Pairing: Fuji x Tezuka.

Rating: At the moment, it's G. But rating goes up as more chapters go along.

Disclaimer: Sigh... tell you what, if this belongs to me, those two simple-minded boys… erm... I mean, Fuji and Tezuka wouldn't just be playing tennis…

Note: Fuji could be seme as well as Tezuka. It depends on my mood.

"Five games to four."

Fuji Syusuke's breathing was laboured, his chest burning as he tried to clear the fog in his mind and focused on the game.

"Fuji," a deep voice said.

Fuji immediately snapped out of his concentration, noting that as he did so, the throbbing in his head increased and he could hear his blood rushing to his body, trying to bring enough oxygen to his head, his heart pumping away. He nodded to his opponent, and braced himself for the impact of his opponent's serve.

The throbbing in his head was nearly unbearable; the edge of his vision tinged with darkness. He knew if he doesn't stop playing soon, he would black out. But he didn't care. He must beat his opponent, no matter the consequences. His muscles were aching, protesting and telling him that he should stop but he didn't want to. He would work until he reached his limit if he had to.

But this is your limit. You can't go anymore.

He knew that. He just didn't want to admit to the fact that his body was shutting down slowly.

The third ball whizzed passed by him. He didn't even move a millimetre. Then, the fourth serve came. This time, Fuji went after it – despite his body screaming in agony. Beads of cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he pushed forward, straining his muscles as he worked, aiming to reach his goal. He managed to return that ball to the other side of the court.

There was a slight breeze. It sent chills right into Fuji's bones. This was the time. He could use the last of his Triple Threat. And Hakugai did appear. But that didn't mean he could win. There was no way he could win now. Maybe he could stand there just a little while, just to catch the ball. But his body betrayed him. A strange calmness washed over him as he let the darkness that he'd fought with since two hours ago took him into its endless abyss. He didn't even notice when he hit the ground.

It was perfect, albeit a little clumsy. His opponent just stared at the spinning the ball on the ground nearby – amazed and lost for words. This was the first time Fuji had used Hakugai against him. Did that mean Fuji was playing seriously against him this time? Distantly, he heard a sound, a small thud but he couldn't tore his gaze away from the spinning ball; so he continued to watch as the ball stopped spinning and bounced up from the ground and back to the other side of the court where it hit the fence before bouncing near a crumpled form.

"Fuji!" Tezuka's voice rang through the empty courts. The sky darkened rapidly as Tezuka ran over to Fuji's side of the court. He knelt hastily next to Fuji's body, watching the delicate frame that was Fuji moving slightly as the unconscious form took in every breath. "Fuji!" he slid his hands beneath Fuji and turned the smaller boy around so that he lay on his back instead.

At the sight of the face that flushed scarlet, the fringe plastered to the fair forehead, and the slender jaws ground together to keep from chattering, Tezuka knew something was wrong. His assumption of Fuji's flushed face was wrong and now, guilt seemed to swallow him. How could he let his friend into this when he knew deep down that Fuji was –

Tezuka reached out his left hand; his right hand remained at the side of the smaller body. He brushed the damp fringe aside and pressed his hand to his forehead.

Too warm.

Just something that he'd expected from a sick person. Why didn't Fuji just tell him? They wouldn't have to have the game then. Then again, he knew they both needed some stress relief. Besides, Tezuka really wanted to know whether Fuji would surpass him. It's unbelievable that their match even lasted that long. Both of them were so hard-headed, none of them wanted to admit defeat or tell the other that they should continue the game the next time. When Tezuka saw Fuji's flushed face, he thought that it was normal, since it happened most of the time to Fuji, seeing as Fuji had extremely fair complexion despite the fact that he spent hours under the sun for tennis.

Damn Fuji. Why didn't he just say something? Then again, it was his fault too. He should've known. After all, Fuji had been a little different today. He seemed to space out a lot and his breathing – it was slightly out of rhythm. He seemed… unfocused. He should've known! Tezuka felt like kicking himself for not noticing these small details. How could he not know?!

A raindrop hit Tezuka on the cheek. Damn, it's raining now? Why?! Why must it be now? Tezuka found himself praying. Not now, please, not now. Several drops hit him now. Oh, crap.

Whose home shall he go? Fuji's or his own?

He soon decided that it should be Fuji's since it was nearer. The only thing that worried him was that there was no one at Fuji's house. He seemed to remember vividly Fuji telling him that his parents were out on a business trip and would not return in three weeks while his brother was in a boarding school. He knew that Yuuta didn't want to go home because he didn't want to be compared to Fuji, even though Fuji was now already in college. It was just the same reason why Yuuta refused to stay at Seigaku and transferred to St. Rudolph instead when they were in junior high; and he stayed in St. Rudolph even when he was in high school. His sister, Yumiko was away on her company's business trip as well with some of her colleagues.

And Tezuka couldn't really bring Fuji over to his own house. Not at the moment though. Rain was threatening to fall in sheets and if he didn't hurry soon, Fuji would be worse than he already was.

