Atobe is silent when Tezuka finishes his explanation, much to his relief. After he left Seigaku, he had never felt completely at ease around others unless they were talking to fill up the empty space between them, masking his sense of social ineptitude. When he first came to know Atobe Keigo, he had believed that the other, just like everyone else, would speak endlessly about his possessions, praising his strengths and generally unceasing in his profuse admiration of himself. Yet Atobe had merely nodded and smiled slightly when Tezuka couldn't speak, and accepted it without a second thought. They spent the next few minutes saying nothing and watching the light rain fall outside the windows. The weather was queerly depressing these days, interspersing dull periods of pale sunshine with light rain and strong winds.

"You still miss him."

"...not particularly."

"You're lying, aren't you?"

"If this book hadn't appeared, the past wouldn't have been brought up."

Atobe sighed in exasperation. "Do you know that sometimes when you speak about Seigaku or tennis, your expression closes in a little, and your lips tighten in the way they do when you're stressed? Don't you see that it's not the book but Fuji Syuusuke himself – god, you even flinch at his name – you can't get over?"

Tezuka exhaled a breath quietly, clasping the cup of lukewarm coffee closer to him.

"I – I was the one who failed him. He didn't deserve to fall in love with me, if it had been someone else, anyone else, they would have been overjoyed and even if they weren't, they wouldn't have handled the situation as shamefully."

"But you weren't the one who spread it to the rest of the school..." Atobe murmured. They had been over this same conversation before, over and over again, repeating the sin to themselves in order to wash the ache away just a little each time. Atobe didn't know when he had last treated a friend with such tenderness but perhaps this was his penance.

"I ran away when he first told me what he felt for me," Tezuka muttered, his cheeks burning. He dipped his head toward his drink, beckoning to the waitress for a refill.

"We were only children then."

"Wasn't he?"

He hadn't seen Fuji at all for the past few hours. It was a little unnerving, considering how the team's genius had a propensity to stick to his side like glue. He couldn't help but feel as though he was being stalked throughout school, since the tensai's presence followed him everywhere he went. And where he didn't appear, Tezuka's paranoia and imagination made up for the lack. Most people might have been scared or even frustrated at the intensity with which they were followed, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to get angry at the other boy. Fuji had always been a little more affectionate than Tezuka would have liked, but he had grown to tolerate that as well. Not that he was displeased, only resigned to the way Fuji indulged in his personality quirks, shifting from one phase to another as smoothly as a snake sheds its skin.

"Good morning, Tezuka."

"Fuji," he sighed, hearing the voice coming from behind him.

He must have lost his mind. Even Oishi had paused to look at him inquiringly, not to mention Eiji who had paused comically in mid leap and proceeded to flail around in disbelief.

"Hoi, that was Oishi, not Fujiko – "

"Tezuka, are you feeling alright?"

"98.7 chance that Tezuka – "

"Fssh, it's just a mix up, what's the fuss?!"

"Obviously you're blind AND deaf Mamushi, don't you know...uh oh."

"TWENTY LAPS NOW. ALL OF YOU."

Silence.

"Saa...even me?" Fuji piped up.

Tezuka clenched his fists involuntarily to quell the shaking of his hands. He felt the bite of his nails into his palm and relished it for the momentary relief it brought to him. If Atobe noticed, he didn't say a word, continuing to sip his coffee as though nothing had happened.

He couldn't breathe when he looked back at the past, and saw the ways in which he had been so blind, entirely unaware to Fuji's blind dedication and misplaced adoration. Ever since he knew Fuji, he had the feeling that the other was not to be trusted. Tolerated, but not liked. There was something unpredictable that simmered below the facade of calmness, something that was fully capable of lashing out and hurting him badly if he ever fell for the soft, delicate image presented to the world. He had looked into Fuji's eyes, and seen a reflection of his own. Yet, he hadn't realised. He had stayed obstinately blind and deaf to everything that didn't match his mind's impression of Fuji Syuusuke.

Click.

It wasn't his fault that the infamous enigma had revealed himself to someone as dense as he. Wasn't it obvious he wasn't the most emotionally intuitive person in school? Yet Fuji must have loved him enough to throw away his pride, following his gut instinct even as it reeked of irrationality and desperation, as it must have appeared to him as well. It was the disquiet in Fuji's eyes that he remembered, when he had lost patience with the stalking and slammed the other against the locker, ignoring the way Fuji cried out when the metal lock stabbed painfully into his back. He had nearly failed his maths exam, a subject in which he was known for topping the class, all because he couldn't get the image of pale blonde hair and clear blue eyes out of his mind. It was the surprise and the way Fuji had said nothing, when he had bit out that he had enough of being followed, and he wanted to know what motives the other had in mind. The worst part was looking at his unguarded expression, the shutters that didn't hide the clear confusion on the other's face.

He had humiliated himself in front of Fuji, and the other clearly didn't know what to do about it.

Delusion didn't appear to be one of his weaknesses, at least not until now, when he had shown himself up as the superficial idiot who had presumed that he had been stalked, simply because he had seen his team mate around in school, the same boy who lived near his house and studied in the classroom right next to his. He wanted to laugh and die at the same moment from the acute embarrassment, and what appeared to be a deep, unsettled disappointment that made him want to scream at the same time.

When Fuji continued to say nothing and clutched at Tezuka's shirt hesitantly, he had fully expected the other to shove him away and demand to know what drugs he had taken that morning. When Fuji avoided his eyes, bowing his head so low until Tezuka couldn't see his face, the last thing he had expected was a confession.

