[RP Log] Saeki & Fuji
Date: September 1st, a little over a month after parts one, two, and three.
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, & broken glass.
Summary: How far does one have to fall before they return right back to where they started?
He had found the unlabeled roll of film while he was catching up on cleaning the home that was a home only in name. Quite strangely as he usually am pretty well with not misplacing any sort of items that could be related to information or evidences. Curious, he developed the roll that night along with several other experiments he was conducting.
It could not have appeared at a worse time.
As the spy removed the roll from the wheel and examined its contents under the red light, every frame made him feel a tug at his insides. Although his first reaction was to discard the film, he persuaded himself that since he took the time to develop it, he might as well make the prints.
So throughout the night he worked in the dark room that was isolated from the rest of the world. He rarely made prints of whole rolls before, often only choosing one of many shots to be printed. But he religiously adjusted and tempered with each frame for the best result. It was not until the spy was nearly blinded by the early morning sun’s rays as he exited the dark room that he realized he had forgone the night's rest, again.
Sitting down in one of the beanbags with a cup of hot tea, he stared at the envelope containing the photos in his hand. Yet as he studied the width of the envelope, he suddenly realized that he had made two copies, foreshadowing?
Fuji smiled bitterly to himself. He really was losing his touch.
But the fact was that there are two sets stayed unchanged, and whom the other set was intended for, the spy knew very well. Yet how did he had gone through the entire thirty-six frame roll and not noticed he was making duplicates… he supposed the stress of the past several weeks were starting to dull his senses.
Determined to clear his mind and get rid of that sinking feeling at the bottom of his belly, the spy left the photos on the table as he headed back into his workroom to catch up on what he had missed during the night. Thanks to time zones, Fuji could always count on there being work in the morning if he wasn’t forced to wake up during the night…
Only to emerge a few hours later with no results to show for the time that had passed. He simply could not concentrate. Every time he tried to focus on the task at hand his mind drifted to the pictures. Sighing, he retrieved his jacket and removed a set of the photos from the envelope to be kept as his own keepsake that he really did not have an intention on keeping. The best way to stop distraction was to eliminate the cause of it.
Somehow, Saeki's apartment building never looked this intimidating before, Fuji thought to himself as he stood in front of the entrance. He mentally kicked himself for the need to park at least three blocks away and walk the rest of the way over. This was not him, he was never this jumpy. Frowning, the spy reminded himself that he needed to recover his pace soon before he made any glaring mistakes, but first things first.
Judging by the time, Saeki should be on his way to, if not already at, work. So there should be no chance of Fuji running into the man…
Stopping in front of the mailboxes, Fuji remembered something just before he deposited the photos. Opening the envelope again, the spy removed any solo pictures of himself and those pictures that they had together. He was sure Saeki would not want to be bother with that. Then, satisfied that everything was how it should be, he slid the envelope through the slit to the mailbox corresponding with the analyst's apartment number.
Some would call it fate, others would call it a very bad alarm clock, but the analyst woke up far later than he had intended to that morning. The alarm clock had stopped working sometime in the past week. When, exactly, the item in question had ceased to work correctly was anyone's guess. If he was not tossing restlessly on the couch, Saeki was most likely to be catching up on lost exhaustion on his armchair. So far neither had managed to produce a decent night's sleep.
He had thought about trying to sleep in his bed, once, before dismissing the thought. As comfortable as it would have been, he could never really sleep alone in that bed. Not since... well, that did not much matter at the moment. Right now he was horribly late for work, and was likely to be reamed by his boss. Of all days to sleep in, he had to choose the day the head honcho was making the rounds. Then again, if he went back now he might be able to claim the flu without too many repercussions. If the temp bought the blatant lie, that is.
... It was still very tempting. Had Saeki the slightest excuse for staying home he likely would have, but his apartment had grown far too small for him to comfortably play hooky in alone. He had run out of games the day before yesterday and An was still far too fragile for him to hit her up for more out of the blue, but... maybe he should visit her, just to make sure...
Ah! There! An excuse! His cell phone was out before the other could say "Ebola", calling in sick for as long as would not get him fired. The analyst's normally quiet dreams had been far too vivid for his taste, shooing him from even the couch as his mind replayed the painful events over and over. Temp-san might not be very happy in having to deal with Boss-man all alone, but at least this gave him the entire morning and afternoon to himself.
He thought of calling a certain blue-eyed temptation, but stopped as his fingers dialed the speed dial number on his phone. No. No, the spy had made it pretty clear that he did not want to see the analyst again, at least not in that way, and definitely not by choice. Saeki sighed, gloom settling around his normally playful continence. Then again, he had been there so much in the past month that he had wondered if maybe that was truly his natural outlook on life.
The world was painted in stripes of grey and white as he made his way down the stairs, yawning a bit. Realizing he was still in his pajama pants only as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Saeki hit his palm against his forehead. He had been forgetting the most basic of things lately. Like sleeping. Or eating. Or not walking out the door in pajamas. Jogging back up to his apartment he threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt before making his way back down.... only to find a certain blue-eyed person staring intently at his mailbox.
His mouth went dry at the sight and he would likely have hid from view if not for the fact that he was currently holding open the door and standing not two feet away from the spy. Dark blue eyes went wide as his brain finally processed the other, the envelope in Fuji's hand catching some curiosity, but not overly much. His main focus was currently on the face that looked nearly as exhausted as he felt. Eyes softening imperceptivity before hardening them once again, Saeki set his jaw. He would not give in. Not this time.
"... Fuji."
The voice made his body shudder, and the envelope dropped into the mailbox with a light thud. Unconsciously, Fuji stuffed the other photos that didn't make the cut into his jacket, away from the other's view before turning to meet the familiar stranger.
"Saeki," The spy nodded at the man, voice formal and distant. There were tiny hints of the shock he must have felt in the blue eyes, but other than that, he gave no indication that he was caught off his guard. The analyst looked like he had not taken very good care of himself... if he did at all. Not to mention the man was supposed to be at work already, why was he not? Internally Fuji frowned at how the other got lazy as soon we he was away but... oh well. It was none of his concern now.
"Excuse me." The younger man said politely, not letting any of the anxiety and stress into his body language. Either because he was too proud to or he simply didn't want the other to concern himself, not that Saeki would. Turning on his heels, Fuji prepared to leave. It was as simple as that, no greeting, no asking how the other was, and a decade of friendship (that should arguably be classified as an affair, he was not going to lie to himself anymore) going down the drain just like that.
"Wai-" The analyst’s mouth moved before his brain could catch up. After all these years of chasing after the spy, of doing anything to possibly gain the other's attention, habits were very hard to break. Still... Saeki's eyes were glued to Fuji as they always had been. He bit lightly on his lip as he attempted to keep from saying anything else. Like the thousand and one questions that were on the tip of his tongue.
And despite what he had told himself before he arrived, Fuji found himself stopping and turning once more to face the analyst. “Hai?” He said gently.
Saeki hesitated, eyes slightly surprised behind their usual mask. He had not expected Fuji to actually stop. "... That's it?"
“That’s it what?” Fuji tilted his head lightly, internally frowning at the lights knots in Saeki’s silvery hair. The urge to reach out and untangle those knots was strong, but the spy steeled himself.
Eyes dropped to the pavement. "That's..." The analyst's eyes returned to Fuji's. "We're still friends, aren't we?"
The younger man studied the analyst almost stoically. “Can you?” He asked softly, can they really just be friends?
"I don't know." It was the truth, and it slipped through his defenses once again. Saeki moved forward, fingers automatically sorting through keys. "Do you want to?" Is that all you wish you mean to me?
“I see.” The spy nodded, turning around again. The question left unanswered.
"Is it really that painful to talk to me, Fuji-san?" The analyst put his key in the slot, pulling open the door to retrieve the unknown package.
“If you mean uncomfortable,” Fuji murmured. “Then yes.”
His hands did not pause, but Saeki was glad he was turned away from the spy so he would not catch the fleeting look of hurt in his eyes. Even after all this, after all that he had done... he still could not get over his feelings for the other. "A drop-and-run, then?"
“You are supposed to be at work.” Fuji peered at the older man over his shoulder.
"And yet here I am." Saeki's gloved fingers ran over the package, checking it for any clue of its contents.
“Indeed.”
Another hesitation. "Would you like to come up? To talk." He clarified. Saeki hated that he had to clarify anything.
“What else is there to talk about?” Fuji sighed and turned back again. “We said everything that needed to be said last time.” He paused. “You haven’t been eating.”
"I haven't." Saeki agreed. He held up the package.
“… Do eat.”
"Sure."
“Good.” Fuji nodded lightly as silence once again fell between them.
Shifting his weight to the other foot, Saeki debated with himself. He was the one who had been in the wrong, after all. Attempting to stall, he moved to open the package, keeping one eye on the spy.
Fuji had not anticipated Saeki being there, and certainly had not planned for himself being there when the other man opened the package. Looking away, he made a move to leave.
Life, however, rarely goes as planned. Proof of that was in Saeki's hands as he was stunned by the first image. "Wait."
Fuji swallowed a sigh, why was he stopping again? Because Saeki asked him to, why was he listening to the analyst? Because the spy missed him and it was so good to hear the other’s voice again. “… Yes?”
".... Come up. Please."
Fuji regarded Saeki with a slight frown that he was using to hide his vulnerability at that point. He did not want to leave. He missed the other’s voice, presence, and being the all-seasonal heater. The spy knew what he should do, but he was flinching.
Saeki looked up at Fuji then, the pictures having broken through all barriers that he might have attempted to put up. Color was slowly seeping back into his vision, even just standing so close to the spy. The past month had taught him a valuable lesson: it was possible to live without the other... if you substituted 'exist' for 'live'. And now, with the other so close, Saeki could not physically bear the pain of losing him again.
Finally, a light nod. “Just for a little while.” Fuji whispered. He always had a tough time refusing the older man when the other looked at him like that.
The relief was plain on his face before Saeki remembered to reign in his emotions. He nodded back. "Thank you."
"You're welcome" Fuji murmured as he looked back at the analyst. "... How about we get some food first?" The spy suggested as he took in the sunken cheeks.
Food? Saeki blinked at the spy. It had been a while since he last thought of a meal, but... the analyst took in the other's form. Fuji had definitely lost weight. "Are you hungry?"
“No, but you should be.” The spy murmured, already turning on his heel and heading out.
Two months ago Saeki would have followed without hesitation. Now, he waited a beat before heading after the spy. Was he really ready to face lunch with Fuji? He would know soon either way.
