[Fanfic] Replacement Proposal -HE version-
Title: Replacement Proposal
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairings: Sanada x Yanagi. Pseudo Sanada x Yukimura. One-sided Inui x Yanagi.
Rating: R-15
Summary: You are a replacement to me, just like I am a replacement to you. It is a fact that needs no proof because we both know it to be true.
Notes: 悶騷攻, 冰山受, HE?
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
Inspired by Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance."
NOTES: College timeline. Mental turmoils. Hints of lime. ANGST.
Sanada POV. Yukimura doesn't actually make an appearance in this fic. Neither does Inui.
For those of you who have been waiting for an update, I sincerely thank you for your patience. I hope this fic will provide you with some entertainment. Now, please enjoy slowly for full effect.
Replacement Proposal
He was sick.
He knew he was. Some sort of sickness had invaded his mind and contaminated his dreams.
Sanada dreamed of that certain cerulean-haired boy whose image his mind refused to discard even when unconscious. In his dreams, he was doing something to the other. That something was inappropriate between people of their gender. That something was detrimental to the other's fragile body.
In his dream, he attained physical satisfaction.
Yet, the sticky discomfort he awoke to mocked and humiliated him.
...
Everyone eagerly made sacrifices for independence.
Ironically, in the end, however, some would come to question whether it had really been worthwhile in the first place.
Upon his entrance to college, Sanada proposed to leave home like his brother before him, for the contribution it would make to his independence as a man. Both his father and grandfather agreed without argument.
Sanada invited Renji to live with him.
Because he was the only one he could ask. He was the only one attending the same college.
Everyone else traveled elsewhere. Everyone else, including their cerulean-haired friend.
The former Rikkai Regulars who once stuck together in a tight pack of alliance now dissipated.
Everyone traveled a different path. Everyone sought a different destination. Everyone, including their cerulean-haired friend.
To him, bidding farewell to that boy was like bidding a dream farewell. Dream always appeared brightest and most magnificent when one waved them goodbye.
Only he and Renji remained together. Only they had the same destination.
For some reason, the idea calmed his disappointment, his regret of being unable to walk beside the one he wanted to follow.
...
Insomnia was a visitor who never made appointments for rendezvous.
Introduced by fortune, he received insomnia as his guest one night.
After endless hours of tossing and turning, he finally decided to stay up to begin the paper his history professor assigned.
Full-time college students valued precious sleep time. Many did not have enough idle time for it. Ironically, those who did have time, chose to bed worry and anxiety instead.
After a page of scribbles and scratches, he noticed his thirst and went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.
The door to Renji's room stood ajar when he passed it.
He heard heavy panting accompanying the tortured squeaks from the springs of a cheap mattress. He saw the other's body tremble violently as if in convulsion. Concerned, he entered the room.
"Renji..." Sanada began. He froze when he realized what the other was doing.
His eyes widened.
The other slammed his eyes shut so forcefully that he made deep indentations between his brows. He watched white serpents of passion slither down the other's hand as endearment escaped the other's lips, "Sadaharu..."
Then, the other awoke from his trance, his eyes opening to stare directly into his surprised ones.
Disgust distorted his face. Anger retrieved his voice. "Have you no shame?"
The other's calm and apathy proved his words to be a harmless attack. Renji sat up slowly, adjusting his sleep pants. Pulling a tissue from a box beside his bed, he answered lazily. "Everyone has secrets..."
The contemptuous gleam in his amber eyes dared him to deny such statement. That look made him gulp down the protest at the tip of his tongue.
"Don't tell me you don't have your own sick fantasies."
...
If insomnia had a twin, it would be change.
Change, like insomnia, many times arrived unannounced.
It was unfortunate that some people could not adapt to its presence promptly.
After that incident, he dreamed the same dreams of that certain cerulean-haired boy. Yet, those dreams evolved into something else once that spring of his prized memories dried up and became a barren wasteland.
In his dream, he did not attain physical satisfaction.
Yet, the same state of sticky discomfort remained unchanged when he awoke in the morning.
