PoT Fic: for thine eyes are glass, and this my shattered heart [TezuRyo] [PG-13]
Title: for thine eyes are glass, and this my shattered heart
Author: Ria
Disclaimer: Not mine. All Konomi's. Making no profit.
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~1,500
Pairing: Tezuka/Ryoma
Summary: They don't even argue like normal people, and Tezuka has never liked the colour of the curtains.
Notes: Written for the 'Quarrel' theme on pillarchallenge. Thanks again to bookshop and cimorene111 for all their help. :)
for thine eyes are glass, and this my shattered heart
quarrel
n.
An angry dispute; an altercation.
It is brutal, this feeling.
Sometimes, Tezuka can never forget that, though he is Japanese and his name is Japanese, Ryoma was born and raised in America for most of his childhood, and sometimes this is just so blatant that he can only close his eyes and wallow in his chagrin.
They do not argue like other people, or so Fuji says. Their arguments are silence; cloaked daggers; breath caught in one's throat; the tightening and narrowing of one's eyes; the thinning of pressed lips.
They've only ever shouted at each other once, when Momo took Ryoma drinking and Tezuka had to come for them both. Well, Ryoma was the one who shouted, alcohol staining his breath and lips, his words trembling and slurred, loud in the face of Tezuka's calm.
Tezuka turned on his heel and left him where he was, closing the door of the bedroom. Ryoma slept on the couch. Karupin stuck to Tezuka like a fuzzy burr for three days, and Ryoma scowled and sulked and stormed around the house, gasping for fresh air when he escaped outside.
Ryoma has been gone for several hours, now. It's getting dark outside. Tezuka's tea has gone cold, and he grimaces as he sips it, but he can't bring himself to get up and make a fresh pot. He sits at the kitchen table. From a distance, it looks gleaming, immaculate, but on closer inspection, Tezuka can see faint rings from when Ryoma filled the cups too far and tea spilled over, and he didn't bother cleaning it immediately. There are spots and smears from when sauces spattered, and Tezuka can remember almost every event attached to each stain.
Tezuka has never left a stain.
* * * * *
Ryoma is bright and arrogant, sullen and quiet. He likes sleeping too much, playing tennis until his muscles ache, and playing with his cat on the rug. He has particular fondness for Tezuka's left side and, like anyone his age, he is obsessed with sex.
He likes dozing beside Tezuka as he reads the paper. He makes Tezuka read the comic strips aloud.
They sleep in on Sundays until Karupin becomes insistent about being fed again. Ryoma fills his food dish while Tezuka refills his water bowl for him. Karupin usually ends up following them back to bed, a purring presence curled up between them.
Ryoma is everything that Tezuka isn't, but also everything that he is and more.
Tezuka loves him anyway.
* * * * *
Tezuka has never liked the colour of the curtains, something he unwisely let Ryoma pick out. He doesn't say anything about it, however, since arguing about curtains is what old married couples do.
Then, one day, Ryoma is late for his morning practise and can't find his cap, his grip tape, or his usual towel. He hunts and grumbles, and Tezuka pinches his nose, wondering if Ryoma will ever start being punctual for the important things.
He finds the grip tape, puts Ryoma's cap on his head for him, and packs his towel for him. He then tells Ryoma that he hates the colour of the curtains.
Ryoma blinks up at him, frowning. He adjusts his cap slightly, tells him that they'll talk about this later, and rushes out the door.
Tezuka shakes his head and goes to finish his breakfast. He is talking to Karupin when he realises that he and Ryoma have been acting like an old married couple for years.
Karupin chirps and waves his tail.
* * * * *
Night is beginning to fall, and still no sign of him.
Tezuka's hand lingers near the phone. Maybe he should call him.
* * * * *
Momo, Kikumaru and Oishi come over on Sunday afternoons. While Oishi and Tezuka attempt to have an actual conversation, the sounds of hooting and yelling from the other room continually interrupt them. When they finally peer in, they see the three of them gathered around the television, Eiji and Momo tapping furiously at their game controllers. Ryoma, balancing Karupin in his lap, is more careful, observing the screen thoughtfully, and scowling when Eiji and Momo try to bait him into losing.
