LOG: Tezuka Kunimitsu & Fuji Syuusuke
Who: Fuji Syuusuke and Tezuka Kunimitsu
What: Just after this thread. Tezuka, Fuji, and a panic attack.
Where: Fuji and Saeki's room!
When: November 11, 2009
Rating: PG
Comments: adkfhag.hafdjlkavcd.
Edit: Fixed now. I THINK.
The room was darkened. As soon as he had sent the last message to Tezuka, he had turned the computer off. Too much, he thought. Too much. It was bad enough that he felt glad that Marui had wound up in the hospital, and that thought alone made him feel guilty and horrible and completely awful, but the thought of that amount of violence brought back memories. Memories of Namase when they were still dating. Always invisible. Always bruises where no one else could see them. Or bruises that could very well be explained from tennis practice. And then the violence in school. It was the same, wasn't it? He had ended up in the hospital himself, because of the bullying. He had been broken, just like Marui. Only, he didn't know for sure if Marui was broken. And then... Namase. Again. Pulling a knife on him. Cutting him. And then... Then...
Yes, he was shaking. He sat on the floor, in the narrow space between his bed and one of the walls, legs pulled up halfway to his chest, arms used to hugging himself so tightly his knuckles turned white, so hard so his fingernails dug into the exposed flesh on his arms, as he was only wearing the short sleeved school uniform. His shoulders shook. His legs. His teeth clattered against each other. All of him shook.
There was something incredibly frightening about "shaking". Tezuka supposed the word on its own was innocent and dull, but - he didn't understand, truthfully, and he couldn't even begin to imagine Fuji sitting in his room, shaking. He loosened his tie, exhaling slowly before raising a fist and rapping on the door to Fuji and Saeki's room. Class was over, the dorms were overheated, the drama on campus ridiculous. Tezuka waited a moment, then tried the door knob. Unlocked.
At first, Tezuka thought Fuji had left. The idea made his shoulders slump and he glanced back down either side of the hallway as if he would be able to see where his friend may have run to. Except. He looked back into the dark room. "Fuji," He tried again, softly. If Fuji was shaking, he could very well be hiding. Tezuka stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. "Fuji, it's me." It felt a little idiotic, wandering quietly into someone else's room. Tezuka paused, and listened for some sort of reply. Nothing, just - breathing. His heart rate picked up and Tezuka silently scoffed at himself and called Fuji's name again. He started towards one of the beds - he didn't know whose was whose and it didn't matter - and sure enough, he could hear breaths and chattering teeth. Tezuka leaned knee onto the bed and leaned over the edge. Oh, Fuji. Tezuka's chest ached and he didn't move, didn't speak - then reached slowly to touch Fuji's shoulder.
He couldn't breathe. It was odd because he was breathing, rapidly. Hyperventilating almost. It still felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't get enough air. Suffocated. Under him. Torn apart and put together into a doll that looked like it worked properly but the cogs and gears inside were broken and they scraped and scraped and scraped against each other. He felt something. A presence. He shuddered, whimpered, shied away. Don't hurt me don't hurt me don't hurt me
The curse on the tip of his tongue was bitten back. Tezuka hesitated, then slid over the edge of the bed, fitting himself in the cramped space next to Fuji with some stumbling. "Fuji, look at me." He reached out again, catching Fuji's hand and squeezing his fingers gently. This was his friend, his rival - this was Fuji, and seeing him like this... it was wrong. Tezuka blinked down at their hands in the dark and his jaw clenched. "Fuji," He tried again, speaking a little louder now, a little more insistent. "Look at me."
That voice. That voice. Still shivering violently, Fuji raised his head slighly upwards, trying to make Tezuka out through the darkness and through the curtain of hair that fell in front of his eyes. "Te--zuk--a..."
The ache in Tezuka's chest worsened and suddenly he hated himself for ever letting this happen to Fuji. He swallowed. "Yes. Talk to me, now." About anything, really. Just talk, come back. Tezuka squeezed Fuji's fingers again, leaning his head against the wall.