Maybe illusions no longer satisfied his mind; it could now tell the difference between dream and reality.
...
If Renji could, then why couldn't he?
...
If many things could be accomplished individually, why did people still form alliances and partnerships?
Every history textbook proved, no great civilization consisted of a single man.
At first, he chose to disregard the other's twisted habit.
Then, he remembered, he was sick. He was sick, mentally.
His body sought physical gratification. But self-gratification could not satisfy his mind.
The liquid heat of his release dripping from his hand matched the stickiness he awoke to in the mornings after his dreams.
As fulfilling as release felt, it was still empty.
What he really desired was not the feel of his own heat, but the warmth of another.
Isolation could only be cured with company.
"You want to forget the one from your past." It wasn't a question. It was an offer he made, as awkward as it sounded. Its unapparent presentation protected his pride and dignity.
He could not bring himself to as low as to demanding sex.
But he knew the other would understand. The other always did. He was sharp.
The other looked at him with the same calm and indifferent face, as if he had expected such a proposal all along.
Nothing escaped his calculations and expectations. "In truth, that is only your secondary intention. Your true intention... You must also want to forget a certain someone from your past, from our past."
He sprung up like a threatened cat. "That is not-...!"
Renji cut him off. "It is fine. You will be a replacement to me, and in return, I will serve as a replacement for you. That way, both of us are satisfied."
...
It seemed amazing how deprivation and neglect could generate a positive product.
The fountain he stored his memories of that certain cerulean-haired boy dried up.
In its place, a single memory of his youth sprouted until it grew to a fertile forest, something he had no intention of constructing.
It appeared as if his dreams went through some sort of purification. Those pointless wet dreams that he had been getting before, became but innocent remembrances and sepia flashbacks of his neglected past, of his childhood with Renji before the other had moved away to Tokyo. They included mellow moments he shared with the other through junior high and beyond that only resulted in the fortifying of their relationship foundation.
Those were the memories that were deprived his attention when his mind refused to forsaken the image of that cerulean-haired boy even only momentarily.
He did not attain physical satisfaction from these new memories, but his mind received a small measure of peace.
When he regained consciousness, there was no sticky discomfort that often resulted from his dreams from before.
And he thought back to the other's accusation, to how he, too, used him as a replacement for another.
If this was so, then why didn't his perverted dreams of that certain cerulean-haired boy merely be replaced with perverted dreams of the other?
...
Success became the magnifying glass for failure.
His academic achievements accentuated the decline in his relationship with the other.
If initiating the co-beneficiary relationship was much like falling into an abyss, then he was nearing the end of the pit. Or so, he thought.
At the height of their intimacy, his heard the other murmur another name.
"...Sadaharu..."
That name numbed him, destroying the bliss he usually experienced in his release. His sight could only focus on the erratic rises and falls of his roommate's chest as the other pumped oxygen back into his lungs.
"You were thinking of him again." What was meant to be discharged into their conversation as a statement became an accusation instead.
A pause. "Was that not the reason we engaged in such an activity in the first place?"
The other's aloofness fueled his irritation. "Have you no shame?"
Renji turned to him, unmoved. "What about you? What does that make you then? Don't tell me that the whole time you were doing such a thing with me, you were not thinking of someone else."
"…"
"...You are a replacement to me... Just like I am a replacement to you..." Sarcasm lifted one lip corner. "I thought we agreed on this already."
He wanted to yell, to argue with him. "No, that's not why I engaged in such an activity with you in the first place!"
But he doesn't say anything. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't say anything.
He did not know whether his silence meant that he agreed with the other, or he was just too upset to voice his dissatisfaction.
Renji must have assumed the former. He leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Of course, it will be fine if you want to call out that certain name when we do this."
His fists balled as if he was strangling Renji's words in his palms. Climbing out of bed, he snatched his clothes up from the floor. He stomped out of the room because he knew what his fists were capable of doing if he didn't.
He did not want to lose a battle against his temper.
...
He awakes.
There is no one in bed with him. It made last night seem like a passing dream.
...
Aesthetic practices were only privileges, luxuries, granted to students in small blocks of leisure time on the weekends.
