Kite/Tezuka ~ fic
Title: Letting the cables sleep
Pairing: Kite/Tezuka - future timeline
Rating: PG.
Summary: Kite tries to accustom himself to an empty bed after Rin has packed up and gone. A chance meeting with an old rival helps to ease the separation anxiety.
a/n ~ Tezuka and Kite say goodbye.
First bit + second bit + third bit
letting the cables sleep
chapter four
Drifting just on the edges of sleep - warm, drowsy, comfortable - Tezuka turned instinctively toward the warmth at his side and tugged the blanket over his face to block out the pale morning sunlight. He could hear, distantly, his mobile ringing no more than twenty feet away and as the hazy remnants of sleep dissipated, Tezuka knew that he wouldn’t get to it in time.
Stretching slowly, he draped his arm over Kite’s waist and mumbled unintelligibly against his chest. In response, Kite turned toward him to wrap both arms around him and snuggle him close. While he didn’t speak to indicate that he was awake, Tezuka couldn’t be certain that he wasn’t when he nosed into Tezuka’s hair and hummed sleepily.
Still as stone and about as lively, Tezuka glanced up to take in the smooth column of Kite’s throat and the sharp line of his jaw. His phone continued to ring.
“Kite,” he murmured, palms flat on the other man’s chest. “Kite, wake up.”
Barely audible, Kite murmured and pulled him closer to slip one leg between both of Tezuka’s. He nuzzled Tezuka’s ear, his neck, and muffled soft, drowsy sounds against his hair.
“Eishirou,” he tried again, a bit more commanding this time. He shoved at him gently, not wanting to throw Kite off and cause him to crack his skull on the windowsill. “Eishirou, move - my mobile is ringing.”
“Call ‘em back later,” was Kite’s response, sliding his hands along Tezuka’s back and rubbing his thigh between Tezuka’s legs. “Sleepin’.”
Tezuka sighed, rising on one elbow to disentangle himself from Kite’s embrace. “I’m awake and so are you. Now move.”
Grumbling, Kite rolled to his back, tugging the blanket up and over his head. “It’s too early.”
Tezuka sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. He couldn’t see the clock without his glasses, but he would have been willing to bet that it was nearly eight a.m. - if it weren’t already. “It’s not early,” he said, flatly. “It’s late.”
Snorting in amusement, Kite turned again - back facing Tezuka - and then grew still. “Touché.”
Crawling out from beneath the blanket, Tezuka shivered - the floor was cold - and got to his feet slowly, stiffly. Glancing around, bleary-eyed and graceless, Tezuka attempted to locate his clothing without benefit of his glasses and it wasn’t until it dawned on him that he was standing bare-assed in front of an un-shaded window that he moved quickly. The sound of dismay that he made upon realizing that people could see him from the street was met with still more muffled amusement from beneath the blanket and Tezuka nudged Kite with his toes before bending to retrieve his clothing.
As he dressed, silently, efficiently, Kite spoke.
“It’s a little early for the phone to ring, don’t you think so?”
Tezuka hummed an acknowledgement, but declined to elaborate or to engage Kite in conversation regarding the phone calls he received and what time of day was acceptable versus not acceptable. Kite, however, was not so easily put off.
“It must not have been very important. They didn’t call back.”
“Aa,” Tezuka said, putting on his glasses and smoothing his hair down a bit.
When Kite did not respond, Tezuka experienced a brief moment of satisfaction at having shut him up and stood silently for a moment, taking in the sight of the Kite-shaped blanket lump. All of this - this banter, this small talk, this lingering moment - was no more than a prelude to the inevitable. There really wasn’t a decision that needed to be made - he would exchange Kite’s clothing for his own and then he would say goodbye.
“Tezuka,” Kite said, finally, tugging the blanket away from his face and leaning up on one elbow.
Turning, half-dressed and looking so delightfully sleep-rumpled that Kite very nearly rose for the sole purpose of dragging his new lover back to their makeshift bed, Tezuka regarded him solemnly. That he enjoyed looking at Kite was not something that he seemed interested in hiding. It gave Kite some small measure of comfort, though he’d never liken it to expectance or even hope - such was not the nature of their interaction.
