The skies were especially beautiful at night.

He didn't really understand why he couldn't sleep even when he was clearly exhausted mentally and physically from all the tennis training that they had to do, especially with the tournaments coming up. Even as the skies lightened into morning blue, he remained awake and anxious as the idea of school drew inevitably closer and sleep persisted in evading him. In an effort to take his mind off the darker thoughts, he fiddled with his camera and planned to capture life as the world spun the dark night to threads of golden dawn.

What made people strive so hard, what made their lives worth living? His camera caught the sequence of time's passage as he sat at his window, capturing the harried women who rushed home to the chores left undone at home in stark black and white, the scratched metal of the trucks that sleepily departed at 4 am in the morning, the homeless who couldn't have been older than he was, all laughing, crying and dying by the sidewalks of society. He couldn't see any purpose in what they did, he couldn't find the entertainment and meaning in their lives, and he didn't want to be a part of this society he abhorred.

It was with these thoughts that he made his way slowly to school, feeling the weight of his heart settle with its familiar ache into his chest. He had to force himself to smile, stretching it to shake the false geniality of it into a gentle, unassuming expression. Aside from the incident with the photographs, nothing much had happened but his mood still remained so inexplicably low that Fuji felt as though he was perpetually on the brink of tears. He was sad for no reason at all, and his head hurt with the effort of forcing the tears inwards.

If you were dead, everything could be so much better.

No one could save you then.

You could stop hoping.

If he could concentrate on avoiding the topic of Eiji and his own humiliation, he wouldn't cry today. If he could avoid seeing the look in Tezuka's eyes, perhaps he wouldn't break down just yet. He could handle anything but the quiet disappointment from the bespectacled boy who could casually break his heart in sheer oblivion.

Nearing the school gates, his heart sank when he realised that Oishi was heading in his direction. He had avoided all of his team mates when he had skipped tennis the day before. Warily, he paused in his steps and braced himself for the worst.

"Fuji, are you alright?" Oishi asked in concern. "I heard about what happened… I can't believe the nerve of whoever that put them up!"

"I'm okay," Fuji offered him a placating smile and nothing else. He could see the hesitation lining Oishi's jaw, the tentative question that burned at the tip of his tongue and waited to fall and splinter against the ground. He refused to make it easier for him and simply tell him.

"Ano…but did you really…I mean, was it…was it really……ah, I'm sorry!" Oishi fumbled awkwardly.

"I didn't mean to pry! Please ignore what I just said! Are you angry with me? Fuji… Fuji?"

Oishi gave up halfway and stuttered through the rest of his apology in embarrassment, but Fuji had already walked away. Fuji was furious at the idea of Oishi merely approaching him out of sheer curiosity. Surely Oishi couldn't have mistaken Eiji's bedroom as anything else, not after having been there countless times after their special doubles training. The idea that even the team's vice-captain who took care of everyone protectively, had given up on him and was simply waiting to hear his confession of how he had fallen, brought an unexpectedly bitter taste to his mouth.

Why wouldn't you protect me as well?

He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ground, pretending to be absorbed in avoiding the large puddles that welled up in the cracks of the ground after last night's rain. Oishi had attempted to follow after him as he walked away, but he soon lost him in the crowds.

The teachers were at a complete loss for what to do. The evidence had been there for everyone to see, but the staffroom had been in a completely different wing from the atrium where the photos had been. It had been too early for any teachers to have seen the photographs for themselves, yet talk had spread through the school like wildfire. He had managed to convince their form teacher that it had been exaggerated; a simple prank carried too far, and had further persuaded her not to investigate into its source. His pride wouldn't allow him to turn to others, and he didn't want any of their help, sympathy or ridicule even as they mused about sending him for therapy.

Who would come to your side?

He wasn't accustomed to being unpopular. Excessive attention had been the price for being known as a genius in school, and he was never short for friends, due to his brains and willingness to provide aid when sought for. As he grew older, the fragile, doll-like delicacy of his body grew into a lean slender frame. His unusual eyes attracted a fair amount of attention as well, and there were always admirers that lingered in his vicinity, or at least, strangers that could be turned into friends with his charm.

