Author's Note: I am so sorry it has taken so long. To tell you the truth, I've been a wreck lately. Thank you all for the support. The landmark chapter ten. Five more to go. I promise they will come sooner. Please review.
Chapter Ten: Chasing Truth
He'd always been a coward. Running, jumping, flipping- doing anything and everything to avoid rather than stand and fight. After all, it was Eiji's specialty. He was an acrobat.
So was it really any surprise now, as the world came crashing down, that he didn't bother trying to put it back together? No. He only sat and watched from the corner, clutching a beer with bone white fingers. His throat burned, but it distracted him from the screaming ache in his chest. Ryoma, always the fighter, had been the first to break. He'd disappeared into the kitchen the second Tezuka had walked out the door.
Eiji ignored Momo's pleading gaze. He didn't want to look at Fuji's newest casualty. He didn't know if he could. Fuji himself was nowhere to be found. He'd disappeared off somewhere as well, leaving the rest of them in pieces without a backwards glance. For a brief moment, Eiji wanted to go to him.
Why? He thought bitterly, taking a swing of his drink. So he can tell me that everything is going to be okay? So he can look me in the eyes and tell me, with that perfectly serene smile, that everything is going to be fine?
A soft, hesitant voice broke into the red head's thoughts. Red rimmed, coal black eyes met purple orbs.
"Senpai...," the second year hesitated. "I have to go now. But…please tell Echizen that I'm…tell him that…"
Eiji shut his eyes. He'd know the look on Momoshiro's face anywhere. The mask of boyish contentedness, the goofy grin that screamed false confidence, false strength. The eyes that shouted, plain as day, the truth that no one wanted to see.
"If you him to know you love him." The acrobat whispered. "Tell him yourself, Momo."
The dunk smash specialist's mouth fell open and for a few seconds, he looked as if he were going to break as well. A strangled laugh forced itself from his throat and he cast his eyes downward.
"Is it that obvious?" The voice was tired, and Eiji could only guess that after everything that had happened, there was no use for denial anymore.
"No." Eiji responded flatly, crunching the empty beer can between his palms. "But I'm the last person you can hide it from. Being in love with your best friend is kind of my thing."
The taller boy ran a tan hand through wild black locks, and he looked unsure whether or not to laugh at the joke or cry at the irony of it all.
"It's okay, though, sempai. That Ryoma likes someone else." Momoshiro offered a weak smile, but received nothing in response. Besides, Eiji knew that he wasn't the one trying to be convinced. "It's really okay. I just want him to be happy."
Something clenched then, and a horrible crunching sound echoed in Eiji's ears. He tossed the can across the room.
Happy?
When Eiji didn't respond, Momoshiro stood and crossed the room. With his hand on the doorknob, he hesitated.
"Senpai…"
The implications hung in the air.
Senpai. Tell me it's going to be alright. Tell me I made the right choice. Tell me I can be with him, watch him with some one else, leave everything else behind…even though he doesn't love me.
Tell me that I'm not going to end up like you.
Please.
Tell me.
Eiji didn't look at him. The door clicked shut.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Ryoma was, by no stretch of the imagination, a normal boy. He was not fickle or frivolous, and many his age found a disconnect between them. Ryoma was different. Better.
But that difference came with a devastating price- to be forever trapped inside of his own head. He had no one. That difference made him alone.
And then there was Tezuka. For the first time, someone had understood him. Someone had been able to read past the false pretense, break through the shell. Tezuka was a kindred spirit, the one person who could truly understand him.
The one person for whom he did not have to hide.
Tennis had always been his life. His purpose, the reason he drew breath. Tennis was tennis. Tennis was the only thing that mattered.
Ryoma's life had been perfectly, meticulously constructed around those two constants. Those two certainties had kept him whole.
And now both of them were gone.
The young tennis prodigy drew his knees in tighter. The cool wood of Fuji's kitchen counters was hard against his back. Ryoma feared that if he moved from the concrete, from the absolute, that he would spin into nothingness.
This is what you wanted. The voice in the back of his head pushed itself forward. He had neither the energy nor the will to struggle. He could only sit and listen, golden eyes wide and staring at a spot that no longer existed.
This is exactly what you wanted. You wanted Fuji. You were jealous. You wanted him all to yourself. But even know, you're still so selfish. You want Tezuka as well. You want everything. You want to keep them both near you, but away from each other.
