RP Log: Tezuka and Fuji
Date: Saturday, Jan 20, 2007
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Tezuka runs into Fuji when dropping off a replacement Christmas present. He asks Fuji to stay, and is more honest now that the weight of the world is off his shoulders.
The box felt heavy in his hands. Although it was supposed to be of substantial weight, the chest board was made mostly of solid wood and the pieces were of quartz crystal. They felt as if they were both made of solid lead at the moment.
Stopping in front of the (infamous) locker 345, Fuji took a deep breath. He didn't know why he bothered to get the gift, but he did neverless, and after almost two weeks since his return to Japan, the spy finally had the courage to drop off the box. Granted, he could have mailed the present, but the idea of anyone else touching his present just did not appeal to the brunet.
Opening the locker with gentle but firm hands, Fuji started to try out different combinations in order to put the large box into the just slightly larger locker, mentally kicking himself the whole way.
Pausing, Tezuka hesitated just as he was about to step down into the room with all the lockers. He was headed for their lockers with the false wall, the paper bag beside him containing the thick jacket he'd bought for Fuji. The weather had been even colder than usual, and Fuji would need this. Tezuka hadn't expected to see Fuji standing at the lockers, his own door opened, putting a box in.
Fuji looked good, and yet frail. Tezuka knew Fuji would find a way to avoid him if he didn't do something now, and so he stepped out into the light, walking over normally. "Fuji?" he said, not getting too close, but ready to grab the other if he tried to run.
There was no doubt in Fuji's head that he loved Tezuka, and still loved him as deeply as the moment he sat his eyes on the man. Yet … Grunting, Fuji gave the box one final push before stepping back. He coughed lightly. The weather had been colder than usual in Tokyo, and the spy had somehow contracted the flu sometime between the moment he stepped off the plane and his various appointments.
I hope he likes it, the brunet thought bitterly with a brittle smile. He didn't understand himself anymore. Why was he doing what he was doing? Why was he thinking what continued to go through his mind, why did his heart still ache for a presence that seemed more impossible with every moment that went by?
Sighing, Fuji laid his left hand on the locker door to close it. The puzzle ring made of white gold glittered in the lights when the voice that he thought he would never hear again rang in his ear despite the crowded station.
It was him, and the spy's heart almost cringed yet soared at the same time.
It _was_ Fuji. "Happy New Year," Tezuka said, not knowing what else to say. His eyes took in as much as he could, from the way Fuji's hair looked (a new hairstyle?) to the clothes Fuji was wearing (still too thin even in so many layers), to Fuji's shoes. He had heard the cough, and it felt as if he needed to do something quickly, but he had never needed to do so with Fuji, and he didn't know how to begin.
Instead, Tezuka searched for a topic. "... How was Las Vegas?"
"Warm." Fuji quickly overcame his shock and put on a practiced smile. "Happy New Year, Tezuka. I hope you didn't get too much fun at the party?"
"No," Tezuka answered. The party had been ... yet another Agency party. He hadn't been paying that much attention, to be honest, though functioning on autopilot was easy enough. That smile of Fuji's was back, now, and Tezuka wanted to ask Fuji how he was doing, but the words wouldn't come.
The distance between them was palpable, as if the miles between Las Vegas and Tokyo were still there separating them. Tezuka glanced at the lockers, at Fuji's hand, and then closed his eyes. I see. "I suppose congratulations are in order?" Tezuka asked, face impassive.
At the words, Fuji automatically looked at the ring then held the hand against his chest. It still seemed like a dream that Saeki had proposed to him in Las Vegas despite everything that went on, and even though the spy still had remaining feelings for the man before him, the brunet had accepted.
"Saa… if you wish." The slender spy forced himself to smile again. If he had known he would meet Tezuka there… no, the ring would stay on, Fuji steeled himself. No matter how much he still loved Tezuka, there was no future.
"No, I don't," Tezuka said, lips thinning. "I will if you want them, but not otherwise." And to think he had been ready to wish them the best, when all this time Saeki had been planning on taking Fuji away completely.
But Fuji still looked cold and frail, even moreso with his hand held like that. Tezuka held out the bag. "Merry Christmas, Fuji," he said, quietly.
"You have never cared for my wants, why start now?" Fuji chuckled softly and good naturedly, yet his words protrayed a hurt he had tried hard to hide.
Blinking in surprise, the spy took the bag. "You already gave me a present, Tezuka." The gentle smile never faltering. "Work got you so busy that you've forgottened?"
"Touche," Tezuka said, wincing. He bit his lip, and looked at the ring on Fuji's finger again, discreetly. "I've been a terrible friend, and I don't blame you for wanting it to change."
Perhaps it was true, one should pay friends much more attention to keep them happy. Was this why Fuji had pushed the issue? Tezuka had neglected him, hadn't he? And Fuji had wanted attention, and not known how to get it. Perhaps he could include small kindnesses once in a while. Fuji had done so for him, after all. I'm sorry, Fuji. "If it's not too late."
"No," Tezuka said with a light shake of his head. "The first one was ... ill-conceived. I ... hope ... no, suppose you haven't opened it. If you could ignore it, or throw it away, I'd appreciate it. And ... actually ... I have a lot more free time now. I'm no longer Director." If you want to do something sometime ... anything ...
"I heard." The blue eyes looked away as he continued to held the ring closed to his chest, the other hand clutching the bag close to his chest. "I just..." The younger man couldn't finish the rest of the sentence, overcome by a fit of coughs.
He couldn't understand it, he thought he had made up his mind, but yet... with every second that passed by, Fuji only loved the former director more. And after everything that happened, Tezuka continued to confuse him, making him unable to operate, overwhelmed by a desire to be in the warmth of the other man's embrace once more, enjoying the sweetness of that stolen kiss. Fuji shook his head even as his originally pale cheeks became flushed from the coughs.
He still loved Tezuka, so much. No matter what happened.
"I'd open the bag now," Tezuka said quietly, feeling concern for Fuji. "It may help with the cough."
"I'm fine." Just a little feverish, Fuji shook his head. "I'm just wondering... if I should open it." You asked me to open the last one too.
