Author's Note: Sorry for the wait. Saa…I'm back home in Kyoto for spring break so now it's very hard for me to think in English. Forgive me if there are any obscene errors. Enjoy…

Chapter Six: Confrontation Part II

It started raining again. Around lunch, just before the bell rang for break. The clouds gathered ominously like big gray blotches across an unsuspecting sky. There was no thunder, but despite that, Ryoma was still afraid.

He hated thunderstorms. And at this rate, it looked like one was imminent. It was only a matter of time before the calm broke, and the storm was unleashed in all its unearthly fury.

The fact that Horio was chattering away at 150mph didn't help either.

"Yeah, I won, of course. They had no idea what hit them. You better watch out Echizen. I've been practicing your twist serve and I think I might just-" The freshman paused his gloating, shoving an obscene amount of rice in his gaping mouth, which Ryoma had fondly dubbed "The never ending tunnel of stupidity".

Another one of his tagalongs took the rare cease fire as an opportunity to slip a comment in. (Kachio, was it? Kaito…something like that.)

"Eh, Horio….twist serve? Is that what you were doing yesterday? Didn't it hit you in the face? Like…twice?"

Horio turned tomato red and spluttered something incomprehensible, spraying rice all over the other three boys. Ryoma's left eye twitched once before his face slipped back into the ever-bored expression he was known for.

He tossed his un-eaten bento in the trash and slid his chair out in one fluid motion.

The black haired boy with the frightful bowl cut looked up at him with quivering eyes. "Eh? Ryoma-kun? Where are you going? Lunch doesn't end for another half hour."

"Bathroom." He pushed his chair back in and snagged his cap from inside the desk. He didn't actually have to go to the bathroom, but the hell if he was going to sit here with the three stooges. He didn't have the patience today. He was already annoyed at himself for acting like the kid who ate paste in kindergarten in front of Fuji-senpai and the impending thunder did nothing to improve his mood.

"Eh? But you didn't eat anything, Echizen. How can you have to pee already? See, I have a cast iron stomach. There was this one time…"

The door swung shut.

Safe in the hallway, Ryoma breathed a ragged sigh of relief.

Thank god. Ten more seconds and I think I would've lobbed him out the window.

Despite the fact that he didn't actually have to "pee" as Horio so gracefully put it, he felt his feet leading him to the third floor boy's bathroom. After all, it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go.

It was too wet to go to the roof and the teachers were making everyone stay inside anyway.

Ryoma sighed as he pushed the door open; hating himself for this never ending spiral of self pity he'd seemed to have been caught in. Every ten seconds it seemed like he was brooding. He could barely hold a conversation, not even with Momo, and his moods were growing increasingly sour.

It was all that bastard's fault. That arrogant, patronizing, agonizingly perfect-

"Echizen?"

Oh. Holy. Shit. You've got to be kidding me.

Ryoma's golden orbs snapped open, shock, apprehension, and a sick sense of excitement filling him all at once.

Standing before him, towel in hand, was Fuji Syusuke. The third year was staring at him with that close eyed, slightly curious star he always had. But he wasn't smiling. Frightening as the tight lipped look was, Ryoma much preferred it to the constant smile. It made him seem more…human. After what felt like centuries, Ryoma got his mouth to move.

"Ah…"

Oh, good job Ryoma. Highly articulate. In fact, you should seriously consider a career in public speaking.

The honey haired tensai's lips quirked upward ever so slightly, and Ryoma felt a flush infuse his cheeks.

Oh god. Just kill me now.

"I hope I didn't put you on the spot this morning. Of course, it's completely your choice if you don't want to be bothered with us."

Blink, Ryoma! Remember blinking? Blink damn it!

"Ah."

Oh, brilliant.

The tensai's lips quirked yet again, and something about his countenance lightened. The lines around his mouth relaxed and he chuckled softly. A gentle, melodious sound that filled the entire room and pierced Ryoma' core…it was electrifying.

Ryoma couldn't help it. He shivered, ever so slightly, and Fuji's eyes snapped open. There was a strangely curious look in the bright blue spheres, and the black haired boy stiffened. His breath caught in his throat. He couldn't think. He couldn't speak. It was as if someone had frozen him in time. As if someone had trapped him.