But Eiji had usurped the role of the victim and the betrayed, and there was little else but unfriendliness in the tautness of his shoulders when he caught a glimpse of Fuji. He had scarcely been restrained in his preferences, and the entire class knew that to befriend Fuji at this critical moment, would gain them the hatred and deliberate vengeance from the redhead.

Who would come to the side of one who chose not to reveal his side of the story? No one would believe in someone who lay too quietly to elicit an outright declaration of war, someone who still remained passively dormant and somehow threatening with his affable docility and disarming smile.

17 minutes and 36 seconds before the lesson ends.

Ayaka-sensei clapped her hands a couple of times, calling for them to arrange themselves into small discussion groups for the upcoming debate.

Fuji's heart sank inwardly. He had counted on being with Eiji so frequently in the past year, that to do anything else would signal that something was wrong to the sharp-eyed teacher. He could have asked another group to take him in. But a quick glance around the room revealed the way his classmates avoided his eyes. He could already see the distaste in their eyes and the laughter that mocked at him gently behind his back. Already, Ayaka-sensei was watching him. He was hanging onto his pride by its shreds as he calmly approached the nearest group.

"Could I join you?"

15 minutes…

Incredibly, tennis practice had stayed pretty much the same despite everything that had happened. Fuji suspected that it was largely because of the upcoming tournament, and Tezuka-buchou's recent obsession of making anyone who even looked like they were thinking of saying anything that was unrelated to tennis, run another ten rounds around the school. In a way, it was good not to have to feel the weight of people's eyes on him as everyone concentrated fiercely on tennis.

1…2…1…2…

If he could, he would have liked to stay under the hot water and let it burn through the damp strands of his hair, scalding warmth sliding against him. He liked to sink into the water and emerge with his hair was plastered against his closed eyes, messy and wet. His skin was beginning to feel tender and he knew that when he emerged from the baths, it'd have turned a light flushed pink from all the hot water. Nevertheless, Fuji closed his eyes and remained perfectly still, concentrating on the steady dripping of the faucet.

A knock sounded on the door, echoing louder than necessary in the quiet bathroom.

"Fuji, I need to speak to you. I'd be waiting in the locker room."

Tezuka.

Fuji listened to the footsteps that quietly faded out of hearing, and methodically slid his head under the water, hiding the tears that had begun to fill his eyes.

"This isn't a time for games, Fuji. Your game has been sliding, but today was especially bad."

"Why? I didn't have a problem returning any of Taka-san's shots."

"Your form was off. Even your heart wasn't in the game. Any perceptive bystander could pick up that much, even though you won. You are a Regular, Fuji. Try to remember that."

Fuji sensed that Tezuka was frustrated, despite the mild-sounding advice. The implicit threat that lay in his words didn't go unacknowledged. Fuji didn't particularly care if he was punished to run another twenty, hundred, or even two hundred rounds. What did it matter?

"Is it a problem keeping me on the Regulars team?" he asked casually.

Tezuka took in a sharp breath, before snapping back at him.

"Do you want to quit?"

The pause that lingered between them went far longer than was necessary for Fuji to think of an appropriate comeback. Tezuka wanted to retract his words the moment he had said them. He had been furious at Fuji's careless flippancy, but when the words left his mouth, the gaping silence that ensued made him uncomfortably aware that he wasn't even prepared for any answer but "no". Shifting uncomfortably, Tezuka cleared his throat awkwardly when Fuji spoke up quietly.

"I'm sorry, I'd work harder."

"I said what I did in a fit of anger. I apologise." Tezuka muttered.

Fuji simply nodded tiredly and turned to walk away. He was tired of being the one to give in consistently. Hell would freeze over before Tezuka Kunimitsu saw fit to yield to anyone.

It was driving him insane actually.

Fuji only liked people who didn't cling to him and wail at his imminent departure from them. They were non-threatening and didn't force you to deal with them. People either refused him point blank, or caved in to his advances but Tezuka was frustrating in his complete lack of responsiveness. Despite the bland appearance he presented to the outside world, his presence alone on the tennis courts, could win over an entire school. Some were attracted by such charisma, but Fuji only wound up feeling trapped.

"Fuji."

"Yes, Tezuka?" he murmured softly, still walking and not bothering to turn.