"Please do," Tezuka said. I'm aware you don't have to, but this was chosen entirely with you in mind.
The spy regarded the other man's face tenderly, his blue eyes gently taking in every detail of Tezuka's appearance. "As you wish." Fuji finally replied, pushing the renegade strands of hair away from his face. Even after everything, the brunet's heart still obeyed whatever the other man wanted.
With slow movements, the shorter man began to open the paperbag and removed the item inside from its paper wrapping. Shaking it loose, he regarded the garment with amazement.
"You should try it on," Tezuka said. He still hadn't moved from his spot, except to hand Fuji the bag, but now he walked around the other to get to his own door. Tezuka busied himself with opening it, partly because he wanted to give Fuji some privacy, and partly because he was curious as to what was in that box Fuji had placed inside.
"Are you going to help..." The spy had to stop himself from joking as normal, he couldn't tease the other man like he used to anymore. Instead he busied himself with peeling off the three layers of jackets that he wore to put on the new one that he had just received.
The box in the locker was snugly fit, and Tezuka's brow knitted in minor annoyance that the lockers should be this small. There had never been a real need for anything bigger, though. Out of the corner of his eye, he stole glances, hoping it would fit Fuji. He didn't know what size clothes Fuji wore--he hadn't kept a file for that, and had to guess.
The jacket fit surprisingly snug, and the spy was simply amazed at how warm the material felt against his skin even through the five layers of shirts he was wearing. "Thank you Tezuka." For a few moments, a genuine smile spread across the delicate features before he froze.
When had it all changed? Why did it seem that even though they stood only a few feet from each other, the distance between them seemed to be measured by galaxies? Because he couldn't keep his heart out of places it shouldn't go, because he couldn't keep his feelings to himself and… It was all his fault. Why did he have to say something? The more he stood next to the former director, the more he wanted to stay there even though he was sacrificing his ability to think clearly.
"I should get going, Tezuka." The spy said suddenly as he packed his old jackets in the bag quickly. He had to get out of there, he couldn't think straight anymore with the other man there. All he wanted at that moment was to feel Tezuka's arms wrapped around him once more.
The smile on Fuji's face was thanks enough, but Tezuka nodded, answering with the required, "You're welcome."
Then Fuji was packing quickly, and Tezuka knew if he didn't say something, Fuji would be gone. "Wait, Fuji," Tezuka said. "... come by. I've moved back."
"I..." Of course Fuji would love to visit Tezuka, he had missed spending time with the glassed man. The quiet nights they'd spent together, each on one end of the sofa, watching and waiting for the sunrise. But Saeki, there was Saeki now. "... shouldn't. Saeki..." wouldn't like that, he had promised to both himself and the analyst to be the silver-haired man's and even though Saeki wouldn't say anything, the older man wouldn't like it.
"I should get going." He needed to get away from here, away from Tezuka's presence, away from the man that he loved so dearly that his entire being yearned for the former director even now. Grabbing the bag, he quickly turned in an attempt to get away.
"Fuji--" Tezuka ran after the other, and thanked goodness they were in a secluded place where no one could see the tackle as he reached out, grabbing Fuji's sleeve, then quickly pulling the other back against a locker. Tezuka faced Fuji, who he had now literally backed into a corner--lockers on one side, stone wall another.
"Are you leaving with him?" Tezuka asked, slightly out of breath from the sudden movement. The words were layered with meaning--was Saeki waiting outside? Was Fuji going to stop speaking to Tezuka now? This wasn't the Fuji he knew--it was Fuji, but it was a slightly different Fuji. Since when had Fuji cared about 'shouldn't' and taken those to heart?
The blue eyes widen in surprise as he was pushed against the wall. "Tezuka!" He breathed in surprise, forgetting to even struggle. "Someone might see you, let go." He wasn't himself anymore, not when he was around Tezuka. The many words Saeki had whispered to him during the night came unbidden to the spy's mind.
"I will never hurt you like he did." The analyst had whispered over and over, even in their most intimate moments.
"Let go, Tezuka." The brunet whispered again, shying away from the other man's touch despite being pinned and with nowhere to go.
Tezuka did release his hands, but he stayed standing where he was. "You haven't answered my question," he said, and there was a bit of pain and hesitation in his face as he finally backed away a little, giving Fuji some personal space. "Fuji, are you leaving with him?"
"He's waiting for me at his place." The spy's expression was heavily guarded, hugging the walls as he walked around the former director. "He..." said he wouldn't hurt me. "we are visiting his family tomorrow."
One chance, Tezuka.
"Come home with me," Tezuka said, quietly. "You don't have to stay very long, but I've ... " The words missed you were on the tip of his tongue. "Please come."
"Tezuka." The spy stood still mid-stride to regard the glassed man with closely guarded eyes. "You... do you know what you are asking?"
"Aa." Tezuka's eyes met Fuji's, and this was possibly the first time Tezuka had done so when feeling this unsure. Don't leave, Fuji.
Taking several deep breath in a attempt to calm himself, Fuji shook his head, trying to clear the fog that was starting to gather there. You'll hurt me again, you'll leave me again, Saeki said so... Saeki said he wouldn't...
"Fuji," Tezuka said again, biting his lips. Fuji didn't want to be anywhere near him, it was clear ... but at the same time, Fuji wasn't running away even though Tezuka wasn't holding him down. What could Tezuka say? He stuck his hands into his pockets, and then stepped back, leaning against the stone wall beside Fuji.
"I missed you." Please don't leave. "Have tea, at least. I have fresh wasabi crackers," he said. "I was ... hoping ... you would show up."
The blue eyes widened. "Tezuka..." The spy's gaze fell on the other's face, on the lips that just said the words that he thought he would never hear. "You..." said the words, but did you mean it?
Well, that was about all Tezuka could say in one go, and he nodded instead, looking at Fuji's collar where the coat hugged tightly against the other's skin. "Aa." It was half-grunted, and was Tezuka's embarassed admission of weakness.
Unknown to himself, Fuji reached out and laid his hand upon Tezuka's chest, his eyes still unable to hide the suprise the admission had caused.