"...Talk?" Talk? Was he kidding? When he couldn't breathe? When he couldn't stop... Stop seeing him, when he couldn't stop seeing them, when he couldn't... He didn't want to talk. He wanted to scream. He leaned forward, falling towards Tezuka.
Tezuka. Tezuka who didn't want him. Tezuka who had been with Marui. Tezuka who thought he wasn't good enough. Tezuka... Tezuka his friend, his gorgeous, complicated - yet surprisingly simple - and brilliant friend. Fuji clung to him, clung as if Tezuka would go away this very instant, vaporize into thin air and never come back, or that he'd be disgusted with him and shove him away, denying him again. He wasn't sure he could live with that. Right now it felt like he had to be accepted, had to be wanted, needed, cared for, embraced, manhandled, anything to feel like he was here and now and it wasn't Namase because he would never tell him it was all right. "Tezuka..." He kissed him, roughly.
Oh, damn it. Fuji's mouth was just as curious as it had been several months previous, but this was somehow worse - without or without the pathetic boyfriend hanging over Tezuka's head. Oh - damn it. Tezuka settled his hands on Fuji's shoulders with a depressing sense of déjà vu and pushed the smaller boy away. "Fuji," He said, slowly. And then he stopped. What was he supposed to say ? No, I am not going to take advantage of your addled brain? Or no, sorry, you're my friend and this could be bad? He couldn't. Tezuka glanced down at the floor, then back at Fuji as if that single second had offered him some new view on the issue at hand.
"In Junior High, I would have done almost anything with and for you, Fuji," Tezuka said, still slow with each word and wondering why he was even bothering with talking. Minimally, his hands tightened at Fuji's shoulders. "What do you want from me, Fuji?" And, was it something he could give. Tezuka wasn't sure, but he wasn't sure of much these days.
Why did he reject him again? Was he really that bad? Other people didn't reject, they embraced. But Tezuka. Why was Tezuka different? Why didn't he take and take and take and then throw him away? Why did he throw him away before, before he could be what they wanted him to be? Tezuka spoke. He ought to listen. He tried, really tried to make sense of the words. Without him noticing it, the shaking subdued ever so slightly. "What changed," he managed, teeth still clattering. "What made me bad, Tezuka?" He paused. "I want... I want you to want me. I want you to see me. And not look away. Eiji did see me but he looked away. Echizen doesn't see me, even though he doesn't look away. Taka-san sees, and accepts and Tachibana does, but I can't pull them down, I just can't. And I can't be strong for everyone, Tezuka! I can't try and cheer An up all the time, or Sakuno or Tomoka or Dan or Echizen or Kou-chan..." Was he crying? He wasn't sure. And the words came and rolled over his lips as if they belonged to someone else. He clutched hard onto Tezuka's shirt and the shakings started anew. "I can't be there for Yuuta. I always mess up. I don't even know what I've done this time, or maybe I do, but not really and it doesn't make sense but it'll go straight to hell whatever I do anyway..." And he kissed him again. The kiss was wet, so maybe he was crying.
Tezuka thought he had died. Or perhaps he was wishing for such, but - but. Tezuka turned his head away, for a moment not breathing and for what felt like a lifetime listened to his heart pound. Fuji - Fuji deserved so much better. So much more. He looked back at Fuji, touching the hands tangled in his shirt lightly. "I would still do almost anything with and for you," He whispered, bumping their foreheads together and closing his eyes. "I want to be strong for you. I want to see you, and just you. I want to ask you to wait for me, but I can't." Fuji had no time to wait, he had - he had Kawamura, and Tachibana...and Tezuka. His eyes opened, slowly, and readjusted to the dark room. "I would go down as far as you needed me to, with you, because you are very important to me. But you deserve someone much better." And Fuji did, and it was hard to think in any context, but Tezuka had managed it out. He sighed and pecked Fuji's lips, then leaned away with his back against the wall and legs stretched under the bed.