There was an outdoor little café just south of the apartment building that Saeki liked, Fuji dug up the buried memories carefully. The silver haired man usually ate like a refugee every time they’ve been there. Fuji glanced back carefully, Saeki also looked a little pale; the fresh air should be good for him, not to mention the sunlight.
Fuji looked almost frail compared to the last time the analyst had seen the man. The spy had always been on the thinner side (probably from overwork, he mused) but this was pushing it. He remembered a small place not to far from there what would likely work best; the spy seemed to already be heading there, and Saeki remembered several occasions where they had nearly cleaned the place out.
Turning the corner, Fuji walked passed the park entrance and halted his step in front of the flowers. “I hope you won’t mind ea…”
"Won't mind what?" Saeki asked lightly before he too paused just behind Fuji, eyes falling on the newly bloomed flowers. Orchids. This was where they had come right after the spy had returned from the United States. Right before... The analyst coughed lightly, looking up and away.
“I take that as a yes then.” Oh right, how did he forgot how much this place… never mind, if Saeki was willing to eat, his discomfort would rank second. “Two please, in the garden.”
At least they would have a nice view, Saeki mused as they followed the hostess to table at the edge of the patio. It was perfect for reflecting on past memories and... He bit his lip, hands tightening on the pictures he had placed in the pocket of his jacket. He refused to start hoping.
“Pick something.” Fuji’s tone was gentle and soft, pushing the menu into the analyst’s hand. But his copy remained unopened. Not that they actually needed to look at the menu of this establishment. They had been here so often that they could repeat the selections by heart. The slim man looked out onto the streets at the passer-bys; at least their usual waitress was not here today.
Saeki stared at the cover of the menu for a long moment before setting it down on the table in front of him. He knew everything that he needed to order from memory. "Are you going to eat?"
“I ate already.” Fuji’s gaze lingered on the little girl with the bunny balloon.
"... Right." His voice clearly indicated that he did not buy that one bit. Saeki looked back into the restaurant, watching the unhurried movements of customers and staff alike.
“Are you going to order anything?” The spy asked again after another moment of silence. “We can’t just sit here.”
"Sure we can." Saeki said, biting his cheek as he waved the waitress over to place his order.
Fuji pushed his menu forward when the waitress arrived, indicating that he did not wish to order anything.
Hands automatically pulled Fuji's menu from his side of the table and set it on top of his own. "A 42 with a side of rice, please."
Fuji frowned, 42 was his usual. Sighing, he spoke up. “And a 27 and 15 with all options please.”
"Oh, and a number 7 with the sauce on the side." Saeki added, handing the menus to the girl.
The spy waited until the woman walked out of hearing range before speaking again. “I ate already.” He repeated.
"A little more couldn't hurt." That was as much as Saeki would say on the subject. He knew the signs of overwork well.
“I’m not hungry.” The blue eyes were closed as Fuji sat back into his chair, a hand reached out for his coffee for warmth.
Hands automatically moved to fill the cup as Fuji reached for it, filling his own with the pitcher before setting it down. It was one of his favorite parts of the restaurant: constant, fresh coffee.
Small hands paused lightly as the cups were being filled, but he said nothing. The weather had slowly turned cold, indicating the coming of autumn. Not the best of news for someone who had trouble staying warm even in the summer.
Saeki focused on his coffee, blowing on it lightly before reaching for the sugar; these dishes always required something sweet to balance their savory saltiness.
Leaning against the comfortable chairs, Fuji had an overwhelming desire to close his eyes and drift into sleep. Just for a little bit, for a tiny moment between two heartbeats, for that blink of an eye to let down the wall that he had put up constantly for the past month. He was tired.
The sugar packet was long empty as Saeki discretely watched Fuji from over the rim of the cup. He did his best to remain as quiet and casual as possible, not wanting to disturb the other. It was a beautiful day, with just the slightest hint of a cool breeze, ruffling his hair playfully.
The arrival of the food caused ripples to appear in the calmness, and with a smile Fuji sat back up in his chair, but his eyes showed that he really had no interested in the dishes that were presented before him.
Saeki unconciously reached into his pocket for the tube of wasabi he usually kept on his person. Why he kept one was likely better explained by his usual choice of dinner companion. Or in this case, lunch. This time, however, the tube was conspicuously absent in his pocket. It was not until fingers clenched air that he realized what he was doing. Blinking, he slowly returned his hands to the table. He had suddenly lost his appetite.
Fuji closed his eyes again and looked away. “You should eat.”
"... I ate earlier." Saeki set down the silverware, pushing the bowl away slightly.
“You didn’t.”
"Neither did you."
A deep sigh. “Just eat.”
Saeki shrugged, picking up the chopsticks and lightly pushing the food around. "What about you?"
He was weary. “I ate.”
"Rest then." Saeki put a small bit of food in his mouth and had to force himself to chew.
“I’m fine.” Fuji smiled. “I’ll watch you eat.” Just to be sure the other did eat.
The food was bland; although it was debatably better than anything he had tasted lately. Definitely better than anything he had attempted to make. He pushed the plate further away. "I'm already full."
“You barely ate.” Picking up his own silverware, Fuji pushed the morsels towards the other man.
Another shrug. "I'm full."
“You are not. Eat.” Fuji looked at the analyst in the eyes. “At least one more bite.”
Reluctantly, Saeki picked up one of the pieces Fuji had moved to his plate. He took a small bite, chewing slowly. His stomach seemed to accept it far better than the plates in front of him, so he finished it off relatively quickly.
The spy watched the older man’s movements with unreadable eyes, hands still holding on to the coffee cup.
Saeki continued to slowly eat the pieces on his plate, stopping after he had finished the bits that Fuji had moved over.
Despite himself, a light smile formed on Fuji’s fatigued features. “Have a little more.” The spy said, moving several more pieces over.
Bowing his head a bit in thanks, Saeki started on the new pieces, replacing every other one with a piece from his plate.
But except for using the utensils to migrate his portions over to the analyst’s plate, the spy had yet to touch anything else, not even the coffee that the man had been holding in his hands since their arrival.
Saeki paused halfway through one piece. "What about you?"
"I ate already." Fuji frowned lightly. How many times did he need to repeat himself?
"You ate as much as I have." He looked up, eyes serious.
“I’m not hungry.” The spy said again, his tone indicated that this was the last time he would repeat himself.
"Just eat a little bit." Saeki insisted gently, finishing his piece as a peace offering.
But the spy coldly looked away, his decisions were always final.
The analyst had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. If they were at home he might have pushed it further, or gone at the problem from a different angle, but in public... he kept quiet. "Suit yourself." Saeki finished most of the pieces Fuji had moved over to his plate before stopping again.
Noticing the other had ceased eating, Fuji looked back again. “There is still a lot left over.” He pointed out nonchalantly.
"My stomach shrunk." He waved the waitress over to get a few boxes for the meals that would obviously remain mostly uneaten.
“Saa…” The spy watched the other pack away the food quietly, but insisted on paying when the bill came even though he didn’t touch anything at all.
Saeki snuck a few more pieces of Fuji's food into his mouth as he packed everything up, organizing the box as was his habit.
It was hard to tell if the spy noticed when he did not react. Quickly signing his name off on the bill, the spy walked out of the café and right back to the analyst’s apartment. Now that he got Saeki fed (somewhat) all he needed to do was have that talk as soon as possible and he could leave. Waiting by the front door, Fuji let Saeki overtake him. It was the older man’s building, and by all logic he should go first.
Boxes tucked neatly underneath his arm, Saeki pulled out his keys to unlock the door to the complex. He held it open for Tameka-san as the elderly lady passed them on her regular morning trip to the market. Her husband had just retired and she took any and every opportunity to get out of the house nowadays.
The spy entered the lobby after the old woman passed through, giving her a warm smile in greeting as he did so but always keeping a stranger’s distance between him and the other man.
The smell of cookies waffled down the hall as they made their way to the elevator. Crap. The last thing Saeki wanted to think about was Kin-san. Why in the world the girl had gotten it into her head that the analyst was the best thing since sliced bread was absolutely none of his doing. This time.
Fuji had to stop a sigh from escaping as the girl appeared, not taking any notice of the spy as the younger man melted into the shadows, her full concentration on Saeki.
Saeki had barely set foot in the hallway when the girl appeared as if out of nowhere, plate of cookies in hand. He quickly moved to decline any offer she threw out, attempting to move past her. Unfortunately, she seemed to be meeting him step for step. A feat only achieved by the limber and determined.
Fuji calmed his usually patient nerves as he continued to hug the wall. The faster they finished talking, the faster the spy could leave… provided the girl even let the talk began in the first place.
Seeing as how the girl would not be deterred from sharing her cookies, Saeki attempted a different route and said he had just eaten, pointing to the boxes. Kin-san had apparently thought of this particular dilemma already.
"Oh, that's okay, Saeki-san! I can just bring some up later. What was your apartment number again...?" Her smile was beginning to give the analyst cavities.
“Ah, there you are, Sae-san” Fuji’s voice was bright and cheerful, everything he was not moments before the spy emerged, the falsified smile on his face persuasively radiant. He had waited long enough. “I thought we were supposed to meet upstairs?”
Walking up to the pair, the slim man gave the analyst a light kiss on the cheek as he took Saeki’s arms. “Come along, your mother said she’ll be calling anytime soon.” Giving the girl a polite smile, Fuji dragged his old friend with him towards the elevators.
A blink was all the analyst needed to slip into character. "Of course, I'd hate to keep her waiting." He placed his hand over Fuji's arm, holding it in place as he nodded to the girl. "Some other time, I suppose." Saeki grinned widely and followed close, looking for all the world like everything was right in the world. He winced internally at that thought, however.
The moment they stepped into the elevator, however, Fuji immediately withdrew his hold on Saeki’s arm and concentrated his eyes on the plain and unexciting gray wall of the small confined space.
Saeki's entire form seemed to slump ever so slightly as they entered the elevator. Even if it had only been for a few seconds, the sight of Fuji's smile had been enough to revive countless memories. Reminding him of exactly what they were not, anymore. He bit his lip as he pushed the button for his floor.
The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Quickly stepping out of the elevator as it arrived at his friend’s floor, the spy waited patiently by the doorway even though he still have to keys. Oh wait, he needed to return the keys, he’d have to make another trip for that… or mail it back.
Keys jangling from long fingers, the analyst sorted through them on auto-pilot while his brain was busy not remembering the way the younger man had looked the first time they had come back from that particular café. Just before the key entered the lock, Saeki froze, eyes wide. Fuck. He had been so focused on trying to keep Fuji from leaving that he had completely forgotten about the state of his apartment.