Oishi always ends up sitting down, watching them and laughing.
All it gives Tezuka is a headache and an hour's worth of cleaning afterwards.
But it makes Ryoma happy, and he doesn't smile genuinely often enough.
* * * * *
On the days when Tezuka doesn't allow Ryoma to oversleep, they play tennis together. Ryoma had insisted they buy a house so he could have a make-shift tennis court in the back, and Tezuka has to admit that it has its advantages.
Ryoma beats him on a Tuesday morning and kisses him afterwards, hands sliding up his shirt. Tezuka shudders and Ryoma smirks, pressing their hips together for a brief moment before walking back into the house.
Tezuka blinks, hard and exhausted.
Brat, he thinks, and follows him inside, making a beeline for the bathroom.
Ryoma brings out the best and the worst in him.
* * * * *
Fuji has unwittingly become something like Tezuka's personal counsellor, though why he decided to study Psychology remains a mystery. Tezuka thinks Fuji probably does more harm than good, but it's different for him because he can deal with Fuji. Somewhat.
Fuji sips his tea. "I suppose he's been sleeping on the couch?"
Tezuka winces. He's never become used to Fuji's desire to talk through his sex life. Thankfully, Fuji never provides any details of his own, which Tezuka thinks would probably give him permanent brain damage.
"He hasn't been home to sleep there," Tezuka replies. "He's either at Momo's or his parents'."
Fuji raises an eyebrow. "Momo hasn't told you?"
Tezuka snorts. "He has no reason to; I can't assign him laps for not telling me where Ryoma is. Regardless, it's not a long-term move," he adds, picking up his cup.
"Oh?" Fuji asks.
Tezuka wordlessly points to Karupin, who is sitting and watching them intently for any potential scraps, his tail waving.
Fuji's smile widens. "Ah." He pauses, and then ventures, "Perhaps you should consider apologising?"
Fuji lets himself out.
* * * * *
They are an open secret in the world of professional tennis, until they move in together and are no longer much of a secret. While it's acceptable for two men to rent an apartment together, buying a house is another step entirely. Add to that the fact that they are tennis players and that there are no girlfriends in sight, and tongues quickly began wagging. Ryoma ignores it; Tezuka tries to; and Nanjiroh and Fuji collect the clippings and keep up to date on the gossip.
Tezuka thinks it's better this way, deep down, even when Ryoma kissed him after the final of the U.S. Open that one time. A lot of money placed on a potential follow-up was lost the next year, when Tezuka had to pull out from the circuit due to injury. Ryoma won, and gave Tezuka the award.
Neither of them knew how to react when their sponsors booked them into one hotel room for Roland Garros, but Ryoma quickly made the best of it.
Ryoma has always been good at making the best of things.
* * * * *
"I suppose you blame me," Tezuka says.
Karupin's eyes widen.
"I suppose it is my fault," Tezuka sighs, kneeling and ripping open the foil packet. The moment the meat touches bowl, Karupin knocks his hand away with his head and dives in.
Tezuka sits back and watches Karupin eat, sighing. "Neither of us ever apologises, though. We just… I don't know."
Karupin slows his eating, briefly, then snorts and returns to his bowl.
"Yes," Tezuka says. "You have your priorities straight."
Karupin ignores him.
"He'll be back, however, since he didn't take you with him. And he obviously trusts me to look after you," Tezuka tells the cat, ignoring the fact that he's also trying to convince himself.
Karupin looks up at him, then, and his expression almost seems to say, He damn well better be back.
* * * * *
Tezuka is asleep, Karupin snoring beside him, when he wakes, his eyes wide in the darkness. For a moment, he can't remember why he woke up, or what has happened. Then he feels a hand against his shoulder and someone shifting behind him in the bed, and he immediately relaxes.
Ryoma mumbles in his sleep and presses closer, his hand sliding down to wrap around Tezuka's. Tezuka sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, before he squeezes Ryoma's hand.
Ryoma presses himself closer, and then mumbles, "Sorry."
Tezuka slowly turns around, and kisses Ryoma on the forehead. So am I, he thinks, and Ryoma smiles.
