Moulin Rouge


Pairing:

TezuFuji (main), one-sided AtoFuji; other canon pairings

Originally written for decollement in cactuscontinuum on lj

A/N: Hehe, what I kinda forgot to mention last time – Fuji is not female. It's only that Tezuka who doesn't know that (yet).

To everybody who reviewed: Thank you very, very much for not only taking time to read this but also to drop me a line. It always means a lot to me to get some feedback on whether the fic is nice to read; whether everybody is in character and so on. You guys make my day!!

Disclaimer: Not mine; not even the plot is.


Tezuka had been glad when the show was over, because for all impressive cleavages and stunning performances, he hadn't quite been able to enjoy himself any longer. He kept recalling Fujiko's smile and the way those sky blue eyes had sparkled in amusement.

And regardless how he much tried to deny it, he couldn't quite quench the ounce of worry that had taken root in the depth of his stomach.

So when Inui had turned to go – even though Choutarou had yet to rejoin them – Tezuka had frowned and then mentioned his invitation to the elephant. Whatever said elephant was.

"The inner sanctuary of the Moulin Rouge." Inui had explained, pushing up his glasses, "A metal structure in form of an elephant, housing Fujiko's private chambers."

And Tezuka had swallowed. He'd contemplated not going, but Oshitari, who'd still not let go of his companion, had objected that he couldn't possibly turn down such an invitation. Thus, he'd let himself dragged backstage by Oshitari.

"But do you think it is okay?" Tezuka asked as they were passing several stage hands that were busy with cleaning, "After all she fainted…"

Curiously enough Oshitari's companion who looked far too young to even enter an establishment like the Moulin Rouge - much less even work there - answered in a surprisingly mature fashion. "If Momo didn't tell you otherwise, then I guess it should be okay."

"But…" before finishing the red-head glanced up at Oshitari who looked far too amused for Tezuka to be at ease. And indeed…

"Didn't you notice?" Oshitari whispered; a devilish smirk on his handsome face, "She is a he."

Tezuka blinked in disbelief. Recalled the long, smooth legs, that thin waist and those small hands – he had touched the soft skin, so there was absolutely no way…

Oshitari grinned and his red-haired companion burst into laughter, drawing some curious stares. "Don't tell me he really didn't know?" the red-head asked the blue-haired man, ignoring Tezuka – who wondered if the ground couldn't be nice and just swallow him now - completely for the moment.

Tezuka tried his best to objectively recall those minutes he'd spend dancing far-too close with the subject of their discussion. They'd been chest to chest – Tezuka remembered, trying his best to fight down the on-coming blush – true enough, the softness he'd heard college-time friends praise extensively, hadn't quite been there. But even so …

Wiping at his tearing eyes Oshitari shook his head. "Nope. And if you ask me he still doesn't believe me."

Perhaps it was possible, Tezuka had to admit. Still; the idea that beautiful Fujiko was not of the fairer gender seemed absolutely absurd in his mind. Because that meant he …

Then the red head suddenly turned to Tezuka. "Monsieur, my friend here told me you doubt Fujiko-chan's gender, so, if I'm allowed to ask, of what gender do you believe me to be?"

Tezuka could only raise an eyebrow. He had a bad, bad feeling about this, but answered nonetheless. "Female?"

Because really, said red-head had chin-length hair and was wearing a very, very short skirt.

"Nope." At least that one didn't feel offended – which was somewhat good, but Tezuka couldn't help but feel that he was being made fun of. "Mukahi Gakuto. One hundred percent male. Everything else is just the clothes."

Not that Oshitari was helping the scene along. "Still so innocent, Tezuka." He muttered, absentmindedly patting Gakuto's head as he succumbed to giggles, "Didn't you notice that about half of the girls up there actually were male?"

Tezuka refused to answer that question. He'd cling to the last shreds of his dignity as long as he could; and thankfully Oshitari didn't seem inclined to ridicule him any further.

"Fujiko's just like that. Most people can't tell, but it's a well-known secret." Oshitari smiled, rather honestly this time around, "You're pretty lucky to be invited to the elephant straight away – most guys keep dreaming of a chance like that for their entire life."

Gakuto had recovered from his giggling fit enough to add his two cents in, too.

"You're very lucky indeed! And take good care of Fujiko-chan!"