As if Fuji had trapped him, and regardless of whatever he wanted, whatever he'd planned, whatever rules he'd written for his life, was never going to let him go.

"Echizen…" Fuji's voice was curious, almost amused.

Ryoma could hear his heart beating like a drum, the steady beat thrumming in his ears, drowning out all but the sound of Fuji's voice.

His thoughts struggled to catch up to his surroundings. It was irrational. This couldn't be happening. Before last week, he and Fuji hadn't even had a legitimate conversation. Everything between them had always been about tennis. About rivalry. About both of them respecting each other, about each acknowledging the other as a fellow "prodigy."

But not this. What was happening right now, as Fuji closed the distance between them until his face was inches away from his own, had absolutely nothing to do with any of that. The chills that ran up his spine, the sweat that coated his palms and the steady fire burning in his golden eyes…this adrenaline high that had never before left a tennis court. This was about Fuji.

And nothing else mattered.

Fuji's lips parted, and Ryoma could smell a hint of lemon, wasabi, and something unmistakably sweet on his breath. It was intoxicating.

"You…somehow, you're different lately…" Fuji drew out the whisper, letting the sound hang in the air. Azure eyes flashed dangerously, like a lighting strike. Ryoma stared into them without really seeing, struggling to find rationality in a situation that had none.

But he loathed this feeling. This high was incredible, undeniable…but it was wrong. He didn't want this. He couldn't want this…right? This wasn't him…Echizen Ryoma didn't become speechless at the mere sight of someone else. He didn't splutter mindlessly when faced with a challenge. He faced the challenge with unquenchable fire…and Fuji or no Fuji, that was exactly what he intended to do.

He planted one foot behind him and took a deliberate step backwards, ignoring his body's protest. He hardly noticed that his back was against the wall.

"I don't think so, Fuji-senpai." He kept his voice even and his golden eyes blazed with the fire that only he possessed.

"No?" Fuji's tone was playful on the surface, but something deeper hummed beneath it. Something…forbidden. The tensai stepped forward, trapping Ryoma against the wall.

His arms were slack at his sides and a cool smirk played across his porcelain face. His posture was completely non-threatening.

But those eyes…with those eyes, he didn't need to lift a finger. Ryoma's breathing grew even more ragged, and his legs wavered. He knew, as much as he hated to admit it, that the wall was the only thing keeping him up. Fuji's body pressed against him just enough so Ryoma could feel his weight.

A ghost of a whisper danced across Ryoma's skin, and time slowed to a torturous crawl before Fuji finally spoke.

"Saa…then I must be mistaken."

And then, before Ryoma could even think of moving, he felt cool, soft lips press ever so slightly against his left ear. A thrill infused every nerve in his body, and he'd be damned if he didn't feel Fuji smiling. His eyes stared blindly, frantically over Fuji's shoulder, and he could barely see through the thick mane of golden brown locks.

After what seemed like a life time, Fuji's lips moved. Ryoma was vaguely aware of his remaining sanity exiting the building.

"Or maybe…there's something you're not telling me?"

Ryoma's brain had all but shut down. All that was left was feeling. But somehow, he managed to drag a retort from the depths of his sub-conscious. The remark was scathing, but the tremors in his voice stripped the comment of all its sting.

"This isn't one of your games, Fuji-senpai."

Fuji chuckled, and again those lips moved against his ear. He bit back a gasp, but it leaked out anyway, and Fuji's laugh grew even more teasing.

"Games? If I wasn't mistaken, I'd think you had a problem with the way I do things, Echizen."

"You're not mistaken." Ryoma snapped, but again, his body betrayed him and he felt himself melting into the pile of goo he'd always felt such disdain for.

"Saa…that's a bit harsh, Echizen, don't you think? After all…you don't really know me, do you?" The tensai was practically humming, and despite himself, Ryoma turned his head to allow his senpai full access to his ear, chin, and neck. His other ear rested against Fuji's cotton clad shoulder.

His body complied, even as his spirit rebelled against him.

"I know enough."

"Do you now?" Fuji's soft, slightly moist tongue graced the side of Ryoma's exposed neck, and whether accidental or no, Ryoma's legs failed him. He slumped against the wall, and Fuji snaked a long, pale arm around his waist, holding him up firmly without really touching him at all. Ryoma's eyes drifted closed and he saw only a sea of blue.