Why? Why is it so important for you to keep them apart?
What are you afraid of Ryoma?
"Enough." He managed to push the whisper through chapped lips, unaware that he had spoken until he felt the whoosh of air across his tongue. "This is foolish."
Foolish? A fitting word, considering what a fool you've been. Do you really think that Fuji wants you? That he loves you? Do you really think you mean anything to him at all? Think about it, Ryoma. He didn't ask you to stay. He doesn't want you. Neither did Tezuka.
You're nothing more than a little boy with a pathetic little crush…
"Ryoma!"
The frightened scream that tore itself from his throat jolted Ryoma's heart back into beating. His eyes snapped open. Piercing, crystalline blue met him, only inches away from his face.
His heart beat ceased.
"Ryoma," the voice said again. Fuji's thumb ran a trail down his jaw line. Spots of electricity danced along Ryoma's spine, and he could feel the sweat pouring off of him. It dripped down his back, drop by agonizing drop.
Fuji's pale face glowed in the semi darkness of the kitchen. Those unflinching eyes locked with Ryoma's own, and the gravitational pull was inescapable. A thousand random neurons seemed to fire in his brain all at once, and the only clear thought that escaped was just how beautiful Fuji really was.
Like an angel. The angel of death.
"Ryoma, are you alright? You were shaking." Fuji's voice was low and deep, far deeper than Ryoma was used to hearing it. The younger boy shook his head, jerking out of his elder's grasp.
"I'm fine." The tremors in his voice revealed his lie, and Ryoma felt his face flush hot. "Really, senpai. Just a little tired."
Cerulean orbs flashed with something akin to amusement. "Tired? It's only nine thirty. Is it past your bedtime already?"
Indignation sparked inside of him, mixing with his frazzled emotions to form a sickening brew.
"Leave me alone." He snapped, standing in one fluid motion. Fuji followed, but did not alleviate the close proximity between them. If anything, he moved closer, pressing Ryoma against the counter. The marble pressed into the small of his back.
"No need to snap, Ryoma. I was only trying to help you." Fuji's voice was flat and dry, as was his face. As much as he loathed that fake smile, Ryoma couldn't help but wish it would return. Anything had to be better than that flat, hard line.
"Stop it." Ryoma bit out, unable to control the rising anger in the pit of his belly. Days and days of racing thoughts, sleepless nights, tormented waking hours, and for what? Someone who obviously didn't give a damn whether he lived or died.
"Stop with the bullshit."
Fuji's delicate eyebrows rose until they were lost into a perfectly groomed mane of honey brown locks.
"Bullshit? Aren't you a little young to be using language like that?"
The rage that had previously been contained exploded inside of Ryoma, and for a split second, all he saw was brilliant red. The frayed tethers that had been holding him together snapped.
His life was destroyed. Strung about in microscopic pieces that had no hope of ever being put back together. And he had been the one to destroy it, rip it apart voluntarily with his own hands.
His team. His dream.
Everything he'd ever wanted.
For this.
"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" The scream was loud enough to shake the rafters, and indeed, it seemed to rattle the very foundations of Ryoma's soul. "It isn't funny, Fuji! It isn't fucking funny anymore!"
His arms moved of their own accord, and with a sudden burst of strength, he shoved against Fuji's chest. The tensai's face was frozen in disbelief, and he fell back without a fight, landing with a loud thud.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryoma thought he should savor the only moment that Fuji Syusuke had ever been speechless.
The kitchen door burst open. Ryoma didn't have to look up from his hazy red view of his tennis shoes to see Eiji standing there.
For a moment, there was no sound. The silence was almost sacred.
The soft, almost imperceptible sound of Fuji rising and brushing off his clothes set the world back into motion.
"That was unnecessary, Ryoma." He stated it plainly, as if it were merely an observation. The normalcy of it all drove Ryoma mad. A retort, hot and scathing jumped to his tongue and his palms ached with the need to hurt someone, anyone.
Someone had to feel this pain with him.
"The fuck if it wasn't."
Ryoma's retort died on his tongue. Two pairs of eyes zeroed in on the person who had spoken. Eiji's dark eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, and he looked to be shaky on his feet. A thin film of sweat glistened in the dimming light.