But I'm filthy, he wanted to say. Worthless. Not deserving of anything, especially not someone as strong and admirable as Tezuka. But he couldn't form the words. instead he leaned in again, this time burying his face in the crock of Tezuka's neck, his shoulders shaking as he fought to breathe, fought to keep his sobs inside, fought to just reclaim some sort of focus. "I want to..." he mumbled between his struggled breaths. "... with me..." Another mumbled pause. "...Here."
Tezuka slipped an arm around Fuji, pulling him tighter against his side. His other tucked some of Fuji's hair rather pathetically behind his ear. "Breathe," He mumbled, stomach twisting. Fuji's hyperventilating sobs were firghtening and Tezuka wasn't sure - at all - of how to fix this. He pressed his face to the top of Fuji's head, counting the breaths that seemed to outnumber the beats of his heart.
Stop. He had to stop, had to calm down, had to do what Tezuka told him. Had to breathe. He gasped, hacked, pushed himself away from Tezuka and started coughing. He coughed so violently he was afraid he was going to throw up, but the coughing subsided eventually. He wiped his face a few times, back turned to Tezuka, not wanting him to see him being this ugly, and only then did Tezuka's previous action dawn on him. Had he kissed his head or was that just... Oh, he wasn't sure. He turned around, facing Tezuka, his face red and puffy where the salty tears had left their trail. "Nee... I know something else I want... Coffee?"
Coffee. The relief that flooded Tezuka was - unexpected at the least. He sighed, glad at least the coughing had stopped. "Coffee it is then." He blanced himself with a hand against the wall and got slowly to his feet. Fuji's appearance had been expected, the coughing not so much and far more bothersome. "How would you like it?"
He was unable to smile, at least yet, but he managed to at least look a thought hopeful and expectant. "Pitch black."
Tezuka wasn't sure if coffee was the best drink following a coughing fit, but it was what Fuji wanted and what Fuji wanted he would get. He nodded and stepped around the bed. "I will be back, then." With coffee. Pitch black coffee.
Fuji nodded, and slowly, painfully even, pushed himself to his feet. He made it to his bed and stripped down to his boxer briefs before sliding down under the covers. He turned the night lamp on so Tezuka wouldn't have to stumble his way through the darkness, then he rolled over on his side and continued to cry, quieter this time.
When Tezuka returned with the foamy cup of steaming black coffee in hand he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do in a situation like...well, like this nonsense that had no business in Fuji's life. He shut the door quietly behind him and stared towards he night lamp, then at the lump under the covers that had to be Fuji. The coffee was set next to the lamp. There was nothing to say and Tezuka didn't try to change that, opting instead to trek across the room towards one of the desks and tugged the chair back to Fuji's bed. Tezuka dropped himself into it, staring up at the ceiling.
He wanted to ask if Fuji was crying, but that was an awkward question even in his mind. He tilted his head and looked back at Fuji. "Do you want me to stay?" Tezuka's voice came out quieter than he intended.
He heard Tezuka roam about and he could smell the delicious aroma of coffee filling the room. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down as much as he could, which wasn't exactly much, but enough, or at least he hoped it was. He emerged just in time for Tezuka to quietly ask his question, and Fuji looked at him with his tear streaked face for a moment, before nodding. "...Please," he mumbled weakly, reaching out for the coffee cup. It was really hot to the touch and he blew on it a few times before glancing over at Tezuka. "How come you always see me when I'm the most dishelved?"
There was a certain amount of relief that came with Fuji's answer. Tezuka settled back in the chair, blinking at him. "Luck," He replied, tilting his head.
Fuji looked up at that, and actually managed to produce a small smile. "Huh."
Huh indeed. Even a tiny smile like that was a start and a start Tezuka was grateful for. "Are you going to be able to sleep?" Tezuka asked, nodding towards the coffee.