The boy left with a cheerful wave, but Tezuka had heard the "or I'll do something really, really painful that'll make you sorry for the rest of your life" rather clearly. Well, luckily enough he had absolutely no intention of doing anything harmful.


Thus, he let himself be guided into the inner realm of the elephant, wondering why his fingers wouldn't stop trembling.

So, here he stood, feeling completely out of place among the opulent decorations in more shades of red than he could name. Velvet and silk, sparkling gemstones and golden trims glowing under rich, almost sensuous lightening. He felt like a penguin in a king's treasury in his old black-and-white smoking.

And most probably was moving just as stiffly.

What was he going to do?

First night in a bordello at all, and then the Moulin Rouge of all places. And then he'd somehow promptly managed to score a one-on-one date with the star of stars, with the admittedly most beautiful human being he'd ever come across.

Even though his mind was still reeling from Oshitari's latest revelation.

And then, suddenly there was no more time for contemplations, because the doors opened (Inui thankfully choose that moment to disappear from his perch outside of the large window, though Tezuka had no doubt he was going to stay close by - for the data) and then he forgot to think anymore.

Clad in a black, eastern-style gown only held together by a wide, purple belt wrapped around her (no, Tezuka had to correct himself – his) small waist the Moulin Rouge's sparkling diamond flashed the simply most breathtaking smile he'd ever seen at him.

"Good evening, dear Duke." The sensuous creature whispered, voice honeyed and husky, "I hope you enjoyed the show."

With that he advanced, a long, long white leg emerging from the robe-like dress, revealing high stockings and polished black heels.

"My name is Fuji Syusuke." Another breath-taking smile on red-painted lips, "And I shall be honoured to entertain you tonight."

Even if Tezuka was completely mesmerized by the beauty so close to him, he'd been raised to be polite – thus staring, especially open-mouthed, was absolutely out of question. Instead, Tezuka recalled every word he'd ever heard concerning good behaviour.

"Tezuka Kunimitsu, at your service." He said, proud at how smooth his voice sounded and bowed. "It is truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Fuji smiled rather coyly. "There is nothing I should hope more for than for it to pleasure you, dear Duke."

Why was he calling him Duke? But maybe that was the way things worked here, so Tezuka wouldn't question the meaning, if he could make Fuji stop. His act was flawless and for all Tezuka could read that smiling face opposite of him Fuji might really be pleased to meet him, but then again he'd already seen how convincing Fuji could be up on stage.

"Please call me Tezuka." Was his only request, just to make things between them a little more real, a little less of a staged play.

"As you wish, dear Du – Tezuka." Fuji stepped deeper into the room, drifting dangerously close to the king-sized bed, "Would you like some wine?"

Tezuka could only wordlessly shake his head, mesmerized by those swaying hips – exaggerated perhaps, and most certainly ridiculous on any other person, yet the movement seemed perfectly right on Fuji.

"Or would you like to start with something else?"

Fuji sat down among silk cushions and velvet linen, smiling enticingly up at him.

Tezuka felt the blood rush to his head. If he hadn't turned tomato red before, he most certainly was now. (And honestly, tomato red was absolutely at odds with all the other shades of red decorating this lair.)

Tilting his head in an unspoken invitation, Fuji leaned backwards, and Tezuka knew if he didn't look away now, he was definitely doomed. Thankfully, self-preservation instincts prevailed. And his composure – brittle though it was – remained intact.

"Perhaps we should start by getting to know each other."

A raised eyebrow was covered by another seductive smile within a split second. Tezuka would have almost missed the surprised expression on Fuji's face, hadn't he been studying his reflection on the window pane quite intently.

"That sounds interesting – so why don't you come over here, so that we can get acquainted."

Tezuka bit his lip to keep his face from flushing at the implications. Retaining a straight expression, he smoothly replied. "I like the view from here."

Long, dark eyelashes fluttered suggestively. "Do you, now? Well, what would you like to see me do, then?"

"Just act as you please." Tezuka promptly replied in an attempt to cool the situation. Even with his back to the window, the night air penetrating the badly isolated glass pane didn't nearly feel cold enough.

Smooth skin glowed far too brightly in the golden tinted light when Fuji gracefully leaned backwards – and the right half of his robe-like gown started sliding off his shoulder.