Ryoma's retort died on his tongue. Two pairs of eyes zeroed in on the person who had spoken. Eiji's dark eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, and he looked to be shaky on his feet. A thin film of sweat glistened on his skin in the dimming light.
The red head cast one sweeping glance around the kitchen, before his mouth twisted into a demented smile. He jabbed a finger somewhere in Ryoma's general vicinity.
"You the one who knocked Prince Charming on his ass?"
Ryoma blinked, and shook his head, as if to clear it of fog. All he could manage was a vague nod, as if to say, Who else?
Eiji was obviously…off. But Ryoma couldn't quite put his finger on the problem.
The acrobat nodded vigorously, grotesque smile still in place. "Good job. Cocky little shit was asking for it."
Fuji cleared his throat, a peculiar, odd note entering his tone. "Eiji." He didn't sound as soft as he usually sounded with his best friend. There was slight edge on it…like shaved ice. "You're drunk."
Ryoma's eyes widened and he turned back to the bounciest regular. It was true. Eiji was teetering on his feet and Ryoma had seen that flush on his father's cheeks many a time. But still...Eiji? It was hard to wrap his mind around. But then again, Ryoma thought grimly, nothing makes sense anymore.
The accused drunk made a guttural sound which Ryoma could only assume was denial.
"So?" he hiccupped, jabbing a finger in Fuji's direction. Eiji paused and cocked his head to one side, before breaking out into a wide toothed smile. "Hey, Fujiko-chan. You did it. You got Ryoma all to yourself."
Ryoma felt his heart flutter widely against his ribs, as if trying to escape what was next to come. Then it ceased to struggle completely.
"What?" he whispered, golden eyes swinging to Fuji. The tensai stood stock still, eyes focused on Eiji. They glinted like finely polished steel.
"Eiji. There's been enough trouble tonight. Don't add any more with your drunken ramblings. Go upstairs, run some water on your head, and go to sleep." Fuji's tone was neutral and unassuming, but there was something beneath the surface that made Ryoma very sure it was not a question.
Ryoma's previous anger morphed into something entirely different- sticky, heavy apprehension that weighed on his lungs until drawing breath sent shocks of pain throughout his body. His tongue pried itself from the roof of his mouth.
"No, Eiji-senpai. What did you say?"
Both of them looked at him then, but Ryoma didn't look at Fuji. He focused on Eiji. Red rimmed eyes blinked at him twice, uncomprehending, but then the acrobat let out a giddy chuckle.
"You mean you didn't know? Fujiko-chan wanted you away from buchou."
Time stopped. A cleaver fell from the heavens and sliced Ryoma straight in half, leaving his life's blood to drain onto the floor. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.
Fuji's face remained impassive, but the tension in his muscles was unmistakable. He walked forward and in a few, brisk movements, lifted Eiji off the ground. The other boy was too stunned to move at first, but he quickly began to struggle and kick. Fuji held him tight against his chest and showed no signs of letting go.
The sight might have, once upon a time, been comical.
"Let me go! Put me down, Fujiko! I didn't do anything! Let go!" The red head screamed at the top of his lungs, beating against Fuji's chest with his fist. The honey haired boy didn't flinch.
Ryoma couldn't bring himself to move. Eiji's struggling only increased, and tears peaked at the corner of his wide eyes.
"Let go of me! I hate you! This is your entire fucking fault! You and your stupid games! I hate you! I hate you!"
The cry reverberated like a savage war chant, filling Ryoma's head until it was all he could hear. It grew louder and louder by the second, drowning out coherent thought and numbing him to the core.
And in that moment, Ryoma knew he had to leave that kitchen. He had to run, get away, far, far away from the screaming and the games and the truths that weren't really true at all.
Or he'd be torn apart, limb from limb, until nothing was left.
Never mind the face that he would go back, he always went back. He couldn't stay away. Fuji was his drug, his all consuming addiction. Unimaginable pleasure and pain that left him with nothing but need. And so he'd be back, Ryoma knew he'd be back, but he couldn't stay now.
He couldn't.
And so he ran. He didn't bother to stop when Fuji called his name.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Slow down.
What's on your mind?
It's alright…I'm on your side.
I hate to see your injury. I wish that you could transfer all your pain to me.
Stay here.
It's okay to cry...let me help you make it right…
The sound of sneakers on the pavement, sliding and slipping in the rain, was the only thing that Fuji could hear. It was the only thing that registered. It was the only thing he could handle.