"Probably not," Fuji admitted. "But I probably wouldn't have anyway." He was still shaking, but not so much. He tried to remember what had happened... Tezuka had come, and they had talked, but... About what? Everything was such a blur... "Did I... did I come on to you again...?"
Tezuka blinked. "No," He replied automatically, backtracking through the...the conversation, yes, and skipping over the parts that didn't need to be thought about right then. Later. "You can't sit alone when..." Tezuka paused, struggling for a split-second. "When this happens." This, like the shaking and especially the crying.
"What am I to do then," Fuji asked, his voice small. "I mean... panic attacks are not fun for anyone, and I don't want to pressure people into feeling sorry for me." He shook his head. "I'm sure there are people out there who thinks I enjoy this drama, and I don't really want to give them more reason to think so."
"Those people don't matter, and the moment you feel even remotely odd you could call me." As far as Tezuka was concerened the was drama, and then there were disasters. Anything that had happened in the past - month, two months, he wasn't keeping track anymore, a lot of it was far and beyond ordinary and obnoxious teenage drama. What had happened to Fuji hadn't been dramatic or enjoyable for anyone sane, and these panic attacks were no different.
Fuji carefully sipped on the coffee that still was a bit too hot, but bareable. "I'm sorry if I keep taking advantage of you..."
"You haven't been," Tezuka replied, watching Fuji sip at the coffee. Next time Fuji was getting some tea, caffeine free and nice-smelling tea that would lull him into a sleep-like state.
"Fuji," Tezuka started, then stopped and looked away again. If he concentrated he could smell the coffee. "Have you had dinner?"
The blonde looked up and nodded. "I have... But I threw it all up, so it was pretty useless." He sipped some more of the coffee. Lovely. His hand still shook enough for him to spill a few hot droplets over him, but he didn't care.
Tezuka had never been as angry as he was right then, watching his friend shake and generally look very pathetic. He leaned over and gently pulled the cup from Fuji's hands, brow furrowing. The coffee was still hot and therefore dangerous, or the thought of Fuji throwing up his dinner was making Tezuka protective. It didn't matter. "What would make the shaking stop?" He asked.
"I don't know..." He sighed, leaning into Tezuka's embrace. "I... just want to feel safe, Tezuka... Strong. People say that I'm strong, but I feel so... helpless. I can't even control how other people treat my body, so how can that be strong?"
Tezuka twisted, setting the cup back on the night table and his other hand rubbing Fuji's back. "Horrible things have happened to you, Fuji," He muttered, depositing himself on the edge of the bed. "You couldn't have stopped any of it."
"Why can't I pull myself back together?" He sighed, one hand clutching onto Tezuka's arm. "Dan's fighting, he's managing... Why can't I?"
"You are not Dan Taichi," Tezuka replied immediately, then faltered with a sigh. What could he say? He didn't have any answers beyond Fuji was Fuji and Dan was Dan - and, surely, Dan had to fight with his demons as much as Fuji did. He propped his chin on the top of Fuji's head, tugging him closer. "Don't bother with being strong, then, until you think you can pull yourself back together."
"I don't know how..." But at least it felt good to have Tezuka this close to him. He snuggled as much as he could, lips accidently brushing over Tezuka's neck.
Tezuka stiffened, then forced himself to relax. This was a Fuji snuggle, he thought and that thought was so ridiculous he almost slid off the bed and died under Fuji's bed. "You could start by sleeping and eating," Tezuka suggested, being the helpful friend he was. Or not. He leaned back slightly, peering down at Fuji's blonde head. "You don't remember our conversation earlier?" It was an idiotic question, really, but. But.
The blonde pulled back and frowned, shaking his head. "No... I think I was pretty out of it..." He sank down against the pillows and made himself comfortable, reaching out a hand. "Stay until I fall asleep, please?"
"Odd." Tezuka slid from the bed and took Fuji's hand, tucking it and him back under the sheets. He settled back into his pilfered seat next to the bed, a little amused that Fuji would think he had to ask. "I am not going anywhere," He promised, moving aside the cup of coffee and dimming the night lamp as best he could
What: Just after this thread. Tezuka, Fuji, and a panic attack.
