A/N: I know this is a late update, and my apologies for that, school has been hectic and writer's block has not being kind -..-. Love to Vierblith for betaing again. And I hope everyone enjoys! I had lots of fun xD.

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III

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He was on a very uncomfortable bed that smelled faintly of ancient leather. His head pounded, and there was a soft hand gently rubbing his shoulder. A soft voice called for him.

"Tezuka-sama."

It was an unfamiliar name, an unfamiliar voice, and when Tezuka managed to open his eyes, there was a blurred, unfamiliar ceiling above him. His eyelids were suddenly heavier than he'd remembered them, and he closed his eyes again.

But sleep would not come.

The voice was insistent. It was only a child's voice. "Tezuka-sama, wake up. Your breakfast is about to get cold."

Tezuka shifted to his side. "I don't eat breakfast," he mumbled.

"That's not healthy." The child was disapproving. "You should start eating breakfast. Wake up. It's almost ten and Atobe-sama is going to come for you soon."

Almost ten.

Almost ten...

Tezuka bolted upright as if someone had switched on his battery power. He rubbed sleep out of his eyes. He never went to sleep, for fear of oversleeping...and now his worst fear was realized. He had overslept...on the couch of a high-caliber brothel and...

His vision was still foggy, but he made out the outline of a boy standing not too far away from the couch, holding a tray of something.

"Your glasses, Tezuka-sama."

Tezuka felt his glasses pressed into his hand. The boy's fingers were warm and soft. Tezuka put the glasses on with a nod of thanks. The outline of the boy became the sharp image of... Fuji. Tezuka realized with a start that he did know the boy who stood in front of him.

Fuji was in a fresh kimono with his white legs still bare. Except that this time the kimono was black with gold embroidered leaves, and Tezuka thought Fuji looked pale.

"Fuji."

"Yes?"

Tezuka looked around. His jacket was slung over the chair, exactly as he had left it the night before. His tie was there too. He felt like he had just woken up from a dream. But if he was here, then he must still be dreaming.

Fuji smiled at him. The smile was almost wistful. "You're still a virgin, don't worry."

"I..." Tezuka hadn't really thought about that. He had actually been fine, until Fuji brought it up. How could such a word be spoken so carelessly in a casual conversation?

"I wasn't thinking about that, actually." Tezuka looked towards the table and his eyes settled on the tray. "I wasn't...thinking about that, actually. But thank you, it's reassuring. Is that...my breakfast?"

Fuji nodded and sat down next to him, pulling the tray towards them.

Tezuka watched in mild interest as Fuji moved to introduce him enthusiastically to the contents of his breakfast. "See, Tezuka-sama, this is your miso soup, and your rice, and salmon. Peaches are in season so I got you some of those too."

Tezuka paused. The boy looked so happy, so proud of himself. He didn't want to burst Fuji's bubble.

A familiar hand settled on his knee.

"You don't like it...?"

Fuji's voice dropped a few notches, and so did Tezuka's stomach. Tezuka couldn't bear to tell the boy that he didn't eat breakfast. He never ate anything, actually, unless the company was holding a banquet. Since he was important, he always went to those events. Routine, though, was a cup of coffee in the morning, a cold sandwich for lunch (and most of the time he didn't even have the time to finish that), and dinner was microwave cup noodles.

"No, I like it." Tezuka said, "It's just...overwhelming. I don't eat breakfast."

"Oh." Fuji's disappointment was evident.

"But I'll eat it if you eat with me."

The boy was all smiles again. He laid his head on Tezuka's shoulder, like he had done the night before, and nodded. "I can do that. I'll feed you too, if you want."

"I..." At the mention of being fed, Tezuka felt uneasy again.

Fuji must have sensed Tezuka's discomfort because the boy shrugged, "I'm just kidding." He took the only pair of chopsticks, picked up a piece of salmon, and lifted it up to his mouth carefully, making sure Tezuka was watching.

Realizing that he was watching too intently, Tezuka felt the chopsticks pressed into his hand.

"Your turn."

Tezuka took the chopsticks with noticeable hesitation.

"Should I feed you after all, Tezuka-sama?"