* * * * *
They change the curtains.
Author: Ria
Disclaimer: Not mine. All Konomi's. Making no profit.
Rating: PG-13
Words: ~1,500
Pairing: Tezuka/Ryoma
Summary: They don't even argue like normal people, and Tezuka has never liked the colour of the curtains.
Notes: Written for the 'Quarrel' theme on pillarchallenge. Thanks again to bookshop and cimorene111 for all their help. :)
for thine eyes are glass, and this my shattered heart
quarrel
n.
An angry dispute; an altercation.
It is brutal, this feeling.
Sometimes, Tezuka can never forget that, though he is Japanese and his name is Japanese, Ryoma was born and raised in America for most of his childhood, and sometimes this is just so blatant that he can only close his eyes and wallow in his chagrin.
They do not argue like other people, or so Fuji says. Their arguments are silence; cloaked daggers; breath caught in one's throat; the tightening and narrowing of one's eyes; the thinning of pressed lips.
They've only ever shouted at each other once, when Momo took Ryoma drinking and Tezuka had to come for them both. Well, Ryoma was the one who shouted, alcohol staining his breath and lips, his words trembling and slurred, loud in the face of Tezuka's calm.
Tezuka turned on his heel and left him where he was, closing the door of the bedroom. Ryoma slept on the couch. Karupin stuck to Tezuka like a fuzzy burr for three days, and Ryoma scowled and sulked and stormed around the house, gasping for fresh air when he escaped outside.
Ryoma has been gone for several hours, now. It's getting dark outside. Tezuka's tea has gone cold, and he grimaces as he sips it, but he can't bring himself to get up and make a fresh pot. He sits at the kitchen table. From a distance, it looks gleaming, immaculate, but on closer inspection, Tezuka can see faint rings from when Ryoma filled the cups too far and tea spilled over, and he didn't bother cleaning it immediately. There are spots and smears from when sauces spattered, and Tezuka can remember almost every event attached to each stain.
Tezuka has never left a stain.
* * * * *
Ryoma is bright and arrogant, sullen and quiet. He likes sleeping too much, playing tennis until his muscles ache, and playing with his cat on the rug. He has particular fondness for Tezuka's left side and, like anyone his age, he is obsessed with sex.
He likes dozing beside Tezuka as he reads the paper. He makes Tezuka read the comic strips aloud.
They sleep in on Sundays until Karupin becomes insistent about being fed again. Ryoma fills his food dish while Tezuka refills his water bowl for him. Karupin usually ends up following them back to bed, a purring presence curled up between them.
Ryoma is everything that Tezuka isn't, but also everything that he is and more.
Tezuka loves him anyway.
* * * * *
Tezuka has never liked the colour of the curtains, something he unwisely let Ryoma pick out. He doesn't say anything about it, however, since arguing about curtains is what old married couples do.
Then, one day, Ryoma is late for his morning practise and can't find his cap, his grip tape, or his usual towel. He hunts and grumbles, and Tezuka pinches his nose, wondering if Ryoma will ever start being punctual for the important things.
He finds the grip tape, puts Ryoma's cap on his head for him, and packs his towel for him. He then tells Ryoma that he hates the colour of the curtains.
Ryoma blinks up at him, frowning. He adjusts his cap slightly, tells him that they'll talk about this later, and rushes out the door.
Tezuka shakes his head and goes to finish his breakfast. He is talking to Karupin when he realises that he and Ryoma have been acting like an old married couple for years.
Karupin chirps and waves his tail.
* * * * *
Night is beginning to fall, and still no sign of him.
Tezuka's hand lingers near the phone. Maybe he should call him.
* * * * *
Momo, Kikumaru and Oishi come over on Sunday afternoons. While Oishi and Tezuka attempt to have an actual conversation, the sounds of hooting and yelling from the other room continually interrupt them. When they finally peer in, they see the three of them gathered around the television, Eiji and Momo tapping furiously at their game controllers. Ryoma, balancing Karupin in his lap, is more careful, observing the screen thoughtfully, and scowling when Eiji and Momo try to bait him into losing.
Oishi always ends up sitting down, watching them and laughing.