It was only when he found the other in a quiet corner in the living room conducting tea ceremony that he remembered it was the weekend.
Sanada looked at the formal, proper Renji before him. He acted as if nothing happened the previous night. He acted as if he was still that Renji from junior high: the Renji that he thought he knew.
The quiet Renji. The reasonable Renji. The proper Renji.
Then, their relationship happened.
The Renji from the past now becomes the Renji now.
The stranger.
Rage stirred up a commotion in his gut. 'This is not you! You're fake.'
He rushed over to that once undisturbed, quiet corner, plowing through and knocking over the other's setup like a madman.
"You're a liar! You're a fake!"
Out of control, he lunged at his roommate and pressed him to the floor.
He pulled at the tidy folds and creases of Renji's dark kimono to reveal the sunlight-deprived pale flesh beneath. The fresh red marks upon the smooth skin served as the only evidence that proved yesterday's existence; last night wasn't just another dream.
Though, even without proof, he knows that last night was not a dream, for he had never had perverted dreams of the other. It was only in reality, only during their activity that the scenes playing before him are sick and perverted.
"You are not the Renji I know."
The other replied to his accusation with a mere curve of lips.
He could almost say that it looked sad. Almost.
Renji did not struggle, did not push him off. He just laid there.
"Then... who is the Renji you know? Maybe you don't even know who Renji is." The other peered up at him in a nonchalant manner through the crescent cracks of his eyes. "Just like, I do not know who you really are, either."
Renji's hand reached out unhurriedly to seal his vision in darkness. "It is ironic that you cannot see the real me, while all along you have been using your eyes to look at the one I was to replace."
Through the darkness Renji creates with his hands covering his eyes, he sees a door.
It was the structure he saw often when he walked by the other's room that indicated to him of the other's rejection for physical contact that day. The other was busy with school work.
Behind the door, was the other at his best, in the best qualities he remembers admiring about him: patient, studious, diligent.
He had not seen such a sight of the other ever since college, ever since they chose to major different subjects, ever since they stopped studying together.
...
Sanada didn't dream.
Because he didn't sleep.
"You are but a replacement to me... Just like I am but a replacement to you."
Renji words combined into a spell. That spell cursed him with insomnia.
So, to smother the irksome voice in his mind, he diverted his attention to his school work.
Sometimes, he gets so tired that he falls asleep right on his study table.
He was used to waking up upon the pillow of books atop his desk.
As he scurries to gather up his books during those mornings, he doesn't have time to think about the dreams he had the previous night.
In his fatigue and rush, he could barely concentrate enough to recall if he even had any.
...
Winter approached.
All the trees and shrubs trembled, losing their vibrant-colored leaves upon feeling the chilly presence.
It was almost final exams week.
He spends the majority of his time in the library, burying his face in books and papers and sitting at a corner table, isolated from all the other students.
After that day, he tried to spend as little time as possible at the apartment.
Because he was in poverty of speech. Because he was in poverty of actions.
He was only in poverty when he faced the other.
Finally, after hours of hovering over his work, he looked up from the text he highlighted to rest his eyes.
He spotted a familiar figure afar. He didn't know whether it was the distance that made his figure appear more delicate than usual or whether it had been the overwhelming combination of school work, sleep deprivation, and nutritional imbalance.
He studied the other's serious face, as if studying an important component in his textbook. The other, deeply absorbed in his own studies, took no notice of him.
He gets the illusion that they were back to the old times when they sat together, one across another, studying together.
It almost resembled the past, minus the distance.
His thoughts were interrupted when he saw the other rise from his seat. The other would arrange for his departure, he assumed. Most of the other students had already left after dark.
Yet, the other did not collect the materials still lying on the table. He realized, then, the other was not yet leaving.
He rose to pursue the other.
Upon entering the public bathroom, his eyes immediately found his companion at the sink meticulously washing his hands.
When the other hesitated, seeing his reflection in the mirror, he takes the opportunity to pull him by his wrist into a stall, locking the door behind them.
The other was still as calm as always. He wondered what he has to do to break through the icy thickness of his façade.
