Thanks again for the reviews. I have nothing to say much, really. Right now, I'm just writing the first things that come to my head and I would edit it a few days later. Sorry if my chapters are getting shorter and shorter as I move up the story. I've been finding myself finishing a whole arc of related events that I have no choice but to just end the chapter there. And also, I apologize if this chapter was a bit delayed, although I'm glad that it didn't take too long. The next chapter might be, though. Let's see..

The Scarlet Stain

(tres)

Fuji stood in his kitchen doorway, surprised.

What greeted him first thing that morning was the clean living room. It appeared that Ryoma really did bit of a clean-up after last night. Now that Fuji was in the kitchen, he saw the boy in a heavy battle against his toaster. The boy had put on Fuji's apron and it looked awkward as it hung at his side, with the ribbon messily done. Spills of coffee were on the table, and the smell of burnt toast hung in the air. When Ryoma turned around a bit, he flushed before his mouth turned up into a forced smirk.

"Your toaster's mada mada," he said quickly, as he ran his hand through his bed hair.

Fuji had to laugh.

By the time they were having breakfast, the chaos that Ryoma put up was now cleaned up, and Fuji managed to salvage some extra bread and make them both a quick serving of buttered toast ("You're paying me for the groceries, Echizen. You burnt a week's supply."). They were quietly sipping coffee, with Ryoma's eyes darting to and from Fuji's calm face.

He almost jumped when Fuji put down his cup and leaned across the table.

"Thanks for cleaning up."

"S'ok," Ryoma said between chews.

"I'm sorry for last night."

The boy said nothing. Fuji took a deep breath.

"I'm in love with Tezuka," he told Ryoma slowly, "and he comes over sometimes. Perhaps you've gotten that much from what happened, haven't you?" When Ryoma nodded, Fuji gave a small laugh. "Saa, now that sounds pretty weird, especially with how I reacted all defensively. I'm sorry. You gave me quite a scare there. You rattled my nerves, so to speak. To be honest, you're the first one to know. Aside from Tezuka, of course."

"Sorry," Ryoma mumbled sincerely.

Fuji shook his head and chuckled. "I suppose your image of me has changed very drastically." He looked up to meet Ryoma's cat-like eyes.

They stared at each other for a while, before Ryoma brought down his cup and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"Not really," Ryoma replied. "Back then, I only looked at Fuji-sempai tennis-wise."

Fuji let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding. He broke into a relieved-surprised laughter, as he stood up to clear the table. The way Ryoma looked at the world didn't change at all, apparently. Fuji found himself feeling a bit thankful that he didn't.

"Let's get you ready to go, Echizen."

An hour later, Fuji and Ryoma stood facing each other in the doorway. For some reason, Fuji felt sorry to have Ryoma go back to his hotel. This was the first time he told anyone about Tezuka, and now that someone else knew, he wanted to tell him all about it. He hadn't realized until then that the bigger part of the burden he felt was not being able to say anything about it. He wondered if Tezuka felt the same.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Ryoma said, bowing slightly. "I may have to intrude again some time in the future."

"Feel free to drop by anytime."

Ryoma grinned, and Fuji considered that as an invitation to say what he'd wanted to say ever since that morning. Gulping, he echoed the first thing he had asked Tezuka back then.

"You mind, don't you?" he asked, his smile weak now. His voice was shaking. "You don't like how I've turned out."

Ryoma stared at him for a while before shrugging. "I don't really care that much."

"What if I fell in love with you instead?" Fuji asked again, finding himself desperate to hear the same answer that he received back then. "You'd mind then, wouldn't you?"

To his surprise, Ryoma chuckled. "Wouldn't know yet," he said, turning around and giving him a small wave. Midway, he stopped and glanced back thoughtfully. "Doesn't sound so bad, though. If it's Fuji-sempai."

Fuji found himself watching as Ryoma walked away, hands in his pocket, and hair still unruly.