As the rain fell in its own slow rhythm, Tezuka quickly collected their racquets and after stuffing them into their respective bags, he hefted both bags and shouldered them. He walked back to where Fuji was and slipped both arms under Fuji and lifted the smaller boy.

Fuji immediately moved in his delirium and shifted nearer to the source of heat, snuggling closer to Tezuka's body. Tezuka's heart skipped several beats when Fuji shifted again and his left hand clutched a small handful of Tezuka's shirt. Tezuka nearly dropped Fuji while trying to pry open the slender fingers that imprisoned a little of his shirt. Throughout the whole thing, Fuji's eyelids didn't even twitch. He's not showing a single sign of waking up soon.

Tezuka strode away from the courts quickly, didn't want to be caught in the rain. Soon, rain enveloped the two boys. He glanced worriedly at the burning body in his arms. There was nothing he could use to at least bundle Fuji in so that the rain wouldn't get him. But he was nearly there.

Tezuka could see Fuji's house now. He quickly entered the yard and into the porch. Noticing a swing of some sort in the porch, Tezuka deposited the small body on the swing before putting down the bags. Unzipping Fuji's bag, he rummaged through the clothes and found a bunch of keys. Great, which key would it be?

"Wh… where … how…" a soft voice croaked.

Tezuka turned around and saw Fuji, trying to pull himself into a sitting position.

As soon as he managed to sit, a wave of nausea hit him and the world around him spun for a moment – which seemed endless to him.

"Fuji, you shouldn't try…" Tezuka tried to get Fuji to sit again when he saw Fuji struggling to get to his feet.

Fuji shook his head. "Go home."

"But you…"

Fuji swallowed thickly; his eyebrows burrowing as he felt burning pain along his throat. "I… I c… can manage…"

Tezuka eyed Fuji worriedly. The teenager was swaying precariously on his feet. "Now you're just delirious."

"M'not." Tezuka allowed a small smile when he heard such an indignant reply escaping Fuji's pale lips.

He suppressed a groan as pain tore through him when he tried to move from his place by the swing to help Tezuka. It felt like it was trying to tear him apart – his feverish condition not helping at all.

As the fleeting pain passed, Fuji let himself flop down on the swing again; eyes close, his breathing shallow and rapid, sweat forming and gathering on his forehead, neck, chest and back, soaking through his clothes. His shirt stuck uncomfortably to his body.

Tezuka looked at the keys in his hands and at the door and shifted his gaze back at the keys again. Which key for the door? His fingers lingered on each and every key and in the end, made his decision. Picking up one of the keys from the bunch, he pushed the key in and with a slight turn of his wrist, he heard the almost inaudible click. Hearing the click had been one of the best things he'd wanted to hear all his life.

"Come, Fuji, let's get you dried up…" Tezuka mumbled as he helped Fuji from the swing. He drew Fuji's right arm across his shoulders and wrapped his own arm around the slim waist. Slowly, they made their way into the grand living room. He could vaguely recalled being in Fuji's house before – sure, he went there a few times when they were in junior high but now, after five years of not being in Fuji's house, he'd totally forgotten his way around. He remembered going up a flight of stairs – parquet, and polished to its best.

Tezuka let his eyes rove and soon, he found what he was looking for. There they were, after that small little arch that led to the kitchen. "Come, Fuji," he breathed as he helped Fuji to his feet again – but to no avail. His smaller friend seemed to have fallen asleep and would not wake anytime soon. Tezuka gave a soft sigh as he slipped his arms under Fuji once more and lifted the pale youth, his goal being Fuji's bedroom now.

Surprisingly, Tezuka found Fuji's bedroom rather easily. The door was slightly ajar – it showed how careless Fuji had been that day. Tezuka pushed the door open with his foot and entered the immaculate room. Putting Fuji down on the executive chair near his study table, he removed Fuji's shoes and looked around for a towel.

Tezuka grabbed the white fluffy towel that was draped carelessly on a small stool near the walk-in closet. It was slightly damp from earlier use but it'd do. He wrapped the towel around the shivering Fuji who wasn't even aware of the two warm hands that removed his shirt and patted him down to get rid of the rainwater that soaked him right through his clothes.

"Fuji." Tezuka shook him awake. "Fuji…"

He opened his bleary eyes and stared at the fuzzy face of another person. What now? Why can't he see? He needed to sleep. His eyes started to close again on their own accord but snapped open again as Tezuka shook his shoulders again.

"Fuji, go take a shower. You wouldn't wanna get worse."

Fuji blinked back blankly. What? Shower?

That sounded nice.

He didn't even realised that he'd said that out loud.

Tezuka's lips turned up in a small smile as he pulled Fuji slowly to his feet and propelled him to the adjoining bathroom. The sooner he got himself in the shower, the better. Besides, he needed a shower himself, after being caught in the rain for quite some time. He didn't want to get sick when he already had one patient to look after. He gave Fuji a slight push into the bathroom and handed him a fresh towel that he found after rummaging through Fuji's wardrobe, and several pieces of clothing.