The touch on his chest surprised him as much as the realisation that he had surprised Fuji. Tezuka looked up, unable to hide the hope in his eyes as he covered the hand with one of his own, and gently squeezed. "Please." It was so quietly voiced Tezuka didn't even know if Fuji could hear it. He had never thought he could beg, but this was coming very close.
He had never heard the other man speak in such a soft voice before, even after all those years. "Tezuka..." The spy whispered the name again, almost in a trance. The other man's hand felt extremely warm and comfortable against his own and that glint in the former director's eyes seemed to place the brunet into a trance.
They stayed that way awhile until some one came down the steps, and Tezuka was quiet, wondering when they'd be noticed. The unintentional intruder didn't seem to notice them though, going to the far end, removing his belongings and leaving again.
The spell holding him entranced by Fuji's hand was broken, and yet Tezuka didn't wish to leave.
"The coat looks good," he said, needing something to say.
That brought a chuckle to the spy's lips. "You really should have taken that course in Social Interactions 101," the brunet remarked. "Even if it was not a 400 level class."
It hadn't fit on his schedule, and Tezuka hadn't been as interested in sociology as international politics. "Hn," he said, suspecting the class would have enjoyed skewering him if he had joined. "My list of regrets in life is long." Will you be one of them?
"You are not the only one." Fuji's gentle smile had turned more sincere, tolerant as it always had been. Are you going to let me be?
Not if I have anything to say about it. "Perhaps we should keep ours as short as possible."
"That doesn't really come with the job." The spy chuckled again, his fingers finally returning from the contact of the hold. What will you do then?
"We should have been professional tennis players," Tezuka said with a straight face, standing up again. He'd squeezed Fuji's hand, but Fuji had withdrawn it anyway, and the place it had rested on felt too cool, as if something was now missing.
Finally, Tezuka noticed the locker door, still left open from when Tezuka ran for Fuji. "What did you get me?" he asked, glancing over so the meaning was clear.
"We couldn't." Fuji's eyes were clear as he looked at up Tezuka. He did not regret any decisions he'd made in life. Then he stepped away. Talking about regrets...
"Something I found in Las Vegas." The brunet automatically answered at the dark-haired man's question.
"Don't leave?" Tezuka said, though it was more a request that Fuji at least stay until he'd retrieved the box.
"I am still here, Tezuka."
Giving Fuji another look, Tezuka walked over to the locker, and set about removing it from its tight confines. It took a few seconds of observation and another few of careful thought, but he finally managed to get a firm enough grasp on the box and pull it out without damaging box or locker.
It was heavy, and Tezuka walked over to the corner after re-locking the door. Heavy, but there was an obvious way to open it, and Tezuka was soon lifting up the lid to see a row of carved crystal in familiar shapes. "A new chess set," he said, picking up the black king, holding it up to the light. Translucent black crystal, possibly quartz. It was stunning.
"Thought you might want a replacement of the set you have." Fuji chuckled. "You bought that with your meal money back in school. It's time for a change." For a new beginning.
He happened to like his old chess set, even if it was quite run-down. Still, these chessmen were quite a leap from the old plastic ones. "Come break them in with me."
Run-down was one way to say it; ancient might be another. The spy pursed his lips. He had meant that Tezuka break the set in with someone else, because he didn't want to think about someone else sharing the chess set that he and the other man had played with for so many years.
Tezuka noted Fuji's hesitation, and gave the other a look ... or would have, had he not noticed something. Replacing the black king, he picked up the white and looked closer. "_Fuji_."
The spy gave the other man a innocent look, as if he didn't know what the other was talking about.
Raising the white king, Tezuka inspected the spectacle frames drawn on its face closely. Well. That was certainly permanent ink. "What if I changed my frames?
"I like how that frame looks on you." Fuji pouted lightly, only to be interupted by more coughs. Oh right, he should have taken the medication a few hours ago.
Tezuka frowned at the coughing, and gave Fuji another look. "Here," he said, unwinding his white scarf.
"I'm fine." The brunet insisted, back-stepping to prevent the second half of the coughs from getting anywhere near the other man. "I should be going..." he started again, even though he'd never even answered any of Tezuka's requests.
"Fuji," Tezuka said, ignoring Fuji's movement, slipping the scarf over the other's head twice, settling it down. "Don't go."
The other man was so close to him, and it stirred the spy's mind, reawakening all the hidden emotions that Fuji had been trying to hide. "And what would you give me if I obeyed?" the slender man found himself asking.
"What would you like?" Tezuka asked.
"Do you even need to ask?" The spy's voice was a soft whisper. If Tezuka didn't know him after all these years... there was simply no hope for the man.
"I can't give you something you already have," Tezuka said, quietly.
"Do I?" Fuji smiled, a bit sadly before pulling away, the walls again slowly raising around him.
"Don't put up your walls, Fuji," Tezuka said, recognizing the moment Fuji pulled away mentally. Fuji did this all the time, and it was frustrating and annoying. Tezuka wanted to talk to Fuji, not Fuji's walls.
"I'm not." The thin spy shook his head, hand reaching to remove the scarf, sighing inwardly as he did. Tezuka would never understand how much Fuji loved him, was affected by him, wanted to be with him. And it hurt, it hurt badly.
"Liar," Tezuka said, quietly, and then regretted his words. He reached for Fuji's hands, stopping him. "Keep the scarf."
"Tezuka..." The shorter man sighed. "Stop giving if you are not willing to totally give."
About to reply, Tezuka paused, and raised Fuji's hand, bringing Fuji's engagement ring to eye level. The look in Tezuka's own eyes was pained.
Quietly, he asked, "Will you still take me?"
For the second time that night, Fuji's blue eyes widened in surprise. He looked at the former director in disbelief, unwilling to trust that he'd actually heard the words correctly. The ring glinted almost defiently on the slender man's ring finger, almost as if laying its claim on the spy in place of the man who had placed the ring there.
As much as Tezuka would love to pull off the ring, he would respect Fuji's wishes. Not those of Saeki. The grip he held Fuji's hand in was not very tight, but it increased just a little. Not enough to hurt Fuji--it wasn't Tezuka's intention. "... Fuji," he said, softly.