"I didn't mean to, it's just that...I, somehow...unknowingly have fallen in love with you. Please don't, please don't go - " Fuji breathed shakily, his words so soft that Tezuka had to lean closer to catch them as they fell.

"What? I'm sorry, but..."

Tezuka had backed away when he caught sight of the drops of water that fell, bleeding across Fuji's shaking hands and reflecting the remnants of the light as they fell onto the ground. Fuji didn't have the strength to stand, his face buried in his hands as he fell against the locker, sliding soundlessly to the ground.

"Tezuka!"

He glanced up and saw Atobe's worried face. What did he do to merit such concern? He didn't deserve such warm sympathy, not when he had been the one to start everything and he had run and he had made him cry and made him disappear and never come back again and people were forgetting, simply forgetting Fuji Syuusuke and he couldn't be the one to do that to him, and it was happening all over again –

A slap resounded smartly.

People turned in their seats to stare at them curiously.

"You weren't breathing, Tezuka."

"Thanks."

It was a gesture typical of Atobe. It appeared cold, even heartless, but the young heir had also been the person to walk into his life and literally slap enough sense into him, and put him together when he felt himself going to pieces. Atobe was a cold person, with a public persona so grandiose that most people were scared to death of meeting him in person, yet he was the kindest person that Tezuka knew. Even now, Atobe still looked prepared for the eventuality of Tezuka keeling over in his seat. He couldn't help feeling a little amused. No matter how scared or upset Atobe was, he would ensure that he had done everything in his power to ensure that no one else was shaking quite as badly as he was inside. It made Tezuka smile a little, despite himself. The infamous Atobe pride would bear on and on, regardless of the circumstances.

"What have you learnt so far from the diary?"

"When Fuji first went missing, I thought it was because of us, and the rumours that circulated around school. Apparently things were worse than I had imagined. The relationship he had with his brother had been deteriorating sharply before then and of course, the open conflict with Kikumaru as well."

"Ah, the best friend appears."

"Once upon a time, that might have been true. Apparently Kikumaru had asked Fuji to sound out Oishi on his opinion toward homosexual relationships."

"Let me guess. Fuji told Oishi of Kikumaru's feelings, since he knew that Kikumaru wouldn't say anything otherwise and also because he believed that Oishi reciprocated his affections."

"Another Insight?"

"None is required for the soap opera that seems to dog your entire team. Have you finished reading the entire diary?"

"Well, there's still one page which is still missing, but I'm sure you already know what was on that page, after Kikumaru was done with it."

"What can I say, I have my sources."

He never truly appreciated how peaceful his life had been before then.

It didn't take him long to recognise the handwriting on the page. Fuji's elegant writing, so neat that it looked printed onto the page, bled from one word to another, each expressing his love for Tezuka in such a warm and honest tone that it made him feel...strange. He didn't know what the emotion was called, but it coiled deep into his chest and made it hurt whenever he thought of the other. In the meantime, he was mocked throughout school, as the intended receiver of an emotionally raw, overly romantic letter from a boy. They may not have known who the writer had been from the contents of the letter, if not for the fact that Fuji's essays were frequently lauded with praise and hung around school to impress the academic excellence of Seigaku on potential students and their parents.

He hadn't seen Fuji in days, but the strange feeling that wouldn't go away whenever he thought of the other boy, made him feel almost vindictive. He wanted to lash out and make him cry, he wanted to hurt him and see what lay behind the cool mask that almost never slipped. He wanted to feel Fuji crying and trembling as he held onto him, he wanted to hear Fuji beg him again, he wanted to make him feel the same paranoia and intense turmoil that hadn't left him since three years ago, when Fuji smiled at him even when he was beaten up by their seniors.

The pages fluttered in the breeze, and he hated the students who stood around, gawking, whispering, their mocking laughter and he even hated those with their almost shy astonishment at the honesty of the entry.

He reached out and tore the prints savagely from the walls.

In his mind, he couldn't stop thinking of him; the familiar scent of vanilla and apples, and the warmth of his body. He didn't think he'd ever seen Fuji cry before, but he had made him cry twice in the space of one week. That day, he had only been passing by the washroom, when he noticed a guy standing outside the closed door. He was a 2nd year that Tezuka had spoken to before on occasion. When he had turned to enter the washroom, the lowerclassmen had tried to stop him, insisting that the place was undergoing cleaning and he shouldn't enter.

In the silence of the warm, golden afternoon, he had heard voices coming from inside.

"You're not really a man are you?!"

" I always knew you were queer, there had to be something wrong with someone who looked so much like a fucking girl! Let's check it out, shall we?"

He didn't think he had ever been so angry in his life. Not even when he had first seen the diary page tacked against the door of his classroom. The rage simmered even as he pulled the nervous-looking sentry away, and strode into the washroom. He didn't have to say a single word and they cleared out immediately, panicking visibly when they noticed his entrance. Fuji was almost catatonic in his silence, sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up to his chest, a small figure that huddled closer to himself when Tezuka leant down. He responded, raising his eyes slowly to meet Tezuka's, when he offered him a hand.

It was the second time Tezuka made him cry, and the guilt that arose made him retract his hand hastily, waiting silently and awkwardly as Fuji stood and dusted himself off, his smile strained but pasted on his face again.

"Did you talk to him? Fuji, I mean. Ever since that day when he told you how he felt?"

"He attempted to do so almost every day, but I deliberately stayed away from him, and ignored all his attempts at conversation. Finally, he told that he would cease to follow or talk to me again as long I met him..."

Tezuka paused.

"What's wrong?"

"No, nothing, I guess I just forgot where it was. Strange."

END CHAPTER