Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, no real humans were used to make this story and the characters featured in this piece of work do not belong to me. Also, I do not make any profit from this.

Warning: possible grammar and spelling mistakes, as well as missing letters and/or words.

There will also be detailed sex scenes and possible violence, as well as bad language and slang words. This is/will be an mpreg (male pregnancy) story, so if this offends you please do not read it and turn back now.

Thank you for your understanding.

Chapter Seven: And Yet, The Rain Still Pours.

"Come on brat, you can't be getting sick now." Ryoga worriedly said to himself, since the three year old in his arms probably didn't hear him anymore.

The little boy had fallen asleep at some point when his temperature was being measured. The little coughs that Shuya now had didn't calm the eldest of the two Echizen sons down; it just increased his uneasiness and fear that the little kid was sick.

Since Shuya wasn't exactly the healthiest kid around the chance that a simple cold could turn into something serious was so big that Ryoma usually lived as if needles were under his feet. The simplest things might be dangerous for his little boy and he was to be blamed for it.

Because Ryoma, originally male, had carried and given birth to Shuya.

The doctor that had taken charge of Ryoma, a nice man that didn't judge and spread the information about such a rarity around the news and whatnot, had told the youngest Echizen about the dangers that could await his child in the future, the possible things that he might not have, unlike other children, simply because the one giving birth to him was not meant to do that originally. The risk factors and all the possible diseases that Shuya might have been born with didn't come true. But still, his immune system was not as strong as that of a child that has been carried by a woman.

And yet, Ryoma didn't care and still fought his way through nine months of difficulties, visits to the doctor, the shunning and freaked out stares of those around him and the endless fear about the wellbeing on his child. And he still continues to fight.

"Damn." Ryoga cursed after seeing the red numbers on the thermometer that showed Shuya's body temperature (its increase to be more exact). He pushed the little boy a bit higher up in his arms, so that the child's head was lying on his shoulder now and grabbed his cell phone and car keys from the small table next to the doors of his apartment.

The keys clinked as he locked the door, his feet still trying to get comfortable into the old sneakers that he had negligently slipped on as he tried to get out of the door. More silent curses resonated in the empty staircase.

The moment that the lock clicked two times in a row did Ryoga slide the keys in the pocket of his ripped jeans and made his way down the stairs, trying to close his jacket at the same time. The bundle in his arms didn't help in the process, Shuya's jacket getting in the way too, so he eventually gave up on closing it altogether. The air was cold, even if they still were inside the old apartment complex, so Ryoga kind of guessed that it will be even colder outside, his fingers were already fumbling over Shuya's hat just in case.

"Shitty cold, shitty sicknesses. Now is really not the right time for this brat. Your daddy has to finally end his own affairs `ya know. Shit." Ryoga hissed when the heavy metal door bumped against his back, but he didn't stop and let the pain become more aware. "I hate cold."

He got to his car, though, the cold water and mud from the puddles splashing around him as he ran through them dirtied his pants and shoes, and strapped Shuya to the baby safety chair. After making sure that his brother's kid is safely secured to the chair Ryoga got in the driver's seat and turned on the engine.

He took a look at the mirror that reflected the back seat and frowned. "You better get things done on your end lil` bro."

By the time that they got to the small café the sky had turned from a depressing grey color to a strange mix of grey and black, the raindrops now falling down from the clouded sky in numbers that couldn't be counted and soaked everything that they touched, from people to buildings and cars and streets.

Keigo led the two of them to a secluded area where no one would pay attention to their talk nor notice exactly who they were. Besides, the few of the customers that were present didn't look like they cared much about what was going on around them. Their own little worlds seemed to be more interesting than the reality that they lived in.

"Would you like to order something sirs?" The waitress, a dark-haired girl with glasses and a kind smile on her freckled face, asked. She was holding a small notebook in one hand and a pen in the other, ready to write down their orders. "Maybe you would like today's special?"

Keigo took one look at the menu in front of him and sighed, "Just coffee. A black one." He was used to different kind of meals, not the usual, commoner ones.

"And for you sir?" the girl turned her big, black eyes on Ryoma, who hadn't even opened his menu.

"Green tea." He crossed his arms in front of him and then added, "And Caesar salad."

She smiled and bowed a little, the black bangs falling in front of her face as she did so. "Thank you for your order, it will be here shortly." After straightening up she ripped off the small piece of paper from her notebook and swiftly walked in the direction of the kitchen.

The two men stayed silent, unable to start a conversation now that they were alone. Things were still awkward between them and the scars still hurt even after all this time.

"Echizen, I know that you probably don't want to talk to me and-" Keigo started, knowing that Ryoma probably won't say a word any other way.