Nothing mattered but the blurry outline of the boy ahead of him, obscured by the sheets of frigid water that poured from an angry night sky.
For the first time in his life, Fuji couldn't stop his heart from beating quickly. The electric thrumming that fueled his every step. But it was more than the thrill of the chase.
It was pure need. He couldn't let Ryoma go. He couldn't explain why, couldn't even begin to think about it after everything that had happened this night, but he didn't want to.
He couldn't rationalize it. This was against all his rules. This was against everything he'd thought he wanted everything he'd thought since the day he was born. This was unscripted.
The boy in front of him veered to the left, and Fuji followed with reflexes honed by years of tennis. His mind whirred in a thousands indiscriminate directions, but he ignored it. All that mattered was the boy in front of him and the beating of his heart.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Cold. Mind numbing cold crawled up every inch of skin on Ryoma's body. Water matted his dark hair to his forehead, random strands of hair sticking in his eyes. He didn't care.
He couldn't feel anything but the cold and the water seeping into his very soul like a never ending fountain of unshed tears.
The sudden fingers that wrapped themselves around his frozen skin were the last things his mind was ready for. His knees buckled and he stumbled. The pavement rushed up to greet him, only to stop inches from his face.
The hands that held him pulled him upward and spun him around. They did not let go of him. Piercing crystal blue eyes met his and pinned him to the spot.
Fuji's porcelain skin glowed in the faded light and his honey brown hair clung to his forehead in haphazard strands. A slight flush colored his cheeks and his eyes burned in his skull, burned with the fire of every star in the sky.
And his cherry red lips whispered a single word as those strong arms pulled Ryoma closer, until it felt as if their bodies would meld into one.
"Stay."
Pale fingers pressed themselves against Ryoma's jaw line, lifting his face to Fuji's own.
The scent of lemon and wasabi filled his lungs.
"Stay…"
And it was then that the tears came. And Ryoma could do nothing to stop them. Pain, confusion and anger spilled from his widened golden orbs and mingled with the rain.
Fuji's eyes filled with something, something Ryoma had no name for. Something so heartbreakingly sad and lovely that it only made the tears come faster.
"Ryoma…"
The fingers tightened their grip. The only thing Ryoma could hear was Fuji's whispering and the loud, frantic beat of his heart.
And then Fuji's soft, warm lips were pressed against his. The fire that erupted inside of his chest filled his entire being, as if someone had stuck the sun where his heart used to be.
The sweet nectar that was Fuji's mouth was stronger and more addictive than any drug. It was intoxicating. Ryoma could do nothing but open his mouth and moan, a needy, animalistic moan that he thought himself incapable of.
His knees went slack and the only thing holding him up was Fuji's hand on his back, rubbing and kneading in agonizingly slow circles. Fuji's moist tongue rolled across Ryoma's lips, tracing the outline in light, delicate strokes. Ryoma threw his arms around Fuji's head, reaching up like a blind man clawing for the sun, trying to force the tensai to apply more pressure. He needed more. He needed more.
Fuji used his free hand to pry Ryoma's desperate fingers from him and pinned them against the younger boy's chest, dragging the hand across Ryoma's chest. Ryoma's moan turned into a whimper as Fuji forced him to stroke himself. Sharp teeth nipped at his bottom lip, and the hand on his back slipped lower until it rested on his hip. Ryoma felt as if he might explode with ecstasy.
And then it was over. Fuji's lips were gone from his and a sharp burst of air forced itself down Ryoma's air starved throat. His face was hot and his heart beat was almost painful but all he could feel was the lingering electricity that flowed in his blood.
Fuji's eyes met his, and they were still burning, still burning with the same feral need that Ryoma felt would consume him whole.
When the tensai spoke, it was in a throaty whisper. The hand did not remove itself from Ryoma's hip. It snaked into the waist band of Ryoma's pants and rested there.
"Ryoma…you should go home now. It's getting very late."
But Ryoma couldn't even begin to process leaving, not when the tightness in his pants was ground against Fuji's hip every time he shifted his weight.
"I…," he panted, "I don't want to stop…I don't want you to go…"
Fuji's mouth twisted into a wry smile and he let his fingers trail lower, winding themselves in the band of Ryoma's boxers, teasing, careful not to touch the skin. Ryoma groaned in frustration.