"Tezuka..." The spy murmured, he had longed to hear the words from the other man and had pretty much given up all hope of ever having that dream coming true, yet... here Tezuka was giving him the wish he had hoped for day and night for the last decade.
Unknown to himself, his hand returned the tightness of the hold, holding the other man's hand back. His chin tilted up a little, bringing himself closer to the other man. So close that he could feel the former director's breath on him.
Tezuka gripped the other's hand tightly again--and felt the cool metal insinuating its presence against his finger. He closed his eyes a moment, and then opened them again, gazing into blue eyes he had never seen this close. That he had been next to beauty all this time and not felt a thing ... would Fuji really be happy with him?
Was Saeki right? Tezuka pulled back, only slightly, eyes still pained. He wanted to retreat, wanted to put on his 'game face' again, because this felt vulnerable and painful and suddenly Tezuka understood just how Fuji had felt until Tezuka had given him an answer. And yet he understood now exactly why Fuji needed one, because he did, too. "Fuji," he said, quietly, a reminder of their current situation. "You're engaged and I'm ... unworthy."
At the word, Fuji's finger was suddenly pressed against the other man's lips as the soft blue eyes looked away. "Please don't say that." Because that would mean I've devoted myself to the wrong person, and I didn't.
This meeting had been Awkward with a capital A. Neither really knew how to confront the other anymore, not even he, and if Tezuka was hoping that the spy could figure something out from this mess, he would be majorly disappointed. Which the brunet hoped was the first time. Yet, despite all the words unsaid and tension that fogged the air, he wanted to be there, with Tezuka.
The look in the glassed man's eyes looked so foreign that Fuji's finger turned into a soft palm gently and soothingly caressing the refined cheeks. Fuji was once again studying the former director-now-agent with a accepting gaze. Even though he didn't know how to solve this mess yet, there was one way for them to simplify everything.
"What do you want, Tezuka?" The words were softly whispered. "What do you want from me?"
Everything. Nothing. You. "I don't know," Tezuka said, slight frustration in his voice. I've never wanted anything except your company, always. Fuji looked so calm and accepting, and Tezuka felt as if he had everything to say and nothing to say.
"Help me, Fuji ... I don't know."
Wordlessly, Fuji pulled his hand out of Tezuka's clutch, then reaching up with both hands, he slowly removed the man's glasses. "There," The spy smiled gently. "Clearer view now?"
As Fuji pulled Tezuka's glasses off, Tezuka felt the world blur. And yet Fuji's face was still crystal clear. Tezuka could feel Fuji's breath on him as Fuji spoke, and before he knew it, his lips were on Fuji's, his arms on Fuji's shoulders gripping the other tightly, and he was kissing him.
It was a kiss that the spy thought would never happen as their lips were upon each other's, the eyewear still cradled gently in the slim man's palms. The kiss was a sensation sweeter than anything Fuji imagined, more intense than even the wildest fire. "Tezuka…" Fuji sighed the name in contentment against the agent, his body instinctively seeking to get closer to the warmth the other man generated.
Perhaps it was his name on Fuji's lips like that, but Tezuka realised he was kissing Fuji in the locker room in Shinjuku. It was not exactly the most ideal of places to be kissing anyone, and certainly not someone else's fiance ...
... what _was_ he doing? Breaking the kiss (not too abruptly), Tezuka discovered he'd pulled Fuji tightly to him, and Fuji was reciprocating. He closed his eyes and damned himself for his weakness. But if this was what Fuji wanted, Tezuka wouldn't stop, and Saeki be damned.
"Come home with me," he whispered softly.
Blue eyes lowered, not looking at the other man as Fuji nodded. Emotions were running wild inside the slim body. In many ways, this was a dream come true. But in many other ways, this was a nightmare. Why, Tezuka? Why now? The spy's mind reeled from the events. Why did the other man have to choose now of all times to finally return his feelings? Not during all those years that he had watched the man, nor when he finally confessed to the former director, nor in the months where the brunet had given up on ever having closure to his affections and chose instead to be with someone else, because just as he loved Tezuka, Saeki loved him. Why?
"Kami-sama help me," Tezuka said softly, but he tightened his grip on Fuji, hugging him, relieved. It was enough for Tezuka that Fuji was staying for now. Rationality told Tezuka he should go home, and bring Fuji there too, but it was hardly a day for rational thought, since he'd just kissed someone else's fiance in the locker room of the busiest train station in Japan.
"Why," Tezuka asked, almost to himself, "do I defy accepted proper behaviour with you, Fuji?"
"Why, then," The brunet answered the question with a question, his voice spoken against the other man's chest as he was held flush against the agent. "do you accept improper behavior from me because of you?"
"Because it's you, Fuji," Tezuka answered, as if there was ever any doubt.
The spy's smile gently widened at the answer. "Did you just answer your own question?"
Tezuka gave Fuji a _look_, but perhaps the effect was ruined by the lack of his glasses.
Then again, while others ran in fear, Fuji had always taken great joy out of that look, which he answered with a slightly playful smile.
With a sigh, Tezuka squeezed Fuji. "Let's go," he said, quietly.
Fuji nodded obediently, but was hesitant to let go of the other man. At least while Tezuka was holding him, the spy could keep his attention on the agent. But without the warmth, the visage of the analyst would come back to haunt him...
It was difficult for Tezuka to let go, too, and so he kept one hand in Fuji's. The box was the only other thing he wanted to hold, anyway.
Picking up the paper bag that contained the other jackets, his hand warmed by the other man's flesh, the spy adjusted the white scarf so he could hide most of his face even as he coughed.
Pausing a moment, Tezuka gave Fuji a glance. The jacket would keep the spy warm, but the scarf needed readjusting. He put down the box and stood in front of Fuji, and without saying anything, settled the scarf properly, untangling and wrapping the white wool snugly.
"Come," Tezuka said, picking up the box again. He had some cough and cold medicine at home.
Their hands together again, Fuji followed just slightly behind Tezuka even as Saeki's words continued to whisper to him in his mind.
"I will never hurt you like that; you're MINE. I love you..." The analyst had whispered to him over and over as they had laid together in bed as lovers. Saeki... The spy's heart cringed at the thought of the silver-haired man. Hiding his face deeper into the wool, he continued to follow.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Tezuka runs into Fuji when dropping off a replacement Christmas present. He asks Fuji to stay, and is more honest now that the weight of the world is off his shoulders.