Normally Fuji would inquire about the slight pause, but under the circumstances, he tried to ignore the movement, ignore everything else. He should have thrown out the rest of the pictures in his pocket while they were out.
The key was quickly swallowed by Saeki's hand as he turned to face the other. "You know, why don’t we go up to the roof instead. It's quiet there, and we wouldn't have to worry about neighbors.”
“If I want to be a frozen statue I would do it on my own time, Saeki-kun.” Fuji said slowly, politely.
"Ah. Right." Saeki swallowed harshly. Even now, with so much distance between them, Fuji was likely to be angry at the state of his apartment. Before today, there had not been any reason to clean up. Especially since he had been so sure that he was the only one who would ever see it. Then again, he himself likely did not realize the extent of the damage. He opened the door.
Fuji kept his face calm, almost to the point of blankness at the scene lay out before him as the floor opened. “So these are the reasons for the gloves?” The spy asked almost in a casual tone, deadly casual.
"Most of it." Saeki answered softly, holding onto the doorknob as he entered. The thin leather gloves covering his fingers had caused quite a stir at work, but most had chalked it down to a possible omai in the near future and wanting to keep his hands soft for his future wife. It could not be further from the truth.
Tip toeing over the mess to the kitchen table where the first of the many series of reflective surface lay shattered. Picking up the largest piece and studying the edge, Fuji took it with him into the kitchen itself where he picked up another heavily dented pan. “A new training regime, Saeki-kun?”
"Ah, something like that." The entire apartment lay in shambles. Pieces of clothing and glass lay scattered about the living room, covering couches and tables alike. The kitchen had made it through nearly unscathed, if one did not count the dented (and occasionally broken) pots. He didn't want to think about the bathroom or the bedroom.
Putting the debris down, the younger man tried hard not to let his displeasure show on his face, it was not his business anymore what Saeki does with his life. "So what did you want to talk about?"
Greatly embarrassed, Saeki tried to ignore the state of his apartment. What had he wanted to talk about? Gloved fingers hit paper inside his pocket. Oh, right. The analyst almost reverently took the photographs from his jacket and set them gently on the cleared table.
Fuji continued to wait, joining the effort on ignoring the almost chaotic state of the living space. The appearance of the photographs made him pause briefly, but otherwise nothing seemed to faze him.
Spreading out the pictures, Saeki frowned. He remembered when Fuji had taken (most of) these, but any that included the spy were conspicuously absent. "Are... are there any more?"
“Why do you ask?” It wasn’t an negative answer, but it wasn’t an affirmative either.
Dark blue eyes were serious as they looked up at the spy. "Can I see them?" He whispered, ignoring the question.
Fuji looked away. “I gave you what I have.”
"Will you send them to me, then?" He could not keep the slightly desperate tone completely from his voice, no matter how much he tried.
“There are no more.” The spy shook his head, the hand in his left pocket tightened slightly, holding on to the other half of the prints that seemed to be screaming, pleading at him to let them see the light.
"There are." Saeki was certain. He even remembered taking one or two of the pictures on that roll.
"There aren't."
"Why not?"
"There simply aren’t anymore." Fuji turned back to Saeki. “What you see is what you get.” He spoke in English.
"If that's true, then why do I never seem to have what I see." Saeki replied, gaze pinned directly upon the spy.
The spy simply shrugged. “If that is where the direction is heading, this talk is over.”
The analyst tilted his head, pensive. Maybe it was because he had not seen the spy in so long. Maybe it was because he never wanted to let go in the first place. Maybe he truly had gone insane in the past month. Maybe. Maybe. But it didn't stop him from speaking. "Are you saying I should just take them back?"
“That would be your decision.” Fuji pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning against. “It does not matter to me.”
The analyst stepped forward. "But it does to me." Saeki moved between Fuji and the door. "And I would like to."
“Saeki-kun.” Fuji looked to the analyst. They are not going to go through this again; the spy was too tired to repeat the dance. “Please, we’ve been over this.” It is over.
What if I don't want it to be? Does that even matter? "The pictures?"
“I already told you, I gave you what I have.” Fuji replied, or what he was willing to give anyway. It does matter, which is why you shouldn’t make this harder than it already is.
"What about the rest of the pictures? The ones we took together?" Saeki refused to let the matter drop. I don't want to let you go.
“They didn’t come out.” Fuji lied smoothly, although the coincidence of only Saeki’s solo shots came out was… well… almost incriminating.
"They did." Saeki took another step forward, his expression curious. "You developed them all, didn't you?"
“They were overexposed.” Fuji replied simply.
"Ah." Saeki's expression folded a bit. On purpose, I wonder? "I wish I could have seen them."
The spy’s left arm once again shook slightly. “They were not much to see,” He said easily. But his mind was contemplating how he could get around the analyst and leave before… anything else happened.
Saeki looked away. "I-I see. I still wish... well..." He cleared his throat. I wish I could have had one.
“It is unfortunate indeed.” Fuji agreed out of courtesy. “And I believe this talk is over.”
"Why?" Saeki's eyes flashed once before he frowned.
“I just came to drop off those pictures, Saeki-kun.” Fuji looked at the analyst in the eyes. “Nothing more.”
"Why even bother? I thought you never wanted to have any contact with me again." Saeki tried to calm himself down. Even as unstable as he had been, he should know better than to get angry now of all times.
“I don’t.” The spy, perhaps stupidly, agreed. “That’s why I only came here to drop it off at a time you should be at work.”
"Why even bother doing that?" His temper rose against his will. "Dropping off pictures of... pictures that seem to only say 'look what you had, and what you lost because of your own stupidity'? Do you really seek to torment me that much?"
Fuji did not intend to put Saeki through that, he really did not, he just wanted to return something to the man who had given him almost everything. But if that was how Saeki saw it… maybe it was better for him to play along. “Maybe you should go seek out Tachibana-san and seek comfort from her then.”
Saeki's hackles rose at that. "I don't want comfort from her." I never did. He scowled, his control slipping.
“Whatever you want from her then,” Fuji’s tone was painfully light-hearted. “Should be better than what you only sought me for.”
"And what was that?" Saeki's eyes narrowed. Was Fuji really accusing him of that?
A gentle chuckle. “I don’t need to repeat myself,” Blue eyes were directly on him, burning into him as the spy laughed. “You know exactly what.”
"Enlighten me." Saeki crossed his arms, dark blue meeting the other's gaze stare for stare. "Because I was the opinion that I sought to give you everything."
You did. Fuji refused to voice that thought. “You are actually consulting me? A second choice?” The spy’s voices were deceptively casual as he laughed.
One hand fisted against his chest. "That again? How long are you going to keep saying those lies? You were never second choice, Fuji. Never."
“Of course, of course.” The spy smiled brilliantly. “Lying was always one of your specialties, huh? Casablanca-san.”
"I've never lied to you." Saeki's voice was dead serious, and his eyes matched it, boring a hole into the other's eyes.
“Whatever you say.” Fuji continued to smile despite the other’s fear-inducing expression. “Why don’t I just get out of your way and you can call up Tachibana-san for a video game date tonight. I would hate to get in your way.”
Luckily for the analyst, his arms were crossed upon his chest, and not in a position to swing. Dark eyes blazed at those words. "I want you, Fuji. And the only thing that's currently getting in my way is that you don't seem to want to listen to what I have to say."
“Certainly not because you just tried to use my own emotions against me.” Fuji chuckled. “Certainly not because I was just your ‘entertainment’.”
"Why this again, Fuji? You were never. entertainment!" Hands moved to fist at his sides, attempting to calm his senses. "If you stopped to take half a look at the heart you've held on to so tightly, you would realize that."
“Oh, really.” Fuji smiled. “That’s a really sweet lie. Tell me, did you say the same thing to Tachibana too?”
The hand came from nowhere, and Saeki did not even remember swinging it, but he found himself looking down at Fuji, fist aching from the contact. Closely controlled fury raged in the analyst's eyes, even as he kept his face carefully blank. "Fuck you. Maybe my feelings are a joke to you, but that give you no right to go and break them all over again."
The spy’s back impacted against the wall behind him and he slid to the floor, holding on the cheek where the other had just struck him. “Now you are hitting me, Saeki?” Fuji almost smirked, spitting out a bit of blood; thankfully the punch was high enough that the spy had avoided losing his teeth.
"How else am I supposed to get it through your head?" Saeki cursed himself inwardly, pulling off his gloves. He did not want to have to cut them off later if his hand began to swell. A few badly-healed cuts had already reopened anyway. "If you don't believe I love you, then I can't do anything about that. If you continue to spew those lies without listening to what my mouth or my heart is saying, I can't do anything about that either. But don't ever try to sell my feelings off like that again. You can't give away someone's heart, Fuji, even if you are the owner of it."
Fuji looked up at the analyst’s face, then at the bleeding hand. Slowly, he picked himself up from the debris littered floor and slowly held the injured hands. “You are crying.” The spy spoke, words slightly distorted by the cheek that was starting to swell.
The anger seemed to vanish somewhat in his surprise and he lifted one hand to touch his face. Huh. Saeki could not remember the last time he had truly cried. He studied the liquid on his fingers in disbelief. "Ah..."
Taking both hands once more, Fuji slowly and gently kissed every single cut, healing or no. His fingers soothed over the various wounds as if he could read their stories simply by touch.
Taken aback, Saeki could only watch as Fuji’s lips moved over each cut on his hands. Here he had just punched the person he cared the most about, and the spy was... was... He could not continue the thought.
And the evidence of the violence was becoming increasingly red by the moment. Reaching the reopened wounds, Fuji gently licked up the blood that was seeping through before kissing the individual cuts.
The analyst shivered at the lick, before wincing. Whether it was from the sharp pain of the reopened cut or from spotting the damage he had done to Fuji's cheek up close was uncertain.
Spotting a cut that was becoming infected; Fuji gently placed his lips over the wound and sucked out the yellowish liquid.
"Fuji..." Saeki winced again. "That's not very sanitary." He looked away as he realized his words. The same words the spy always said whenever he tried to 'clean' his hand with his tongue after... yes.
“It will heal faster now.” The spy replied simply. Pulling back to study the collage of cuts on the pair of hands, his expression deceptively neutral.
"Thank you." His voice was quiet, eyes falling on his hands as well.
Gently, almost hesitantly, Fuji let go of Saeki’s hands. “I should get going.”