"Oh, but I'll only be pleased when you are, Monsieur Tezuka." Fuji breathed huskily, "So you'll have to help me out here."

Tezuka shuddered. He couldn't keep his eyes distracted by the odd knickknacks populating the room any longer, the picture in front of his was simply too delicious. Blood-red lips, half-opened; a hooded glance cast into his direction; smooth white skin stretched over fragile-looking, well-defined collarbones and…

His eyes inevitably slid downward. And encountered the undeniable lack of a bosom.

… right. Oshitari had told him.

"I thought you were a woman." Tezuka abruptly blurted out and Fuji almost fell off the bed from shock. Lips opened and closed, but no sound emerged – and while Tezuka could have smacked himself for the rudeness of his declaration; at least he had successfully defused the situation.

Wide-open blue eyes blinked at him in confusion. "You, wh … You didn't know? You… I mean…"

So Fuji, smooth as he was, could loose his perfect composure, too. And Tezuka found he liked this flustered boy that suddenly looked far younger than his prior comportment had let on much better.

"Nobody told me earlier and your performance is rather convincing." Tezuka told him dryly.

"But … doesn't it disgust you?" Fuji asked, still atypically flustered, "I mean if you thought I was female and, I don't know, just found out…"

For those few seconds of silence Fuji looked truly worried and Tezuka was surprised that his reaction would mean so much to a person he'd only met two hours ago. Wasn't he just one of many? But in spite of his bewilderment, Tezuka felt an even more pressing urge to sooth those worries.

"Not really, I guess. It's been common practice for a long time to have male actors act female parts; and your performance was quite brilliant. And well," he said, a slight smile on his face though he didn't quite know how it had gotten there, "I always rather liked Catull."

Fuji blinked, and Tezuka felt his heart warming at the sight of a real smile spreading across the boy's face, before starting to chuckle. "Catull, ne."

Tezuka waited until Fuji had recovered from his fit of mirth; glad the tension had faded from those small shoulders. They boy's complexion was still a tad to pale underneath the make-up in his opinion, but maybe he was reading too much into little things.

"But still, most people do despise this." Fuji said with a half-bitter smile and Tezuka was surprised to see the boy's mask disappear for a moment. "Men disguising as women and selling their bodies to other men."

A soft sigh, but then Fuji continued. "I understand why people behave like this, but I can't help thinking at times that they're all being quite hypocritical. I mean, if all was right with their morals, there'd be no need for this."

Tezuka swallowed. The boy was sharper than he'd accounted for, and while that was generally a good thing, those words made him feel like reaching out and embracing him. Take his hand and drag him out of this depressing, golden cage…

Unaware of Tezuka's thoughts, Fuji carried on: "But that's okay, I guess. It's something else for those really in love. You know, my best friend is actually together with another man, but they can't tell anybody, least of all their families …"

He let the sentence trail of and the smile looked a little sad; a little lost, like that of a child that had grown up too fast.

"Prostitution is one thing, but I think love is a free emotion. Society errs too often to be credible and, I think, mankind should be allowed more liberty in decision making." Tezuka slowly contemplated, taking into account the different ideas of freedom he'd read about.

Because, if applied consequently and without allowing for fabricated exceptions, freedom in choosing a partner would allow for same sex relationships. Even though, Tezuka resumed, feeling almost bitter; he'd yet had to hear that thought voiced.

"Are there a lot of unhappy marriages where you come from, too?" Fuji questioned with the air of somebody who had seen far too many. Tezuka didn't doubt he had; the boy's occupation mainly existed because of unhappy marriages.

"… I guess there are." Tezuka replied, recalling all those rumours he'd heard exchanged behind closed doors, over gold-rimmed tea cups in decadent saloons. "But what is far worse is the way they deal with it, I think. On one hand they complain and have all their secret little affairs, on the other hand nobody dares to honestly contemplate getting a divorce."

"Because they aren't as unhappy as they claim to be." Fuji replied, "Those people are quite happy to live like that, able to indulge in their selfishness and maintain a proper façade. Even though they've got no clue as to what love actually is."

He smiled and Tezuka felt his heart warm at the sight. "No, they don't. Those people never learned to appreciate a person beyond their assets – and society not only allows them, but etiquette even encourages them to do so."

