A/N: Ano sa, I spent the better part of the day watching Tenimyu, and I was on the thought-track and scribbled down a few drabbles. Here's one.
Pairing: TezuFuji
Warnings: Kinda iffy. Unhappy First Time memory.
Please review!
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They had been to bed together before they had even made it out of high school. Fuji Syusuke was anything but a pure soul at all.
And from the first time Fuji had clamped onto his wrists and grabbed him down against his slighter body, he had come to the realization that he wasn't a pure soul either.
Fuji made it so that he hurt him; after the crest has washed over his toes, and his coherent thoughts once again became rhythmic, Tezuka felt the body under him slide away to the other side of the mattress.
He may have been Buchou--He may have had responsibilities he shouldered with a stiff upper lip--He may have grown up a lot faster than his peers--
But he was still a kid, and he didn't understand it.
Fuji had bled.
Just the slightest bit, but Tezuka had been horrified and stricken still at the sight.
Fuji had the sheet pulled up to his chin. It was such a thin, white sheet and it made Tezuka feel so dirty, dirty, dirty.
Fuji had wanted this.
It was punishment.
For the longest time, all he could fathom was that Fuji must have intended it for him--That he must have went very wrong somewhere; that something he had done throughout the years had come out so badly, and had somehow hurt Fuji this deeply.
That he had hurt Fuji as much as he had ached right then.
Fuji was punishing himself. And it came to him, and he knew. He knew and somehow it made the hurt less.
And then somehow it hurt more.
When he was with him again, he thought he lost himself--Lost the Buchou of Seigaku--Lost his shoulders. Because he had felt nothing but his own crying as he wept to Fuji.
That first time, Syusuke Fuji's eyes were open, with his body still beneath the sheet. They were open but they were so incredibly blank and absent and they were so like him.
As he cried, Fuji gradually took him into his arms, fussed a kiss onto his forehead, and softly stroked his hair.
His hiccupping had subsided and he rested his eyes against Fuji's cotton shirt, and he felt clean again.
He had barely ever cried, so he couldn't have known. Tears seemed to cleanse the dirt away, and when he looked up at Fuji, his eyes were cloudy.
Syusuke's eyes were uncertain but human, and Tezuka wanted that earnestly.
He could accept that. He may not have been pure--They may not have been pure, but he could feel Fuji was there and that is exactly what makes them human.
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ProdigyFandork,
Emi