"Stay." The words were past his lips before the analyst could think to stop them. His hands hesitantly moved to hold onto Fuji's instead. "... Please?"
The spy looked up to regard the analyst’s face as he felt the other’s warmth covering his hands. “Saeki…”
Bringing Fuji's hands up gently, Saeki bent down and kissed each knuckle lightly, returning the favor. He shook the remaining tears from his eyes. "Please." There were no walls, no pretenses, as the analyst looked back up into Fuji's eyes, his own more open than he had ever allowed himself to be.
Those would be what Fuji had dubbed ‘The Puppy Eyes,’ except this time, their power seemed to magnify. “You don’t know what you are asking.” He sighed.
"I know exactly what I'm asking." Saeki knelt down, still kissing Fuji's hands, as if apologizing for his earlier violence. "I want you. Only you. Forever. Please stay."
“Are you proposing?” The spy couldn’t help but teased the older man, despite the tense atmosphere from just moments before.
"What do you think?" Saeki teased right back, the response automatic.
“You missed the wasabi cake.” Fuji smiled. “And the doves and C4s.”
"That can be arranged." Saeki finally began to relax at the sight of Fuji's smile. God, he had missed the spy.
Still watching the other’s face, Fuji finally relented and took out the stack of the other pictures from his pocket, even though the solo shots of himself were still missing from the pile.
The sight of the pictures made him freeze, eyes going wide. "You..." Had them this entire time? "They did turn out?"
“What did you think?” Fuji almost wanted to roll his eyes.
"Maa ne." Saeki replied almost absently as one hand hesitantly reached for the pictures, almost reverently taking them from the spy.
Fuji gently let go of the prints, and watched the older man’s face as Saeki went through the photos one by one.
With every picture the analyst's face softened even more, finally coming across the photograph he had been looking for. It was simple, taken in an attempt to be sneaky; although he was relatively sure the spy had known about the picture even before he had developed it. Possibly. Caught in the small frame was the two of them, kissing, one pair of dark eyes looking back up towards the camera.
Fuji smiled again as he caught the older man looking at the photo. The analyst probably had no idea how much effort and trial and error it took to get the prints to come out as clear and colorful as it did. But frankly, Fuji didn’t want him to know.
Slowly, the analyst's lips curled upwards in a bright grin. He would never know how much effort Fuji put into developing the picture, but he could almost feel the feelings through the smooth paper. Perfect.
“I think…” Fuji said almost playfully as his fingers took a hold of the photo. “I will take this one back.”
The noise that came from Saeki's throat could only be described at a squack. "O-oi! You said I could have these!"
“Did I say you could have these? You just wanted to see them.” Fuji’s smile was mischievous, perhaps getting the other man back for hitting him earlier.
Saeki pouted, refusing to let go while still attempting to keep the print pristine. "Are you saying I can't?"
“Exactly.” Fuji’s smile was radiant.
"Why not?" Saeki added more puppy dog eyes (tm) to the pout.
“Now, now,” Fuji shined his Smiling Defense (tm) “You only asked to see it.”
"And if I ask now if I could have them?" Saeki attempted to skirt around the blockade with his Sweet Pout of Innocence (tm).
“Hmmm…. Let me think.” The spy had a much higher level when it came to pretending to be innocent. “No.” Not unless you earn it.
"Hm. So what would it take for me to change your mind?" Fuji might be more innocent, but Saeki was working on a +2 in begging rights.
“Saa…. I wonder.” The blue-eyed man did have an elite status in bargaining after all.
The analyst continued to pour light kisses upon Fuji's knuckles, his tongue flicking out to taste the skin at random intervals. "Name your price."
Fuji was silent at the question, his brain argued with itself at the possibility of speaking aloud what was on the spy’s mind. “What can you give?” He finally settled for another ambiguous answer.
"Anything. Everything." He meant every word.
“Deal.” The spy smiled softly as his fingers let go of the photograph, but he did not seal the deal as he usually did.
Saeki smiled back, the picture now safely in his keeping. A small stab of sadness shot through him at the lack of 'seal', but he shook it off. It was not his right to ask for such things anymore. Standing, he only turned away from the spy long enough to place the pictures on the table with the others before he returned. He wanted to be able to focus only on Fuji right now. "So, what would you have of me?"
The spy shrugged again, he did not want to ask for anything, there was not anything he wanted. Yet at the same time, he wanted everything.
The older man continued to wait patiently however, bending down to kiss the other's hands once again in a variation of a 'seal' instead.
“Nothing in particular.” Fuji smiled. “I was just playing with you.”
"Ah..." The analyst didn't quite blink. "I was serious though." About everything. About you.
“I… was just playing.” Fuji said again, shifting his attention to the swollen cheek, touching the abused flesh with careful fingers.
"Let me get you some ice. I think I still have some." Saeki turned away, not wanting the other to catch the sadness in his eyes at that particular thought. He went over to the freezer and started to rummage a bit, trying to find something that might help take down the swelling.
Fuji was not ready to speak his mind, unlike the analyst; the spy would probably never be able to say what he was thinking except under extraordinary circumstances. Following the older man, he looked from over Saeki’s shoulder. “Spring cleaning at the Saeki household.” He murmured, indicating the lack of anything.
Saeki gave Fuji a sheepish smile as he pulled out an ice cube tray that had been buried in the frost in the back. "This is usually the most-stocked part of the fridge, too."
“Didn’t you have some ointment in the bathroom?’ The spy asked as he began to make his way to the said room.
"Ah! I'll get it." Saeki rushed to cut Fuji off. The bathroom was better than the bedroom (likely... he hadn't been in there in over a month) but not by much. "You stay here and put some ice on it."
The spy gave the analyst one look and continued on, ignoring Saeki. He would pass by the bedroom on his way to the bathroom. And from the look on Fuji’s face, the older man better have some good deity protecting him.
Groaning, Saeki followed Fuji. It would likely end up even worse if he ran away stayed put, anyway.
The bathroom was a disaster zone. The mirror still lay shattered amidst the other debris, tiles splintered and cracked from some force. Fuji had seen houses that had been bombed that were in better shape. On the contrary, the bedroom… was pristine. Nothing had changed, not one item had moved since that day more than a month ago, except for the thin layer of dust covering everything.
Staying a few feet behind the spy, Saeki carefully watched the other's reaction out of the corner of his eye. The debris had not bothered him much while he had been in such a bad state of the past month, but now... he could only imagine the other's anger, and possibly surprise at the state of the apartment.
Fuji stood from his position in the bedroom, surveying the slightly dusty scene. “Care to give an explanation?” The voice was casual, but Saeki should know better to think that he was off the hook.
Not really. Saeki rubbed his arm, looking away. At least the bedroom had escaped the madness of the depression he had been thrown head-first into.
The spy sighed. “I want this place clean by tonight.” Fuji looked at Saeki in the eyes. “You better start now.”
The analyst didn't move, finally meeting Fuji's gaze. He was silent for a long moment, brow furrowed as he argued with himself. Was the spy going to stay? Finally, he nodded.
Fuji gave no indication regarding his future plans, maybe he would stay, and maybe the analyst would never see him again once he stepped out of that door once more. Who knew? Only Fuji did, deep down.
And so the analyst was left with the only thing he had left: faith. With a small bow, he exited the room and returned to the kitchen for some trash bags. He would likely have to replace a large chunk of the tiles as well as a few of the furniture... and cookware. Saeki winced. At least he had already long given up on getting his security deposit back.
The spy watched as Saeki left the room, his mind analyzing the events of what had just happened as his hand rubbed at the swelling cheek gently. Even after everything, Fuji could not bring himself to speak a word of what he wanted. While the older man had courageously laid out everything, the spy still refused to answer his efforts. So there they were, right back where they started, not even one inch in any direction.
Saeki sighed, putting a few trash bags on his shoulder and picking up the larger can. He had no idea what Fuji would do now, but that was normal. It was as if things were returning to where they had been before the entire ordeal. He groaned, tossing the bent pans into the bin. Had there even been a point to the last few months?
Why were they still right where everything went wrong, still in the same dance that they had done before? For a moment, the spy childishly blamed Saeki for the ordeal, because the older man would simply smile and accept the blame. Saeki was always like that, pampering and spoiling Fuji rotten with every breath the other took. Slender hands fisted lightly, Saeki was the one at fault; the analyst was the one who made everything blow up. It was all Saeki. Everything was Saeki.
"Ita-!" Saeki sucked on his finger as a particularly sharp piece of glass cut through his skin. He glared at the offending piece for a moment before tossing it a bit harsher than necessary into the garbage can. Damned thing. He continued on.
The other’s fainted cry of pain snapped the younger man out of his trance. Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom, checked the contents of the medicinal cabinet before making his way out again. He picked up his coat and put on his shoes.
Saeki saw Fuji pass by on his way through the living room and paused what he was doing. Cautiously he moved into the doorway, watching the spy pick up his things with slightly guarded and curious eyes.
Fuji looked up as he was ready, right into the deep blue eyes.
His eyes were steady as Saeki forced himself to keep the gaze. There were so many things that he wanted to say. So many things he could not, no- dared not speak yet.
And that is perhaps where their relationship failed; that it was always one sided because Fuji often refused to even grant the other man a word or a hug. Simply kept taking what Saeki had to offer, and continued to taking it until it ran dry. Looking back at Saeki, Fuji forced a practiced smile.
The analyst forced himself to return the smile, leaning lightly on the door frame as he was often fond of doing. He had made his move, and the ball was in Fuji's court. How long it would stay there was anyone's guess. Saeki was prepared for the long-haul, regardless, resigning himself once again to faith. "Be careful."
Fuji nodded, turning to open the door. But as his hand touched the cold metal of the knob, something in him changed. He forced himself to turn around, blue eyes once again on the other’s face. “I’m going to the drug store.” He said, and with a long hesitation. “I’ll be right back.”
Surprise registered in dark blue eyes, the analyst's stance shifting slightly. The forced smile on his lips slowly melted into something real. This was different. "I'll be waiting." Maybe, just maybe...
Nodding again, Fuji opened the door and with one last look at Saeki, closed it behind him. Trying to keep his mind on the various items he would need to pick up at the pharmacy rather than the exchange that just happened. Pulling his scarf closer, Fuji breathed into the material. Today… might be a long day.
Saeki stared at the closed door for a long time after Fuji had left, thinking. Today... would be different. Tabun... He smiled softly to himself before shaking his head and returning back into the kitchen. The analyst certainly had his work cut out for him if he wanted to have the entire place cleaned out by tonight.