"…"

The silence was enough to make him pause, turning around to meet the awkward shyness in Tezuka's eyes. It was strange to see their stoic captain grapple for words, and Fuji suddenly remembered the times where Tezuka had gone out of his way to make him happy. He had waited for him after practice, carried his bags without any prior request for him to help, visited him when he was ill, endured his numerous attempts to make him smile with the same patient air of resignation. It struck Fuji then, that Tezuka was perhaps not as immovable as he had thought, only hopelessly awkward in his dealings with people. The same dogged affection remained in his attitude to everyone on the team that he had invested so much of himself in, but towards Fuji, there was something unreadable that flared behind the depths of his dark brown eyes.

"Be with me."

There it was. Fuji had smiled involuntarily at that, a natural reflex, trying to stop his heart from racing madly. Tezuka had said something too direct and simple to be misconstrued, and it was what he had always longed to hear. But now that he held Tezuka's heart in his hands, he didn't quite know what to do with it. He had always imagined that this would be the part where they would confess their undying love for one another, and Tezuka would be there to protect him from his inner demons, and they could be happy with each other forever.

But life wasn't a fairytale and he wasn't the one that Tezuka was looking for. He wasn't the one capable of an equal amount of affection in return, nor the one that should have been so fortunate, standing in front of their proud captain and seeing the naked honesty in his words, and the awkward, trusting way in which he handed his heart over to the one who could break it unflinchingly. There was no way they could be together and Fuji knew that he would be the one to leave eventually. Tezuka loved in the same way that he simply was, an unshakeable, immutable will that dominated him and all he did. And Fuji didn't want to be the one who took his soul and broke it into pieces.

"I'm not the one you're looking for, Tezuka."

He had tried to put it across gently, but his voice emerged sounding more strained than the casual tone that he had intended to adopt. Tezuka took another step closer, looking even more assured of himself, as though Fuji's reaction had been exactly what he had been looking for.

"Syuusuke…it has always been you from the moment you first smiled at me. You might not feel the same way towards me, but at least give me a chance to change that. I know you, Fuji. And I still want you, I would still love you even if you won't ever feel that way towards me."

"It won't work. I'd leave you, I'd leave just when you think that we might even stand a chance. And don't tell me that you love me." Fuji heard his voice waver and he couldn't stop thinking of the way everything was turning into a parody, a mockery of what he had went through with Kaito and prayed that it would never happen again.

"Then I wouldn't mention it again, if you truly don't want me to. You don't have to promise anything, and you're free to leave whenever you want. But right now, just for the present… stay with me, Syuusuke. You don't have to hide anymore when you're with me."

Fuji didn't quite know when he had started crying or when Tezuka had come close enough for his arms to hug him and brush away the tears that had escaped without his notice. After a moment, he had calmed enough to notice that Tezuka was stroking his hair, pressing his lips against his forehead and letting him feel loved and protected at the same time. He wondered at himself at not having seen this side of Tezuka, or even suspecting that it had existed, before gently pushing the other boy away.

"Tezuka, it wouldn't work out," he tried again, just to see what would happen.

To his delight, Tezuka gave him his usual look of patient exasperation.

"Syuusuke, get this straight. It doesn't matter. What matters is that you're willing to try it out with me at this time, and I'd do everything in my power to convince you that we could be…I mean…be together."

Fuji laughed despite himself. It was as if Tezuka was returning to himself, and amazed at his own ability to speak volumes, instead of his usual monotonic answers.

"Be what? Boyfriends? Lovers perhaps, Kunimitsu?"

"Stop being so cruel," Tezuka informed him dryly, looking secretly pleased at the use of his name and all its insinuations. They were starting to pack their things, which had been left lying discarded within the locker room after tennis practice.

"Yes, Kuni-chan!"

"You just earned yourself 20 rounds at practice tomorrow."

Outside of the room, the remaining sunlight was dying even as Tezuka locked up, the sound of the copper keys jarring through the quiet evening.

"But that's mean, Mitsu-tan!"

"Now you know I'm captain for a reason."

END CHAPTER

A/N: I'm sorry! I promised to update once a week but well, Christmas and New Year parties got underway. I didn't beta this chapter, so my apologies if Tezuka accidentally sprouted an extra hand or something.