Chapter 12

The car drew to a slow stop outside the Fuji residence; Fuji Syuuske got out and headed towards the doorbell. But before he could press the button, the door flew open accompanied by a loud shriek.

"Syuuske!"

Atobe turned around even as he heard the word, just in time to see a beaming Fuji Yumiko embracing her brother, half dragging him towards the house at the same time. An acute sense of loneliness pricked at him as he saw the warmth and joy that filled the identical bright blue eyes as they beheld and embraced each other, the knowledge that he was going to lose Fuji to this joy pierced his heart, even as he struggled to remain calm.

Staring uncertainly at the house before him, Atobe carefully kept his features in that perfectly controlled mask; pushing aside the painful thought that Tezuka must have been familiar with the house.

Stepping hesitantly through the doorway, the warm and comfy atmosphere of the place struck him immediately, it was hardly big or particularly well furnished, but clearly filled with the warmth and love of its occupants. Happy memories could be seen in every corner of the living room, in the form of countless photos that occupied the walls, the gentle aroma of food cooking perfumed the whole place.

A mixture of envy and grief welled up in him at the same time, envy for he knew that though he had always got everything he wanted, his home was never as warm and comforting as this place, not until Fuji came along at least, and grief for he knew that there was nothing to stop Fuji from leaving him and returning to this warm shelter.

Atobe was lost in his reverie when he felt a gentle pressure on his wrist, looking up, he saw himself looking into the smiling face of a woman in her fifties.

"Atobe. "

Her voice was soft and gentle, shaking slightly as she spoke the name.

"Mrs Fuji."

He acknowledged her politely, ignoring the guilt that flooded him while he tried not to flinch at how much she had aged since the last time they met.

"We couldn't thank you enough."

Tears threatened to enter the brittle voice, even as an unmistakable smile brightened the delicate features.

"And I couldn't be more sorry."

He wanted to tell her that it was his fault her son was in coma for so long, that it was his fault she had aged so fast worrying about him over the years, that it was his fault that so many people were so unhappy. But the words refused to come as he stared at the hopeful and grateful smile of the woman, the sincere joy her eyes held, the lack of bitterness in those eyes,

Instead, he nodded silently, even as the woman across him hurriedly turned around to return to the kitchen, muttering incoherently about getting lunch even as she hastily wiped her tears with the back of her hand, unwilling to let her children share the burden of those sorrowful memories.

By now, Yumiko had finished examining every detail of her brother once more and they joined Atobe in the living room where he stood looking at all the photos that occupied the shelves.

"Keigo"

Fuji spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb him.

Atobe nodded silently, avoiding the bright blue eyes that he knew were filled with joy, happiness that he couldn't give.

"Do you want to see my room?"

The invitation was light and cheerful to the ears, yet the gentle plea in it was clear, and he knew how much it meant to Fuji that they shared everything, and that was perhaps the reason for him even coming today.

Nodding silently, he smiled politely at Fuji Yumiko who looked at them uncertainly before disappearing into the kitchen, and followed the other man up the stairs.

Standing at the doorway of the room, both men were silent as they looked on at a place that a teenager had clearly once occupied, countless trophies and books adorned the table and walls while a single tennis racket, kept in pristine condition hung on the wall.

"Tennis"

Atobe felt a familiar desire stir in him as he looked at the racket, accompanied by a dull ache. He had avoided the sport for so long, denying it, pretending that what had once meant so much to him did not even exist. He had not held a racket in the past six years, throwing away his books and trophies, the same objects that had once meant so much to him, flipping channels instantly whenever the sport was mentioned.

It was too painful, far too torturous to even see anything tennis-related, not when he remembered his last match so vividly, each and every stroke was clear in his head as well as the beautiful movements of his opponent.

They had ended that game with a draw, neither had really wanted to beat the other then, for it was no longer important to find out who was better, they were a team, a single entity, and that was all that mattered, nothing else made a difference.

"Not even death."

He silently reminded himself that they were still a team, a flawless pair even with Tezuka gone, for their love lived on deep in his heart, in his very soul, where it will lay unchanged forever.

"What about Fuji?"

Moving his eyes slowly from the neat, uncluttered desk, he glanced uncertainly at the man that stood silently beside him, taking in the thoughtful joy in the bright blue eyes, and remembering the time when they had been clouded with grief. He knew Fuji was part of their relationship, for he knew that Fuji loved Tezuka as much as he did, perhaps even more, and that love was not unrequited.

"I played tennis."

The soft words broke his reverie, slicing through his thoughts. He heard the hopeful plea behind the short statement, the uncertainty that echoed in the words, and he understood the other man's desire to uncover the truth without bringing them more sorrow. Yet, he knew too that it was not possible, for the truth was simply too painful.

He chose to ignore the unspoken question in the tensai's words, nodding silently instead, giving no indication of how much he knew and understood. They stood silently for a long moment, each consumed in his own thoughts, staring at the room of a boy that lived so long ago, staring at an innocence that they knew was gone forever.

"Syusuke."

The joyful voice of Fuji Yumiko rang out once more, asking the two to go down for lunch, breaking the pensive silence in the air. Turning slowly to look at Fuji, he smiled gently and placed his arm through that of the other, steering him gently towards the stairs, choosing to leave the memories behind him for that moment.

Lunch was a silent affair; the Fuji family seemed unwilling to speak though the older woman repeatedly offered her guest more food, staring at him through grateful eyes, while her husband tried more than once to offer him their best wine. Yumiko however, glanced repeatedly at Atobe, her eyes clouded and uncertain as she took in the tender warmth that passed between her brother and the man beside him, her forehead creased in a hesitant frown. She opened her mouth as if to speak for a few times, before firmly shutting it again.

It was after dinner that Yumiko finally spoke, choosing the moment when they were alone at the table, with her parents in the kitchen and Fuji in the bathroom.

"Atobe san, could you come out with me for a moment, I wish to show you something. "

Her voice trembled slight as she spoke; yet her words were firm.

Standing up slowly, the two exited the front door and walked silently in the tiny garden at the front of the house where Yumiko sat down slowly on a wooden chair and motioned towards her companion to do the same.

"I know you've been taking care of Fuji all these years, but …"

Her voice trailed off, unsure of how to continue, avoiding the eyes the tall man before her as she searched for what to say. Atobe remained silent, looking expressionlessly at the woman beside him.

"I don't know what happened exactly, but I understand that something unhappy went on between you two, which is why things are in this state now. Yuuta wouldn't tell me what happened, but I guessed part of it and…"

She turned her head to look into the dark eyes, seeing the look of painful comprehension that entered them slowly, the weary resignation that entered the polite smile on the aristocratic features.

"I understand. "

Atobe understood too well what she was driving at, for he knew better than anyone else that he was the person responsible for Fuji being in this state, and clear that the shadows of the past will one day return to haunt them.

"Give me some time."

He requested softly, his heart sinking even as he saw her nod silently.