Where: Fuji and Saeki's room!
When: November 11, 2009
Rating: PG
Comments: adkfhag.hafdjlkavcd.
Edit: Fixed now. I THINK.
The room was darkened. As soon as he had sent the last message to Tezuka, he had turned the computer off. Too much, he thought. Too much. It was bad enough that he felt glad that Marui had wound up in the hospital, and that thought alone made him feel guilty and horrible and completely awful, but the thought of that amount of violence brought back memories. Memories of Namase when they were still dating. Always invisible. Always bruises where no one else could see them. Or bruises that could very well be explained from tennis practice. And then the violence in school. It was the same, wasn't it? He had ended up in the hospital himself, because of the bullying. He had been broken, just like Marui. Only, he didn't know for sure if Marui was broken. And then... Namase. Again. Pulling a knife on him. Cutting him. And then... Then...
Yes, he was shaking. He sat on the floor, in the narrow space between his bed and one of the walls, legs pulled up halfway to his chest, arms used to hugging himself so tightly his knuckles turned white, so hard so his fingernails dug into the exposed flesh on his arms, as he was only wearing the short sleeved school uniform. His shoulders shook. His legs. His teeth clattered against each other. All of him shook.
There was something incredibly frightening about "shaking". Tezuka supposed the word on its own was innocent and dull, but - he didn't understand, truthfully, and he couldn't even begin to imagine Fuji sitting in his room, shaking. He loosened his tie, exhaling slowly before raising a fist and rapping on the door to Fuji and Saeki's room. Class was over, the dorms were overheated, the drama on campus ridiculous. Tezuka waited a moment, then tried the door knob. Unlocked.
At first, Tezuka thought Fuji had left. The idea made his shoulders slump and he glanced back down either side of the hallway as if he would be able to see where his friend may have run to. Except. He looked back into the dark room. "Fuji," He tried again, softly. If Fuji was shaking, he could very well be hiding. Tezuka stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. "Fuji, it's me." It felt a little idiotic, wandering quietly into someone else's room. Tezuka paused, and listened for some sort of reply. Nothing, just - breathing. His heart rate picked up and Tezuka silently scoffed at himself and called Fuji's name again. He started towards one of the beds - he didn't know whose was whose and it didn't matter - and sure enough, he could hear breaths and chattering teeth. Tezuka leaned knee onto the bed and leaned over the edge. Oh, Fuji. Tezuka's chest ached and he didn't move, didn't speak - then reached slowly to touch Fuji's shoulder.
He couldn't breathe. It was odd because he was breathing, rapidly. Hyperventilating almost. It still felt like he couldn't breathe, couldn't get enough air. Suffocated. Under him. Torn apart and put together into a doll that looked like it worked properly but the cogs and gears inside were broken and they scraped and scraped and scraped against each other. He felt something. A presence. He shuddered, whimpered, shied away. Don't hurt me don't hurt me don't hurt me
The curse on the tip of his tongue was bitten back. Tezuka hesitated, then slid over the edge of the bed, fitting himself in the cramped space next to Fuji with some stumbling. "Fuji, look at me." He reached out again, catching Fuji's hand and squeezing his fingers gently. This was his friend, his rival - this was Fuji, and seeing him like this... it was wrong. Tezuka blinked down at their hands in the dark and his jaw clenched. "Fuji," He tried again, speaking a little louder now, a little more insistent. "Look at me."
That voice. That voice. Still shivering violently, Fuji raised his head slighly upwards, trying to make Tezuka out through the darkness and through the curtain of hair that fell in front of his eyes. "Te--zuk--a..."
The ache in Tezuka's chest worsened and suddenly he hated himself for ever letting this happen to Fuji. He swallowed. "Yes. Talk to me, now." About anything, really. Just talk, come back. Tezuka squeezed Fuji's fingers again, leaning his head against the wall.
