Writer's Note: Argh, this took ages, but it's finally done! Hope it'll provide you with some idea of what exactly happened in the past…lol
Chapter 7
Back at the apartment that night, Fuji laid awake on his bed, staring at the spotlessly white ceiling. Memories of the day came rushing back; it had all been a mindless whirl of colour and noise, up to the moment when they had stood together, side-by-side, on the bridge.
A faint blush coloured his pale cheeks as he recalled what had happened. He remembered every detail clearly, having replayed the scene over and over again in his head, savouring every touch and sensation. He knew this was something he was unlikely to ever forget.
Standing against the picture-perfect backdrop of the setting sun, Atobe had turned towards him, his dark eyes clouded with an unreadable emotion, his face determined yet full of anguish, strong yet weak.
Fuji had wanted to reach out to him then, to comfort the vulnerable being behind the steely exterior, to tell him that everything was alright; alright because they were together. But before he could utter a word, a pair of lips was softly and suddenly pressed against his own, he barely managed to gasp in surprise before Atobe claimed his lips with a sudden strength, gently yet firmly.
It was only a brief moment, but it felt like an eternity of happiness to Fuji. He knew that was where he belonged, in Atobe's arms, caught in his embrace. It all felt so right and natural, it was almost like he had expected it, and perhaps he did.
The world around them ceased to exist, it seemed then, that nothing mattered anymore, the past or the future, all that was important, was the present, all that he cared about, was that they would always remain together.
He pulled Atobe closer to him and gently returned the kiss, holding on to the other as if it was the only thing that he depended on for survival, and in a way, he knew it was. Fuji could not imagine a life without Atobe; he knew then that his feelings for the taller man went much further than a casual friendship. It was not even just a romance; it was a union of heart and soul.
Yet, the intimate moment was sudden broken as Atobe pulled away suddenly, bliss was replaced by confusion as Fuji saw what resembled guilt in the other man's eyes. The taller man seemed close to tears, as he slowly turned away and stumbled a few steps away from Fuji, as if to create a physical distance between them.
"It's late, we should go back"
Atobe's voice was low and huskier than usual when he spoke, thick with unshed tears. He carefully avoided Fuji's face as if afraid to meet his eyes. Turning around, he walked ahead without another word.
Fuji sighed as he remembered how Atobe had ignored him all the way back. They had dinner in silence at the same eatery where they had dined the previous night, and Atobe had shut himself in his room immediately upon returning to the apartment.
He felt hurt and confusion at the same time, he knew that that Atobe cared for him, he understood how much the other man had sacrificed for him, he knew that he was causing the other much anguish in forcing him to confront the past.
Yet it was painfully frustrating sometimes, the way he could be so warm and tender at one time yet so cold and abrupt at another. It was heartbreaking to watch the conflicting emotions and grief in his eyes, and even more painful to know that he was part of what caused the pain.
But what caused him the most anguish was the way Atobe had pushed him away earlier that evening, the manner in which the taller man had turned away, despair and regret in his eyes. He understood the despair, but not the regret. It had seemed then, that the other man regretted kissing him, he had seemed almost sorry, as he stumbled away to put a few steps between them.
He wanted to tell Atobe then, that he was not sorry they had kissed, that it had felt completely natural and right to him. But looking at the pain on the other's face, he could not bring himself to speak, swallowing the words as soon as they reached his lips, choosing to follow mutely behind the taller man instead.
He had pondered over the matter since then, trying to understand Atobe's feelings and to sympathise with him. Yet, he simply could not concentrate as the other man's desperate expression haunted his thoughts. He had numerous doubt and worries, a thousand questions but no answers, they tortured him and made his head ache madly, keeping both logic and sleep away.
Staring at the clock, he realised that it had been at least three hours since he had retired to bed, and he was still unable to fall asleep. Sitting up with a sudden renewed vigour, he brushed aside his headache and threw the sheets off as he made up his mind to get an answer from Atobe.
In a dozen rapid steps, Fuji found himself standing shivering outside Atobe's door, feeling acutely the cold hard marble floor against his bare feet. He hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to knock or not, wrapping his arms around himself to keep the cold away, feeling vulnerable and alone suddenly, as memories of Atobe's touch and embrace made the night seemed colder than ever.
Pushing his doubts away, he gently turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, stepping soundlessly into the room. The sudden burst of cold air reached his senses and he realised that the room was freezing cold with the windows wide open.
A dark figure stood beside the window, unmoving and seemingly deep in thought. He did not appear to have notice Fuji's entrance or the freezing cold of the room. Walking gently forward, Fuji tapped him gently on his arm, realising that it was cold as ice.
"Atobe"
The taller man did not turn around, or perhaps he didn't dare to.
"Can we talk?"
Fuji tried again, a desperate edge to his voice even while he spoke in low tones. There was silence.
"Talk about what?"
Atobe finally replied after a long time, his voice hard and emotionless, without a trace of warmth or bitterness. Fuji wanted to shout at him then, to grab him by the shoulders and shake him hard, to insist that he gave him a clear answer. But his strength failed him, he was drained and tired, he didn't want a confrontation, just answers.