Tezuka looked at the boy. "Fuji...you're going to lie to Atobe for me, right? You don't like me and I don't like you. That's why nothing happened, right?"

The boy thought for a minute and rubbed Tezuka's knee absently. "Yes, that's what I'm going to tell him. You don't have to say anything at all, I promise."

"But if he thinks that I don't like you, and that you don't like me..." Tezuka set the chopsticks down and slowly, tentatively, his arm went around the boy. Fuji tensed, but he relaxed again after a moment. "I won't see you again."

Fuji nodded. "That's likely." He paused, "Would you like to see me again, Tezuka-sama?"

Tezuka didn't meet the boy's eyes, eyes so blue that it seemed to know everything. "I would like to, but just to talk. I like talking to you." Tezuka Kunimitsu didn't like talking to anyone, so that was saying a lot.

The boy smiled. "You can call me. I have a phone. I only give out my number to people I like though." He laughed, as Tezuka's face fell. "Don't worry, I like you."

Tezuka watched as Fuji gave his knee one final assuring rub and stood up, went over to vanity table and scribbled something on a piece of paper.

"Here's my number." The boy held it out to him. "You can call me anytime."

Tezuka stared at the slip of paper. "Anytime?" He said. The doubt was evident in his voice.

"Anytime." Fuji repeated, "But if I'm with a client, I'll ask you to call back, or I'll call you back."

"Oh. All right then." Clients, right...Fuji was...well, the nicest way to put it was a paid company. Tezuka would have to share. He pocketed the piece of paper and Fuji sat back down. This time he sat close enough to Tezuka so that their knees touched.

"Come on, you know I'll still make you eat no matter how you try to distract me." Fuji sighed and picked up the chopsticks. "I guess I'll have to feed you, Tezuka-sama." He deftly speared a piece of salmon and held it up. "Here, open."

Tezuka stared at the food offered to him, and took in Fuji's hopeful smile. He sighed. Having someone wait for his every move was very strange, but Fuji seemed to like it. Tezuka finally ate the piece of salmon offered to him.

This seemed to relax Fuji who put the chopsticks down. "See? Not so bad."

Not so bad, Tezuka agreed, but only in his mind.

Fuji sighed. "Tezuka-sama, you're very hard on yourself, aren't you? You never let yourself have any fun." He sighed, for the first time. "It must be very troublesome for you to live this way."

Tezuka tensed, saying nothing.

"You don't smile either."

The nice tingle of the salmon immediately turned to ashes on his tongue. His gaze down at Fuji was a demeaning one. The other had said too much. "You seem to smile enough for the both of us anyway."

Fuji was unexpectedly sober. "Sometimes I won't feel like smiling though. Then, you will have to smile, Tezuka-sama."

Tezuka found nothing to say to that. So he said nothing and did nothing and Fuji took the opportunity to feed him another piece of salmon.

-

It was almost laughable, and Tezuka would have laughed if it had been in him to laugh. When Atobe did came for him, Fuji didn't even have to say anything. Atobe just smiled at the boy and Fuji smiled back. No questions asked.

When Fuji looked at Tezuka, though, things got awkward again.

The boy tilted his head. "You'll call me?"

Atobe raised a brow. Tezuka ignored him. "Yes, I'll call you."

"Soon?"

Tezuka hadn't been expecting that, but Fuji looked so hopeful so Tezuka nodded. "Ah, soon. I promise."

"Okay." Fuji's hand brushed his arm as he closed the door. "Good bye, Tezuka-sama."

Atobe coughed.

Fuji had to roll his eyes. "Good bye, Atobe-sama."

-

Atobe started the questions on the car. The car was actually something that surprised Tezuka. It was perfectly intact, without even a scratch. But he didn't have time to wonder more about why it wasn't stolen in the dead of the night because Atobe said:

"For a newly none-virgin, you're awfully quiet."

"Aren't I always quiet?"

Atobe scoffed, "Well...of course you are. But this is a special occasion; you're not a virgin and you lost it to a very special person." His smirk grew. "So, how was it? Do I have to get you drunk before you tell me?"