"I think, Echizen…that you don't hate my games as much as you say. In fact…"

All at once, the pressure was gone. Fuji's lips were gone from his neck, Fuji's arm was gone from his waist, and the tensai was standing on the opposite side of the room, hand on the door handle.

Ryoma's eyes snapped open, and his reality came crashing down on him in one crushing blow.

Oh my god...I…I…

Fuji's eyes were dancing with something Ryoma had never seen before, and the emotion swirling in them was mixture of amusement, curiosity and…sadness? No, it couldn't be...but before Ryoma could look again, Fuji shut his eyes and let his constant smile drift back onto his face. But somehow…it didn't seem the same.

"I think, Echizen…that you don't hate me, either."

Then, silent as a whisper of wind, he was gone. And Ryoma was alone. He didn't know how long he sat there. When the bell rang, he returned to class, because something in the back of his mind said he should.

When the teacher called on him, he answered, because something in the back of his mind said he should. When the final class was dismissed, he felt his legs carry him out of the classroom and outside the building.

It was only when the first drop of rain hit him that he realized what he done. A flood of emotion, emotions Ryoma never knew he could feel, flooded him all at once. His knees shook and he stumbled onward, hair plastered to his forehead, cap forgotten in his school bag. The puddles soaked his socks, and he hardly noticed when the first crack of lighting split the darkening sky.

Finally, standing outside the gates of his house, something cracked. Something inside of him, the thing that kept him grounded, the thing that made him cool, apathetic Echizen Ryoma shattered into a thousand pieces.

His legs would no longer support him, and he sank to the ground, elbow deep in a puddle. Never, never in his life, had he felt so vulnerable. Tears pricked at the back of his eyes, and it took everything he had to fight them back.

His school bag lay forgotten a few feet away, and he turned his frightened golden eyes to the darkened sky.

I don't hate him…

Slowly, Ryoma stood, soaking wet and ragged, face streaked with what resembled tear marks. He reached out a shaking hand to pick up his bag.

I don't like him…

He pushed through the gates, and darted in through the back door as quickly as he could, leaving his shoes in a messy heap in the yard.

If his family noticed his arrival, they remained silent.

He crept into his room, body freezing yet oddly numb, and shut the door behind him. And that was as far as he could go. He collapsed onto the bed, forgetting his wet, filthy clothes, forgetting homework, forgetting his empty stomach.

There was only one thing he could think of right now. One thing.

And that was how to fall out of love with Fuji Syusuke.

**********************************************************

Tears were salty.

Usually, Kikimaru Eiji loved all things salty, sweet, crunchy…actually, he loved all things edible.

But this was an exception. Even during breaks, even when he wasn't crying, Eiji could taste the salt upon his tongue. It seemed to have become a part of his mouth.

Not that he had many breaks.

After this morning…he really didn't know if he'd ever stop crying. He didn't even know if he wanted to. At least this way, when he was like this, he could hate Oishi.

He could pin it all on him and blame him for everything. At least this way, when the pillows were muffling his sobs and the covers were shielding him, he could numb the sadness, the emptiness, with hatred.

Because when the tears stopped, the memories came. Oishi smiling that awkward smile of his. Oishi holding his hand, pulling him up. Oishi fretting over everyone and everything, but especially him. Oishi being the first person who truly needed him.

Oishi promising him that they'd always be the Golden Pair, even if tennis ceased to exist.

And then he couldn't hate Oishi anymore. Then the only person left to hate was himself.

"Eiji…"

The acrobat's red, puffy eyes snapped open. He knew that voice. Though, he wasn't used to hearing it sound so sad.

"Fuji." He rasped, hating how pathetic his voice sounded. He pushed the pillow off his head, letting it slip to the ground. He should've known the tensai would come to see him.

Fuji sat in front of him, cross legged on the floor. His blue eyes were open and gentle. Eiji pushed himself up on one hand, wiping his face with the other.

"How long have you been sitting there?"

"…About two minutes."

Eiji's heart clenched. His best friend's voice was soft and torn, and it killed him. He struggled to drag up his usual good humor, attempting a half hearted smile.

"Fuji, I'm fine, really. Just a little shaken, is all."

"You don't have to lie to me, Eiji." Fuji's voice was soft, but there was a strange, unfamiliar note in it.