The box felt heavy in his hands. Although it was supposed to be of substantial weight, the chest board was made mostly of solid wood and the pieces were of quartz crystal. They felt as if they were both made of solid lead at the moment.
Stopping in front of the (infamous) locker 345, Fuji took a deep breath. He didn't know why he bothered to get the gift, but he did neverless, and after almost two weeks since his return to Japan, the spy finally had the courage to drop off the box. Granted, he could have mailed the present, but the idea of anyone else touching his present just did not appeal to the brunet.
Opening the locker with gentle but firm hands, Fuji started to try out different combinations in order to put the large box into the just slightly larger locker, mentally kicking himself the whole way.
Pausing, Tezuka hesitated just as he was about to step down into the room with all the lockers. He was headed for their lockers with the false wall, the paper bag beside him containing the thick jacket he'd bought for Fuji. The weather had been even colder than usual, and Fuji would need this. Tezuka hadn't expected to see Fuji standing at the lockers, his own door opened, putting a box in.
Fuji looked good, and yet frail. Tezuka knew Fuji would find a way to avoid him if he didn't do something now, and so he stepped out into the light, walking over normally. "Fuji?" he said, not getting too close, but ready to grab the other if he tried to run.
There was no doubt in Fuji's head that he loved Tezuka, and still loved him as deeply as the moment he sat his eyes on the man. Yet … Grunting, Fuji gave the box one final push before stepping back. He coughed lightly. The weather had been colder than usual in Tokyo, and the spy had somehow contracted the flu sometime between the moment he stepped off the plane and his various appointments.
I hope he likes it, the brunet thought bitterly with a brittle smile. He didn't understand himself anymore. Why was he doing what he was doing? Why was he thinking what continued to go through his mind, why did his heart still ache for a presence that seemed more impossible with every moment that went by?
Sighing, Fuji laid his left hand on the locker door to close it. The puzzle ring made of white gold glittered in the lights when the voice that he thought he would never hear again rang in his ear despite the crowded station.
It was him, and the spy's heart almost cringed yet soared at the same time.
It _was_ Fuji. "Happy New Year," Tezuka said, not knowing what else to say. His eyes took in as much as he could, from the way Fuji's hair looked (a new hairstyle?) to the clothes Fuji was wearing (still too thin even in so many layers), to Fuji's shoes. He had heard the cough, and it felt as if he needed to do something quickly, but he had never needed to do so with Fuji, and he didn't know how to begin.
Instead, Tezuka searched for a topic. "... How was Las Vegas?"
"Warm." Fuji quickly overcame his shock and put on a practiced smile. "Happy New Year, Tezuka. I hope you didn't get too much fun at the party?"
"No," Tezuka answered. The party had been ... yet another Agency party. He hadn't been paying that much attention, to be honest, though functioning on autopilot was easy enough. That smile of Fuji's was back, now, and Tezuka wanted to ask Fuji how he was doing, but the words wouldn't come.
The distance between them was palpable, as if the miles between Las Vegas and Tokyo were still there separating them. Tezuka glanced at the lockers, at Fuji's hand, and then closed his eyes. I see. "I suppose congratulations are in order?" Tezuka asked, face impassive.
At the words, Fuji automatically looked at the ring then held the hand against his chest. It still seemed like a dream that Saeki had proposed to him in Las Vegas despite everything that went on, and even though the spy still had remaining feelings for the man before him, the brunet had accepted.
"Saa… if you wish." The slender spy forced himself to smile again. If he had known he would meet Tezuka there… no, the ring would stay on, Fuji steeled himself. No matter how much he still loved Tezuka, there was no future.
"No, I don't," Tezuka said, lips thinning. "I will if you want them, but not otherwise." And to think he had been ready to wish them the best, when all this time Saeki had been planning on taking Fuji away completely.
But Fuji still looked cold and frail, even moreso with his hand held like that. Tezuka held out the bag. "Merry Christmas, Fuji," he said, quietly.
"You have never cared for my wants, why start now?" Fuji chuckled softly and good naturedly, yet his words protrayed a hurt he had tried hard to hide.
Blinking in surprise, the spy took the bag. "You already gave me a present, Tezuka." The gentle smile never faltering. "Work got you so busy that you've forgottened?"
"Touche," Tezuka said, wincing. He bit his lip, and looked at the ring on Fuji's finger again, discreetly. "I've been a terrible friend, and I don't blame you for wanting it to change."
Perhaps it was true, one should pay friends much more attention to keep them happy. Was this why Fuji had pushed the issue? Tezuka had neglected him, hadn't he? And Fuji had wanted attention, and not known how to get it. Perhaps he could include small kindnesses once in a while. Fuji had done so for him, after all. I'm sorry, Fuji. "If it's not too late."
"No," Tezuka said with a light shake of his head. "The first one was ... ill-conceived. I ... hope ... no, suppose you haven't opened it. If you could ignore it, or throw it away, I'd appreciate it. And ... actually ... I have a lot more free time now. I'm no longer Director." If you want to do something sometime ... anything ...
"I heard." The blue eyes looked away as he continued to held the ring closed to his chest, the other hand clutching the bag close to his chest. "I just..." The younger man couldn't finish the rest of the sentence, overcome by a fit of coughs.
He couldn't understand it, he thought he had made up his mind, but yet... with every second that passed by, Fuji only loved the former director more. And after everything that happened, Tezuka continued to confuse him, making him unable to operate, overwhelmed by a desire to be in the warmth of the other man's embrace once more, enjoying the sweetness of that stolen kiss. Fuji shook his head even as his originally pale cheeks became flushed from the coughs.
He still loved Tezuka, so much. No matter what happened.
"I'd open the bag now," Tezuka said quietly, feeling concern for Fuji. "It may help with the cough."
"I'm fine." Just a little feverish, Fuji shook his head. "I'm just wondering... if I should open it." You asked me to open the last one too.
"Please do," Tezuka said. I'm aware you don't have to, but this was chosen entirely with you in mind.