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, & broken glass.
Summary: How far does one have to fall before they return right back to where they started?
He had found the unlabeled roll of film while he was catching up on cleaning the home that was a home only in name. Quite strangely as he usually am pretty well with not misplacing any sort of items that could be related to information or evidences. Curious, he developed the roll that night along with several other experiments he was conducting.
It could not have appeared at a worse time.
As the spy removed the roll from the wheel and examined its contents under the red light, every frame made him feel a tug at his insides. Although his first reaction was to discard the film, he persuaded himself that since he took the time to develop it, he might as well make the prints.
So throughout the night he worked in the dark room that was isolated from the rest of the world. He rarely made prints of whole rolls before, often only choosing one of many shots to be printed. But he religiously adjusted and tempered with each frame for the best result. It was not until the spy was nearly blinded by the early morning sun’s rays as he exited the dark room that he realized he had forgone the night's rest, again.
Sitting down in one of the beanbags with a cup of hot tea, he stared at the envelope containing the photos in his hand. Yet as he studied the width of the envelope, he suddenly realized that he had made two copies, foreshadowing?
Fuji smiled bitterly to himself. He really was losing his touch.
But the fact was that there are two sets stayed unchanged, and whom the other set was intended for, the spy knew very well. Yet how did he had gone through the entire thirty-six frame roll and not noticed he was making duplicates… he supposed the stress of the past several weeks were starting to dull his senses.
Determined to clear his mind and get rid of that sinking feeling at the bottom of his belly, the spy left the photos on the table as he headed back into his workroom to catch up on what he had missed during the night. Thanks to time zones, Fuji could always count on there being work in the morning if he wasn’t forced to wake up during the night…
Only to emerge a few hours later with no results to show for the time that had passed. He simply could not concentrate. Every time he tried to focus on the task at hand his mind drifted to the pictures. Sighing, he retrieved his jacket and removed a set of the photos from the envelope to be kept as his own keepsake that he really did not have an intention on keeping. The best way to stop distraction was to eliminate the cause of it.
Somehow, Saeki's apartment building never looked this intimidating before, Fuji thought to himself as he stood in front of the entrance. He mentally kicked himself for the need to park at least three blocks away and walk the rest of the way over. This was not him, he was never this jumpy. Frowning, the spy reminded himself that he needed to recover his pace soon before he made any glaring mistakes, but first things first.
Judging by the time, Saeki should be on his way to, if not already at, work. So there should be no chance of Fuji running into the man…
Stopping in front of the mailboxes, Fuji remembered something just before he deposited the photos. Opening the envelope again, the spy removed any solo pictures of himself and those pictures that they had together. He was sure Saeki would not want to be bother with that. Then, satisfied that everything was how it should be, he slid the envelope through the slit to the mailbox corresponding with the analyst's apartment number.
Some would call it fate, others would call it a very bad alarm clock, but the analyst woke up far later than he had intended to that morning. The alarm clock had stopped working sometime in the past week. When, exactly, the item in question had ceased to work correctly was anyone's guess. If he was not tossing restlessly on the couch, Saeki was most likely to be catching up on lost exhaustion on his armchair. So far neither had managed to produce a decent night's sleep.
He had thought about trying to sleep in his bed, once, before dismissing the thought. As comfortable as it would have been, he could never really sleep alone in that bed. Not since... well, that did not much matter at the moment. Right now he was horribly late for work, and was likely to be reamed by his boss. Of all days to sleep in, he had to choose the day the head honcho was making the rounds. Then again, if he went back now he might be able to claim the flu without too many repercussions. If the temp bought the blatant lie, that is.
... It was still very tempting. Had Saeki the slightest excuse for staying home he likely would have, but his apartment had grown far too small for him to comfortably play hooky in alone. He had run out of games the day before yesterday and An was still far too fragile for him to hit her up for more out of the blue, but... maybe he should visit her, just to make sure...
Ah! There! An excuse! His cell phone was out before the other could say "Ebola", calling in sick for as long as would not get him fired. The analyst's normally quiet dreams had been far too vivid for his taste, shooing him from even the couch as his mind replayed the painful events over and over. Temp-san might not be very happy in having to deal with Boss-man all alone, but at least this gave him the entire morning and afternoon to himself.
He thought of calling a certain blue-eyed temptation, but stopped as his fingers dialed the speed dial number on his phone. No. No, the spy had made it pretty clear that he did not want to see the analyst again, at least not in that way, and definitely not by choice. Saeki sighed, gloom settling around his normally playful continence. Then again, he had been there so much in the past month that he had wondered if maybe that was truly his natural outlook on life.
The world was painted in stripes of grey and white as he made his way down the stairs, yawning a bit. Realizing he was still in his pajama pants only as he reached the bottom of the stairs, Saeki hit his palm against his forehead. He had been forgetting the most basic of things lately. Like sleeping. Or eating. Or not walking out the door in pajamas. Jogging back up to his apartment he threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt before making his way back down.... only to find a certain blue-eyed person staring intently at his mailbox.
His mouth went dry at the sight and he would likely have hid from view if not for the fact that he was currently holding open the door and standing not two feet away from the spy. Dark blue eyes went wide as his brain finally processed the other, the envelope in Fuji's hand catching some curiosity, but not overly much. His main focus was currently on the face that looked nearly as exhausted as he felt. Eyes softening imperceptivity before hardening them once again, Saeki set his jaw. He would not give in. Not this time.
"... Fuji."
The voice made his body shudder, and the envelope dropped into the mailbox with a light thud. Unconsciously, Fuji stuffed the other photos that didn't make the cut into his jacket, away from the other's view before turning to meet the familiar stranger.
"Saeki," The spy nodded at the man, voice formal and distant. There were tiny hints of the shock he must have felt in the blue eyes, but other than that, he gave no indication that he was caught off his guard. The analyst looked like he had not taken very good care of himself... if he did at all. Not to mention the man was supposed to be at work already, why was he not? Internally Fuji frowned at how the other got lazy as soon we he was away but... oh well. It was none of his concern now.
"Excuse me." The younger man said politely, not letting any of the anxiety and stress into his body language. Either because he was too proud to or he simply didn't want the other to concern himself, not that Saeki would. Turning on his heels, Fuji prepared to leave. It was as simple as that, no greeting, no asking how the other was, and a decade of friendship (that should arguably be classified as an affair, he was not going to lie to himself anymore) going down the drain just like that.
"Wai-" The analyst’s mouth moved before his brain could catch up. After all these years of chasing after the spy, of doing anything to possibly gain the other's attention, habits were very hard to break. Still... Saeki's eyes were glued to Fuji as they always had been. He bit lightly on his lip as he attempted to keep from saying anything else. Like the thousand and one questions that were on the tip of his tongue.
And despite what he had told himself before he arrived, Fuji found himself stopping and turning once more to face the analyst. “Hai?” He said gently.
Saeki hesitated, eyes slightly surprised behind their usual mask. He had not expected Fuji to actually stop. "... That's it?"
“That’s it what?” Fuji tilted his head lightly, internally frowning at the lights knots in Saeki’s silvery hair. The urge to reach out and untangle those knots was strong, but the spy steeled himself.
Eyes dropped to the pavement. "That's..." The analyst's eyes returned to Fuji's. "We're still friends, aren't we?"
The younger man studied the analyst almost stoically. “Can you?” He asked softly, can they really just be friends?
"I don't know." It was the truth, and it slipped through his defenses once again. Saeki moved forward, fingers automatically sorting through keys. "Do you want to?" Is that all you wish you mean to me?
“I see.” The spy nodded, turning around again. The question left unanswered.
"Is it really that painful to talk to me, Fuji-san?" The analyst put his key in the slot, pulling open the door to retrieve the unknown package.
“If you mean uncomfortable,” Fuji murmured. “Then yes.”
His hands did not pause, but Saeki was glad he was turned away from the spy so he would not catch the fleeting look of hurt in his eyes. Even after all this, after all that he had done... he still could not get over his feelings for the other. "A drop-and-run, then?"
“You are supposed to be at work.” Fuji peered at the older man over his shoulder.
"And yet here I am." Saeki's gloved fingers ran over the package, checking it for any clue of its contents.
“Indeed.”
Another hesitation. "Would you like to come up? To talk." He clarified. Saeki hated that he had to clarify anything.
“What else is there to talk about?” Fuji sighed and turned back again. “We said everything that needed to be said last time.” He paused. “You haven’t been eating.”
"I haven't." Saeki agreed. He held up the package.
“… Do eat.”
"Sure."
“Good.” Fuji nodded lightly as silence once again fell between them.
Shifting his weight to the other foot, Saeki debated with himself. He was the one who had been in the wrong, after all. Attempting to stall, he moved to open the package, keeping one eye on the spy.
Fuji had not anticipated Saeki being there, and certainly had not planned for himself being there when the other man opened the package. Looking away, he made a move to leave.
Life, however, rarely goes as planned. Proof of that was in Saeki's hands as he was stunned by the first image. "Wait."
Fuji swallowed a sigh, why was he stopping again? Because Saeki asked him to, why was he listening to the analyst? Because the spy missed him and it was so good to hear the other’s voice again. “… Yes?”
".... Come up. Please."
Fuji regarded Saeki with a slight frown that he was using to hide his vulnerability at that point. He did not want to leave. He missed the other’s voice, presence, and being the all-seasonal heater. The spy knew what he should do, but he was flinching.
Saeki looked up at Fuji then, the pictures having broken through all barriers that he might have attempted to put up. Color was slowly seeping back into his vision, even just standing so close to the spy. The past month had taught him a valuable lesson: it was possible to live without the other... if you substituted 'exist' for 'live'. And now, with the other so close, Saeki could not physically bear the pain of losing him again.
Finally, a light nod. “Just for a little while.” Fuji whispered. He always had a tough time refusing the older man when the other looked at him like that.
The relief was plain on his face before Saeki remembered to reign in his emotions. He nodded back. "Thank you."
"You're welcome" Fuji murmured as he looked back at the analyst. "... How about we get some food first?" The spy suggested as he took in the sunken cheeks.
Food? Saeki blinked at the spy. It had been a while since he last thought of a meal, but... the analyst took in the other's form. Fuji had definitely lost weight. "Are you hungry?"
“No, but you should be.” The spy murmured, already turning on his heel and heading out.
Two months ago Saeki would have followed without hesitation. Now, he waited a beat before heading after the spy. Was he really ready to face lunch with Fuji? He would know soon either way.