"...Talk?" Talk? Was he kidding? When he couldn't breathe? When he couldn't stop... Stop seeing him, when he couldn't stop seeing them, when he couldn't... He didn't want to talk. He wanted to scream. He leaned forward, falling towards Tezuka.
Tezuka. Tezuka who didn't want him. Tezuka who had been with Marui. Tezuka who thought he wasn't good enough. Tezuka... Tezuka his friend, his gorgeous, complicated - yet surprisingly simple - and brilliant friend. Fuji clung to him, clung as if Tezuka would go away this very instant, vaporize into thin air and never come back, or that he'd be disgusted with him and shove him away, denying him again. He wasn't sure he could live with that. Right now it felt like he had to be accepted, had to be wanted, needed, cared for, embraced, manhandled, anything to feel like he was here and now and it wasn't Namase because he would never tell him it was all right. "Tezuka..." He kissed him, roughly.
Oh, damn it. Fuji's mouth was just as curious as it had been several months previous, but this was somehow worse - without or without the pathetic boyfriend hanging over Tezuka's head. Oh - damn it. Tezuka settled his hands on Fuji's shoulders with a depressing sense of déjà vu and pushed the smaller boy away. "Fuji," He said, slowly. And then he stopped. What was he supposed to say ? No, I am not going to take advantage of your addled brain? Or no, sorry, you're my friend and this could be bad? He couldn't. Tezuka glanced down at the floor, then back at Fuji as if that single second had offered him some new view on the issue at hand.
"In Junior High, I would have done almost anything with and for you, Fuji," Tezuka said, still slow with each word and wondering why he was even bothering with talking. Minimally, his hands tightened at Fuji's shoulders. "What do you want from me, Fuji?" And, was it something he could give. Tezuka wasn't sure, but he wasn't sure of much these days.
Why did he reject him again? Was he really that bad? Other people didn't reject, they embraced. But Tezuka. Why was Tezuka different? Why didn't he take and take and take and then throw him away? Why did he throw him away before, before he could be what they wanted him to be? Tezuka spoke. He ought to listen. He tried, really tried to make sense of the words. Without him noticing it, the shaking subdued ever so slightly. "What changed," he managed, teeth still clattering. "What made me bad, Tezuka?" He paused. "I want... I want you to want me. I want you to see me. And not look away. Eiji did see me but he looked away. Echizen doesn't see me, even though he doesn't look away. Taka-san sees, and accepts and Tachibana does, but I can't pull them down, I just can't. And I can't be strong for everyone, Tezuka! I can't try and cheer An up all the time, or Sakuno or Tomoka or Dan or Echizen or Kou-chan..." Was he crying? He wasn't sure. And the words came and rolled over his lips as if they belonged to someone else. He clutched hard onto Tezuka's shirt and the shakings started anew. "I can't be there for Yuuta. I always mess up. I don't even know what I've done this time, or maybe I do, but not really and it doesn't make sense but it'll go straight to hell whatever I do anyway..." And he kissed him again. The kiss was wet, so maybe he was crying.
Tezuka thought he had died. Or perhaps he was wishing for such, but - but. Tezuka turned his head away, for a moment not breathing and for what felt like a lifetime listened to his heart pound. Fuji - Fuji deserved so much better. So much more. He looked back at Fuji, touching the hands tangled in his shirt lightly. "I would still do almost anything with and for you," He whispered, bumping their foreheads together and closing his eyes. "I want to be strong for you. I want to see you, and just you. I want to ask you to wait for me, but I can't." Fuji had no time to wait, he had - he had Kawamura, and Tachibana...and Tezuka. His eyes opened, slowly, and readjusted to the dark room. "I would go down as far as you needed me to, with you, because you are very important to me. But you deserve someone much better." And Fuji did, and it was hard to think in any context, but Tezuka had managed it out. He sighed and pecked Fuji's lips, then leaned away with his back against the wall and legs stretched under the bed.