“Did you want to shower?”
With an immediate, polite decline just on the tip of his tongue, Tezuka hesitated. He did want to shower. He felt dirty and uncomfortable, sore and wet. “Would you mind if I bathed, instead?’ He sounded awkward when he spoke - bashful and hesitant despite their intimacy - and Kite found that he could only stare at him for a few moments. He felt as though something had been left unsaid, though, of course, there was truly nothing to say.
“Of course not. Help yourself - you know where everything is - and I’ll straighten up in here.”
Tezuka nodded, though he’d intended to offer his assistance in tidying up the kitchen and the place where they’d slept. It occurred to him, as he turned away, that he and Kite had held one another - shared kisses and heat and unusually good sex - in the very place that Kite sat down for dinner each night. Likely he entertained at that table, on those cushions and with a sharp spike of some emotion that Tezuka would never call jealousy, he wondered how many others Kite had lain with in the dark. On those pillows. But he didn’t ask.
He could hear Kite behind him, slipping on his pants and standing to stretch his arms over his head, but Tezuka didn’t look back, he wasn’t certain he wanted to test his own self-discipline any further.
“I won’t be long,” he said, and disappeared into the bedroom.
Kite watched him leave and stretched again, rotating his shoulders and stretching the muscles in his back. Sleeping in one position all night, with the weight of another person plastered against him, had made his muscles stiff and sore. He thought about the day stretching out before him and considered a jog along the river or perhaps a visit to the gym he frequented.
Or maybe he’d lounge around the apartment, call his mother and studiously dodge any questions she asked him about Rin-chan or school. Paramount in Kite’s mind, as he moved to rinse dishes and wipe the countertops, was that Tezuka seemed eager to make his escape and appeared to have absolutely no intention of offering his phone number to Kite.
He frowned, drying his hands on a ratty towel and draping it over the oven’s handle as he snuck a glance at the messenger bag leaning against the far wall. Tezuka’s phone was hidden away in that bag and - since Tezuka was not in the room and unable to protest Kite’s violation of his privacy - Kite reminded himself that such fortuitous opportunities rarely presented themselves twice.
He stood over the bag, staring at it for a moment, thinking about how it suited Tezuka and wondering what sorts of things he carried inside it. After a moment, when Tezuka turned off the water in the bathroom and Kite felt it was safe to assume that he’d already begun to ease into the tub, he knelt before the bag to touch the front flap. Fingers tracing the buckle and the smart leather strap that ran along the edge, Kite glanced over his shoulder once before lifting the bag’s flap to reach inside. There was a book, a small steno pad, a couple of pens and a small key ring. He didn’t open the bag to peer inside, simply passed fingertips over each item until he found what he’d been searching for.
Tezuka’s mobile - thin, grey, light in Kite’s fingers - lay in the bottom of the bag and when he took it out, he ran the edge of his thumb over the LCD screen and flipped the cover up.
(1)Unread text message
He hesitated, wanting to press the button, but knowing that he shouldn’t. How would he feel if Tezuka searched through his things, seeking information that Kite wasn’t willing to offer, himself?
In the end, of course, he pushed the button. It was a moot point, after all, given that he did not own a messenger bag and had no real secrets to keep, besides.
I hope you’re not where I think you are. -R
Brows furrowed, Kite stared at the message for a moment in an attempt to puzzle out what it might mean and whom it might be from. He realized, belatedly, that such information might be gleaned merely by snooping through the other messages in Tezuka’s inbox. He scrolled past the most recent one to take in the others - in order of their receipt - and smiled at the ones that he could guess at - even knowing so little of Tezuka’s personal life as he did.
Your grandfather misses you, Kunimitsu. Don’t break an old man’s heart. I love you! Take your vitamins!
Tezuka - Eiji has tickets to a hockey game! Call me as soon as you can!
Tezuka, do you want this ticket or not? Oishi is driving me nuts about it.
Buchou. Don’t get careless. Wish me luck. -R
You’re stupid for even thinking it. Let it go, Buchou. -R
Mitsu. I love you. I thought you knew me better than this.