Fuji nodded thoughtfully and Tezuka, unusually talk-active as he was tonight, continued. "Etiquette and morals have become too much of something to hide behind instead of acting responsibly. I guess there is nothing wrong about loving somebody of the same gender if one stands to his decision."

With a smile he turned back to Fuji, finding the smaller boy close enough to see himself reflected in wide, dark pupils.

"I think love is not so much about gender, social standing or plain physical attraction, but about the person." Tezuka declared and was surprised at his own words and the conviction he felt.

The smile Fuji directed at him in return was even more beautiful from up close – and breathtakingly honest. Deep within him Tezuka felt this was no act of routine anymore when the boy tilted his head slightly backwards. The words exchanged between them had been deeper than a usual conversation.

There was feeling of connectedness Tezuka had never before experienced. This bond between the two of them was something very, very rare and precious.

With trembling lips he leaned forward, still wondering at what was happening to him but completely convinced at the same time that neither Tyche nor Dionysus had instigated this.

And as there was barely a distance left between their lips, somebody knocked on the door.

"Are you decent?" Momoshirou cheerfully called and Tezuka stumbled backwards in surprise. "The Duke is waiting!"

Perplex Fuji turned to look at Tezuka. Blue eyes met brown and Tezuka felt a shiver crawl down his spine, pinned by the intensity of that look. Even though he felt like panicking and wouldn't have been surprised if Fuji got mad at him, the boy in question only quirked another, rather dry smile.

"So you're not the Duke." Fuji stated. And then, with a dramatic sigh, "I guess that was to be expected."

Tezuka wanted to ask what exactly he meant by that and took a step forward, only to be interrupted by a second, more urgent knock.

"Fujiko-chan We're coming in!"

Tezuka panicked. Glancing around he found no hiding spot near enough – and the door was already opening. His heart raced, his mind went into overdrive and cold sweat was forming on his forehead – what to do, what to do, what to do?

And before he could even put any distance between himself and Fuji his eyes encountered another brown pair – one that was just as shocked. But Momoshirou Takeshi hadn't survived all those years in the showbiz without learning anything. Even if there was a strange man in a chamber reserved for the highest paying customers only – and the man in question wasn't a customer Momoshirou did remember meeting – he had to remain calm.

The show must go on.

"Fujiko, this is the venerable man who is going to finance our very first musical, Duke Atobe Keigo."

A spark lit up in Fuji's sea blue eyes and successfully drew all attention to him with a stifled gasp. Since Tezuka was being ignored for the time being, he used the chance to study this Atobe Keigo closer.

The man was impeccably, if extravagantly dressed. Up close he could see that his suit wasn't black, but a dark shade of purple with silver embroideries – that matched the colour of his hair. His skin was flawless, his posture perfect and completely self-confident, his behaviour spoke of experience and education and all Tezuka could do was not groan out loud.

He knew this type. They were a lot of talk, but what made them worse was that they more often than not could actually back up their big words. And this specimen in particular looked less than pleased at finding the person he had reservedwith another man. Alone.

Fuji however remained completely in control.

"It is an honour to finally meet you." A dazzling smile directed at Atobe and the man instantly forgot about Tezuka's very existence. In one smooth move he reached out and grasped the gloveless hand Fuji was offering.

Lips met skin and Tezuka felt strangely uncomfortable at the sight. Momoshirou's face didn't waver, but his eyes spoke another language as the Duke's lips lingered. Then the man straightened up to his full height and Fuji had to tilt his head to look up at him.

"Enchanté, mon chéri." Atobe suavely returned with a smile that promised more than an ordinary human being dared to dream about.

Fuji's eyes were sparkling and remained fixed on Atobe, apparently completely lost in the other man's presence.

"You wouldn't believe how glad I felt when Momo told me you were willing to help us stage our very first musical. At that moment I just knew I had to meet the man about to realize my dreams."

"It shall be our honour." Atobe smoothly replied. "Our only regret is not having known earlier about the vast pool of talent and beauty hidden among the streets of Montmartre."

"Now is as good as anytime, dear Duke." Momoshirou chimed in with a wide grin and earned himself a lukewarm smile from Atobe.

Fuji's smile brightened a notch and from the corner of his eye Tezuka noted Momoshirou turning away for a moment, while Atobe visibly basked in the warmth of said smile.

