A/N: a request/challenge from BunniesRcute. She's a scary one when it comes to challenges. DX
Words: Reject, plane, blood
Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort
I stored up my tears for a whole month and then poured all my sadness into this. Seriously.
After all, I needed something to prep me for my FIRST AND ONLY angst fic. *cries cries*
(oh, I curse how humor doesn't fit here)
There is incense burning on a grave.
"Hello."
"You're still here?" A small, bitter laugh slipped over Fuji lips.
"Yes." Ryoma touched the brim of his cap briefly. "Tezuka's." Ryoma murmurs as he answers the unspoken question when he puts down a tennis racket beside the grave. "He'll be needing this."
Fuji tilted his head back and stared at the white vapor a passing plane had left behind.
He stared back at the ground. He doesn't need to be reminded.
They don't shed a tear. They were strong. Unshakable.
It begins slowly, but surely.
Unraveling.
Tennis has left Ryoma. It's only been a month, and Ryoma thinks he has gotten used to seeing Tezuka's empty locker.
He still can't play like he used to.
It will pass, he insists to himself as he leaves the tennis courts after a few swings.
He has not hit a single ball the past month.
For Fuji, it's a different story.
He has become quiet and secluded-even more so than he once was.
He stays in his bedroom and rarely comes out.
Yumiko sometimes asks what he's doing in there. She's confused. She hears her brother's muted voice through the door, yet there is none other that replies.
Chatting with Tezuka, is Fuji's answer every time. He talks to me.
Yumiko frowns in puzzlement.
Ryoma wonders, as two more months fly by, if he'll ever play tennis again.
His dominant left hand has become as weak as his right.
His dominant left.
Like Tezuka.
Ryoma remembered Tezuka had an injury there-
His hand stretched out over the kitchen counter-
Skimming over the knife handle-
Like Tezuka, Ryoma thought feverishly, like Tezuka.
The blade came down flashing.
"Shusuke, you need to go to sleep." Yumiko called through Fuji's closed door.
"In just a minute," Fuji replied evenly. He turned to Tezuka, sitting on his carpeted floor.
"Tezuka." Fuji said, inclining his head toward his bed. "Goodnight."
Tezuka nodded, standing up and brushing off his pants. "Goodnight. And, Fuji?"
"Yes, Tezuka?"
"Let's talk again tomorrow."
"Of course."
Yumiko watched with horrified eyes through the slightly ajar door as her brother rambled to himself.
Ryoma dragged out the blade once more, enjoying the thick rivets of blood that ran down his arm. Willing the pain to intensify, he thrust the knife in deeper, and clenched his teeth from screaming out in pain.
He was connected with Tezuka. Tezuka.
The blade ran deeper.
"Fuji."
"Yes, Tezuka?"
"Do you miss me?"
"I talk to you every day."
"You're avoiding the question."
"...Yes."
"You can join me, Fuji."
"Is that-is that really possible-?"
"You know what to do."
Fuji's gaze settled on a far, far point, and glazed over. "Yes, Tezuka."
He was found by Momo.
The power player had been passing by Ryoma's house, when he had thought to invite the young freshman along for a trip to his favorite burger place.
After all, Ryoma barely spent any time with him anymore.
The scream Momo heard through the door was what compelled him to barge in, and there he found the prince, a left arm dyed in bloody crimson.
It was terrible, gory sight of a floor painted in blood pools.
Fuji had knotted the rope expertly, tightening the noose around his neck.
Stepping out into open air from his window, other end of the rope hanging from the roof, he almost heard the 'crick!' of his neck as it jerked his neck-
Rupturing his spinal cord-
And leaving behind a corpse.
Oishi paid his annual visit to Tezuka's grave, setting down incense. The former tennis team members were all there, missing three presences all too noticeable. The young rookie in rehabilitation-
And two gone-
Oishi then moved to place incense on Fuji's grave.
Right next to Tezuka.
There is now incense burning on two graves.
A/N: If you made it to the bottom you get a purple pigeon.
Also, I've learned italics are your friends in angst fics.
EDIT: Feb, 25, 2015: Due to some messages from my regular readers and followers about how out of charcter this fic is for me, I NEED TO CLARIFY : THIS WAS FOR A REQUEST FIC FROM A USER (BunniesRcute)
I am still going on with my humor ficcys, and this will probably be the only angst/sad/sadsadsad fic on this account.