There was an outdoor little café just south of the apartment building that Saeki liked, Fuji dug up the buried memories carefully. The silver haired man usually ate like a refugee every time they’ve been there. Fuji glanced back carefully, Saeki also looked a little pale; the fresh air should be good for him, not to mention the sunlight.
Fuji looked almost frail compared to the last time the analyst had seen the man. The spy had always been on the thinner side (probably from overwork, he mused) but this was pushing it. He remembered a small place not to far from there what would likely work best; the spy seemed to already be heading there, and Saeki remembered several occasions where they had nearly cleaned the place out.
Turning the corner, Fuji walked passed the park entrance and halted his step in front of the flowers. “I hope you won’t mind ea…”
"Won't mind what?" Saeki asked lightly before he too paused just behind Fuji, eyes falling on the newly bloomed flowers. Orchids. This was where they had come right after the spy had returned from the United States. Right before... The analyst coughed lightly, looking up and away.
“I take that as a yes then.” Oh right, how did he forgot how much this place… never mind, if Saeki was willing to eat, his discomfort would rank second. “Two please, in the garden.”
At least they would have a nice view, Saeki mused as they followed the hostess to table at the edge of the patio. It was perfect for reflecting on past memories and... He bit his lip, hands tightening on the pictures he had placed in the pocket of his jacket. He refused to start hoping.
“Pick something.” Fuji’s tone was gentle and soft, pushing the menu into the analyst’s hand. But his copy remained unopened. Not that they actually needed to look at the menu of this establishment. They had been here so often that they could repeat the selections by heart. The slim man looked out onto the streets at the passer-bys; at least their usual waitress was not here today.
Saeki stared at the cover of the menu for a long moment before setting it down on the table in front of him. He knew everything that he needed to order from memory. "Are you going to eat?"
“I ate already.” Fuji’s gaze lingered on the little girl with the bunny balloon.
"... Right." His voice clearly indicated that he did not buy that one bit. Saeki looked back into the restaurant, watching the unhurried movements of customers and staff alike.
“Are you going to order anything?” The spy asked again after another moment of silence. “We can’t just sit here.”
"Sure we can." Saeki said, biting his cheek as he waved the waitress over to place his order.
Fuji pushed his menu forward when the waitress arrived, indicating that he did not wish to order anything.
Hands automatically pulled Fuji's menu from his side of the table and set it on top of his own. "A 42 with a side of rice, please."
Fuji frowned, 42 was his usual. Sighing, he spoke up. “And a 27 and 15 with all options please.”
"Oh, and a number 7 with the sauce on the side." Saeki added, handing the menus to the girl.
The spy waited until the woman walked out of hearing range before speaking again. “I ate already.” He repeated.
"A little more couldn't hurt." That was as much as Saeki would say on the subject. He knew the signs of overwork well.
“I’m not hungry.” The blue eyes were closed as Fuji sat back into his chair, a hand reached out for his coffee for warmth.
Hands automatically moved to fill the cup as Fuji reached for it, filling his own with the pitcher before setting it down. It was one of his favorite parts of the restaurant: constant, fresh coffee.
Small hands paused lightly as the cups were being filled, but he said nothing. The weather had slowly turned cold, indicating the coming of autumn. Not the best of news for someone who had trouble staying warm even in the summer.
Saeki focused on his coffee, blowing on it lightly before reaching for the sugar; these dishes always required something sweet to balance their savory saltiness.
Leaning against the comfortable chairs, Fuji had an overwhelming desire to close his eyes and drift into sleep. Just for a little bit, for a tiny moment between two heartbeats, for that blink of an eye to let down the wall that he had put up constantly for the past month. He was tired.
The sugar packet was long empty as Saeki discretely watched Fuji from over the rim of the cup. He did his best to remain as quiet and casual as possible, not wanting to disturb the other. It was a beautiful day, with just the slightest hint of a cool breeze, ruffling his hair playfully.
The arrival of the food caused ripples to appear in the calmness, and with a smile Fuji sat back up in his chair, but his eyes showed that he really had no interested in the dishes that were presented before him.
Saeki unconciously reached into his pocket for the tube of wasabi he usually kept on his person. Why he kept one was likely better explained by his usual choice of dinner companion. Or in this case, lunch. This time, however, the tube was conspicuously absent in his pocket. It was not until fingers clenched air that he realized what he was doing. Blinking, he slowly returned his hands to the table. He had suddenly lost his appetite.
Fuji closed his eyes again and looked away. “You should eat.”
"... I ate earlier." Saeki set down the silverware, pushing the bowl away slightly.
“You didn’t.”
"Neither did you."
A deep sigh. “Just eat.”
Saeki shrugged, picking up the chopsticks and lightly pushing the food around. "What about you?"
He was weary. “I ate.”
"Rest then." Saeki put a small bit of food in his mouth and had to force himself to chew.
“I’m fine.” Fuji smiled. “I’ll watch you eat.” Just to be sure the other did eat.
The food was bland; although it was debatably better than anything he had tasted lately. Definitely better than anything he had attempted to make. He pushed the plate further away. "I'm already full."
“You barely ate.” Picking up his own silverware, Fuji pushed the morsels towards the other man.
Another shrug. "I'm full."
“You are not. Eat.” Fuji looked at the analyst in the eyes. “At least one more bite.”
Reluctantly, Saeki picked up one of the pieces Fuji had moved to his plate. He took a small bite, chewing slowly. His stomach seemed to accept it far better than the plates in front of him, so he finished it off relatively quickly.
The spy watched the older man’s movements with unreadable eyes, hands still holding on to the coffee cup.
Saeki continued to slowly eat the pieces on his plate, stopping after he had finished the bits that Fuji had moved over.
Despite himself, a light smile formed on Fuji’s fatigued features. “Have a little more.” The spy said, moving several more pieces over.
Bowing his head a bit in thanks, Saeki started on the new pieces, replacing every other one with a piece from his plate.
But except for using the utensils to migrate his portions over to the analyst’s plate, the spy had yet to touch anything else, not even the coffee that the man had been holding in his hands since their arrival.
Saeki paused halfway through one piece. "What about you?"
"I ate already." Fuji frowned lightly. How many times did he need to repeat himself?
"You ate as much as I have." He looked up, eyes serious.
“I’m not hungry.” The spy said again, his tone indicated that this was the last time he would repeat himself.
"Just eat a little bit." Saeki insisted gently, finishing his piece as a peace offering.
But the spy coldly looked away, his decisions were always final.
The analyst had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. If they were at home he might have pushed it further, or gone at the problem from a different angle, but in public... he kept quiet. "Suit yourself." Saeki finished most of the pieces Fuji had moved over to his plate before stopping again.
Noticing the other had ceased eating, Fuji looked back again. “There is still a lot left over.” He pointed out nonchalantly.
"My stomach shrunk." He waved the waitress over to get a few boxes for the meals that would obviously remain mostly uneaten.
“Saa…” The spy watched the other pack away the food quietly, but insisted on paying when the bill came even though he didn’t touch anything at all.
Saeki snuck a few more pieces of Fuji's food into his mouth as he packed everything up, organizing the box as was his habit.
It was hard to tell if the spy noticed when he did not react. Quickly signing his name off on the bill, the spy walked out of the café and right back to the analyst’s apartment. Now that he got Saeki fed (somewhat) all he needed to do was have that talk as soon as possible and he could leave. Waiting by the front door, Fuji let Saeki overtake him. It was the older man’s building, and by all logic he should go first.
Boxes tucked neatly underneath his arm, Saeki pulled out his keys to unlock the door to the complex. He held it open for Tameka-san as the elderly lady passed them on her regular morning trip to the market. Her husband had just retired and she took any and every opportunity to get out of the house nowadays.
The spy entered the lobby after the old woman passed through, giving her a warm smile in greeting as he did so but always keeping a stranger’s distance between him and the other man.
The smell of cookies waffled down the hall as they made their way to the elevator. Crap. The last thing Saeki wanted to think about was Kin-san. Why in the world the girl had gotten it into her head that the analyst was the best thing since sliced bread was absolutely none of his doing. This time.
Fuji had to stop a sigh from escaping as the girl appeared, not taking any notice of the spy as the younger man melted into the shadows, her full concentration on Saeki.
Saeki had barely set foot in the hallway when the girl appeared as if out of nowhere, plate of cookies in hand. He quickly moved to decline any offer she threw out, attempting to move past her. Unfortunately, she seemed to be meeting him step for step. A feat only achieved by the limber and determined.
Fuji calmed his usually patient nerves as he continued to hug the wall. The faster they finished talking, the faster the spy could leave… provided the girl even let the talk began in the first place.
Seeing as how the girl would not be deterred from sharing her cookies, Saeki attempted a different route and said he had just eaten, pointing to the boxes. Kin-san had apparently thought of this particular dilemma already.
"Oh, that's okay, Saeki-san! I can just bring some up later. What was your apartment number again...?" Her smile was beginning to give the analyst cavities.
“Ah, there you are, Sae-san” Fuji’s voice was bright and cheerful, everything he was not moments before the spy emerged, the falsified smile on his face persuasively radiant. He had waited long enough. “I thought we were supposed to meet upstairs?”
Walking up to the pair, the slim man gave the analyst a light kiss on the cheek as he took Saeki’s arms. “Come along, your mother said she’ll be calling anytime soon.” Giving the girl a polite smile, Fuji dragged his old friend with him towards the elevators.
A blink was all the analyst needed to slip into character. "Of course, I'd hate to keep her waiting." He placed his hand over Fuji's arm, holding it in place as he nodded to the girl. "Some other time, I suppose." Saeki grinned widely and followed close, looking for all the world like everything was right in the world. He winced internally at that thought, however.
The moment they stepped into the elevator, however, Fuji immediately withdrew his hold on Saeki’s arm and concentrated his eyes on the plain and unexciting gray wall of the small confined space.
Saeki's entire form seemed to slump ever so slightly as they entered the elevator. Even if it had only been for a few seconds, the sight of Fuji's smile had been enough to revive countless memories. Reminding him of exactly what they were not, anymore. He bit his lip as he pushed the button for his floor.
The rest of the ride was spent in silence. Quickly stepping out of the elevator as it arrived at his friend’s floor, the spy waited patiently by the doorway even though he still have to keys. Oh wait, he needed to return the keys, he’d have to make another trip for that… or mail it back.
Keys jangling from long fingers, the analyst sorted through them on auto-pilot while his brain was busy not remembering the way the younger man had looked the first time they had come back from that particular café. Just before the key entered the lock, Saeki froze, eyes wide. Fuck. He had been so focused on trying to keep Fuji from leaving that he had completely forgotten about the state of his apartment.