But I'm filthy, he wanted to say. Worthless. Not deserving of anything, especially not someone as strong and admirable as Tezuka. But he couldn't form the words. instead he leaned in again, this time burying his face in the crock of Tezuka's neck, his shoulders shaking as he fought to breathe, fought to keep his sobs inside, fought to just reclaim some sort of focus. "I want to..." he mumbled between his struggled breaths. "... with me..." Another mumbled pause. "...Here."
Tezuka slipped an arm around Fuji, pulling him tighter against his side. His other tucked some of Fuji's hair rather pathetically behind his ear. "Breathe," He mumbled, stomach twisting. Fuji's hyperventilating sobs were firghtening and Tezuka wasn't sure - at all - of how to fix this. He pressed his face to the top of Fuji's head, counting the breaths that seemed to outnumber the beats of his heart.
Stop. He had to stop, had to calm down, had to do what Tezuka told him. Had to breathe. He gasped, hacked, pushed himself away from Tezuka and started coughing. He coughed so violently he was afraid he was going to throw up, but the coughing subsided eventually. He wiped his face a few times, back turned to Tezuka, not wanting him to see him being this ugly, and only then did Tezuka's previous action dawn on him. Had he kissed his head or was that just... Oh, he wasn't sure. He turned around, facing Tezuka, his face red and puffy where the salty tears had left their trail. "Nee... I know something else I want... Coffee?"
Coffee. The relief that flooded Tezuka was - unexpected at the least. He sighed, glad at least the coughing had stopped. "Coffee it is then." He blanced himself with a hand against the wall and got slowly to his feet. Fuji's appearance had been expected, the coughing not so much and far more bothersome. "How would you like it?"
He was unable to smile, at least yet, but he managed to at least look a thought hopeful and expectant. "Pitch black."
Tezuka wasn't sure if coffee was the best drink following a coughing fit, but it was what Fuji wanted and what Fuji wanted he would get. He nodded and stepped around the bed. "I will be back, then." With coffee. Pitch black coffee.
Fuji nodded, and slowly, painfully even, pushed himself to his feet. He made it to his bed and stripped down to his boxer briefs before sliding down under the covers. He turned the night lamp on so Tezuka wouldn't have to stumble his way through the darkness, then he rolled over on his side and continued to cry, quieter this time.
When Tezuka returned with the foamy cup of steaming black coffee in hand he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do in a situation like...well, like this nonsense that had no business in Fuji's life. He shut the door quietly behind him and stared towards he night lamp, then at the lump under the covers that had to be Fuji. The coffee was set next to the lamp. There was nothing to say and Tezuka didn't try to change that, opting instead to trek across the room towards one of the desks and tugged the chair back to Fuji's bed. Tezuka dropped himself into it, staring up at the ceiling.
He wanted to ask if Fuji was crying, but that was an awkward question even in his mind. He tilted his head and looked back at Fuji. "Do you want me to stay?" Tezuka's voice came out quieter than he intended.
He heard Tezuka roam about and he could smell the delicious aroma of coffee filling the room. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down as much as he could, which wasn't exactly much, but enough, or at least he hoped it was. He emerged just in time for Tezuka to quietly ask his question, and Fuji looked at him with his tear streaked face for a moment, before nodding. "...Please," he mumbled weakly, reaching out for the coffee cup. It was really hot to the touch and he blew on it a few times before glancing over at Tezuka. "How come you always see me when I'm the most dishelved?"
There was a certain amount of relief that came with Fuji's answer. Tezuka settled back in the chair, blinking at him. "Luck," He replied, tilting his head.
Fuji looked up at that, and actually managed to produce a small smile. "Huh."
Huh indeed. Even a tiny smile like that was a start and a start Tezuka was grateful for. "Are you going to be able to sleep?" Tezuka asked, nodding towards the coffee.
"Probably not," Fuji admitted. "But I probably wouldn't have anyway." He was still shaking, but not so much. He tried to remember what had happened... Tezuka had come, and they had talked, but... About what? Everything was such a blur... "Did I... did I come on to you again...?"