Kunimitsu, when are finals? Your grandfather wants to plan a party. Please call me this
week.
Tezuka. Inui saw Atobe out to dinner with a woman last week. I am praying that you are aware of this, already. -Shuusuke
It was just sex. Nobody said we had to get married. -R
Kite blinked, paying particular attention to the last text and realizing - from the initial alone - who the most recent one was from. He didn’t like the feeling that was his when he thought about someone else touching Tezuka’s body - kissing him, holding him, making love to him. Atobe Keigo. Echizen Ryoma. Anyone.
Scowling, he flipped through the phone’s menu again, finding Tezuka’s phone book and adding his own number to the top of the list. Of course, he’d had to change his name to A. Eishirou, but he imagined that Tezuka would recognize his intention. As long as his name preceded Atobe Keigo’s on the list, Kite was satisfied. He did not, however, make note of Tezuka’s number for himself. If Tezuka wanted him, he would contact him. Kite would compromise his own dignity no more than he had already. That was not to say that he experienced any guilt for snooping through Tezuka’s things - that had been a necessary endeavor - but he knew that such sneaky tactics would not be met with Tezuka’s approval. It was clear enough to Kite that Tezuka frowned on his tendency to play dirty when the chips were down. Kite had never been, however, one for compromising his bid for success with something so trivial as his conscience.
He put the phone away, set the bag where he’d found it and made short work of straightening the cushions and the table. When the kitchen was reasonably clean and in no danger of earning Tezuka’s unfavorable consideration, he padded into his bedroom to dress.
In his bureau he found a pair of baggy cargo pants and a plain white t-shirt and, while he dressed, he could hear the sound of water draining from the tub. Tying the drawstring of his pants, he glanced down at Tezuka’s pants, balled up with his briefs on the floor, and tried to imagine Tezuka rising from his bath only to dress himself in clothing that was not pristine.
On a whim, he picked up the pants to shake the wrinkles out before folding them and laying them on the bed. The shirt and sweater-vest followed suit and it was while Kite held the plain, white underwear in both hands that Tezuka emerged from the bathroom.
Wrapped in Kite’s bathrobe, with his glasses in his hand and his hair in damp disarray, Tezuka paused in the doorway and simply stared. At some odd, awkward impasse, neither of them spoke right away but neither could they seem to look away from one another.
Finally, Tezuka cleared his throat to speak first. “Did you want to shower?”
Feeling as though he’d already been caught doing something pathetic, Kite saw no need to lay Tezuka’s underwear down now. Instead, he rubbed the fabric between his fingertips and only barely resisted the urge to rub them against his face. He somehow knew that, if he were ever to do something so blatant, Tezuka would assume that it had been done for show. He would be wrong.
“Why?”
Tezuka blinked, clearly not expecting such a question. “Because,” he began, holding the front of the robe closed even though it was belted quite securely already. “Last night and…I just imagined that you would want to clean up.”
Dropping the underwear on the bed then, Kite ran his hands through his hair, frowning when it barely budged under his attentions. Truly, he was surprised that it wasn’t standing completely on end at this point. “I’m clean enough,” he said. “I’m not as eager to scrub you off of me the way you seem to think I should.”
Tezuka blushed, turning his gaze aside to shield his eyes from Kite. “Don’t say things like that.”
Taking a step forward, Kite shoved his hands into his pockets. “Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“No,” was Tezuka’s reluctant answer, and still he did not look up. “Why are you so certain that you know what I’m thinking?”
“I dunno, Tezuka,” he answered. “Maybe I’m hoping you’ll prove me wrong.”
Tezuka put his glasses on, then, shielding his eyes as surely as his hair had done previously. “I don’t like your riddles, Kite. You try to confuse me.”
Kite laughed, rocking on the balls of his feet. “You’re so used to head games that you can’t even tell the difference between a riddle and the truth, Tezuka. I think last night was probably a long time coming for you, what do you think?”
Frowning, Tezuka moved past Kite to reach for his clothing. “I think you should stop pretending to know me,” he murmured. “Last night was a mistake.”
