It was raining and Fuji wasn't too sure what time it was.

The rain was washing down the grey concrete and pooling into a dirty grey at the crevasses just between the staircase and the ground below. He watched it silently, grey water and the occasional yellow leaf that went by, browned, crisp, folded into itself and bobbing along the water's surface.

The skies were dark and it was grey all around, and Tezuka was probably still asleep behind him. He remembered the warmth of his arms and how soft the material of his shirt had been, when they had changed for bed and moved closer in the middle of the night, absently searching for warmth in the midst of the cold autumn rains that kept on pouring. Involuntarily, he shivered slightly, his eyes searching out the bleak scene before him, anything to keep his mind occupied and away from the involuntary sadness that always seized him and never let go.

Behind him, he saw Tezuka's reflection in the wet glass, rivulets of water streaking across his face and sliding down to the window's groves below. He expected an awkward hello, abnormally loud in this grey, wet morning and stern somehow, making their respective positions clear with a single word. Or perhaps it would be awkward. An uncertain greeting to Fuji's refusal to say a word, lest his smile be too bright and cheery, or forced and tired, prompting an assortment of responses he didn't wish to deal with.

There were always so many faces that he could adopt, and so many responses, stonily different and somehow in their own pattern, similar and unbearably tedious. Many times where Inui had wrote pages on his differences, Fuji had felt the compulsion to inform Inui that he was striving only to see patterns in chaos and similarities where everything was different, but it was impossible to track real chaos, pointless even to invest his time into the unending search of one individual, rather than to pursue the creation of scientific miracles and tangible rewards. Was it curiosity that drove him on? Fuji could never understand.

Quietly, Tezuka slid his arms around the shivering boy and kept him warm.

Yuuta hadn't even seemed surprised when he had opened Fuji's bedroom door later. The stoic Seigaku captain was sitting at the edge of Fuji's bed, patiently highlighting his biology text whilst Syuusuke prattled away happily at his cacti. He had informed his brother that Yumiko would be dropping by their apartment to cook, and would like to see Syuusuke at home for dinner that day. When Fuji smiled and nodded, Tezuka was amazed to see the genuine affection in his eyes. Somehow, it lit up his face, and made him seem more…real somehow.

Fuji Syuusuke was always so distant. It was as though a part of him was absent from where he stood, yet Tezuka could never place his finger on what it was that bothered him. Sometimes, he rather fancied that if he reached out to hold his hand, his fingers would meet nothing but air. Syuusuke was distinctly unreal in that manner, holding himself apart even as he seemed to be participating wholeheartedly in all activities. Even so, he was fair, beautiful, and rather fragile looking for a boy his age.

Maybe it was because he was slender. Petite.

"Short, maybe?"

Tezuka realised belatedly that he had been eyeing Fuji and talking aloud.

Fuji gave him a pointed look and turned back gracefully to his beloved plants, with an air of injured dignity. Tezuka smiled slightly and reached out to tug at Fuji's hand, smoothly drawing the tensai closer until he was close enough to be pulled onto his lap.

"Would you rather I used that term?"

"Why even discuss my height, when you could spend your time telling me how beautiful ore-sama looks?" Fuji retorted dryly, imitating Atobe's polished accent to perfection.

"Because you are gorgeous. And you know it." Tezuka whispered huskily into his ear, making him shiver in delight. His eye caught sight of the mirror in his bedroom, and for one moment, he was transfixed by how amazing they looked together, and how well they seemed to complement each other. He had an eye for beauty, but this went deeper into a tempered…balance perhaps, a sensation of everything being "right" as long as they could lock this moment away for ever.

"And I supposed you want me only for my looks?" Fuji murmured resignedly.

Tezuka hummed for a moment and deliberated over his answer, absently drawing circles on Fuji's slender wrists, resting his chin against the smaller boy's hair. Sometimes Fuji could be at the top of the world, virtually unassailable as he mercilessly broke down each of his enemies, cold and detached and alive in his gentle cruelty. At other moments, he was quietly needy; a hair's breadth from sinking into the capable persona that lived in him whenever he felt that rejection was inevitable.

"Honestly? I'm not too sure if it's your looks that attract me," Tezuka said at last.

"Maybe it's just a little problem I have, to be infatuated with everything that has to do with you. Everything, from the way you stretch when you wake up, the way your eyes really are closed when you stumble into the bathroom, and the way you glanced at me hurriedly and hope that I didn't notice when you nearly walked into a wall, the way the wind lifts your hair when you play tennis and the way you smile at me when you've finally finished beating your opponents into the ground……"

Tezuka's words were cut off as Fuji planted his lips on his and kissed him deeply, putting in all the affection that he felt for the other boy in that moment. He marvelled inwardly that he had never known how much Tezuka could speak, almost as though he had spent his life in reserved silence, only breaking into a torrent of words when he sensed that Fuji wanted – no, needed – to hear every excruciating detail of how he felt, and would still be endlessly fascinated by them. He liked it that Tezuka was never this way with anybody else, he loved the solemn but romantic words Tezuka spoke without a trace of embarrassment, and every single one of actions that carved their way into his heart when he couldn't bring himself to speak.