The burden felt heavier.

"Syuusuke," Tezuka's voice broke into his thoughts. "Syuusuke, are you alright?"

Fuji looked up and realized that he had been daydreaming. He rubbed his eyes and smiled. "Yeah, of course. I'm fine." He looked at Tezuka's side and smiled again. There stood Asami, her eyebrows pinched together in a worried line. "Don't worry, Asami-san. I'm just overworked, that's all. You know how it is when you're new."

He saw Tezuka's wife sigh in relief as she set down a tray of tea. Fuji could see how her large stomach protruded from her small frame as she struggled to sit down. Tezuka reached up to support her.

"Eight months," Fuji breathed in awe, as he took the cup of tea she offered. "It's grown so big. Pregnant women are fascinating."

"Really, Fuji-kun! Stop talking about me like I'm a science experiment!" Asami reprimanded all of a sudden, and Fuji looked sheepish. "Anyway, I think that your life as a bachelor's taking the youth out of you. You seem so tired all the time! You should also find yourself a wife to cook for you and clean your apartment. If you had courted me first, I'd have gone out with you instead of Mitsu here." She patted Tezuka's knee amiably, and Tezuka smiled gently at her usual joke. "I have some friends who might just be interested. Heck, I'm sure a lot of people would be interested even without my referrals!"

Fuji laughed. Asami always talked like that, that he sometimes couldn't imagine how she and Tezuka got together She was too lively, even for him. "I'm alright, really, Asami-san. I'm still fairly new at the company, so I need to focus on it right now. And believe me, my house is very clean, and my food is rather good."

She made a rude sound and muttered, "Men."

"How was Echizen doing?"

"Oh, same old. He went over to drink last night and we talked quite a bit. You'd be surprised at how much the boy changed." Fuji toyed with his cup. "I thought you went out with him already?"

"I had to go home early," Tezuka said, his voice taking an odd tone. "I haven't been able to talk to him much."

"I keep telling him to stop worrying about me," Asami interjected, "and to just hang out with his old tennis buddies. But does he listen? No, he rushes back home and paces around me like a paranoid mother!" She laughed. "Sometimes, I think he's the one who's pregnant. Thank God that you're there. You're the only person Mitsu could really hang out with for long intervals of time."

Fuji blushed and Tezuka rose up a bit to protest. "Asami-"

"Fuji-kun, you should hang out with Mitsu a bit more." She smiled gently at Fuji. "He's gonna need the testosterone or he'll turn into a woman."

"Perfect," Fuji replied, turning quite uneasy. "Echizen just told me how badly he wanted to play against Mitsu again. That boy has as much testosterone as you're going to get. Saa, maybe I should schedule something like that in the future."

Tezuka didn't look up. "Did he."

"Yes. He was really looking forward to it. Thinking better, though, you might need to practice more, Mitsu. You might have gotten really rusty after not playing regularly," Fuji continued. He glanced at the wall clock desperately and put down his cup. "Ah, I'm sorry! I overstayed my welcome."

"Nonsense. It's so rare to have you over these days," Asami whined. "I want to talk to you more, Fuji-kun! And I've heard you've photographed quite a few celebrities already! Mou!"

"Asami, he has work tomorrow," Tezuka reminded. He stood up. "I'll accompany him to the train station." He looked at Fuji. "Is that all right with you, Syuusuke?"

Fuji nodded. "Of course."

In his hotel room, Echizen Ryoma lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling.

He had been sleeping the whole day because he didn't get to sleep a wink last night at all. When he got home, he found himself so exhausted that he threw himself on his bed, outdoor clothes and all.

Now, it was well into the night and he was awake and silent as his dream ran through his head.

He dreamt of Fuji.

Fuji and him.

Finally, he jumped out of bed and got into a quick shower. As soon as he got out and dried himself, he threw on the first clothes he could get. He grabbed his hotel keys and money from his dresser and went out of the hotel in a hurry.