All it gives Tezuka is a headache and an hour's worth of cleaning afterwards.
But it makes Ryoma happy, and he doesn't smile genuinely often enough.
* * * * *
On the days when Tezuka doesn't allow Ryoma to oversleep, they play tennis together. Ryoma had insisted they buy a house so he could have a make-shift tennis court in the back, and Tezuka has to admit that it has its advantages.
Ryoma beats him on a Tuesday morning and kisses him afterwards, hands sliding up his shirt. Tezuka shudders and Ryoma smirks, pressing their hips together for a brief moment before walking back into the house.
Tezuka blinks, hard and exhausted.
Brat, he thinks, and follows him inside, making a beeline for the bathroom.
Ryoma brings out the best and the worst in him.
* * * * *
Fuji has unwittingly become something like Tezuka's personal counsellor, though why he decided to study Psychology remains a mystery. Tezuka thinks Fuji probably does more harm than good, but it's different for him because he can deal with Fuji. Somewhat.
Fuji sips his tea. "I suppose he's been sleeping on the couch?"
Tezuka winces. He's never become used to Fuji's desire to talk through his sex life. Thankfully, Fuji never provides any details of his own, which Tezuka thinks would probably give him permanent brain damage.
"He hasn't been home to sleep there," Tezuka replies. "He's either at Momo's or his parents'."
Fuji raises an eyebrow. "Momo hasn't told you?"
Tezuka snorts. "He has no reason to; I can't assign him laps for not telling me where Ryoma is. Regardless, it's not a long-term move," he adds, picking up his cup.
"Oh?" Fuji asks.
Tezuka wordlessly points to Karupin, who is sitting and watching them intently for any potential scraps, his tail waving.
Fuji's smile widens. "Ah." He pauses, and then ventures, "Perhaps you should consider apologising?"
Fuji lets himself out.
* * * * *
They are an open secret in the world of professional tennis, until they move in together and are no longer much of a secret. While it's acceptable for two men to rent an apartment together, buying a house is another step entirely. Add to that the fact that they are tennis players and that there are no girlfriends in sight, and tongues quickly began wagging. Ryoma ignores it; Tezuka tries to; and Nanjiroh and Fuji collect the clippings and keep up to date on the gossip.
Tezuka thinks it's better this way, deep down, even when Ryoma kissed him after the final of the U.S. Open that one time. A lot of money placed on a potential follow-up was lost the next year, when Tezuka had to pull out from the circuit due to injury. Ryoma won, and gave Tezuka the award.
Neither of them knew how to react when their sponsors booked them into one hotel room for Roland Garros, but Ryoma quickly made the best of it.
Ryoma has always been good at making the best of things.
* * * * *
"I suppose you blame me," Tezuka says.
Karupin's eyes widen.
"I suppose it is my fault," Tezuka sighs, kneeling and ripping open the foil packet. The moment the meat touches bowl, Karupin knocks his hand away with his head and dives in.
Tezuka sits back and watches Karupin eat, sighing. "Neither of us ever apologises, though. We just… I don't know."
Karupin slows his eating, briefly, then snorts and returns to his bowl.
"Yes," Tezuka says. "You have your priorities straight."
Karupin ignores him.
"He'll be back, however, since he didn't take you with him. And he obviously trusts me to look after you," Tezuka tells the cat, ignoring the fact that he's also trying to convince himself.
Karupin looks up at him, then, and his expression almost seems to say, He damn well better be back.
* * * * *
Tezuka is asleep, Karupin snoring beside him, when he wakes, his eyes wide in the darkness. For a moment, he can't remember why he woke up, or what has happened. Then he feels a hand against his shoulder and someone shifting behind him in the bed, and he immediately relaxes.
Ryoma mumbles in his sleep and presses closer, his hand sliding down to wrap around Tezuka's. Tezuka sighs, closing his eyes for a moment, before he squeezes Ryoma's hand.
Ryoma presses himself closer, and then mumbles, "Sorry."
Tezuka slowly turns around, and kisses Ryoma on the forehead. So am I, he thinks, and Ryoma smiles.
* * * * *
They change the curtains.