The spy regarded the other man's face tenderly, his blue eyes gently taking in every detail of Tezuka's appearance. "As you wish." Fuji finally replied, pushing the renegade strands of hair away from his face. Even after everything, the brunet's heart still obeyed whatever the other man wanted.
With slow movements, the shorter man began to open the paperbag and removed the item inside from its paper wrapping. Shaking it loose, he regarded the garment with amazement.
"You should try it on," Tezuka said. He still hadn't moved from his spot, except to hand Fuji the bag, but now he walked around the other to get to his own door. Tezuka busied himself with opening it, partly because he wanted to give Fuji some privacy, and partly because he was curious as to what was in that box Fuji had placed inside.
"Are you going to help..." The spy had to stop himself from joking as normal, he couldn't tease the other man like he used to anymore. Instead he busied himself with peeling off the three layers of jackets that he wore to put on the new one that he had just received.
The box in the locker was snugly fit, and Tezuka's brow knitted in minor annoyance that the lockers should be this small. There had never been a real need for anything bigger, though. Out of the corner of his eye, he stole glances, hoping it would fit Fuji. He didn't know what size clothes Fuji wore--he hadn't kept a file for that, and had to guess.
The jacket fit surprisingly snug, and the spy was simply amazed at how warm the material felt against his skin even through the five layers of shirts he was wearing. "Thank you Tezuka." For a few moments, a genuine smile spread across the delicate features before he froze.
When had it all changed? Why did it seem that even though they stood only a few feet from each other, the distance between them seemed to be measured by galaxies? Because he couldn't keep his heart out of places it shouldn't go, because he couldn't keep his feelings to himself and… It was all his fault. Why did he have to say something? The more he stood next to the former director, the more he wanted to stay there even though he was sacrificing his ability to think clearly.
"I should get going, Tezuka." The spy said suddenly as he packed his old jackets in the bag quickly. He had to get out of there, he couldn't think straight anymore with the other man there. All he wanted at that moment was to feel Tezuka's arms wrapped around him once more.
The smile on Fuji's face was thanks enough, but Tezuka nodded, answering with the required, "You're welcome."
Then Fuji was packing quickly, and Tezuka knew if he didn't say something, Fuji would be gone. "Wait, Fuji," Tezuka said. "... come by. I've moved back."
"I..." Of course Fuji would love to visit Tezuka, he had missed spending time with the glassed man. The quiet nights they'd spent together, each on one end of the sofa, watching and waiting for the sunrise. But Saeki, there was Saeki now. "... shouldn't. Saeki..." wouldn't like that, he had promised to both himself and the analyst to be the silver-haired man's and even though Saeki wouldn't say anything, the older man wouldn't like it.
"I should get going." He needed to get away from here, away from Tezuka's presence, away from the man that he loved so dearly that his entire being yearned for the former director even now. Grabbing the bag, he quickly turned in an attempt to get away.
"Fuji--" Tezuka ran after the other, and thanked goodness they were in a secluded place where no one could see the tackle as he reached out, grabbing Fuji's sleeve, then quickly pulling the other back against a locker. Tezuka faced Fuji, who he had now literally backed into a corner--lockers on one side, stone wall another.
"Are you leaving with him?" Tezuka asked, slightly out of breath from the sudden movement. The words were layered with meaning--was Saeki waiting outside? Was Fuji going to stop speaking to Tezuka now? This wasn't the Fuji he knew--it was Fuji, but it was a slightly different Fuji. Since when had Fuji cared about 'shouldn't' and taken those to heart?
The blue eyes widen in surprise as he was pushed against the wall. "Tezuka!" He breathed in surprise, forgetting to even struggle. "Someone might see you, let go." He wasn't himself anymore, not when he was around Tezuka. The many words Saeki had whispered to him during the night came unbidden to the spy's mind.
"I will never hurt you like he did." The analyst had whispered over and over, even in their most intimate moments.
"Let go, Tezuka." The brunet whispered again, shying away from the other man's touch despite being pinned and with nowhere to go.
Tezuka did release his hands, but he stayed standing where he was. "You haven't answered my question," he said, and there was a bit of pain and hesitation in his face as he finally backed away a little, giving Fuji some personal space. "Fuji, are you leaving with him?"
"He's waiting for me at his place." The spy's expression was heavily guarded, hugging the walls as he walked around the former director. "He..." said he wouldn't hurt me. "we are visiting his family tomorrow."
One chance, Tezuka.
"Come home with me," Tezuka said, quietly. "You don't have to stay very long, but I've ... " The words missed you were on the tip of his tongue. "Please come."
"Tezuka." The spy stood still mid-stride to regard the glassed man with closely guarded eyes. "You... do you know what you are asking?"
"Aa." Tezuka's eyes met Fuji's, and this was possibly the first time Tezuka had done so when feeling this unsure. Don't leave, Fuji.
Taking several deep breath in a attempt to calm himself, Fuji shook his head, trying to clear the fog that was starting to gather there. You'll hurt me again, you'll leave me again, Saeki said so... Saeki said he wouldn't...
"Fuji," Tezuka said again, biting his lips. Fuji didn't want to be anywhere near him, it was clear ... but at the same time, Fuji wasn't running away even though Tezuka wasn't holding him down. What could Tezuka say? He stuck his hands into his pockets, and then stepped back, leaning against the stone wall beside Fuji.
"I missed you." Please don't leave. "Have tea, at least. I have fresh wasabi crackers," he said. "I was ... hoping ... you would show up."
The blue eyes widened. "Tezuka..." The spy's gaze fell on the other's face, on the lips that just said the words that he thought he would never hear. "You..." said the words, but did you mean it?
Well, that was about all Tezuka could say in one go, and he nodded instead, looking at Fuji's collar where the coat hugged tightly against the other's skin. "Aa." It was half-grunted, and was Tezuka's embarassed admission of weakness.
Unknown to himself, Fuji reached out and laid his hand upon Tezuka's chest, his eyes still unable to hide the suprise the admission had caused.