"Your timing most certainly leaves nothing to be desired." Then Fuji tilted his head, as if slightly embarrassed. "My manners, I fear, however do. Though I hope you'll excuse me if I say I was bewitched by your unrivalled charisma."

Atobe heaved a pretentious, long-suffering sigh, but remained smiling. "Rest assured you're not the first one to be intoxicated by our charm."

"I'm most relieved to hear so." Fuji brightly replied, "Now, before I forget again, please let me introduce to our script writer Tezuka Kunimitsu – the man who is writing the musical and probably already preparing the latest scene in his head as we speak."

"He's one of the young and upcoming talents in the scene." Momoshirou added, sounding as if he'd known Tezuka for all his life. "We're very glad he agreed to join our production."

"Oh?" a perfect eyebrow shot up.

Tezuka, even if he was rather confused, obediently took his cue and bowed, while Fuji staged a giggle at his side. But underneath the wide smile those blue eyes were fixed on Momoshirou.

"He just came by with the script for the latest scene and I insisted we rehearse it right now." Another coy giggle. "I hope you'll forgive my enthusiasm."

Atobe smiled rather benignly. "Most certainly, mon chéri. But if you'd honour our curiosity – what is the play going to be about?"

The instant of silence was short but all-encompassing. Tezuka struggled for an answer, but Momoshirou beat him to it.

"The most important thing in the world – Love, of course."

"Set against the changing context of social obligations and the modern ideas about personal freedom." Tezuka added for the sake of his personal pride. Even though Momoshirou almost flinched Fuji repaid him with a grateful smile – and Atobe nodded thoughtfully.

"Set in India." Fuji added with sparkling eyes.

Tezuka, at that moment, for the first time in his entire life experienced what it meant to be in over his head. Or so he thought. When a frighteningly familiar, new voice joined the conversation, the sensation increased tenfold.

"With bewitching, exotic music!" Oshitari exclaimed, emerging from behind one of the curtains, a red scarf wrapped around his head, fixed with a diamond brace and a sitar under his arm. Strumming two chords he gestured to a more shaded area – and the real music started.

Whatever Oshitari had said about Choutarou's musical talent obviously was correct. The boy had talent – even when using a mere piano to create the impression of oriental music.

Momoshirou – completely unfazed by the emergence of yet more unknown men – joined in. "And acrobatics!" Waving one arm, two of the dancers Tezuka had admired on stage earlier this evening practically somersaulted into the room.

Each of the red-heads then proceeded to present short, but stunning belly dance and froze obediently the moment the music stopped. But Atobe, whose powers of perception were also nearing the limit Tezuka's had already passed, wasn't allowed a break.

"Magic and electricity!" Oshitari yelled and Inui dramatically pushed a switch, setting of a spectacle of miniature explosion and multicoloured lights flickering too fast for the eyes to get used to. Tezuka felt dizzy after a few seconds, but didn't dare to close his eyes.

Atobe, too, looked to shades paler after Inui had finished, and supposedly to stop the insanity from growing any wilder raised his hands. "Yes, yes – but what is the story about?"

Momoshirou was prompt to reply. "Well, there's the courtesan. The fairest in the entire land."

Fuji elegantly raised one arm, hiding the lower half of his face behind a black silk sleeve and directed one absolutely enchanting glance at Atobe – his eyes were even more fetching as the smile was hidden.

"Who falls in love…" he whispered temptingly, "…with a poor sitar player."

If Oshitari was surprised at his sudden turn of being in the spotlight no one could tell. The man only tilted his head and strummed four or five melancholic chords, looking very melodramatic while doing so.

"But alas." Tezuka added with a straight face and the sane part of his mind was left wondering what he was doing, "They aren't free to choose their fates, as society won't allow them to break from their roles."

"They have to meet in secrecy." Oshitari continued, a note of melancholy in his voice, gently stroking the sitar.

Momoshirou spontaneously reached for a white scarf and a red, over-decorated coat, slipping both things on and joining the act. "But there is the Maharajah."

The director reached out, wrapping on arm around Fuji's slim shoulders and forcefully pulled him close. "Who is in love with the courtesan."

"But still…" Fuji whispered, putting his hand over his heart with all the air of a girl suffering from heart-break, "…she only loves the sitar player."