Opening his mouth to speak, Renji's voice sounded mirthless. "Let go."
Like him, the other hated to be interrupted during his studies. His insides stirred impatiently in excitement when familiarity moved him.
He recognized this Renji.
Liberated from his previous discontent, he pressed him up against the wall and sealed the lips only capable of muttering freezing words.
Renji struggled, but still could not free himself.
Eventually, he pulled away. A glimpse at fatigue's shadow under his companion's eyes elicited some feelings of guilt. But he doesn't let go.
"You will not choose a more appropriate time for this, will you?" Completely surrendering his struggles, Renji turned away in displeasure. "Make it quick."
Having hypothesized that it was highly unlikely someone would intrude at this time perhaps became the other's only reason for allowing him to proceed.
He gave him no time to fantasize, no time to prepare, no time to become the replacement he agreed upon becoming. He quickly ripped away the fabric that concealed his skin.
As he watched the other bite back his moans stubbornly, he only tightened his grip on the other's hips and quickened his rhythm.
...
This ends now. Today.
...
The final exams ended as unexpectedly as they started.
Not only the final exams, actually. The entire first semester of college ended as unexpectedly as it started.
He became the first one to arrive back at their apartment after his own exams.
The strange feeling of light relief was something he was unfamiliar and unaccustomed to.
Thinking no more, he entered the kitchen to make dinner preparations.
The beat of his knife on the wooden cutting board is interrupted by the thud from the front door. He exited the kitchen to watch Renji making his way to his room lethargically.
Almost automatically, his feet propelled him forward as he followed Renji to his room.
Renji fell asleep the moment he collapsed onto his bed. Being thoughtful, he covered him with a blanket.
As he watched his companion's sleeping face, he mused: This was the true Renji. Even though it was not the Renji he came to know after all these years.
College made him more delicate, more vulnerable from the impact of its heavy duties and responsibilities.
While families and friends supported their invincibility in junior high and high school, college shattered their scrupulously assembled might.
They were but average college students struggling to adapt to another transition in life after having separated from the support systems they came to know all this time.
As if mesmerized by the other's tranquil face, he sank down carefully on the bed beside the other.
"I don't care about the person you were from yesterday. I don't care about the person you were from years ago." He began solemnly, voice as hushed as a faint whisper. "If you claim that I do not know you all this time, then let me meet you again. And I shall introduce myself to you again."
He paused, as if waiting for the other's approval. The approval that would not come because deep slumber deafened the other.
One mouth corner lifted in a half-smile of self-mockery.
"So, will you introduce me to yourself, to Yanagi Renji? Will you only let me see Yanagi Renji, and not anyone but Yanagi Renji? And I will be Sanada Genichirou. I will not be anyone but myself."
A pause, still.
Silence, still.
Then, a sigh. Disappointment released through exhalation.
He decided to allow his monologue to serve as practice, something that he needed greatly because his lack in proper communication skills.
Meanwhile, he reached out to take the other's hand in his. It was the first time he held the other's hand.
It gave him the illusion that they were confidants, instead of strangers whose relationship was built upon mutual physical satisfaction.
NOTES:
This fic is the byproduct of my disappointment after reading another fanfic, "Secret Window." It's a Chinese PoT fic. Similarly, that was also a "replacement" fic. But, the ending was less optimistic. I really wanted to make up for it.
Can you tell how much I believe in the psychology of dreams based on this piece?
Also, this fic actually has two versions. The one posted here is what I call "an ending open to interpretation." The "bad ending" version is in the next entry.
Just a side note, I still will not be able to resume regular updates. My final exams are just around the corner. (cries)
In addition, LESSON OF THE DAY (what the hell is this?): Don't procrastinate! The longer you wait on getting something done, the less you would want to do it. Maybe, in the end, you won't even finish it. It's just a thought I got after finally finishing this fic. I had the outline sitting in my computer the entire time...
Special Recommendation: "Faultlines," a Tezuka x Oishi fanfic. It is on a website called "Destiny Interrupted." And yes, I was inspired by that fic to continue this fic.