"Tez'ka?" a soft voice asked slowly, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath by Fuji. He hoped he hadn't got pneumonia.

Tezuka turned around, standing a head taller than Fuji and gazed down at the brunette before him.

"There're extra clothes somewhere in my wardrobe. Something much more bigger than me that I think you could use," Fuji said softly, his hands working on the drawstrings on the inside of his shorts, his muscles flexing as he struggled with the knot.

Tezuka thought he'd died and went to heaven when Fuji did that. His pulse raced, his blood rushing to his head madly and his world dizzy for a bit. Slight pink dusted his cheeks as he lowered his gaze. "Thanks," he croaked slowly.

"No…. thank you." Fuji stepped slowly into the bathroom, obviously still a little dizzy.

Tezuka wouldn't blame him; he was feeling a little dizzy himself. A little more than a furious blush crept up his cheeks. It's a good thing that Fuji was already safely behind that closed door. If it weren't for that fact, he would've laughed at Tezuka's condition.

Another furious blush coloured Tezuka's cheeks when he heard water running from the other side of that door. He could see Fuji in the shower, surrounded by hot steam, his hair matted on his beautifully shaped head – exotic dark chestnut-coloured strands dripping water – as water poured down on his pale, slender body; running along the contours of a body that Tezuka had seen countless of times. He found it really hard to breathe, that image of a naked Fuji in the shower burnt and imprinted in his mind's eye forever.

"What's happening?" he mumbled to himself as he searched through Fuji's wardrobe for something big enough for him to fit in. He found a t-shirt that was rather big for Fuji and decided that he would be able to wear it and found another pair of shorts, a pair of khaki-coloured three quarters that had fitted Fuji perfectly. He'd seen him in those before. For Tezuka, maybe those three quarters would just be like knee-length shorts. Good enough.

He found another towel while on his way to the bathroom that was on the ground floor of the house. He needed a shower and he needed it fast. He needed to get rid of the image of a naked Fuji from his mind – he truly must. Tezuka sighed in solace when a burst of cold water hit him, streaming down his neck and back, wetting his hair and matting them onto his head. The cold was comforting but – but he still couldn't take that image away. Under the water spray and his blurred vision, he saw his arousal – oh hell. Could Fuji be that much of an influence to him?

He felt like he'd been thrown into a whirlwind – but honestly, he didn't know what he felt toward that small brunette or at least how their friendship stood at the moment, where he stood in that bond that bound them together for so many years. Was this something that they call desire? Did he desire for Fuji now? Strange… considering the fact that he'd been friends with Fuji ever since they were like in elementary school together – why didn't he feel anything toward Fuji while in his junior high years or something? Why now? Why must it be at the time when they're going to go their own ways, at the time when they were all at the threshold of their adulthood?

Another image of a sweating Fuji entered his mind. Damn. But Fuji's just too sexy to ignore – the way those slim hips move in rhythm when the owner himself moved, those brown strands of hair moving with the air that surrounded the beautiful owner; the deep, rich cerulean colour of those eyes that were Fuji's and Fuji's only.

Tezuka leaned on the tiled wall; his breathing hitched as the thought of a pliant Fuji lying on his bed, fingers crooking and inviting him to join him, to taste him. How come he just couldn't seem to get the idea of a sensuous – and overly attractive and sexually arousing – Fuji out of his head? Everywhere he turned, he could see Fuji, in every sort of way that his brain could come up with.

Tezuka was confused. Was this what they call lust? Or love? Or just plain desire? But what if…

He decided to leave his thoughts there. He'd figure it out soon, but not now. Fuji needed him now, and probably even more as the day lasted.

Putting the kettle to boil, Tezuka went up to Fuji's room to check on the tawny-haired boy. He was slightly surprised to find Fuji in bed, his hair still slightly wet from the shower and the towel strewn somewhere on the floor near the bathroom door. He watched as Fuji's chest rose and dropped rhythmically with each breath he took, his eyelids not even twitching once.

Tezuka stooped down to pick up the discarded towel and shirt and dropped it into the laundry basket near the bathroom door. A clock on Fuji's study table showed twenty-four minutes to six. It's time for him to phone home and inform his grandparents that he'd be staying over at a friend's. He sighed when he realised he'd have to cook and prepare dinner for both of them, if Fuji would want to eat.

Then again, Tezuka found it really hard to disturb the sleeping form. He just couldn't bring himself to wake such a beautiful angel. How could he? He needed to see this true side of Fuji, even for a minute more – the side that Fuji didn't hide, couldn't hide seeing as he didn't have the power to control his face muscles when he's sleeping. This was the time when Fuji wasn't smiling, showing his real face to the other boy who was mesmerised by this beautiful creature whom he'd fallen head over heels in love with – although he couldn't bring himself to admit so.