Tezuka blinked. "No," He replied automatically, backtracking through the...the conversation, yes, and skipping over the parts that didn't need to be thought about right then. Later. "You can't sit alone when..." Tezuka paused, struggling for a split-second. "When this happens." This, like the shaking and especially the crying.
"What am I to do then," Fuji asked, his voice small. "I mean... panic attacks are not fun for anyone, and I don't want to pressure people into feeling sorry for me." He shook his head. "I'm sure there are people out there who thinks I enjoy this drama, and I don't really want to give them more reason to think so."
"Those people don't matter, and the moment you feel even remotely odd you could call me." As far as Tezuka was concerened the was drama, and then there were disasters. Anything that had happened in the past - month, two months, he wasn't keeping track anymore, a lot of it was far and beyond ordinary and obnoxious teenage drama. What had happened to Fuji hadn't been dramatic or enjoyable for anyone sane, and these panic attacks were no different.
Fuji carefully sipped on the coffee that still was a bit too hot, but bareable. "I'm sorry if I keep taking advantage of you..."
"You haven't been," Tezuka replied, watching Fuji sip at the coffee. Next time Fuji was getting some tea, caffeine free and nice-smelling tea that would lull him into a sleep-like state.
"Fuji," Tezuka started, then stopped and looked away again. If he concentrated he could smell the coffee. "Have you had dinner?"
The blonde looked up and nodded. "I have... But I threw it all up, so it was pretty useless." He sipped some more of the coffee. Lovely. His hand still shook enough for him to spill a few hot droplets over him, but he didn't care.
Tezuka had never been as angry as he was right then, watching his friend shake and generally look very pathetic. He leaned over and gently pulled the cup from Fuji's hands, brow furrowing. The coffee was still hot and therefore dangerous, or the thought of Fuji throwing up his dinner was making Tezuka protective. It didn't matter. "What would make the shaking stop?" He asked.
"I don't know..." He sighed, leaning into Tezuka's embrace. "I... just want to feel safe, Tezuka... Strong. People say that I'm strong, but I feel so... helpless. I can't even control how other people treat my body, so how can that be strong?"
Tezuka twisted, setting the cup back on the night table and his other hand rubbing Fuji's back. "Horrible things have happened to you, Fuji," He muttered, depositing himself on the edge of the bed. "You couldn't have stopped any of it."
"Why can't I pull myself back together?" He sighed, one hand clutching onto Tezuka's arm. "Dan's fighting, he's managing... Why can't I?"
"You are not Dan Taichi," Tezuka replied immediately, then faltered with a sigh. What could he say? He didn't have any answers beyond Fuji was Fuji and Dan was Dan - and, surely, Dan had to fight with his demons as much as Fuji did. He propped his chin on the top of Fuji's head, tugging him closer. "Don't bother with being strong, then, until you think you can pull yourself back together."
"I don't know how..." But at least it felt good to have Tezuka this close to him. He snuggled as much as he could, lips accidently brushing over Tezuka's neck.
Tezuka stiffened, then forced himself to relax. This was a Fuji snuggle, he thought and that thought was so ridiculous he almost slid off the bed and died under Fuji's bed. "You could start by sleeping and eating," Tezuka suggested, being the helpful friend he was. Or not. He leaned back slightly, peering down at Fuji's blonde head. "You don't remember our conversation earlier?" It was an idiotic question, really, but. But.
The blonde pulled back and frowned, shaking his head. "No... I think I was pretty out of it..." He sank down against the pillows and made himself comfortable, reaching out a hand. "Stay until I fall asleep, please?"
"Odd." Tezuka slid from the bed and took Fuji's hand, tucking it and him back under the sheets. He settled back into his pilfered seat next to the bed, a little amused that Fuji would think he had to ask. "I am not going anywhere," He promised, moving aside the cup of coffee and dimming the night lamp as best he could