Fuji was unable to think for a moment. His heartbeat had raced abruptly when Eiji had moved so close to him that only a hand's width separated them. He remembered returning to Eiji, going back to the security he provided, when he was at his loneliest and depressed after nights of losing himself in the arms of strangers. Guilt rebounded upon him when he realised that Eiji had taken his need for a different kind altogether.

By the time he had composed himself, Eiji had moved away slightly, his head bowed as he pressed the knuckles of his hand painfully against his lips. But tears were already spilling from the sides of his tightly shut eyes, and Eiji looked so broken that Fuji wanted desperately to hold him and comfort him, but he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't have hurt him further.

"Eiji, I…please don't cry, I'm not worth it, please don't…"

Fuji scarcely realised that he was murmuring incoherently as he tried to draw Eiji into a hug and attempted to soothe away the tears that kept falling.

"Why? Why don't you like me?" Eiji asked quietly, looking for a flaw of any kind that would excuse his rejection; something, anything that he could change. Fuji looked at his friend, and inside he couldn't understand why a part of him remained so empty. His best friend was crying because Fuji could not accept him, yet the receding panic he had felt was steadily replaced by a stark numbness.

Receiving no response, Eiji glanced up into Fuji's eyes, and for the first time in all the years that he had known him, the depths of cerulean eyes showed the yawning gulf that lay between them. Fuji was akin to the morning star whose light danced across the calm oceans. The horizon was a mirage; skies and sea would never meet.

In his eyes, Eiji saw the skies and he realised how much he hated him for it.

"I am sorry…please believe me, you're my best friend and I love you but…"

"I know…" Eiji said bitterly through a harsh bark of laughter, "You don't like people like me, do you?"

Fuji's breath caught in his throat.

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen the bruises, and I'm not stupid. You've always preferred the other type then? All bruises and pain and abuse? You like that?"

You can't love anyone, can you, aniki?

"You don't mean that," Fuji breathed shakily, trying to keep his voice steady and hearing it break slightly all the same.

"I do," Eiji choked slightly, his hands reaching out and entwining in Fuji's hair. With a swift motion, he yanked Fuji closer to him, causing him to whimper at the sudden pain. All traces of warmth and vulnerability were gone from his slight form, and beneath his outer exterior of calm, Eiji was seething with rage.

"Eiji, stop. Please, just stop. I know this isn't you," Fuji choked slightly as Eiji's hand slid securely around his neck and pressed against his beating pulse.

"Just say the word, Fujiko, tell me how you want to be hurt."

Tears were slowly sliding down from the corners of Eiji's eyes, but to Fuji's horror, it was almost as though he never realised it. They reflected nothing but a hollow indifference to pain, even as hurt clipped the edges of each word he spoke, his fingers digging painfully into Fuji's shoulder blades. In the slender, grimly steadfast figure that waited patiently for an answer, Fuji found no hint of the best friend that he had known.

"I don't," Fuji began painfully. He couldn't breathe anymore. The words stuck in his throat, and there was nothing more he wanted, then to break down and beg Eiji to stop whatever sick game he was playing. Eiji's fingernails were beginning to cut into his skin, and Fuji recoiled inside, when he realised how badly he needed the pain. How he needed it to keep thinking, to breathe and feel, even if it was only to be a shadow of himself. But he loved Eiji. He had to protect his best friend against himself. No one else had to know about his flaw. No one else had to be hurt because of him.

Hurt me.

"I don't want to be hurt, especially not by my best frie – "

"Don't. Just tell me."

"I'm not lying, Eiji…are you even listening to yourself?"

"Why won't you say it? Tell me how you want to be hurt, and I'd do it. Fuji, whatever it takes to make you happy, more than anyone, I swear I will do it for you... But you know what kills me?"

Fuji shook his head slightly, unable to trust himself to speak.

"You let such filth touch you, but you push me away. You let them hurt you in every way they like, and toss you away after. You can call a different name every single night, but you return to me in the end…but I am still not good enough for you."

"That's…not true," he breathed, his voice small and distant.

Eiji laughed slightly, letting go of Fuji at last.

"Still so fucking perfect, aren't you?" Eiji retorted sarcastically. "Perfect Fuji doesn't throw himself at nameless guys, doesn't beg them to screw him silly, and doesn't care about anyone except his beloved younger brother. Maybe someone should warn Yuuta about your tendencies – "

"…you shouldn't talk so much about what you don't understand," Fuji said, sounding more resigned than angry.