"About us."
The words were uttered simply and quietly, as Fuji sat down softly on the bed. Atobe appeared not to have heard, for no reply was given and he continued to stare motionless out of the window.
"Atobe, please."
The former tensai finally pleaded, unable to bear the awkward silence.
After a moment, Atobe turned around slowly, the light of the moon illuminated his pale skin and made him seem fairer than ever, he appeared strong yet vulnerable, standing framed by the open window, his dark hair, ruffled by the wind. His features were tired and worn when he finally faced Fuji, his eyes dull and hopeless, giving him the appearance of a man almost twice his age.
"You really want to know what happened?"
His voice was gentle, almost pleading. There was a sudden longing in his eyes, a desire to share the pain of the burden he had carried alone for so long, to rid himself of or at least lessen the guilt he felt. Yet, that was quickly replaced by anguish that bordered on fear.
Ignoring the conflicting emotions in Atobe's eyes, Fuji swallowed deeply, and nodded firmly He made up his mind then, that he wanted to know the source of Atobe's pain, to share the grief and anguish, to understand the other man's burden, even if it meant losing the happiness that came with ignorance.
Atobe sighed deeply; he had knew the answer before he even asked the question, he knew that Fuji would want to know everything.
"Even if it's going to kill both of us."
The thought echoed in his head as he realised that he could not protect Fuji any more, or rather, he could protect both of them any longer. Lowering himself onto the bed, he thought for a moment before speaking, allowing the memories he had been trying so hard to forget resurface once more.
He felt a sudden unnatural calm, for the pain that came with the memories seemed distant. He felt numbed; he no longer felt like part of it all, it was as if he was distanced from reality, like an audience member watching a play, a weepy melodrama, the play of his life, of his love and loss. Slowly, he started to speak; his voice was calm and steady, like that of a narrator, as he recounted the events that took place so long ago.
"I'm sorry sir. We have tried our best, but your friend is dead."
The doctor spoke calmly and sympathetically, before departing with a polite bow, as if it was just a usual occurrence, a thing that happened every day, and he was right of course, people do die everyday.
For a moment, he felt an unnatural calm as he glanced at the worried expressions of those around him, a weird sense of peace as he surveyed the scratches on his arms. Then, the truth sank in, biting slowly into him like blunt blade pushed firmly against his flesh. The pain was unbearable yet numbing. He couldn't cry, he couldn't feel anything. Soon, the world faded slowly before his eyes.
Everything ceased to exist; his eyes were focused on the blinding white ceiling, opened, yet not seeing anything. It didn't make sense to him, how he escaped with mere scratches while his companion, who was not even the one driving, could die.
"Tezuka."
The name escaped his lips, Tezuka Kunimitsu, the latest in his long string of flings. The last time he had seen Tezuka, was when the rescue team had dragged them both away from the wreckage. Atobe had been in shock then, and the only thing he remembered seeing was the stream of blooding flowing from the other's forehead and the unsightly wreck of the car.
An ironically bitter smile touched his lips briefly as the words "I need a new car" flashed momentarily in his head.
"And perhaps a new companion too." A voice in his head reminded him.
Then he realised, that it wasn't so easy this time, Tezuka was irreplaceable. He never thought about it this way before, but then he realised that he could not lose Tezuka.
"Why?"
That was the next question that popped out in his head. Atobe had prided himself on being a man unconstrained by emotions or sentimental attachments; relationships were to him a matter of self-fulfilment, not love,
"Because you loved him, because he is the only one you have ever loved.
The answer came to him from deep in his heart, he understood deep down, despite his refusal to acknowledge it, that he had fell deeply and truly for the bespectacled man. He had thought initially, that it was a mere fascination and admiration, perhaps even envy. But after being with Tezuka for less than a month, melting in his arms, spending time with him, and finally losing him, he understood that he loved Tezuka. He loved him more than anything else; he loved him more than life.
He wanted to cry then, to lose himself in his grief. Yet, a sudden thought occurred to him, he was not the only one who loved Tezuka.
Fuji Syusuke.
The name echoed in his head as images of the smiling tensai filled his head.
Smiling…
The brown-haired man had not been smiling the last time they met. Atobe remembered the moment vividly, the satisfaction he had felt that when Tezuka had remained quiet under Fuji's accusing eyes, the sense of triumph he had experienced when the taller man had left with him. Yet, that very same victory returned to haunt him now, for he felt nothing but guilt and shame as he envisioned Fuji's reaction at Tezuka's death.
It was his fault, everything, everything was his fault…the world faded slowly into darkness.
The sudden warmth that engulfed him made Atobe return to the present, drawing him away from the cold, hard reality of the past. He had stopped speaking and could distinctly hear someone weeping; he could taste the salty droplets in on his lips. Reaching his fingers towards one cheek, he realised that it was wet with tears; he had remembered how to cry.
With a strangled sob, Atobe buried his face against the thin material of Fuji's pyjamas, and sobbed like an infant, allowing the world around him to fall away, as all he felt was the soothing sensation of the other man gently stroking his head.
Tell me what you think…