Eiji laughed then, a rough, weak attempt at sounding nonchalant. "I-I'm not-."

"Eiji. Why didn't you come back? Everyone was worried about you. I was…"

The red head stopped laughing, and the ghost of a smile fell from his face. That was his best attempt at a façade, and it had failed miserably.

Eiji pulled his knees to his chest, making room for Fuji to come sit on the bed and giving himself a meager sense of security at the same time.

"I guess I can't fool you, can I?"

Fuji smiled softly, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. "I've known you too long for that, Eiji. Besides…anyone who looked at you could tell you're not fine." The shorter boy's voice turned dark, and his eyes narrowed.

"Eiji…what did he do to you?"

A shiver ran up the cat boy's spine, and he couldn't help but remember what Fuji's words from the other night.

"If anything ever happened to you Eiji, I would personally destroy the person responsible."

"Nothing." The response was automatic. He knew how Fuji could be, and as much as he loathed Oishi, no one deserved that.

Fuji's azure orbs narrowed into slits, but he remained silent, waiting for Eiji to speak.

Eiji pulled his knees in tighter, turning his eyes from Fuji and burying his chin in the crook of his arms. A strange lightness came over him, and it felt as if he were watching himself from a distance. By doing that…by detaching himself, just maybe he'd be able to get through this.

"You're right, Fuji." He whispered. He patted the spot across from him with his foot, and in one fluid motion, his teammate joined him on the bed.

Fuji said nothing, blue eyes filled with pity.

"I'm not fine. In fact…I'm as far from fine as I've ever been in my life." He choked on his words, but plunged onward. Because Fuji deserved to hear this. After everything the tensai had done for him, without saying a word, without expecting any gratification…he deserved to have his one and only question answered.

"We…I told him that I…I told him how I felt…" Eiji's voice broke then, and it took several minutes for him to continue. Tears blurred his vision and he turned his eyes away. He didn't want Fuji to see him like this.

"And he told me that it was because…it was only b-because I…was curious…" The memories returned to him all at once, and his tone turned bitter. "He told me it was all a mistake…that everything I felt…meant nothing." Then the sobs pressed against his rib cage, begging to be let out.

He fought most of them back, but one managed to escape. It racked his entire body and he bit his lip, hard. He shut his eyes, but he could still feel Fuji's heart wrenching gaze on him.

It took even more time before he could speak again.

"I...I kissed him…that day, you found me in the locker room…we…I kissed him and he…he kissed me back, Fuji." His eyes snapped open and found Fuji's, and his tone grew increasingly desperate. He found himself needing Fuji to believe him, needing validation for his actions. He found himself needing someone to acknowledge what they'd done as more than just a mistake. "He did, I know he did, I felt him…he liked it, Fuji, I know he did…he called my name…and he sounded…happy…"

And then two arms were around him, knocking aside his guarded position and pulling him close, a tangle of arms and legs. Eiji's tears soaked Fuji's shirt and his friend's warmth only made him cry harder. After what felt like forever, Eiji began to pull himself back to the present. He focused in on everything around him now, everything that had nothing to do with his memories. The way Fuji's shirt looked, covered in tear splotches. The way he smelled…Eiji had always loved the way the tensai smelled.

Fuji smelled of wasabi, lemon, and expensive bath soap. Bath soap? That smell was new.

But yet it was oddly familiar…then it struck him. His mind was happy to have any excuse not to think of Oishi, and he seized onto it, sitting up slowly and untangling himself from Fuji.

His voice was raspy, but it didn't waver when he spoke next. "Fuji…you smell like ochibi."

Fuji's eyebrows rose and his blue eyes sparkled. For the first time since he'd arrived, he looked almost…content. The realization gave Eiji strength, and the red head took the comfort and tucked it away. He knew he'd need it soon enough.

"Do I now?" The brown haired boy mumbled, placing a finger beneath his chin. If Eiji had been in a better mood, the sight might have made him laugh.

"Yeah…you smell like his bath soap. Every time I hug him I smell it…and now I smell it on you."

"Eiji…can I tell you something?" the tensai was practically whispering now, and his expression grew somber. The sudden shift in mood from serious to jovial to back to serious had Eiji's head reeling, but he nodded none the less.

"I came very close…to kissing Echizen today."

…What? Wait, no. There is no way in hell he just said that.