Happy to be as easygoing as Tezuka seemed to require that he be, Kite’s even-temper dissolved in the face of Tezuka’s unfair assertion - his blatant lie.
“You trying to convince me or yourself?”
When Tezuka didn’t answer and, instead, gathered his clothing against him when he turned back toward the bathroom, Kite continued. “Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like a mistake when you curled up beside me to sleep last night.”
Tezuka froze where he stood. Denying the sex would have been easy enough - he’d been planning to do so from the very first - but denying the closeness and warmth that Kite had so selflessly offered him afterward would have been cowardly.
“Forget about the sex if it makes it easier for you to walk away, but don’t pretend that that’s all there was.”
“I was lonely,” Tezuka insisted. “I was lonely and you were horny. Don’t read anything else into it.”
Kite smiled, truly amused by Tezuka’s method of self-preservation. He could almost feel the walls going up around him and he knew that they would not be so easily breached a second time. “Is that really what you think?” he finally asked, voice quiet.
Tezuka didn’t answer right away, aware of Kite’s progressive proximity as if there were no barriers at all between them. It wasn’t until Kite stood just behind him - his breath warm against Tezuka’s neck and his touch light at Tezuka’s shoulders - that Tezuka bothered to respond. “It doesn’t matter, Eishirou,” he said, voice so low and so strained that Kite experienced a moment’s guilt for pushing him when he was clearly not in the proper element to risk not girding himself. “I can’t…”
Despite his obvious desire for distance, Kite slid both arms around Tezuka to hold him close. He turned his head, nosed against Tezuka’s damp hair and curled his fingers over Tezuka’s wrists. “He must’ve really done a number on you,” he said, eventually. “And I guess that makes me your rebound.”
When Tezuka didn’t answer, but stiffened minutely within his embrace, Kite bowed his head to nuzzle at his neck. He smelled clean and spicy and felt even better - but he wasn’t for Kite. It was probable that he never had been.
“Tell me who he is.”
Declining to respond, Tezuka only tightened his hold on the bundle of clothing in his arms and, after a moment or two, Kite accepted that Tezuka had said all that he intended to say. He kissed his neck, because he wanted to and not because he suspected that it might crumble Tezuka’s defenses. Having gone that far, it was only natural that he would seek to get as much of Tezuka as he was able - even when he knew that such touching, such sharing could go nowhere. He touched Tezuka’s chin, his face, grazed his lips with the tips of his fingers and murmured encouragement when he kissed his mouth. Tentative at first, almost certain that Tezuka would immediately turn away, Kite made some soft sound of approval when Tezuka leaned his head back against his shoulder and parted his lips obligingly.
Wasting no time in deepening the kiss, Kite slid one hand up Tezuka’s neck, holding him possessively and stroking Tezuka’s jaw with the edge of his thumb as he splayed one hand at his belly. Tezuka did not turn toward Kite, nor did he release his hold on the clothing he clutched to his chest, but Kite did not appear to require any further acquiescence than Tezuka had already given.
He nibbled at Tezuka’s lips, stroked his skin, shared his breath, and it was only when Kite’s attentions intensified - his grip tightening and his kiss deepening further still - that Tezuka turned his head to break their contact. And with a small sigh of regret, he spoke. “I,” he began, voice rough and he cleared his throat once when Kite ran a hand up his side to touch his ribs. “I have to go, Eishirou.”
Kite’s fingers tightened only marginally before he closed his eyes to nose at Tezuka’s cheek. “You’ll let me take you home?”
His voice was even and resigned and Tezuka nodded, turning his head as though to initiate another kiss. He didn’t meet Kite’s eyes, though, and simply kept his head turned in profile. He didn’t want to talk anymore - didn’t want to think about his situation, his bad choices, the way he seemed so incredibly accident-prone when it came to matters of the heart. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”
Kite smiled - there was no humor in it - and he released his hold on Tezuka. “I’ll wait for you outside. Lock the door on your way out.”
Tezuka watched him walk away, knew by the way he carried himself that he would not ask twice for Tezuka’s favor, and when he heard the front door open and close, he dropped his clothing on the bed again.