He needed to go to Fuji's apartment.

Now.

Fuji buttoned down his shirt quietly, his face flushed, and his hair slightly soaked in sweat. He looked at Tezuka, who had his back behind him, also fixing himself up. He took in the cramped space they had just made love in, and he felt slightly sick at the dingy condition of the station bathroom.

"I'm going out to get a bit of air," he said, as he opened the cubicle door slightly. He caught Tezuka look up and say, "I'll be there in a minute," before he came out of the bathroom.

As Fuji stood waiting in front of the station, his hands dug deep inside his coat, he couldn't help but feel guilty, as he always felt. More now, since just a few minutes ago, he had been talking to Asami as if nothing was wrong. But he also couldn't help the joy welling up inside him, as he always felt, too, when he was with Tezuka.

He knew the other feeling was about to end.

"Syuusuke," Tezuka called out, walking towards him. "Is anything wrong?"

Fuji looked up and gave Tezuka a reassuring smile. "I'm fine." He opened his eyes. "The child is nearly due, isn't she? Only a month to go. What would you be naming her?"

"Asami told you that it would be a girl?"

Fuji nodded. He saw Tezuka's eyes cloud with guilt, as well. The feeling was too familiar. What Fuji couldn't put his finger on was whether the guilt was for him or for Asami. He decided to play it lightly. He patted Tezuka on the shoulder.

"Mitsu, don't be too stiff! It's all right, really. I'm all right. And Asami-san will be all right. You may not know, but we're actually phone-buddies." He grinned. "Don't worry too much about things, okay? If it comes down to it, we'll be okay with being friends again, won't we? It would be quite easy, I assure you." His voice was anything but assuring. But he kept smiling.

To his surprise, Tezuka held him by the jaw and bent down to kiss him. It was different from their kisses during sex. It was gentle and warm. There was no tongue, only the meeting of lips. Fuji closed his eyes and pressed back. When he felt himself quivering, he pulled away and looked down.

"Syuusuke," Tezuka said, his voice low. "I'm sorry."

"I understand." His response was fast. He had been prepared for this for so long that he knew what he needed to say by heart. But his head was pounding, and he could hear himself breaking.

Tezuka was silent for a while. "You don't." He looked at Fuji, his eyes sad.

"I've known it all along," Fuji said, trying to smile. His chest was throbbing now. He was in pain. He took Tezuka's hand, looking for support. "I know that you've wanted this to stop. You have a family now. You can't divide your priorities anymore. That child would want you to help her with her homework, to fumble with your fatherly advices, to see you with Asami-san. So now, you want to end this. I understand." He looked up at the clock. "The last train's about to leave. I should really go."

When he made a move to walk away, Tezuka gripped his wrist.

"You don't understand," he repeated, more firmly this time.

Fuji shook. How long was Tezuka going to try to comfort him? Now, all he wanted was to go home and let this all sink in. To drink. To watch some TV. To try and get everything back to normal, the way it had been before that damned morning in high school.

"Mitsu, I need to go."

"I'm going to get my car and bring you home, instead."

"The train's still here. But it won't be, if you won't let go of me now. I'd like to save you the trouble and go home by myself."

Tezuka didn't reply for a long time, and they stood there in a silent tableau.

"Syuusuke," Tezuka broke the silence, his voice sounding tired of everything. "I love you."

Fuji stared at him. He tried to read Tezuka's face. It was different. His eyebrows weren't together, and his expression lost all its tension. Shaking, still, Fuji gave a small smile and reached up, enveloping Tezuka's neck with his arms.

"Drive me home," he whispered.

Tezuka nodded and took his hand.

TO BE CONTINUED

So right, my muse came up and ran around my head screaming, "Dramu! DRAMU!" in an obnoxious voice. Needless to say, the angst died and was replaced with drama. A lot of drama. Good heavens, what is this story turning into?

BT