The touch on his chest surprised him as much as the realisation that he had surprised Fuji. Tezuka looked up, unable to hide the hope in his eyes as he covered the hand with one of his own, and gently squeezed. "Please." It was so quietly voiced Tezuka didn't even know if Fuji could hear it. He had never thought he could beg, but this was coming very close.
He had never heard the other man speak in such a soft voice before, even after all those years. "Tezuka..." The spy whispered the name again, almost in a trance. The other man's hand felt extremely warm and comfortable against his own and that glint in the former director's eyes seemed to place the brunet into a trance.
They stayed that way awhile until some one came down the steps, and Tezuka was quiet, wondering when they'd be noticed. The unintentional intruder didn't seem to notice them though, going to the far end, removing his belongings and leaving again.
The spell holding him entranced by Fuji's hand was broken, and yet Tezuka didn't wish to leave.
"The coat looks good," he said, needing something to say.
That brought a chuckle to the spy's lips. "You really should have taken that course in Social Interactions 101," the brunet remarked. "Even if it was not a 400 level class."
It hadn't fit on his schedule, and Tezuka hadn't been as interested in sociology as international politics. "Hn," he said, suspecting the class would have enjoyed skewering him if he had joined. "My list of regrets in life is long." Will you be one of them?
"You are not the only one." Fuji's gentle smile had turned more sincere, tolerant as it always had been. Are you going to let me be?
Not if I have anything to say about it. "Perhaps we should keep ours as short as possible."
"That doesn't really come with the job." The spy chuckled again, his fingers finally returning from the contact of the hold. What will you do then?
"We should have been professional tennis players," Tezuka said with a straight face, standing up again. He'd squeezed Fuji's hand, but Fuji had withdrawn it anyway, and the place it had rested on felt too cool, as if something was now missing.
Finally, Tezuka noticed the locker door, still left open from when Tezuka ran for Fuji. "What did you get me?" he asked, glancing over so the meaning was clear.
"We couldn't." Fuji's eyes were clear as he looked at up Tezuka. He did not regret any decisions he'd made in life. Then he stepped away. Talking about regrets...
"Something I found in Las Vegas." The brunet automatically answered at the dark-haired man's question.
"Don't leave?" Tezuka said, though it was more a request that Fuji at least stay until he'd retrieved the box.
"I am still here, Tezuka."
Giving Fuji another look, Tezuka walked over to the locker, and set about removing it from its tight confines. It took a few seconds of observation and another few of careful thought, but he finally managed to get a firm enough grasp on the box and pull it out without damaging box or locker.
It was heavy, and Tezuka walked over to the corner after re-locking the door. Heavy, but there was an obvious way to open it, and Tezuka was soon lifting up the lid to see a row of carved crystal in familiar shapes. "A new chess set," he said, picking up the black king, holding it up to the light. Translucent black crystal, possibly quartz. It was stunning.
"Thought you might want a replacement of the set you have." Fuji chuckled. "You bought that with your meal money back in school. It's time for a change." For a new beginning.
He happened to like his old chess set, even if it was quite run-down. Still, these chessmen were quite a leap from the old plastic ones. "Come break them in with me."
Run-down was one way to say it; ancient might be another. The spy pursed his lips. He had meant that Tezuka break the set in with someone else, because he didn't want to think about someone else sharing the chess set that he and the other man had played with for so many years.
Tezuka noted Fuji's hesitation, and gave the other a look ... or would have, had he not noticed something. Replacing the black king, he picked up the white and looked closer. "_Fuji_."
The spy gave the other man a innocent look, as if he didn't know what the other was talking about.
Raising the white king, Tezuka inspected the spectacle frames drawn on its face closely. Well. That was certainly permanent ink. "What if I changed my frames?
"I like how that frame looks on you." Fuji pouted lightly, only to be interupted by more coughs. Oh right, he should have taken the medication a few hours ago.
Tezuka frowned at the coughing, and gave Fuji another look. "Here," he said, unwinding his white scarf.
"I'm fine." The brunet insisted, back-stepping to prevent the second half of the coughs from getting anywhere near the other man. "I should be going..." he started again, even though he'd never even answered any of Tezuka's requests.
"Fuji," Tezuka said, ignoring Fuji's movement, slipping the scarf over the other's head twice, settling it down. "Don't go."
The other man was so close to him, and it stirred the spy's mind, reawakening all the hidden emotions that Fuji had been trying to hide. "And what would you give me if I obeyed?" the slender man found himself asking.
"What would you like?" Tezuka asked.
"Do you even need to ask?" The spy's voice was a soft whisper. If Tezuka didn't know him after all these years... there was simply no hope for the man.
"I can't give you something you already have," Tezuka said, quietly.
"Do I?" Fuji smiled, a bit sadly before pulling away, the walls again slowly raising around him.
"Don't put up your walls, Fuji," Tezuka said, recognizing the moment Fuji pulled away mentally. Fuji did this all the time, and it was frustrating and annoying. Tezuka wanted to talk to Fuji, not Fuji's walls.
"I'm not." The thin spy shook his head, hand reaching to remove the scarf, sighing inwardly as he did. Tezuka would never understand how much Fuji loved him, was affected by him, wanted to be with him. And it hurt, it hurt badly.
"Liar," Tezuka said, quietly, and then regretted his words. He reached for Fuji's hands, stopping him. "Keep the scarf."
"Tezuka..." The shorter man sighed. "Stop giving if you are not willing to totally give."
About to reply, Tezuka paused, and raised Fuji's hand, bringing Fuji's engagement ring to eye level. The look in Tezuka's own eyes was pained.
Quietly, he asked, "Will you still take me?"
For the second time that night, Fuji's blue eyes widened in surprise. He looked at the former director in disbelief, unwilling to trust that he'd actually heard the words correctly. The ring glinted almost defiently on the slender man's ring finger, almost as if laying its claim on the spy in place of the man who had placed the ring there.
As much as Tezuka would love to pull off the ring, he would respect Fuji's wishes. Not those of Saeki. The grip he held Fuji's hand in was not very tight, but it increased just a little. Not enough to hurt Fuji--it wasn't Tezuka's intention. "... Fuji," he said, softly.
"Tezuka..." The spy murmured, he had longed to hear the words from the other man and had pretty much given up all hope of ever having that dream coming true, yet... here Tezuka was giving him the wish he had hoped for day and night for the last decade.