There was no need to dress in the bathroom, now.
+++
Shielding his eyes from the sunlight when he stepped out onto the cracked sidewalk, Tezuka glanced around in search of Kite. He realized, as he moved toward the light post to peer out into the street, that the very last thing he wanted this morning was a long, leisurely walk home. He was stiff and sore and while the bath had helped to soothe his body, somewhat, he would have been unable to relish a stroll after the night he’d passed in Kite’s arms.
He took a deep breath, lifted his chin to gaze skyward, and reminded himself that he would be better served to avoid dwelling on the past 24 hours. Kite Eishirou had scrambled his brain a bit, had twisted and shaped Tezuka’s reason and responsibility until he’d convinced himself that it was all right - just this once - to feel and not think.
The unmistakable rumble of a motorcycle’s engine interrupted Tezuka’s train of thought and he startled when the bike emerged from the alley that ran along the side of the apartment building, easing to a stop at the curb before Tezuka. Standing, Kite straddled the bike and motioned to the seat behind him. At the blank expression on Tezuka’s face, Kite laughed and reached behind him to unfasten the spare helmet he’d hooked to the seat strap. “It beats walking,” was all he said, offering the helmet to Tezuka.
Taking it tentatively, Tezuka swept the bike - and the man on it - with a thorough, assessing glance. While he couldn’t pretend to know much of anything about motorcycles, he had to admit that the sporty style suited Kite. Looking at him now, tightening his own helmet and sliding up to coax Tezuka to join him, Tezuka knew that he shouldn’t have anticipated Kite’s owning anything else. Sleek, black, fairly new and obviously very well taken care of, the bike was the sort that would require whomever rode behind the driver to sit close and hang on tight. Tezuka frowned as he strapped the helmet securely in place and approached Kite tentatively - he doubted that Kite would have a problem with the proximity and imagined that it had been the very reason he’d asked to see Tezuka home instead of merely calling him a cab like a gentleman might.
When he mounted the bike, the slope of the seat causing him to slide forward until his groin was pressed tight against Kite’s backside, Tezuka frowned again. Kite Eishirou was no gentleman.
“So where am I going, Tezuka? Anyplace I know?”
Tezuka fidgeted and, realizing that his squirming was likely providing no end of amusement for Kite, grew still. “Probably. About three blocks west of the coffee shop and just outside of the campus.”
Kite thought for a moment until he realized which complex Tezuka was referring to. He passed it nearly every day, in fact. “Aa,” he said. “I know the place. For some reason I imagined you would live on campus.”
“I don’t,” Tezuka said, resting his hands on Kite’s hips and hoping that he could remain as physically unmoved as he’d determined that he must.
“So you live alone,” he said and Tezuka did not miss the smug, knowing inflection in his tone.
“Aa,” was all that he would say and while Kite didn’t say another word, Tezuka could feel his satisfaction.
“Wrap your arms around me,” he said, shifting the bike and getting comfortable. “Hang on tight.”
Settling his feet just behind Kite’s, Tezuka was forced to lean forward when Kite did, plastering himself to Kite’s back the way he hadn’t managed to do when they’d had sex. Gripping Kite’s thighs with his own, Tezuka wrapped his arms around Kite’s narrow waist the way he’d been instructed to do and attempted to ignore how Kite Eishirou and this sleek, powerful machine between his legs put him in mind of sex.
The helmet and the wind that it buffered, the bike’s engine and Kite’s own concentration made any sounds that Tezuka might have made unrecognizable. He’d never ridden on the back of a man’s motorcycle before and he doubted it was something he’d ever do again. With his arms around Kite, though, sharing the heat of his body when the wind made his t-shirt billow, Tezuka wondered that nothing - no one - had ever allowed him to feel this free. It was with that realization that Tezuka quieted his own traitorous thoughts and simply allowed himself to enjoy the feel of Kite’s body against him for what was left of their time together.
The ride was short - less than fifteen minutes - but it had seemed, to Tezuka, to last much longer. In such a short time span, he’d become accustomed to the feel of the bike, had enjoyed the lack of restraint and the knowledge that Kite wouldn’t let him be injured.