"I can't stand you sometimes, Fuji. What makes you think you're so special? Why do you keep staying away from the rest of us, why do you keep acting like we're beneath you? We are friends after all, right?"

Right?

"I thought we were." Fuji said quietly at last. Turning, he walked out of the classroom, away from the lengthening shadows and the violent amethyst lined skies.

Night had almost fallen as he walked towards the gate.

His tennis bag had been left in the clubroom, but he figured Tezuka would have locked up by then. Bracing himself against the chilly breeze, Fuji squared his shoulders and kept on walking. Inside he felt so tired, wanting nothing better than to close his eyes and let sleep overcome him. Somehow, everything around him was spinning. Fuji stared at the pavement as he walked, refusing to blink until his eyes watered. The tiles were beginning to shake, and everything was swimming in and out of his vision.

"Fuji."

His head snapped up so fast, his vision blurred and he nearly missed his step. Tezuka stood up in alarm even as Fuji recovered himself promptly, and hurried towards him.

"Tezuka, were you waiting for me?" he asked hopefully, smiling slightly.

"What's wrong?"

Never one for small talk, Fuji mused as he debated what to say. The look in Tezuka's eyes was so serious, it seemed wrong to dismiss his concern with a flippant remark. Glancing behind at the benches where Tezuka had previously occupied, he saw his tennis bag. Fuji had managed to hold his emotions back for the entirety of the day, despite everything that had happened. Yet, somehow, looking at their tennis bags lying side by side, and seeing Tezuka's stoic look of gruff concern, absurdly, Fuji felt like crying.

"It's nothing...I guess I just… I…forgot my stuff, and I…well, thank you."

Tezuka regarded him seriously for a moment. The look on his face was indescribable, and Fuji laughed suddenly. Reaching over, he pulled Tezuka into a hug, feeling the warmth of his arms and the reassuring quality of his presence overwhelming him. Tezuka smelt like freshly laundered linen and a shampoo that Fuji always liked. Breathing in deeply, Fuji blinked the tears back hurriedly as he wrapped his arms around Tezuka tightly.

Tezuka was safe. Tezuka was sane and he was the strongest person Fuji knew. The nightmares were recurring every night, and there were monsters beyond the cracks that were starting to appear in his life. More than anything, Fuji wished to believe that Tezuka could protect him. But earlier than he would have liked, Tezuka was pulling away, glancing down awkwardly at Fuji to make sure that he was not crying.

Fuji took in a deep breath, and forced himself to let go.

"Let's go home."

It had been a long time since Tezuka and he had spent time together. There were too many competitions that came up, and too many extra training practices held, such that the tennis team saw each other almost on a daily basis. Even so, it was nice to be out with him again, even though it was only because Tezuka insisted on walking him home. Fuji smiled slightly; he rather liked Tezuka's over-protective instinct, despite of all his protests.

The night air was tinged with a familiar smoky scent that Fuji had come to associate with small street fairs. His eyes lighting up, Fuji tilted his head and saw the patiently resigned look in Tezuka's eyes. Smiling, he made his way to the fair ahead, trusting that Tezuka would follow. The smells of assorted foods, from breaded cutlets to the light patties of mashed potato and seafood, blended in with the smoky scent of burning, spitting fat. The merriment of the fair was largely due to the game stalls where children rushed excitedly to and fro, shouting and laughing.

They browsed separately, sometimes wandering over to where the other was, curious as to what had caught his fancy. Overhead, one of the street lights flickered on and off, casting an irregular light upon the linen where a stall's collection of junk was placed.

Tezuka found it mildly amusing how Fuji unconsciously made pleased humming sounds as he picked up each item curiously, inspecting it to see what it was, and how it functioned. It had been a long time since he had seen the tensai looking contented. These few days, he had noticed a slight furrow in Fuji's brow, a tightness in his expression that his usual smile couldn't quite smooth over. Tezuka was pretty sure that Fuji was close to tears when he had reached over to hug him earlier. Yet the wetness in his eyes that he had glimpsed, vanished in an instant as Fuji smiled and retreated further into himself again.