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairings: Sanada x Yanagi. Pseudo Sanada x Yukimura. One-sided Inui x Yanagi.
Rating: R-15
Summary: You are a replacement to me, just like I am a replacement to you. It is a fact that needs no proof because we both know it to be true.
Notes: 悶騷攻, 冰山受, HE?
Disclaimer: Standard disclaimer applies.
Inspired by Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance."
NOTES: College timeline. Mental turmoils. Hints of lime. ANGST.
Sanada POV. Yukimura doesn't actually make an appearance in this fic. Neither does Inui.
For those of you who have been waiting for an update, I sincerely thank you for your patience. I hope this fic will provide you with some entertainment. Now, please enjoy slowly for full effect.
Replacement Proposal
He was sick.
He knew he was. Some sort of sickness had invaded his mind and contaminated his dreams.
Sanada dreamed of that certain cerulean-haired boy whose image his mind refused to discard even when unconscious. In his dreams, he was doing something to the other. That something was inappropriate between people of their gender. That something was detrimental to the other's fragile body.
In his dream, he attained physical satisfaction.
Yet, the sticky discomfort he awoke to mocked and humiliated him.
...
Everyone eagerly made sacrifices for independence.
Ironically, in the end, however, some would come to question whether it had really been worthwhile in the first place.
Upon his entrance to college, Sanada proposed to leave home like his brother before him, for the contribution it would make to his independence as a man. Both his father and grandfather agreed without argument.
Sanada invited Renji to live with him.
Because he was the only one he could ask. He was the only one attending the same college.
Everyone else traveled elsewhere. Everyone else, including their cerulean-haired friend.
The former Rikkai Regulars who once stuck together in a tight pack of alliance now dissipated.
Everyone traveled a different path. Everyone sought a different destination. Everyone, including their cerulean-haired friend.
To him, bidding farewell to that boy was like bidding a dream farewell. Dream always appeared brightest and most magnificent when one waved them goodbye.
Only he and Renji remained together. Only they had the same destination.
For some reason, the idea calmed his disappointment, his regret of being unable to walk beside the one he wanted to follow.
...
Insomnia was a visitor who never made appointments for rendezvous.
Introduced by fortune, he received insomnia as his guest one night.
After endless hours of tossing and turning, he finally decided to stay up to begin the paper his history professor assigned.
Full-time college students valued precious sleep time. Many did not have enough idle time for it. Ironically, those who did have time, chose to bed worry and anxiety instead.
After a page of scribbles and scratches, he noticed his thirst and went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water.
The door to Renji's room stood ajar when he passed it.
He heard heavy panting accompanying the tortured squeaks from the springs of a cheap mattress. He saw the other's body tremble violently as if in convulsion. Concerned, he entered the room.
"Renji..." Sanada began. He froze when he realized what the other was doing.
His eyes widened.
The other slammed his eyes shut so forcefully that he made deep indentations between his brows. He watched white serpents of passion slither down the other's hand as endearment escaped the other's lips, "Sadaharu..."
Then, the other awoke from his trance, his eyes opening to stare directly into his surprised ones.
Disgust distorted his face. Anger retrieved his voice. "Have you no shame?"
The other's calm and apathy proved his words to be a harmless attack. Renji sat up slowly, adjusting his sleep pants. Pulling a tissue from a box beside his bed, he answered lazily. "Everyone has secrets..."
The contemptuous gleam in his amber eyes dared him to deny such statement. That look made him gulp down the protest at the tip of his tongue.
"Don't tell me you don't have your own sick fantasies."
...
If insomnia had a twin, it would be change.
Change, like insomnia, many times arrived unannounced.
It was unfortunate that some people could not adapt to its presence promptly.
After that incident, he dreamed the same dreams of that certain cerulean-haired boy. Yet, those dreams evolved into something else once that spring of his prized memories dried up and became a barren wasteland.
In his dream, he did not attain physical satisfaction.
Yet, the same state of sticky discomfort remained unchanged when he awoke in the morning.
Maybe illusions no longer satisfied his mind; it could now tell the difference between dream and reality.