When the bike slowed to a stop before Tezuka’s complex, his hold on Kite tightened for only a moment before he pulled away to sit up straight. Positioned at the angle that he was, his feet did not properly touch the ground and he dismounted even before Kite had straightened his own posture and nudged the kickstand into place.
On the sidewalk, Tezuka wasted no time in unfastening the helmet and securing it where it had been before Kite had offered it to him. He felt restless, out of sorts and completely unbalanced and suspected that it had less to do with the whirlwind ride he’d just been given and more to do with the knowledge that this was where they said goodbye.
Lips parted, still unsure as to what he intended to say even as he knew he should say something, Kite surprised him by speaking first and saying the very last thing Tezuka expected him to say.
“Thank you.”
Blinking, Tezuka tilted his head, did not allow himself to take the step forward that his body seemed to insist that he take. “For what?”
Kite smiled a little, nothing of the pleasantries that another man might have offered, and licked his lips - dry from the wind as they were. “Yesterday. Last night. All of it.”
Tezuka swallowed, some part of him wishing that it were not unheard of for men to kiss on the street, wishing that he did not have to protect himself so completely. “I should probably say the same.”
Kite’s gaze, so dark and so easily able to sway Tezuka’s emotions, did not edge away from Tezuka’s face. “Only if you mean it, Tezuka.”
Silence stretched between them, moments heavy with unspoken sentiment and Tezuka’s constant observance of propriety until Kite spoke again, softer this time. “Only if you mean it.”
Before Tezuka could say a word, Kite turned his gaze ahead once more and was speeding away from the curb before the full weight of his words had sufficiently settled in. Tezuka watched him go, hating that he wanted - so badly - to call him back when he had no real reason to want anything so senseless. They were as good as strangers.
And it was there, on the sidewalk, that he took out his phone, flipped the cover up and punched in the one number that he felt was acceptable to call, given what he’d spent the night doing. It only rang twice.
“Took you long enough,” was the only greeting he received.
Tezuka snorted, lowering himself onto the stone bench just outside of the complex - he wasn’t ready to go inside. Not yet. “Sometimes I wish you didn’t have caller ID.”
“Che. If I didn’t, I’d never answer the phone. You know that.”
Tezuka smiled a little. Already his nerves were beginning to quiet - he’d been right to seek a bit of normalcy by making this call. He was silent for a moment, unsure of what exactly he wanted to say, when Ryoma - thankfully - took the decision away from him.
“Just tell me you didn’t go crawling back to Prince Precious. That’s the first item of business.”
Tezuka laughed, completely devoid of humor. “No.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “What’s the second item of business?”
“That you’re okay,” was Ryoma’s immediate reply.
Tezuka was silent for a moment, considering Ryoma’s words. Was he okay? His stomach was tied in knots and his head was still spinning and he was likely going to be sore for the next two days - was he really okay?
“I think I am. Okay.”
“You’ve sounded more convincing, Buchou.”
There was the muffled sound of voices and what sounded like Ryoma dropping the phone before he was back - clear and sure against Tezuka’s ear again. “Sorry. I’m just picking up lunch.”
Tezuka frowned, happy to put his soul searching on hold for a moment. “Lunch? It’s barely ten o’clock.”
“Yeah, I know, but by the time I get over to your place, it’ll be lunch time.”
Presumptuous little shit. “Thank you for thinking of me. Don’t worry, I don’t have other plans today.”
Ryoma snickered and Tezuka could hear people chattering all around him, the buzz of many voices creating more noise than Tezuka felt he could stand at the moment.
“Of course you don’t have plans. You were out all night doing God knows what with God knows who. Now you get to entertain me for awhile.”
Tezuka smiled, knowing that Ryoma’s accusation was heavily steeped in sarcasm. He didn’t believe Tezuka capable of a one-night stand any more than Tezuka would have believed it of himself. That is, before he’d gone home with Kite Eishirou and discovered that he was - apparently - capable of much, much more than he’d ever given himself credit for.