"But you still made me." The model didn't let Keigo finish. "Why did I even came with you? This will probably be a waste of time anyway." He sneered and turned his face away from his formed lover.

Even if Keigo was ready for this kind of attitude from Ryoma he still twisted his face in a slightly pained expression. "I want to apologize to you. For everything."

"It's a bit too late for that, don't you think?" Ryoma threw back, his eyes still looking at the couple in the other corner of the room. The pair was holing each other's hands and sending those silent 'I love you-s' and 'I love you two-s' to each other.

"I know, I know. But at that time I… I was too…" Keigo tried to find the right words to say, but none came to him. "I was lost and didn't realize that what I was doing could, no, would be noticed and that you…" he once again stopped, unable to continue.

Ryoma made a quiet laughing sound that spoke of sarcasm and when he finally looked away from the seemingly happy couple his golden eyes burned with hate towards the man sitting across the table from him. "You were no better than a cheap whore, though, I bet you were, and still are, lower than even that. Just because of that accident you-"

"Here are your orders sirs." The same glasses wearing waitress interrupted the two with her quiet voice. She was still wearing the kind business smile as she placed the cups of coffee and tea and salad on their table and bowed before leaving.

Ryoma took a sip of his tea and then pulled the bowl of salad closer. "Either way, I don't want you, or need you, so leave me alone." He picked up the fork and started to lazily poke the salad leaves with it.

"It wasn't because of that. It wasn't." Keigo said and raised the steaming cup of coffee to his lips. He let it hover like that, in the air, as if thinking something over. "In the least, that wasn't the only reason." He finally said and drank the black liquid.

The model was still poking his salad with the fork, when he made a face of disgust. "You want to tell me that it wasn't just because of the fact that I will never again play tennis in my life? Then tell me," he stabbed the fork through some of the salad leaved and raised it, "what else was there? Sex?"

"Also." Keigo had decided that he won't lie to Ryoma, not anymore. If he wanted to maybe one day earn his trust again he needed to be truthful to his former lover. No lies. "It was because at that time you lost your worth in my eyes, the reason why I dated you in the first place and… And then everything fell apart."

Ryoma chewed and swallowed, his eyes frozen on the salad. "So the only thing that had some worth in me was tennis. Tennis and how good I was in the bed, huh. That's just… disgusting." He whispered the last part out and tried to hold back the hollow laughs that threatened to escape from deep inside of him. "So I was just about tennis and sex."

"No. It wasn't like that. At first… At first, when we just started to date." Keigo swallowed, "I didn't know any better. Everything happened so fast and together at that time, so I just.. Stopped thinking about you and me. And the consequences of things."

"And slept with every single living thing in the whole Japan?" Ryoma didn't try to hide the hate and disgust that he felt. "I'm starting be kind of glad that I dumped you. Well, you would have left me after finding out about that thing anyway." His lips twitched.

Great, Ryoma thought to himself with some sort of amusement, I almost told him about Shuya. What the hell do I want to get by telling that bastard about my… his son… I'm just pathetic. He sipped some of his tea and tried not to look at the man sitting on the other side of the table.

Keigo frowned. "What?"

The model finally looked at Keigo again; a shadow of the smirk he once owned was playing on the corners of his lips. "Like I will tell you now."

Uncomfortable silence once again settled between them, like a wall that kept everything out of your reach and denied what you wanted the most. They sat like that, both of them thinking about different things that somehow led to the same problem.

"Look, Echizen. I know that what I did and what happened was plain wrong and I will not try to talk my way out of the guilt or justify my actions but..." Keigo said after that tense moment of silence, accepting the fact that Ryoma will most probably refuse to talk about himself more. "I need you. After this time I understood that I need you so much. It's almost suffocating."

Ryoma made a face, trying hard to tell himself that everything that came out of Keigo's mouth was nothing but a lie. He still held some feeling towards the rich man in front of him; Ryoma won't deny that, but… he didn't want to be hurt again. He didn't want to cry again.

"I…." he got quiet again; his hands that were now resting in his lap clutched the jeans he was wearing, "…hate you. I really do hate you."

The salad and both cups of the semi-warm liquids lay forgotten on the table between the two. The only two things that filled the silence were the quiet, old love songs that came from the old-looking speakers in the corners of the café and the heavy raindrops that were beating against the large windows.

A/N: This will be all for this chapter. And crappy title is crappy.

I will be needing a bit of your help though. What do you think, what kind of leg injury would make it impossible to play tennis? Forever. I'm a bad author and haven't thought that one thing out yet + my medical knowledge stops at being able to tell the difference between a cold and when a finger is cut.

Thank you beforehand. :)