He elegantly stretched out his other hand into Oshitari's direction. The dark-haired man strummed two sad chords on his sitar. "And he loves her too." He replied, mirroring the gesture.

Something tightened in Tezuka's chest at the scene and from the corner of his eye he caught Gakuto frowning. Their little impromptu rehearsal had gathered a lot of curious onlookers by now and he recognized Jirou (appearing awake and frighteningly enthusiastic), many showgirls and some black-dressed stage hands; all eyeing the spectacle with a mixture of surprise and amusement, some even tapping their feet along to whatever tune Choutarou played.

"However!" Momoshirou exclaimed, advancing towards Atobe; one arm sweeping through the room, "Their love is discovered by one of the Maharajah's spies!"

Darkness fell abruptly; while the duke echoed. "A spy?"

A click, and then a sole light flickered up, casting deep shadows on Oshitari's face. "A spy indeed and he immediately reports his findings to the Maharajah."

Momoshirou stood tall, undaunted by the light suddenly pointed into his direction. Tilting his chin proudly upwards, he frowned and twirled his imaginary beard.

"The Maharajah devises a plan." Tezuka explained evenly, his deep voice sounding eerily ominous in the almost complete darkness, "To have the sitar player murdered."

A dramatic gasp echoed through the room and then there was a moment of complete, tense silence. Tezuka tried to think of how the story would end; of any suitable conclusion, but as if on a secret cue, the room practically exploded.

All lights came on at once, blinding Tezuka; the music went from non-existent to fortissimo; a burst of confetti overhead; miniature fireworks to his right; a flurry of activity with people practically falling over each other.

Oshitari stepped forward, drawing himself up to his full height.

"Drama and passion. Love and Jealousy. A play so intense that it'll take your breath and blind your senses. A love story as if written by Eros himself; set within a scenery that'll make the muses pale with envy. This will be different from anything previously seen; this will secure you the lead position with the avant-garde!"

And then he bowed aside, some bed-sheet turned curtain was dropped and the spotlight focused on the little group posing in the room's centre. Fuji with a red scarf wrapped around his head in the middle; one of Oshitari's arms wrapped around his waist. Looming behind him, almost threatening with his dark gaze, stood Momoshirou; Eiji and Gakuto kneeled of to the sides, in clothes that somehow managed to pass for a belly-dancer's outfit. And confetti still snowed down upon them.

"The audience will love it!" Momoshirou enthusiastically proclaimed with confetti stuck to his hair and his face flushed bright red. "Guaranteed!"

And as much as Atobe Keigo had been fascinated by the show; had even allowed himself to be pulled into this; here was the point where his business acumen emerged. Instead of cheerfully agreeing, the Duke tilted his head and let a long, calculating glance sweep over the persons in front of him.

A weird group, but capable of doing their jobs. And Fuji was even more beautiful up close; so if sponsoring a little acting group's dream would help him to become closer then he wouldn't mind putting up with some idiocy.

Those beautiful blue eyes had attracted him the moment he'd seen them open back at the show. That rich voice had sent shudders down his spine and when he'd imagined holding this graceful creature in his very own arms, his heart had fluttered in anticipation.

Adonis had to be jealous of such beauty, Atobe had thought, staring dreamily at that slender figure moving so effortlessly through the crowd.

If he could make Fuji his, then he wouldn't care about the money spent.

"We suppose this looks somewhat promising." Atobe declared at long last.

Momoshirou was well-versed enough to pick up the cue. "Please join me in my office to discuss the details, then."

"Kabaji." Atobe called as they turned to leave and for the first time Tezuka noted the fearsomely tall, black-clad man following the Duke like a shadow.


"Hm, the Duke looks rather handsome." One of the girls muttered the moment Momoshirou, Tezuka and Atobe had left the scene. There was some giggling and a loud hiss from Kaidou.

"Nya, but the other guy – what was his name again – looked really good, too." Eiji declared, bouncing over to wrap an arm around Fuji's shoulders.

"Tezuka." Fuji muttered in reply, still looking too pale in Eiji's opinion. What worried the red-head more however was the way his friend's body shivered.

Gakuto, too, flashed a wide smile at Fuji. "He was quite cute, that one."