"No, I'll tell you." But Tezuka did not look at him, "Because nothing happened." Well, that wasn't at all hard to say.

The car jerked to an abrupt stop. There was a loud—no, there was a series of loud honking noises- and, after Atobe took about three seconds to collect himself, he started driving again. "Nothing happened?! You're joking."

"No, I'm not." Tezuka said, "Nothing happened." He paused. "I'll pay you back if you want." It wasn't as if he didn't have money and instead lived on Atobe's charity. "How much?"

The other man still looked as if Tezuka had slapped him in the face. "But...but he gave you his number! Fuji never gives out his number."

This surprised Tezuka at first but he recovered instantly. "Don't you have his number?"

"I do, but I'm a special case." And then Atobe was oddly silent on the way home. Tezuka was glad.

-

Home for Tezuka consisted of a small apartment on the more glamorous side of town. But it was austere, with no trace of personality whatsoever. The furniture was almost all black and white and clean, since that was how Tezuka preferred his world to be.

He didn't have much of a social life either so there were no messages on his private machine - except for the one that his mother left him a few days ago.

Tezuka sat on the couch. Atobe had dropped him off at the office and sent him home. But Tezuka was always welcome to go drinking with Atobe and the others, if he ever felt like it.

He rarely, if ever, felt like drinking.

After a moment's thought, he dug out the slip of paper that Fuji had given him, and unrolled it. It was a ripped strip of what looked to be like expensive stationery.

Fuji Syusuke: 229-1007

Fuji had a straightforward handwriting, his numbers were curled just so, and there was no slanting. Yet the boy knew how to lie so well. It didn't make any sense at all. Tezuka stared at it a minute more, and laid the scrap of paper beside the phone, doubting that he'd ever call the number.

-

"Are you sure you don't want to go drinking?"

Tezuka had to roll his eyes at that. Atobe knew his answer, yet Atobe just always had to call. "No, not particularly. Go without me."

"Tezuka, you're no fun."

"It's not my life mission to be fun." Tezuka replied curtly, staring forward at a blank television screen. He'd never watched television. For news, he read four different newspapers everyday in two languages. Definitely not fun.

Atobe sighed over the phone. "Tell me about it. I actually lost my mind and paid for you just so you can spend a night with the Fuji only to find out that nothing happened."

"If you're still upset about that, I told you I'd pay you back." Tezuka said, amused despite how tired he was about the topic in discussion. "You never told me how much it was."

Atobe's sigh was a bit more exasperated than the last. "You...honestly, what am I going to do with you?"

Tezuka sighed too, except that his sigh was a resigned one. "You don't have to do anything. I can amuse myself just fine. Why don't you just go drink?"

"All right, all right, shoot me for trying to be helpful." Atobe said, "At least you got his number. It's not a total loss. Give him a call tonight, okay? If you do that, I'll drink in peace."

Tezuka hung up. Atobe was...well, Atobe was Atobe – insufferable and exasperating. He should have never picked up the phone. But as he went to hang up the receiver, his eyes fell on that bit of stationery.

He had promised Fuji he would call soon. And, no matter who asked what of him, if Tezuka promised, he always stuck to his word. He stared at the paper and looked at the phone. Fuji was a busy boy; Fuji himself admitted that the chances of his not picking up were high.

Before his logical side won over, Tezuka dialed the number, sat back on the couch, and waited.

-

"Syusuke, your phone is ringing." A hand was shaking him gently, "Get up. You slept enough."

Fuji opened his eyes and realized that he was in bed, clutching the covers, wearing his usual silk kimono without the obi. He stared blankly into the face of Shiraishi Kuranosuke and almost didn't recognize him, which was utterly ridiculous. Shiraishi was one of his more loyal patrons and Shiraishi came to him regularly.

Fuji looked at the phone the man held out to him. He wanted to sleep more. He didn't want to answer the phone.

"Leave me alone, Shiraishi-sama, I'm tired." He whined to his pillow. "Who is it?"

"It's..." Shiraishi scrutinized the phone. "A Tezuka Kunimitsu? Who's he?"

Fuji's face lit up, but only for a second or two, and then he turned to face the wall, away from Shiraishi. "No one."