He promised himself quietly, that by the weekend, he would let Fuji know of how he felt towards him. Things had been going on for too long, and he was worried sick at the thought of how Fuji simply kept pushing himself on, almost as if he was curious how far he could go before he broke. Tezuka wanted to be there for him if he did, and if he could help it, he wouldn't ever let it get that far.

Beside him, Fuji had stilled suddenly. In his hands, he cradled a small yellow and white spinning top. It was old and the plastic had several scratched on it, visible to Tezuka even at a distance.

"Go in, Syuusuke. Okaasan will let you out soon."

"Why?"

"Be a good boy. Do as I say. Go."

Fuji's eyes went wide as a sudden memory came back to him. He was had been in his room, sitting on the polished wooden floor and watching his top spin gracefully. He had devised a way for it to leap suddenly into the air and soar through a small arc, before landing. However, it would take a little longer before it could be perfected. His mother's voice echoed in his mind in short snippets of speech that he never remembered before.

Too late, he sought the memory with little success, only succeeding in frustrating himself when he came up with nothing. He shivered abruptly; feeling scared and angry at the same time for not knowing what it was that plagued him.

"I think I'd buy this, how much is it?" Fuji asked at last.

Beside him, Tezuka waited for him and said nothing, sensing Fuji's need to be alone with his thoughts at the moment. Night had fallen completely, and the sound of the cicadas was unexpectedly lonely in the silence that had befallen them as they walked home.

Fuji had barely eaten at dinner, just enough to avoid the inevitable questions from Yuuta and his father. Without bothering to turn on the lights, he undressed and lay down on his bed, his eyes large and unblinking at the rectangular shadows and light that came from outside and reflected upon his ceiling. Too many things that had happened at once. The pounding in his head was harsh and unforgiving, and he was still shivering but it was alright because no one was around to see him. Fuji closed his eyes and tried not to make a sound.

Sleep crawled upon him slowly and mercilessly, bringing with it the monsters his mind kept at bay.

His heart beat wildly as he felt the beads of sweat running down the side of his face. His sense of hearing seemed abnormally acute as he heard the soft ticking of the clock in the distance, and the harsh breathing that he recognised as his own. Clenching his fists in the soft fabric of the white linen sheets, Fuji breathed in deeply once, twice, and let them go.

It was then he heard the soft creak of the wooden boards.

The sound came from the top right corner of his room, and Fuji found himself frightened till the point that he felt tears coming into his eyes. His heart rate accelerated and he felt a rush of blood to his head such that he momentarily felt dizzy. He didn't want to turn and look, but the sound was exactly the one he heard so many times over, when someone had stepped on the spot just before the cupboard.

He wasn't going to look.

He wasn't going to look.

He wasn't going to –

"Aniki."

Fuji bolted upright in bed.

His brother was watching him with wide, concerned eyes. Yuuta was standing at the side of his bed, looking a little scared. Fuji realised that it was rare that his brother had actually heard his strangled sounds and came to check up on him. Usually his nightmares wound up with him crying himself awake, his hands clenched into fists so tight that his nails left bloodied crescents.

He didn't realise that tear tracks remained on his face, until Yuuta reached over and gently slid his fingers over his face, wiping his tears away.

"Aa…gomen, Yuuta. I didn't mean to wake you up." Fuji composed himself with difficulty, still staring down at the crumpled bedsheets, pressing his hands tightly together in a bid to stop them from shaking.

"Don't be silly. I am here any time you need me…"

Yuuta sounded strangely gentle and comforting, and Fuji nearly cried with the comfort that the simple words brought. He indulged himself in the familiar smell, the comfort and reassurance of familiar ground. It almost felt like Yuuta was the elder one, and not him.

"Why are you alone? Where's okaasan...?"

The soft, chilling tones of his brother sent a shiver down Fuji's spine. The eyes of his brother were fathomless yet knowing, and they scared him inexplicably. It was the wresting of control away from him, a superior knowledge of information that he could never breach.

"Yuuta…?"

His eyes shot open and he found himself alone in his room once more. Fuji opened his eyes for the third time that night. And heard nothing more than the clock on his bedside table, and saw nothing but the moonlit darkness of his room.

He was utterly, desolately alone.

Fuji cried.

END CHAPTER

A/N: I really should re-title this fic as "Fuji has a really bad life" huh.Oh, and a big thank you to all who reviewed, your encouragement helps me to keep on writing!