...
If Renji could, then why couldn't he?
...
If many things could be accomplished individually, why did people still form alliances and partnerships?
Every history textbook proved, no great civilization consisted of a single man.
At first, he chose to disregard the other's twisted habit.
Then, he remembered, he was sick. He was sick, mentally.
His body sought physical gratification. But self-gratification could not satisfy his mind.
The liquid heat of his release dripping from his hand matched the stickiness he awoke to in the mornings after his dreams.
As fulfilling as release felt, it was still empty.
What he really desired was not the feel of his own heat, but the warmth of another.
Isolation could only be cured with company.
"You want to forget the one from your past." It wasn't a question. It was an offer he made, as awkward as it sounded. Its unapparent presentation protected his pride and dignity.
He could not bring himself to as low as to demanding sex.
But he knew the other would understand. The other always did. He was sharp.
The other looked at him with the same calm and indifferent face, as if he had expected such a proposal all along.
Nothing escaped his calculations and expectations. "In truth, that is only your secondary intention. Your true intention... You must also want to forget a certain someone from your past, from our past."
He sprung up like a threatened cat. "That is not-...!"
Renji cut him off. "It is fine. You will be a replacement to me, and in return, I will serve as a replacement for you. That way, both of us are satisfied."
...
It seemed amazing how deprivation and neglect could generate a positive product.
The fountain he stored his memories of that certain cerulean-haired boy dried up.
In its place, a single memory of his youth sprouted until it grew to a fertile forest, something he had no intention of constructing.
It appeared as if his dreams went through some sort of purification. Those pointless wet dreams that he had been getting before, became but innocent remembrances and sepia flashbacks of his neglected past, of his childhood with Renji before the other had moved away to Tokyo. They included mellow moments he shared with the other through junior high and beyond that only resulted in the fortifying of their relationship foundation.
Those were the memories that were deprived his attention when his mind refused to forsaken the image of that cerulean-haired boy even only momentarily.
He did not attain physical satisfaction from these new memories, but his mind received a small measure of peace.
When he regained consciousness, there was no sticky discomfort that often resulted from his dreams from before.
And he thought back to the other's accusation, to how he, too, used him as a replacement for another.
If this was so, then why didn't his perverted dreams of that certain cerulean-haired boy merely be replaced with perverted dreams of the other?
...
Success became the magnifying glass for failure.
His academic achievements accentuated the decline in his relationship with the other.
If initiating the co-beneficiary relationship was much like falling into an abyss, then he was nearing the end of the pit. Or so, he thought.
At the height of their intimacy, his heard the other murmur another name.
"...Sadaharu..."
That name numbed him, destroying the bliss he usually experienced in his release. His sight could only focus on the erratic rises and falls of his roommate's chest as the other pumped oxygen back into his lungs.
"You were thinking of him again." What was meant to be discharged into their conversation as a statement became an accusation instead.
A pause. "Was that not the reason we engaged in such an activity in the first place?"
The other's aloofness fueled his irritation. "Have you no shame?"
Renji turned to him, unmoved. "What about you? What does that make you then? Don't tell me that the whole time you were doing such a thing with me, you were not thinking of someone else."
"…"
"...You are a replacement to me... Just like I am a replacement to you..." Sarcasm lifted one lip corner. "I thought we agreed on this already."
He wanted to yell, to argue with him. "No, that's not why I engaged in such an activity with you in the first place!"
But he doesn't say anything. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't say anything.
He did not know whether his silence meant that he agreed with the other, or he was just too upset to voice his dissatisfaction.
Renji must have assumed the former. He leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Of course, it will be fine if you want to call out that certain name when we do this."
His fists balled as if he was strangling Renji's words in his palms. Climbing out of bed, he snatched his clothes up from the floor. He stomped out of the room because he knew what his fists were capable of doing if he didn't.
He did not want to lose a battle against his temper.
...
He awakes.
There is no one in bed with him. It made last night seem like a passing dream.
...
Aesthetic practices were only privileges, luxuries, granted to students in small blocks of leisure time on the weekends.