"Come again?"

"He has feelings for me, Eiji. I can't believe I haven't seen it before now. I always thought he fancied Tezuka…but apparently....that is not the case." There wasn't even a hint of playfulness in Fuji's tone.

"Oh my god..you're serious."

"Yes."

Slowly, Eiji put the pieces together. The party Fuji had requested he host. Him insisting that Echizen be there, despite the younger boy's obvious anti-social tendencies. Fuji's reluctance to ask the black olive haired boy himself. It all made sense now.

"But…wait…isn't this a good thing?"

Fuji's eyebrows rose. "Why would it be a good thing?"

Eiji frowned, struggling to grasp his friend's cryptic meaning.

"You like him back, don't you?" The red head ignored the fact that he sounded like an elementary school kid. With his limited brain function, it was all he could manage.

It was Fuji's turn to frown. "I thought you knew about Tezuka."

"Okay…wait a minute. You like Tezuka? Still? I thought that was past tense. I thought you let that go…"

Fuji sighed then, and for a moment, he looked many years older than he was. "I thought had too."

"So.." Eiji hesitated, not wanting to offend the boy who'd done so much for him. "You…you don't like Ryoma?"

Fuji said nothing, but the conflict in his eyes was clear. Eiji decided to leave that question alone…at least for now.

"You like Tezuka, then?"

"…Not in the typical sense. Not like I used to. I'm still intrigued by him….but I've realized that's why I've held on for so long. Because I set my sights on him, and he never returned my rather misguided affections. So I will always…he will always hold a part of me. If only as the one that got away." Fuji laughed then, but there was hint of bitterness in it.

The red head rubbed his temples, unable to comprehend his friend's situation. He groaned softly.

"Fuji! Why does everything with you always have to be so complicated?"

"Saa…I find it rather simple, Eiji. Part of me wants Tezuka. And part of me…part of wants to destroy him."

…What!?

"Um…Fuji…that's a little bit….twisted…"

Actually, it's a lot twisted.

Fuji's lips twitched. "Perhaps I should rephrase that. I've spent years trying to get Tezuka to acknowledge me. To want me. But he never did. He never acknowledged anyone."

Eiji's eyes widened, and all at once, the pieces clicked into place. "Until…"

"Yes. Until Ryoma." Fuji's eyes drifted closed, and Eiji, along with the rest of the world, was once again shut out of the mystery that was Fuji Syusuke.

"…Fuji…the only reason you want Ryoma…is so Tezuka can't have him? Is so Tezuka can know what it's like to chase after someone…and lose? All of this…you're only using him?"

Fuji stood then, in one deliberate motion. "I'm sorry Eiji…it's getting late and the weather will turn for the worse soon…if I'm not home before the thunder starts my sister will worry."

Eiji swallowed. He was torn between gratitude, sadness, and a strange sense of compassion. He struggled to find the words.

"Fuji…I know what it's like…to be used and thrown away by someone you love…" his voice broke, and he knew that it wouldn't be long until he broke down yet again. "Please…I know you've been hurt…but please don't hurt ochibi…please…"

Fuji's hand rested on the door knob and Eiji could only stare pleadingly at his back.

"Please, Fuji…he's only a child...if you hurt him now…he may never be able…"

Fuji opened the door and lingered in the threshold for a moment, caught between the two sides, unable to decide whether to move forward or back.

When he spoke, his tone was flat…but soft. Warm, almost. Almost.

"When I was with him today…nothing else mattered. I was with him because I wanted to be."

And once again, Kikimaru Eiji had nothing to say.

"Saa…goodbye, Eiji. I'll pick you up before the party tomorrow."

And then he was gone and Eiji was left with nothing but the sound of his own breathing.

That's right…he moved the party to his house…hmph. That's just like Fuji…

Eiji sank back into his pillows, the tears he'd restrained earlier cascading down his face. He breathed in the comforting scent of bath soap that Fuji had left on his sheets and whispered sweet nothings to himself.

The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was Oishi holding out his hand.

Author's Note: Well….it seems like the more conflict is resolved, the more conflict arises. It's a quality unique to the Thrill Pair. I hope all of you liked this chapter. Please review. The fabled party is fast approaching. Will hearts be mended? Or broken past the point of no return? Stay tuned and see….