Unknown to himself, his hand returned the tightness of the hold, holding the other man's hand back. His chin tilted up a little, bringing himself closer to the other man. So close that he could feel the former director's breath on him.
Tezuka gripped the other's hand tightly again--and felt the cool metal insinuating its presence against his finger. He closed his eyes a moment, and then opened them again, gazing into blue eyes he had never seen this close. That he had been next to beauty all this time and not felt a thing ... would Fuji really be happy with him?
Was Saeki right? Tezuka pulled back, only slightly, eyes still pained. He wanted to retreat, wanted to put on his 'game face' again, because this felt vulnerable and painful and suddenly Tezuka understood just how Fuji had felt until Tezuka had given him an answer. And yet he understood now exactly why Fuji needed one, because he did, too. "Fuji," he said, quietly, a reminder of their current situation. "You're engaged and I'm ... unworthy."
At the word, Fuji's finger was suddenly pressed against the other man's lips as the soft blue eyes looked away. "Please don't say that." Because that would mean I've devoted myself to the wrong person, and I didn't.
This meeting had been Awkward with a capital A. Neither really knew how to confront the other anymore, not even he, and if Tezuka was hoping that the spy could figure something out from this mess, he would be majorly disappointed. Which the brunet hoped was the first time. Yet, despite all the words unsaid and tension that fogged the air, he wanted to be there, with Tezuka.
The look in the glassed man's eyes looked so foreign that Fuji's finger turned into a soft palm gently and soothingly caressing the refined cheeks. Fuji was once again studying the former director-now-agent with a accepting gaze. Even though he didn't know how to solve this mess yet, there was one way for them to simplify everything.
"What do you want, Tezuka?" The words were softly whispered. "What do you want from me?"
Everything. Nothing. You. "I don't know," Tezuka said, slight frustration in his voice. I've never wanted anything except your company, always. Fuji looked so calm and accepting, and Tezuka felt as if he had everything to say and nothing to say.
"Help me, Fuji ... I don't know."
Wordlessly, Fuji pulled his hand out of Tezuka's clutch, then reaching up with both hands, he slowly removed the man's glasses. "There," The spy smiled gently. "Clearer view now?"
As Fuji pulled Tezuka's glasses off, Tezuka felt the world blur. And yet Fuji's face was still crystal clear. Tezuka could feel Fuji's breath on him as Fuji spoke, and before he knew it, his lips were on Fuji's, his arms on Fuji's shoulders gripping the other tightly, and he was kissing him.
It was a kiss that the spy thought would never happen as their lips were upon each other's, the eyewear still cradled gently in the slim man's palms. The kiss was a sensation sweeter than anything Fuji imagined, more intense than even the wildest fire. "Tezuka…" Fuji sighed the name in contentment against the agent, his body instinctively seeking to get closer to the warmth the other man generated.
Perhaps it was his name on Fuji's lips like that, but Tezuka realised he was kissing Fuji in the locker room in Shinjuku. It was not exactly the most ideal of places to be kissing anyone, and certainly not someone else's fiance ...
... what _was_ he doing? Breaking the kiss (not too abruptly), Tezuka discovered he'd pulled Fuji tightly to him, and Fuji was reciprocating. He closed his eyes and damned himself for his weakness. But if this was what Fuji wanted, Tezuka wouldn't stop, and Saeki be damned.
"Come home with me," he whispered softly.
Blue eyes lowered, not looking at the other man as Fuji nodded. Emotions were running wild inside the slim body. In many ways, this was a dream come true. But in many other ways, this was a nightmare. Why, Tezuka? Why now? The spy's mind reeled from the events. Why did the other man have to choose now of all times to finally return his feelings? Not during all those years that he had watched the man, nor when he finally confessed to the former director, nor in the months where the brunet had given up on ever having closure to his affections and chose instead to be with someone else, because just as he loved Tezuka, Saeki loved him. Why?
"Kami-sama help me," Tezuka said softly, but he tightened his grip on Fuji, hugging him, relieved. It was enough for Tezuka that Fuji was staying for now. Rationality told Tezuka he should go home, and bring Fuji there too, but it was hardly a day for rational thought, since he'd just kissed someone else's fiance in the locker room of the busiest train station in Japan.
"Why," Tezuka asked, almost to himself, "do I defy accepted proper behaviour with you, Fuji?"
"Why, then," The brunet answered the question with a question, his voice spoken against the other man's chest as he was held flush against the agent. "do you accept improper behavior from me because of you?"
"Because it's you, Fuji," Tezuka answered, as if there was ever any doubt.
The spy's smile gently widened at the answer. "Did you just answer your own question?"
Tezuka gave Fuji a _look_, but perhaps the effect was ruined by the lack of his glasses.
Then again, while others ran in fear, Fuji had always taken great joy out of that look, which he answered with a slightly playful smile.
With a sigh, Tezuka squeezed Fuji. "Let's go," he said, quietly.
Fuji nodded obediently, but was hesitant to let go of the other man. At least while Tezuka was holding him, the spy could keep his attention on the agent. But without the warmth, the visage of the analyst would come back to haunt him...
It was difficult for Tezuka to let go, too, and so he kept one hand in Fuji's. The box was the only other thing he wanted to hold, anyway.
Picking up the paper bag that contained the other jackets, his hand warmed by the other man's flesh, the spy adjusted the white scarf so he could hide most of his face even as he coughed.
Pausing a moment, Tezuka gave Fuji a glance. The jacket would keep the spy warm, but the scarf needed readjusting. He put down the box and stood in front of Fuji, and without saying anything, settled the scarf properly, untangling and wrapping the white wool snugly.
"Come," Tezuka said, picking up the box again. He had some cough and cold medicine at home.
Their hands together again, Fuji followed just slightly behind Tezuka even as Saeki's words continued to whisper to him in his mind.
"I will never hurt you like that; you're MINE. I love you..." The analyst had whispered to him over and over as they had laid together in bed as lovers. Saeki... The spy's heart cringed at the thought of the silver-haired man. Hiding his face deeper into the wool, he continued to follow.