It was only when he found the other in a quiet corner in the living room conducting tea ceremony that he remembered it was the weekend.
Sanada looked at the formal, proper Renji before him. He acted as if nothing happened the previous night. He acted as if he was still that Renji from junior high: the Renji that he thought he knew.
The quiet Renji. The reasonable Renji. The proper Renji.
Then, their relationship happened.
The Renji from the past now becomes the Renji now.
The stranger.
Rage stirred up a commotion in his gut. 'This is not you! You're fake.'
He rushed over to that once undisturbed, quiet corner, plowing through and knocking over the other's setup like a madman.
"You're a liar! You're a fake!"
Out of control, he lunged at his roommate and pressed him to the floor.
He pulled at the tidy folds and creases of Renji's dark kimono to reveal the sunlight-deprived pale flesh beneath. The fresh red marks upon the smooth skin served as the only evidence that proved yesterday's existence; last night wasn't just another dream.
Though, even without proof, he knows that last night was not a dream, for he had never had perverted dreams of the other. It was only in reality, only during their activity that the scenes playing before him are sick and perverted.
"You are not the Renji I know."
The other replied to his accusation with a mere curve of lips.
He could almost say that it looked sad. Almost.
Renji did not struggle, did not push him off. He just laid there.
"Then... who is the Renji you know? Maybe you don't even know who Renji is." The other peered up at him in a nonchalant manner through the crescent cracks of his eyes. "Just like, I do not know who you really are, either."
Renji's hand reached out unhurriedly to seal his vision in darkness. "It is ironic that you cannot see the real me, while all along you have been using your eyes to look at the one I was to replace."
Through the darkness Renji creates with his hands covering his eyes, he sees a door.
It was the structure he saw often when he walked by the other's room that indicated to him of the other's rejection for physical contact that day. The other was busy with school work.
Behind the door, was the other at his best, in the best qualities he remembers admiring about him: patient, studious, diligent.
He had not seen such a sight of the other ever since college, ever since they chose to major different subjects, ever since they stopped studying together.
...
Sanada didn't dream.
Because he didn't sleep.
"You are but a replacement to me... Just like I am but a replacement to you."
Renji words combined into a spell. That spell cursed him with insomnia.
So, to smother the irksome voice in his mind, he diverted his attention to his school work.
Sometimes, he gets so tired that he falls asleep right on his study table.
He was used to waking up upon the pillow of books atop his desk.
As he scurries to gather up his books during those mornings, he doesn't have time to think about the dreams he had the previous night.
In his fatigue and rush, he could barely concentrate enough to recall if he even had any.
...
Winter approached.
All the trees and shrubs trembled, losing their vibrant-colored leaves upon feeling the chilly presence.
It was almost final exams week.
He spends the majority of his time in the library, burying his face in books and papers and sitting at a corner table, isolated from all the other students.
After that day, he tried to spend as little time as possible at the apartment.
Because he was in poverty of speech. Because he was in poverty of actions.
He was only in poverty when he faced the other.
Finally, after hours of hovering over his work, he looked up from the text he highlighted to rest his eyes.
He spotted a familiar figure afar. He didn't know whether it was the distance that made his figure appear more delicate than usual or whether it had been the overwhelming combination of school work, sleep deprivation, and nutritional imbalance.
He studied the other's serious face, as if studying an important component in his textbook. The other, deeply absorbed in his own studies, took no notice of him.
He gets the illusion that they were back to the old times when they sat together, one across another, studying together.
It almost resembled the past, minus the distance.
His thoughts were interrupted when he saw the other rise from his seat. The other would arrange for his departure, he assumed. Most of the other students had already left after dark.
Yet, the other did not collect the materials still lying on the table. He realized, then, the other was not yet leaving.
He rose to pursue the other.
Upon entering the public bathroom, his eyes immediately found his companion at the sink meticulously washing his hands.
When the other hesitated, seeing his reflection in the mirror, he takes the opportunity to pull him by his wrist into a stall, locking the door behind them.
The other was still as calm as always. He wondered what he has to do to break through the icy thickness of his façade.