Normally Fuji would inquire about the slight pause, but under the circumstances, he tried to ignore the movement, ignore everything else. He should have thrown out the rest of the pictures in his pocket while they were out.
The key was quickly swallowed by Saeki's hand as he turned to face the other. "You know, why don’t we go up to the roof instead. It's quiet there, and we wouldn't have to worry about neighbors.”
“If I want to be a frozen statue I would do it on my own time, Saeki-kun.” Fuji said slowly, politely.
"Ah. Right." Saeki swallowed harshly. Even now, with so much distance between them, Fuji was likely to be angry at the state of his apartment. Before today, there had not been any reason to clean up. Especially since he had been so sure that he was the only one who would ever see it. Then again, he himself likely did not realize the extent of the damage. He opened the door.
Fuji kept his face calm, almost to the point of blankness at the scene lay out before him as the floor opened. “So these are the reasons for the gloves?” The spy asked almost in a casual tone, deadly casual.
"Most of it." Saeki answered softly, holding onto the doorknob as he entered. The thin leather gloves covering his fingers had caused quite a stir at work, but most had chalked it down to a possible omai in the near future and wanting to keep his hands soft for his future wife. It could not be further from the truth.
Tip toeing over the mess to the kitchen table where the first of the many series of reflective surface lay shattered. Picking up the largest piece and studying the edge, Fuji took it with him into the kitchen itself where he picked up another heavily dented pan. “A new training regime, Saeki-kun?”
"Ah, something like that." The entire apartment lay in shambles. Pieces of clothing and glass lay scattered about the living room, covering couches and tables alike. The kitchen had made it through nearly unscathed, if one did not count the dented (and occasionally broken) pots. He didn't want to think about the bathroom or the bedroom.
Putting the debris down, the younger man tried hard not to let his displeasure show on his face, it was not his business anymore what Saeki does with his life. "So what did you want to talk about?"
Greatly embarrassed, Saeki tried to ignore the state of his apartment. What had he wanted to talk about? Gloved fingers hit paper inside his pocket. Oh, right. The analyst almost reverently took the photographs from his jacket and set them gently on the cleared table.
Fuji continued to wait, joining the effort on ignoring the almost chaotic state of the living space. The appearance of the photographs made him pause briefly, but otherwise nothing seemed to faze him.
Spreading out the pictures, Saeki frowned. He remembered when Fuji had taken (most of) these, but any that included the spy were conspicuously absent. "Are... are there any more?"
“Why do you ask?” It wasn’t an negative answer, but it wasn’t an affirmative either.
Dark blue eyes were serious as they looked up at the spy. "Can I see them?" He whispered, ignoring the question.
Fuji looked away. “I gave you what I have.”
"Will you send them to me, then?" He could not keep the slightly desperate tone completely from his voice, no matter how much he tried.
“There are no more.” The spy shook his head, the hand in his left pocket tightened slightly, holding on to the other half of the prints that seemed to be screaming, pleading at him to let them see the light.
"There are." Saeki was certain. He even remembered taking one or two of the pictures on that roll.
"There aren't."
"Why not?"
"There simply aren’t anymore." Fuji turned back to Saeki. “What you see is what you get.” He spoke in English.
"If that's true, then why do I never seem to have what I see." Saeki replied, gaze pinned directly upon the spy.
The spy simply shrugged. “If that is where the direction is heading, this talk is over.”
The analyst tilted his head, pensive. Maybe it was because he had not seen the spy in so long. Maybe it was because he never wanted to let go in the first place. Maybe he truly had gone insane in the past month. Maybe. Maybe. But it didn't stop him from speaking. "Are you saying I should just take them back?"
“That would be your decision.” Fuji pushed himself off of the wall he had been leaning against. “It does not matter to me.”
The analyst stepped forward. "But it does to me." Saeki moved between Fuji and the door. "And I would like to."
“Saeki-kun.” Fuji looked to the analyst. They are not going to go through this again; the spy was too tired to repeat the dance. “Please, we’ve been over this.” It is over.
What if I don't want it to be? Does that even matter? "The pictures?"
“I already told you, I gave you what I have.” Fuji replied, or what he was willing to give anyway. It does matter, which is why you shouldn’t make this harder than it already is.
"What about the rest of the pictures? The ones we took together?" Saeki refused to let the matter drop. I don't want to let you go.
“They didn’t come out.” Fuji lied smoothly, although the coincidence of only Saeki’s solo shots came out was… well… almost incriminating.
"They did." Saeki took another step forward, his expression curious. "You developed them all, didn't you?"
“They were overexposed.” Fuji replied simply.
"Ah." Saeki's expression folded a bit. On purpose, I wonder? "I wish I could have seen them."
The spy’s left arm once again shook slightly. “They were not much to see,” He said easily. But his mind was contemplating how he could get around the analyst and leave before… anything else happened.
Saeki looked away. "I-I see. I still wish... well..." He cleared his throat. I wish I could have had one.
“It is unfortunate indeed.” Fuji agreed out of courtesy. “And I believe this talk is over.”
"Why?" Saeki's eyes flashed once before he frowned.
“I just came to drop off those pictures, Saeki-kun.” Fuji looked at the analyst in the eyes. “Nothing more.”
"Why even bother? I thought you never wanted to have any contact with me again." Saeki tried to calm himself down. Even as unstable as he had been, he should know better than to get angry now of all times.
“I don’t.” The spy, perhaps stupidly, agreed. “That’s why I only came here to drop it off at a time you should be at work.”
"Why even bother doing that?" His temper rose against his will. "Dropping off pictures of... pictures that seem to only say 'look what you had, and what you lost because of your own stupidity'? Do you really seek to torment me that much?"
Fuji did not intend to put Saeki through that, he really did not, he just wanted to return something to the man who had given him almost everything. But if that was how Saeki saw it… maybe it was better for him to play along. “Maybe you should go seek out Tachibana-san and seek comfort from her then.”
Saeki's hackles rose at that. "I don't want comfort from her." I never did. He scowled, his control slipping.
“Whatever you want from her then,” Fuji’s tone was painfully light-hearted. “Should be better than what you only sought me for.”
"And what was that?" Saeki's eyes narrowed. Was Fuji really accusing him of that?
A gentle chuckle. “I don’t need to repeat myself,” Blue eyes were directly on him, burning into him as the spy laughed. “You know exactly what.”
"Enlighten me." Saeki crossed his arms, dark blue meeting the other's gaze stare for stare. "Because I was the opinion that I sought to give you everything."
You did. Fuji refused to voice that thought. “You are actually consulting me? A second choice?” The spy’s voices were deceptively casual as he laughed.
One hand fisted against his chest. "That again? How long are you going to keep saying those lies? You were never second choice, Fuji. Never."
“Of course, of course.” The spy smiled brilliantly. “Lying was always one of your specialties, huh? Casablanca-san.”
"I've never lied to you." Saeki's voice was dead serious, and his eyes matched it, boring a hole into the other's eyes.
“Whatever you say.” Fuji continued to smile despite the other’s fear-inducing expression. “Why don’t I just get out of your way and you can call up Tachibana-san for a video game date tonight. I would hate to get in your way.”
Luckily for the analyst, his arms were crossed upon his chest, and not in a position to swing. Dark eyes blazed at those words. "I want you, Fuji. And the only thing that's currently getting in my way is that you don't seem to want to listen to what I have to say."
“Certainly not because you just tried to use my own emotions against me.” Fuji chuckled. “Certainly not because I was just your ‘entertainment’.”
"Why this again, Fuji? You were never. entertainment!" Hands moved to fist at his sides, attempting to calm his senses. "If you stopped to take half a look at the heart you've held on to so tightly, you would realize that."
“Oh, really.” Fuji smiled. “That’s a really sweet lie. Tell me, did you say the same thing to Tachibana too?”
The hand came from nowhere, and Saeki did not even remember swinging it, but he found himself looking down at Fuji, fist aching from the contact. Closely controlled fury raged in the analyst's eyes, even as he kept his face carefully blank. "Fuck you. Maybe my feelings are a joke to you, but that give you no right to go and break them all over again."
The spy’s back impacted against the wall behind him and he slid to the floor, holding on the cheek where the other had just struck him. “Now you are hitting me, Saeki?” Fuji almost smirked, spitting out a bit of blood; thankfully the punch was high enough that the spy had avoided losing his teeth.
"How else am I supposed to get it through your head?" Saeki cursed himself inwardly, pulling off his gloves. He did not want to have to cut them off later if his hand began to swell. A few badly-healed cuts had already reopened anyway. "If you don't believe I love you, then I can't do anything about that. If you continue to spew those lies without listening to what my mouth or my heart is saying, I can't do anything about that either. But don't ever try to sell my feelings off like that again. You can't give away someone's heart, Fuji, even if you are the owner of it."
Fuji looked up at the analyst’s face, then at the bleeding hand. Slowly, he picked himself up from the debris littered floor and slowly held the injured hands. “You are crying.” The spy spoke, words slightly distorted by the cheek that was starting to swell.
The anger seemed to vanish somewhat in his surprise and he lifted one hand to touch his face. Huh. Saeki could not remember the last time he had truly cried. He studied the liquid on his fingers in disbelief. "Ah..."
Taking both hands once more, Fuji slowly and gently kissed every single cut, healing or no. His fingers soothed over the various wounds as if he could read their stories simply by touch.
Taken aback, Saeki could only watch as Fuji’s lips moved over each cut on his hands. Here he had just punched the person he cared the most about, and the spy was... was... He could not continue the thought.
And the evidence of the violence was becoming increasingly red by the moment. Reaching the reopened wounds, Fuji gently licked up the blood that was seeping through before kissing the individual cuts.
The analyst shivered at the lick, before wincing. Whether it was from the sharp pain of the reopened cut or from spotting the damage he had done to Fuji's cheek up close was uncertain.
Spotting a cut that was becoming infected; Fuji gently placed his lips over the wound and sucked out the yellowish liquid.
"Fuji..." Saeki winced again. "That's not very sanitary." He looked away as he realized his words. The same words the spy always said whenever he tried to 'clean' his hand with his tongue after... yes.
“It will heal faster now.” The spy replied simply. Pulling back to study the collage of cuts on the pair of hands, his expression deceptively neutral.
"Thank you." His voice was quiet, eyes falling on his hands as well.
Gently, almost hesitantly, Fuji let go of Saeki’s hands. “I should get going.”