"Fuji…"
The tensai chuckled, a low, dark chuckle that made it very difficult for Ryoma to keep his hands to himself.
"I was over the line to have kissed you in the first place. I won't press my luck for one night. Besides…" the tensai lowered his voice, bringing his mouth close to Ryoma's ear. "If we keep going, I don't think I could stop myself."
Ryoma's breath caught in his throat. The carnal need nearly crushed him under its weight and he ground himself closer automatically. It was as if his body has always known how to do this.
"Don't." He whispered, raising his hands and tangling them in the tensai's soaking wet mane. "No one is telling you to stop."
Fuji raised a delicate eyebrow. "Ryoma, it's late. It's raining. And you're confused. A minute ago you wanted to punch my face in, then you cried into my shirt, and now you want to take this further. If you act on impulse you will regret it."
Ryoma dug his nails into his elder's scalp, frustration and indignation rising.
"I'm not confused. I know what I want. What I've wanted from the very beginning. Fuji. I want you. And I'm not confused about that anymore."
Fuji's smile dropped from his face. His eyes glinted, and his mouth curled downwards. Then he heaved a weary sigh.
"Ryoma. You and me…it's not a good idea. Deep down I know you know that."
Golden eyes narrowed and Ryoma dug his nails deeper. Fuji winced.
"No, Fuji. No more games. No more cryptic messages, no more bullshit. For once in your life give a straight answer. You kissed me. You pulled me away from Tezuka because you were jealous of our relationship. You destroyed everything I have ever cared about. And you will answer my fucking question right now."
The tensai's eyes widened and for a split second, it looked as if he might laugh. But then his face grew solemn.
"Very well, Ryoma. But…it is raining and it is late. I promise to answer every question you have. But right now, it is time for you to go home."
Ryoma shut his eyes. All of a sudden he was very, very tired. So much had happened so fast and he had yet to wrap his mind around all of it.
The team was in shambles. Fuji had kissed him…his senpai, his male senpai, had kissed him. So was he gay now? Officially? It was all too much.
"Fine." He mumbled, extracting himself from Fuji's arms and taking a step back. He did not trust himself to stand any closer. "But answer one question now."
The taller boy nodded.
"Tell me what Eiji-senpai meant. Why did you want Tezuka away from me?"
Fuji's face tightened and his eyes seemed to harden. But then the mask broke and the tensai looked every bit as tired as Ryoma felt.
"Tezuka is in love with you, Ryoma. He always has been. I thought that if I allowed you two to remain so close then it would only be a matter of time before you reciprocated his feelings."
Ryoma's mouth fell open. Suddenly, it all seemed to painfully clear. A piece of him snapped and fell into nothing. The look in Tezuka's eyes when he'd chosen Fuji. Now it all made sense.
And it had nothing to do with tennis.
"…So you lied to me?" He whispered, indignation bubbling over. "You manipulated the entire team, destroyed the very fabric of who we are, because you were jealous?"
Fuji nodded, face tight.
"I was worried if I told you before that you'd choose him."
Ryoma gripped the side of his head, headache rising fast.
"Fuji…you're supposed to be a genius. How the fuck could you be so stupid? I never loved Tezuka. It was you, idiot. It was always you…"
And then Fuji's arms were around him again, pulling him tighter, squeezing the air out of him.
"Ryoma…" Fuji mumbled into the top of his hair. "This can't happen, Ryoma. I'm no good for you."
"I don't care." Ryoma growled, winding his finger's in Fuji's soaked shirt. "I've given up everything. And I'm not leaving without you."
Fuji said nothing for a long time. Ryoma didn't know how long they stood there with the rain pounding down on them and the darkness growing ever darker.
Then, finally, he pressed his lips against Ryoma's forehead. The younger boy pulled away, surprised and embarrassed.
"What the fuck?"
Fuji smiled softly, a true, true smile. And it broke Ryoma's heart.
"By the end of all of this…you may want nothing more than to leave without me. But until then…until then, Ryoma, I am yours. And you are mine."
And without another word, the tensai turned and disappeared into the starless night.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading. Please review. The more reviews I get the faster I want to update. I'm sorry it's short! I didn't beta it because I was in such a hurry to get it out! The others will be longer and I will post them faster. The story should be finished by August or September. Thanks!