Opening his mouth to speak, Renji's voice sounded mirthless. "Let go."
Like him, the other hated to be interrupted during his studies. His insides stirred impatiently in excitement when familiarity moved him.
He recognized this Renji.
Liberated from his previous discontent, he pressed him up against the wall and sealed the lips only capable of muttering freezing words.
Renji struggled, but still could not free himself.
Eventually, he pulled away. A glimpse at fatigue's shadow under his companion's eyes elicited some feelings of guilt. But he doesn't let go.
"You will not choose a more appropriate time for this, will you?" Completely surrendering his struggles, Renji turned away in displeasure. "Make it quick."
Having hypothesized that it was highly unlikely someone would intrude at this time perhaps became the other's only reason for allowing him to proceed.
He gave him no time to fantasize, no time to prepare, no time to become the replacement he agreed upon becoming. He quickly ripped away the fabric that concealed his skin.
As he watched the other bite back his moans stubbornly, he only tightened his grip on the other's hips and quickened his rhythm.
...
This ends now. Today.
...
The final exams ended as unexpectedly as they started.
Not only the final exams, actually. The entire first semester of college ended as unexpectedly as it started.
He became the first one to arrive back at their apartment after his own exams.
The strange feeling of light relief was something he was unfamiliar and unaccustomed to.
Thinking no more, he entered the kitchen to make dinner preparations.
The beat of his knife on the wooden cutting board is interrupted by the thud from the front door. He exited the kitchen to watch Renji making his way to his room lethargically.
Almost automatically, his feet propelled him forward as he followed Renji to his room.
Renji fell asleep the moment he collapsed onto his bed. Being thoughtful, he covered him with a blanket.
As he watched his companion's sleeping face, he mused: This was the true Renji. Even though it was not the Renji he came to know after all these years.
College made him more delicate, more vulnerable from the impact of its heavy duties and responsibilities.
While families and friends supported their invincibility in junior high and high school, college shattered their scrupulously assembled might.
They were but average college students struggling to adapt to another transition in life after having separated from the support systems they came to know all this time.
As if mesmerized by the other's tranquil face, he sank down carefully on the bed beside the other.
"I don't care about the person you were from yesterday. I don't care about the person you were from years ago." He began solemnly, voice as hushed as a faint whisper. "If you claim that I do not know you all this time, then let me meet you again. And I shall introduce myself to you again."
He paused, as if waiting for the other's approval. The approval that would not come because deep slumber deafened the other.
One mouth corner lifted in a half-smile of self-mockery.
"So, will you introduce me to yourself, to Yanagi Renji? Will you only let me see Yanagi Renji, and not anyone but Yanagi Renji? And I will be Sanada Genichirou. I will not be anyone but myself."
A pause, still.
Silence, still.
Then, a sigh. Disappointment released through exhalation.
He decided to allow his monologue to serve as practice, something that he needed greatly because his lack in proper communication skills.
Meanwhile, he reached out to take the other's hand in his. It was the first time he held the other's hand.
It gave him the illusion that they were confidants, instead of strangers whose relationship was built upon mutual physical satisfaction.
NOTES:
This fic is the byproduct of my disappointment after reading another fanfic, "Secret Window." It's a Chinese PoT fic. Similarly, that was also a "replacement" fic. But, the ending was less optimistic. I really wanted to make up for it.
Can you tell how much I believe in the psychology of dreams based on this piece?
Also, this fic actually has two versions. The one posted here is what I call "an ending open to interpretation." The "bad ending" version is in the next entry.
Just a side note, I still will not be able to resume regular updates. My final exams are just around the corner. (cries)
In addition, LESSON OF THE DAY (what the hell is this?): Don't procrastinate! The longer you wait on getting something done, the less you would want to do it. Maybe, in the end, you won't even finish it. It's just a thought I got after finally finishing this fic. I had the outline sitting in my computer the entire time...
Special Recommendation: "Faultlines," a Tezuka x Oishi fanfic. It is on a website called "Destiny Interrupted." And yes, I was inspired by that fic to continue this fic.