"Stay." The words were past his lips before the analyst could think to stop them. His hands hesitantly moved to hold onto Fuji's instead. "... Please?"
The spy looked up to regard the analyst’s face as he felt the other’s warmth covering his hands. “Saeki…”
Bringing Fuji's hands up gently, Saeki bent down and kissed each knuckle lightly, returning the favor. He shook the remaining tears from his eyes. "Please." There were no walls, no pretenses, as the analyst looked back up into Fuji's eyes, his own more open than he had ever allowed himself to be.
Those would be what Fuji had dubbed ‘The Puppy Eyes,’ except this time, their power seemed to magnify. “You don’t know what you are asking.” He sighed.
"I know exactly what I'm asking." Saeki knelt down, still kissing Fuji's hands, as if apologizing for his earlier violence. "I want you. Only you. Forever. Please stay."
“Are you proposing?” The spy couldn’t help but teased the older man, despite the tense atmosphere from just moments before.
"What do you think?" Saeki teased right back, the response automatic.
“You missed the wasabi cake.” Fuji smiled. “And the doves and C4s.”
"That can be arranged." Saeki finally began to relax at the sight of Fuji's smile. God, he had missed the spy.
Still watching the other’s face, Fuji finally relented and took out the stack of the other pictures from his pocket, even though the solo shots of himself were still missing from the pile.
The sight of the pictures made him freeze, eyes going wide. "You..." Had them this entire time? "They did turn out?"
“What did you think?” Fuji almost wanted to roll his eyes.
"Maa ne." Saeki replied almost absently as one hand hesitantly reached for the pictures, almost reverently taking them from the spy.
Fuji gently let go of the prints, and watched the older man’s face as Saeki went through the photos one by one.
With every picture the analyst's face softened even more, finally coming across the photograph he had been looking for. It was simple, taken in an attempt to be sneaky; although he was relatively sure the spy had known about the picture even before he had developed it. Possibly. Caught in the small frame was the two of them, kissing, one pair of dark eyes looking back up towards the camera.
Fuji smiled again as he caught the older man looking at the photo. The analyst probably had no idea how much effort and trial and error it took to get the prints to come out as clear and colorful as it did. But frankly, Fuji didn’t want him to know.
Slowly, the analyst's lips curled upwards in a bright grin. He would never know how much effort Fuji put into developing the picture, but he could almost feel the feelings through the smooth paper. Perfect.
“I think…” Fuji said almost playfully as his fingers took a hold of the photo. “I will take this one back.”
The noise that came from Saeki's throat could only be described at a squack. "O-oi! You said I could have these!"
“Did I say you could have these? You just wanted to see them.” Fuji’s smile was mischievous, perhaps getting the other man back for hitting him earlier.
Saeki pouted, refusing to let go while still attempting to keep the print pristine. "Are you saying I can't?"
“Exactly.” Fuji’s smile was radiant.
"Why not?" Saeki added more puppy dog eyes (tm) to the pout.
“Now, now,” Fuji shined his Smiling Defense (tm) “You only asked to see it.”
"And if I ask now if I could have them?" Saeki attempted to skirt around the blockade with his Sweet Pout of Innocence (tm).
“Hmmm…. Let me think.” The spy had a much higher level when it came to pretending to be innocent. “No.” Not unless you earn it.
"Hm. So what would it take for me to change your mind?" Fuji might be more innocent, but Saeki was working on a +2 in begging rights.
“Saa…. I wonder.” The blue-eyed man did have an elite status in bargaining after all.
The analyst continued to pour light kisses upon Fuji's knuckles, his tongue flicking out to taste the skin at random intervals. "Name your price."
Fuji was silent at the question, his brain argued with itself at the possibility of speaking aloud what was on the spy’s mind. “What can you give?” He finally settled for another ambiguous answer.
"Anything. Everything." He meant every word.
“Deal.” The spy smiled softly as his fingers let go of the photograph, but he did not seal the deal as he usually did.
Saeki smiled back, the picture now safely in his keeping. A small stab of sadness shot through him at the lack of 'seal', but he shook it off. It was not his right to ask for such things anymore. Standing, he only turned away from the spy long enough to place the pictures on the table with the others before he returned. He wanted to be able to focus only on Fuji right now. "So, what would you have of me?"
The spy shrugged again, he did not want to ask for anything, there was not anything he wanted. Yet at the same time, he wanted everything.
The older man continued to wait patiently however, bending down to kiss the other's hands once again in a variation of a 'seal' instead.
“Nothing in particular.” Fuji smiled. “I was just playing with you.”
"Ah..." The analyst didn't quite blink. "I was serious though." About everything. About you.
“I… was just playing.” Fuji said again, shifting his attention to the swollen cheek, touching the abused flesh with careful fingers.
"Let me get you some ice. I think I still have some." Saeki turned away, not wanting the other to catch the sadness in his eyes at that particular thought. He went over to the freezer and started to rummage a bit, trying to find something that might help take down the swelling.
Fuji was not ready to speak his mind, unlike the analyst; the spy would probably never be able to say what he was thinking except under extraordinary circumstances. Following the older man, he looked from over Saeki’s shoulder. “Spring cleaning at the Saeki household.” He murmured, indicating the lack of anything.
Saeki gave Fuji a sheepish smile as he pulled out an ice cube tray that had been buried in the frost in the back. "This is usually the most-stocked part of the fridge, too."
“Didn’t you have some ointment in the bathroom?’ The spy asked as he began to make his way to the said room.
"Ah! I'll get it." Saeki rushed to cut Fuji off. The bathroom was better than the bedroom (likely... he hadn't been in there in over a month) but not by much. "You stay here and put some ice on it."
The spy gave the analyst one look and continued on, ignoring Saeki. He would pass by the bedroom on his way to the bathroom. And from the look on Fuji’s face, the older man better have some good deity protecting him.
Groaning, Saeki followed Fuji. It would likely end up even worse if he ran away stayed put, anyway.
The bathroom was a disaster zone. The mirror still lay shattered amidst the other debris, tiles splintered and cracked from some force. Fuji had seen houses that had been bombed that were in better shape. On the contrary, the bedroom… was pristine. Nothing had changed, not one item had moved since that day more than a month ago, except for the thin layer of dust covering everything.
Staying a few feet behind the spy, Saeki carefully watched the other's reaction out of the corner of his eye. The debris had not bothered him much while he had been in such a bad state of the past month, but now... he could only imagine the other's anger, and possibly surprise at the state of the apartment.
Fuji stood from his position in the bedroom, surveying the slightly dusty scene. “Care to give an explanation?” The voice was casual, but Saeki should know better to think that he was off the hook.
Not really. Saeki rubbed his arm, looking away. At least the bedroom had escaped the madness of the depression he had been thrown head-first into.
The spy sighed. “I want this place clean by tonight.” Fuji looked at Saeki in the eyes. “You better start now.”
The analyst didn't move, finally meeting Fuji's gaze. He was silent for a long moment, brow furrowed as he argued with himself. Was the spy going to stay? Finally, he nodded.
Fuji gave no indication regarding his future plans, maybe he would stay, and maybe the analyst would never see him again once he stepped out of that door once more. Who knew? Only Fuji did, deep down.
And so the analyst was left with the only thing he had left: faith. With a small bow, he exited the room and returned to the kitchen for some trash bags. He would likely have to replace a large chunk of the tiles as well as a few of the furniture... and cookware. Saeki winced. At least he had already long given up on getting his security deposit back.
The spy watched as Saeki left the room, his mind analyzing the events of what had just happened as his hand rubbed at the swelling cheek gently. Even after everything, Fuji could not bring himself to speak a word of what he wanted. While the older man had courageously laid out everything, the spy still refused to answer his efforts. So there they were, right back where they started, not even one inch in any direction.
Saeki sighed, putting a few trash bags on his shoulder and picking up the larger can. He had no idea what Fuji would do now, but that was normal. It was as if things were returning to where they had been before the entire ordeal. He groaned, tossing the bent pans into the bin. Had there even been a point to the last few months?
Why were they still right where everything went wrong, still in the same dance that they had done before? For a moment, the spy childishly blamed Saeki for the ordeal, because the older man would simply smile and accept the blame. Saeki was always like that, pampering and spoiling Fuji rotten with every breath the other took. Slender hands fisted lightly, Saeki was the one at fault; the analyst was the one who made everything blow up. It was all Saeki. Everything was Saeki.
"Ita-!" Saeki sucked on his finger as a particularly sharp piece of glass cut through his skin. He glared at the offending piece for a moment before tossing it a bit harsher than necessary into the garbage can. Damned thing. He continued on.
The other’s fainted cry of pain snapped the younger man out of his trance. Slowly, he made his way to the bathroom, checked the contents of the medicinal cabinet before making his way out again. He picked up his coat and put on his shoes.
Saeki saw Fuji pass by on his way through the living room and paused what he was doing. Cautiously he moved into the doorway, watching the spy pick up his things with slightly guarded and curious eyes.
Fuji looked up as he was ready, right into the deep blue eyes.
His eyes were steady as Saeki forced himself to keep the gaze. There were so many things that he wanted to say. So many things he could not, no- dared not speak yet.
And that is perhaps where their relationship failed; that it was always one sided because Fuji often refused to even grant the other man a word or a hug. Simply kept taking what Saeki had to offer, and continued to taking it until it ran dry. Looking back at Saeki, Fuji forced a practiced smile.
The analyst forced himself to return the smile, leaning lightly on the door frame as he was often fond of doing. He had made his move, and the ball was in Fuji's court. How long it would stay there was anyone's guess. Saeki was prepared for the long-haul, regardless, resigning himself once again to faith. "Be careful."
Fuji nodded, turning to open the door. But as his hand touched the cold metal of the knob, something in him changed. He forced himself to turn around, blue eyes once again on the other’s face. “I’m going to the drug store.” He said, and with a long hesitation. “I’ll be right back.”
Surprise registered in dark blue eyes, the analyst's stance shifting slightly. The forced smile on his lips slowly melted into something real. This was different. "I'll be waiting." Maybe, just maybe...
Nodding again, Fuji opened the door and with one last look at Saeki, closed it behind him. Trying to keep his mind on the various items he would need to pick up at the pharmacy rather than the exchange that just happened. Pulling his scarf closer, Fuji breathed into the material. Today… might be a long day.
Saeki stared at the closed door for a long time after Fuji had left, thinking. Today... would be different. Tabun... He smiled softly to himself before shaking his head and returning back into the kitchen. The analyst certainly had his work cut out for him if he wanted to have the entire place cleaned out by tonight.