Both acrobats exchanged significant glances, deeming the small area in front of the elephant as far too crowded, but clueless as how to diffuse the mass of giggling girls. Eiji gently began pulling Fuji inside, while Gakuto turned to look for Shishido, who somehow managed to grasp the situation at once. The tall young man spontaneously approached the group.

"Oi, you!" he called, looking annoyed and successfully distracting the girls from stopping Fuji's and Eiji's retreat, "What are you doing here? Don't you have work to do?"

The girls scattered, looking somewhat petulant about being denied being privy to the latest rumours, but Shishido's glare allowed for no pardon. And anyways, Eiji had already closed the door behind himself and Fuji.

"Sit down first." Eiji admonished his long-time friend, "You're still not looking well."

Fuji didn't even protest but sank down into one of the over-stuffed arm chairs with a sigh. He accepted the glass of water pressed in his hand silently and didn't flinch away when Eiji pressed a hand against his forehead.

"You don't seem to have a fever." The red-head state with a slight degree of relief, "But how are you feeling?"

Under normal circumstances Fuji would have flashed his brightest smile at Eiji and declared himself perfectly healthy and perfectly happy. Tonight however too much had happened.

"Okay I suppose." Fuji replied, still managing a small smile. And then: "I should have known he was too nice to be the Duke."

Blinking in surprise Eiji straightened up. "Who? You mean Tezuka?"

Fuji wanted to reply, but started coughing all of a sudden. Eiji was by his side in split second, but couldn't do anymore than rub a soothing hand over Fuji's shuddering back. Whatever colour had returned to his friend's face before was completely gone when the fit abated.

There was no blood on Fuji's hands though, Eiji gratefully noted. But it didn't help that those delicate, white hands felt cold and trembled.

"Do you want me to fetch Oishi?" Eiji asked, watching Fuji worriedly. The other boy wordlessly shook his head, still gasping for breath. Slowly he begun straightening up and Eiji wondered whether or not he should run and get Oishi anyways.

"It's …" Fuji eventually ground out, "… I'm okay. … Don't worry so much."

Eiji only leaned back with a sigh. "If you say so, nya. If you say so. But promise me to get some rest soon!"


Tezuka's silver chain watch read 1.30.

The fact that he was able of deciphering the time shared a cause with his incapability to sleep – mainly the noise (and light effects) stemming from the apartment over his. Meaning, the party upstairs still continued.

He'd joined them at first, elated at having landed them a job in the stage production and his meeting with Fuji, but had begun to tire after some time. Oshitari had brought Gakuto along; Choutarou's dark-haired friend had shown up later on, too and Jirou had long since returned to Hypnos' realm.

… right now he was actually envying the narcoleptic.

Well, he could do something better with his time then just lying around. Maybe he'd just take a walk to clear his head.

Barely ten minutes later found Tezuka out on the streets; his late-night promenade cut short by another sleepless figure out on a softly lit balcony, looking wistfully up at the sky. There was no mistaking that graceful figure. Or that silky hair fluttering playfully in the soft breeze.

Tezuka bit his lip. The apollonian part of his mind urged him to ignore the scene, walk for half an hour and return home to sleep.

But…

Maybe he'd be behave like a foolish lover in one of Shakespeare's plays for once and brave the climb up to that balcony. Although he'd have to replace the romantic hedge with a quite more practical (and safer) fire ladder.

"What are you doing here?" Fuji asked, looking stunningly taken aback at Tezuka's sudden presence on the roof of the elephant. Overhead, the stars were twinkling brightly and Tezuka felt unusually carefree and – dare he say it – happy.

"I couldn't sleep." He replied, looking stoically unmoved; 'and I kept thinking about you' he mentally added but refrained from speaking, because he didn't want to seem overeager.

Fuji laughed slightly, not as high pitched or sensuous as earlier that day, but a real laugh. "I couldn't sleep either – I'm often going here when I can't sleep. You can actually see some stars."

He pointed upwards and Tezuka automatically turned to look into the direction. And true to his words, he could make out some sparkling lights amid the black sky. Though they were few – there was too much light in Paris nowadays; but London had the same problem.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?"

When Tezuka failed to respond, Fuji turned to him, smile appearing somewhat sadder. "Ah, I guess they aren't as impressive from here as when viewed from somewhere else."

