love more than anything else is taken away from you, you're as good as dead.
He should call Eiji tomorrow.
"Tezuka?"
"Hm?"
"Hold me?"
"I'll never let go again."
-~-~-~-
Whew! Finished! ^.^ Happy now.
Oh, and I only used Hiyoshi 'cause I figured he was the only one of Hyoutei honorable enough to stay away from his girl if she married. =.= Can't imagine Atobe ever doing anything like that.
What do you think? Please leave me comments – they really do help when I'm working on improving my writing and all. ^.^ I know the grammar wasn't perfect throughout this story – I decided to forgo grammar for content & feeling. Did that work?
And must I keep plugging the website and asking for help? =/ I'll just hafta take it down if there's no interest...
http://www.yinguang.tk
I haven't gotten any submissions. =/ I promise I'll work on it more this weekend! I finished my last midterm and now I just have a project to code, so I should have more time to work on that. ^.^ Please submit stories/graphics/etc.!