Tezuka stood in front of his wardrobe, his fingers gliding over the top of his clothes, brushing the padded jackets, the formal starched suits and stiff linen and the occasional silk pieces that Atobe had practically twisted his arm into buying. It was ironic really, that Fuji's disappearance all those years ago, had practically propelled him into the arms of Atobe Keigo. He wondered what Fuji would say if he saw him now.

After Fuji went missing, he hadn't known what to do with himself. Perhaps it was then, where these hallucinations began. He couldn't quite shake the feeling that Fuji was still around, that the other was still watching him and waiting. Waiting for what, Tezuka wasn't too certain, since he was all too aware of how he had broken the other's heart and left the wound raw and bleeding in the ensuing days. He had been afraid then, too cowardly to speak up in the controversy that surrounded them, too uncertain of himself and his feelings to know what to do with the fragile heart that Fuji had placed in his hands. When he had finally realised that he did feel something for Fuji...was it love? Hate? He wasn't too sure but by that time the other had already withdrawn from their lives, his exit as subtle as his entrance into it. Sometimes, truly, he hated himself.

It would perhaps be a little absurd to declare that no one had been affected by his disappearance, but truly, Tezuka was amazed at how easily Fuji was forgotten. No, perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the tensai had never truly been a part of their lives to begin with. Even his parents hadn't appeared to be too bothered by the loss of their second child. When he paid them a courtesy call shortly after Fuji was presumed dead, they weren't distraught or even unhappy, their expressions vaguely polite when Tezuka attempted to express his condolences. Granted, it had been nearly a year since his disappearance, but it was unnerving nevertheless to meet those blank eyes that appeared nearly clueless, as to whom, exactly, had disappeared and why.

"They loved you, you know." Tezuka said aloud, feeling almost foolish as he reached out and ran the pad of his thumb over a silk ebony tie.

He was going mad. It had been nearly 5 years and he still couldn't quite forget those cerulean eyes that shone and darkened with his every mood, those eyes that captured the sky in their depths, those blue, blue eyes that had closed against the world that they both knew.

"I mean it, Fuji." Tezuka closed the door, still chatting to the invisible figure that he imagined sitting upon his bed and waiting patiently for an explanation. Fuji's presence never quite left his mind, a blurred silhouette, a flash of colour at the edge of his vision, the vanilla scent that Fuji carried with him. There were days he had to hold to his sanity so tightly for fear that he would break, forcing the lump in his throat to disappear when a wave of misery and longing so acute threatened to overwhelm him.

"It's been 5 years since you vanished. You can't blame them for forgetting what you were like, really. Not when no one seemed to know who you were exactly, and what you were like. Can you understand that I am doing my best?"

His explanations sounded weak to himself, an exhortation that made him wince even as he said it. He closed the wardrobe again when he realised that he didn't have the mood to attend the seminar at night. Atobe could very well do without his company. He wondered why the other boy stood by him. There were others that the young heir of the Atobe empire could have chosen, but somehow, he remained friends with Tezuka to the extent that he regularly sought him out for no reason but for his company. Frequently, he thought about how abnormally lucky he would be if he wound up in love with Atobe, but thankfully, they both knew it was impossible. Atobe was in love with another, as was he. There was no salvation for them both, only the distraction that the other could provide momentarily with body and mind.

At the sound of the doorbell, he left his book lying forgotten at the foot of the black leather upholstery. He knew Atobe would be angry, but he too, needed a break once in a while. Swinging the door fully open, Tezuka regarded the unexpected visitor and felt a strange tug at his heart when unfamiliar, nostalgic memories flooded his mind.

"Fuji-san…it's been a while since I last saw you."

"I need you to help me find my brother."

He had invited Yuuta into his apartment, his mind racing whilst he pretended to busy himself with the preparation of warm tea. He had not seen the other boy for the past 5 years, ever since he had graduated from Seigaku. He had been stunned to see the younger boy at his door, looking as though the cares of the world rested upon his shoulders. There had been little physical changes in him, only that his hair had lengthened over the years until it brushed the tips of his ear lobes. His face appeared strained and dark circles rimmed his eyes.

Yuuta steadied his hands as he clasped them around the delicate cup, the heat steaming from the aromatic tea and warming him up. When Tezuka had seated himself in front of him, he began talking without preamble.

"I won't take up too much of your time. I know you're a busy man, and well, now that you've returned to Japan, I thought it'd be a good time to talk to you. It's a matter regarding these dreams I've been having for a while, about the conversations Syuusuke and I used to have in my room, about ordinary stuff about music and movies and the latest addition to his family of cacti."

"And… well… lately I've been waking up to find that there's a warm spot on the bed, as if someone had been sitting there only moments ago. And it's not just in dreams. I keep seeing him, walking past a shop window, sitting on the swing set in the old park…only there's something wrong with the image, like ripples in a pond. When I reach out to touch him he's gone. Or I'll hear him call my name or say something mundane but when I turn around there's this sense of someone being there but there's no one around..."

Yuuta shut his eyes, deeply humiliated.

"Oh god, you think I'm crazy, don't you? I knew it."

"No. I experienced them too."

"...you're joking."

"To be honest, that was one of the main factors that led me to accept the offer from one of the universities overseas, although I told Inoue-san that it was because of my treatment in Germany."

"So you know! You've known all this time! Why haven't you said anything?" Yuuta flared up at him exasperatedly, glaring at the older man.

"What would you have me say about this form of post-traumatic disorder? You and I have suffered long enough from these hallucinations. It's time to let these memories return to the past."

"Argh! It's not true!! Ask Echizen! I've talked to him and even he experiences it. Are you saying everyone suffers from these delusions, after all this time? It's only been 5 years, Tezuka, and it'd take me much longer than that to believe all the bullshit that he's dead or lying in a ditch somewhere.

"Aniki wasn't that kind of person, Tezuka. Surely you...at least you...would know that." He finished hoarsely, his fingers gripping a slender volume that protruded from his satchel.

Tezuka gazed at the younger man and stood up. There was nothing he could do for him any longer if Yuuta persisted in his foolish beliefs. It must have been difficult for him to understand how his brother wasn't as universally treasured as he had always believed; that the golden boy of the family had been forgotten so easily and left behind as the trains of time rushed on.

Sensing that he had overstayed his welcome, Yuuta rummaged in his bag.

"Here."

"What is this?"

But he had a sinking feeling that he already knew what was within the book. It was too slender, too elegant to be something that Yuuta owned. The leathery feel of the cream coloured book and the familiar scent of vanilla that met his nose were too familiar to be ignored. Tezuka pressed the tips of his fingers to the bridge of his nose, determinedly ignoring the sudden pounding in his head.

"It belongs to him. I believe there are things in there that would interest you. Please...you need to help. You were the one that he was closest to. If there's any chance at all that he can be found...please, Tezuka, I can't do this alone."

He had already shown Yuuta to the door by then, his heart in turmoil when he gazed down at the slim book. This was absurd, this was pure insanity and if Syuusuke was around, he'd laugh gently at him and take the volume away from his hands. That was the way Syuusuke was, he never compelled you with the raw emotion that Yuuta employed. He would only suggest and hope and wait pointlessly for an answer that would never come. He was also subtle and annoying and manically compulsive in search of entertainment, and Tezuka missed him badly.

"Don't expect anything much, I'd take a look at it but I can't guarantee anything."

END CHAPTER