Tezuka's face was flushed slightly, a light pink that stole across his features, that Fuji would never have noticed if his beloved captain had not been so fair. Smirking as Tezuka tried vainly to regain control of himself, his fingers tense against Fuji's shoulders, Fuji deliberately scooted closer on his lap, kneeling against him as he threaded his fingers through soft, brown hair and pulled Tezuka closer for another kiss. The stoic captain froze momentarily, before clumsily doing his best to respond to the fleeting, seductive brushes of Fuji's mouth against his.

"You're not very good at this," Fuji observed, not unkindly.

Tezuka couldn't explain why that comment hurt him, even when it was obvious that Fuji had simply been himself, and had not intended to put him down harshly. His helplessness had probably shown in his eyes, even as he allowed Fuji to push him gently backwards against the bed, soft lips smoothing quiet kisses against his mouth and against his jaw.

"That's okay," Fuji murmured softly even as he fingered the lapels of Tezuka's shirt. "We can learn together."

They were both still in a state of undress, watching the rain pelt against the window ceaselessly. Fuji's was using his lap as a pillow, drowsily cuddled against him for warmth even as Tezuka stroked his hair gently. Tezuka had been sweetly obliging, and Fuji was amused to realise that even in sex, their captain was fiercely competitive and completely devoted to the task at hand. The fact that he was a quick learner could only have boded well. Abruptly, Fuji remembered Tezuka's competence in tennis with both hands, and laughed soundlessly into the pillow he was clutching, to avoid having Tezuka notice and question him about his sudden burst of hilarity.

"Your shoulders are shaking." Tezuka stated bluntly, poking him in the shoulder and making Fuji chuckle out loud despite himself.

"Care to share what you find so amusing?"

Tezuka's tone was dry, but uncertainty wavered in his voice, and Fuji instantly felt bad, realising that he had probably made the other boy feel insecure and inadequate. Turning to face him, Fuji's breath was stolen away when he looked at Tezuka, his strong, handsome face unexpectedly vulnerable and blind without his glasses, patiently waiting for an explanation.

"I loved the way you're mastered your ambidextrous ability." Fuji replied honestly.

Tezuka waited for the inevitable punchline, the sock in the gut that never came, and wondered at the amusement mingled with a soft affection in Fuji's eyes, as he understood and smiled at him nonetheless. Tezuka watched as Fuji yawned cutely, stretching like a cat before sitting up beside him. He resisted the urge to laugh in surprise when he saw Fuji watching him out of the corner of his eye, and knowing that this was a special show put up for him.

"Would you mind if I asked you a question?"

"I'm only surprised that you haven't asked it earlier," Fuji confessed quietly, staring down at his hands.

"I don't change my mind once I made it. Questions could come later, and only to satisfy my own curiosity."

"Would you like to know if the photos were real?"

"…are they?"

"Yes, now that you asked."

Fuji took a deep breath, and tried to speak normally, such that the words wouldn't rush out and get scrambled up, the way they did whenever he was nervous. His unease was soothed a little, only when Tezuka shifted further away, allowing him space to calm down.

"I guess I run from the facts, and it's as though the person who did these things, was someone else, distinct and separate from me. But ultimately, it was myself who made things worse, and I can't even hate Eiji because I also believe……I believe that if I were to be the one to hurt myself, then no one else can ever cause me harm. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"You know that's not true."

"Why not? It takes away my sadness. Why would anyone want to be so unhappy?"

"Your loneliness will kill you in the end, faster than anything else would."

"I deserve it. But I…still don't wish to go this way, at the mercy of another."

"Will you be with me? I can't promise to erase your sorrow, but there is no one else who would fight harder than I would, to show you that this…this is not the only ending there can be."

"Saa…I'm so tired of waking up each morning. Did you know that?"

And Fuji was crying unexpectedly, his hands pressing against his eyes, choking to keep his tears inside. His paranoia was overwhelming, and his mind could only tell him of his many failures and the weakness that mocked him with the wetness of his tears. Tezuka's arms were around him and he couldn't feel them, only the tightness in his chest as he rocked himself slowly, blinking back the onslaught of tears.

"I think…" Fuji began, voice hoarse with the strain it caused not to break. "I think he used to say something along those lines as well."

"Your boyfriend before me."

It was a statement, not even a question, and Fuji was scared that Tezuka would be angry. But all there was, was the tenderness in which Tezuka stroked his hair, and held him closer, and it made him angry somewhat that there was nothing he could lash out at. He wanted to scream and be broken and taken apart and pieced together like clockwork, and he should have been hurt as badly as he deserved by anyone, that is, apart from Tezuka who loved him and was satisfied with that.

"It's simple, really. He loved me, or at least I believe he did. And then he left one day, and never told me why."

Amazing really, how such simple words described everything that had shattered his heart and left him desolate and even worse than before.

"Could I ask you not to leave?"

"I'd stay as long as you want. Probably longer."

"That'd be nice."

It was still raining outside, but he was feeling warm and loved, and Fuji would have cried if only he knew how to remember this one moment for the rest of his life.

I would be your anchor to this crazy world, and you would always be my most beautiful.

END CHAPTER