A giggle and then he looked skyward again. "I've never been out of the city, so I wouldn't know."

Tezuka recalled Fuji's words earlier that evening and a spark of his desire to take that beautiful human being bathed in moonlight in front of him from all this decadency was rekindled. Still, he knew it was impossible. Understood far too well he wasn't even supposed to be here, and yet …

His heart told him he was doing the right thing.

"If I may ask…" Fuji set out again after a short moment of silence, "How did you get here? Pardon me if I'm wrong, but you don't seem the type to come to the Moulin Rouge."

He had to admire the boy's perceptiveness.

"Coincidence, I suppose." And then added with a slight smile. "It happened sort of the same way as I got hired to write that play."

"Did you ever write one before?" Fuji asked curiously.

Tezuka swallowed before replying. "Well, back in school. But don't worry, I'll give my best."

"Thank you for that." Fuji smiled. "But please don't make it all sad and melancholic like it's been fashionable lately. I'd like something that'll make the audience enjoy it, no matter if it ends up being a tragedy. You know, something like the Bohème."

Tezuka stepped up behind Fuji, looking out over the brightly lit Parisian night sky. There were so many lights still on; flickering golden stars of petroleum and electricity replacing the stars above.

"That is…"

Tezuka forgot the rest of his sentence. Fuji had just chosen this moment to look over his shoulder and they were so close he could feel a few strands of Fuji's hair tickle his cheek as the night wind played with them.

Blue eyes blinked up at his; almost insecure, and with a myriad of lights reflected in those wide, dark pupils. Tezuka's breath hitched; skin touched skin and even if his mind was screaming – there was an unfamiliar, wonderful warm sensation spreading through his body, a sense of intoxication blanketing all those warning signs.

And with a smile Tezuka leaned forward and closed the last of the remaining distance.

At first Fuji remained motionless; the kiss but a simple press of lips against lips. But then, almost tentatively, he opened his mouth, allowing Tezuka access. One pale hand reached up, burying itself in Tezuka's already slightly messy hair; enjoying the texture underneath his fingertips.

Tezuka wrapped his arms around Fuji's slim waist, pulling the smaller man firmly against his chest until there was no space left between them; until he could feel the warmth of the frail body through several layers of clothing. And unlike earlier, when Fuji had danced far too close, Tezuka didn't even feel remotely uncomfortable.

That small body seemed to fit perfectly against his, and the peaceful sensation spreading through his mind only proved his earlier words – love is not about a gender; but about a person. And Fuji – so beautiful and sharp-minded - was all and more than he could ever ask for.

Eventually they had to break the kiss for air, but Fuji didn't step away. He remained leaning against Tezuka's chest, listening absentmindedly to that steady heart beat.

"… I apologize." Tezuka said rather formally, even if he had yet to remove his arms. He knew he was breaking every kind of social rule ever established; yet this felt right.

"You don't need to. I …" Fuji didn't complete the sentence and there was no need to. He didn't dare looking up, because he knew what he's see in those hazel brown eyes; and it would make him happy – but …

Tezuka nodded, feeling uncharacteristically bitter. "It was a bad idea."

"Yes." Fuji quickly agreed.

Still, they didn't step away from each other. Tezuka's arms remained firmly in place and Fuji made no move to disentangle himself. There was Atobe, there were all his obligations, there was society – and yet he couldn't help but wonder if they might not just be wrong. All of them.

Because if there was anything right in this world, Fuji felt, it had to be resting in those arms.

With a sigh, Tezuka set out again. "We shouldn't…"

"But?" Fuji asked, sounding almost hopeful. He shouldn't hope for this, shouldn't encourage this, because this was doomed. Tezuka was not the Duke; without the Duke there'd be no musical, and without a musical he was as good as dead.

"But…" Tezuka bit his lip, praying he was making the right decision in speaking his mind. "We can try. Even if it's a bad idea. But, who knows, maybe we're wrong …"

Fuji smiled warmly at Tezuka's suggestion. Neither of them was naïve enough to write of those feelings to a fluke, and here they were, hanging onto that excuse.

"Perhaps." Fuji replied, looking far happier than before. "Only time will tell."

Tezuka half-smiled. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

And leaned down to steal one last kiss before leaving.


Thank you for reading and please feel free to tell me if you liked it or not.