“Very well,” he said, sounding resigned and put upon and not meaning it at all. “I suppose I could use the company.”
He could hear the smile in Ryoma’s voice when he spoke and Tezuka realized that, as much as he’d intended to hole himself up in his apartment, listening to German opera and reading Proust or something equally pathetic and depressing, he was looking forward to spending time with Ryoma. The last thing he needed, he knew, was to allow himself to retreat far enough into himself that he experienced a moment of weakness and actually put in a call to Atobe - to touch base, as Atobe liked to refer to their infrequent, completely unsettling phone conversations.
“I won’t be long.”
When Tezuka didn’t answer, losing himself in thought again, Ryoma prompted, “Buchou?”
Tezuka rolled his eyes. “Stop calling me that.”
Ryoma laughed and Tezuka had to smile. He loved Ryoma’s laugh; things would have been so very simple if only he’d been able to love Ryoma.
“Not a chance. And meet me at the door, eh, Buchou? I want a nice, warm welcome.”
Before the scathing reply cleared Tezuka’s lips, Ryoma hung up and Tezuka - unable to wipe the smile from his face - snapped his phone closed and slid it into the side pocket of his bag. He didn’t get up right away and, after a moment, decided to remain just where he was. It was a beautiful morning, the humidity hadn’t begun to climb just yet, and Tezuka felt as though he needed the calm and soothing state of mind that being outdoors always seemed to offer him.
He would wait for Ryoma precisely where he was. If it was a warm welcome he wanted, it was a warm welcome that he would get - even if it were Kite Eishirou who continued to linger in the back of his mind.
Pairing: Kite/Tezuka - future timeline
Rating: PG.
Summary: Kite tries to accustom himself to an empty bed after Rin has packed up and gone. A chance meeting with an old rival helps to ease the separation anxiety.
a/n ~ Tezuka and Kite say goodbye.
First bit + second bit + third bit
letting the cables sleep
chapter four
Drifting just on the edges of sleep - warm, drowsy, comfortable - Tezuka turned instinctively toward the warmth at his side and tugged the blanket over his face to block out the pale morning sunlight. He could hear, distantly, his mobile ringing no more than twenty feet away and as the hazy remnants of sleep dissipated, Tezuka knew that he wouldn’t get to it in time.
Stretching slowly, he draped his arm over Kite’s waist and mumbled unintelligibly against his chest. In response, Kite turned toward him to wrap both arms around him and snuggle him close. While he didn’t speak to indicate that he was awake, Tezuka couldn’t be certain that he wasn’t when he nosed into Tezuka’s hair and hummed sleepily.
Still as stone and about as lively, Tezuka glanced up to take in the smooth column of Kite’s throat and the sharp line of his jaw. His phone continued to ring.
“Kite,” he murmured, palms flat on the other man’s chest. “Kite, wake up.”
Barely audible, Kite murmured and pulled him closer to slip one leg between both of Tezuka’s. He nuzzled Tezuka’s ear, his neck, and muffled soft, drowsy sounds against his hair.
“Eishirou,” he tried again, a bit more commanding this time. He shoved at him gently, not wanting to throw Kite off and cause him to crack his skull on the windowsill. “Eishirou, move - my mobile is ringing.”
“Call ‘em back later,” was Kite’s response, sliding his hands along Tezuka’s back and rubbing his thigh between Tezuka’s legs. “Sleepin’.”
Tezuka sighed, rising on one elbow to disentangle himself from Kite’s embrace. “I’m awake and so are you. Now move.”
Grumbling, Kite rolled to his back, tugging the blanket up and over his head. “It’s too early.”
Tezuka sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn. He couldn’t see the clock without his glasses, but he would have been willing to bet that it was nearly eight a.m. - if it weren’t already. “It’s not early,” he said, flatly. “It’s late.”
Snorting in amusement, Kite turned again - back facing Tezuka - and then grew still. “Touché.”
Crawling out from beneath the blanket, Tezuka shivered - the floor was cold - and got to his feet slowly, stiffly. Glancing around, bleary-eyed and graceless, Tezuka attempted to locate his clothing without benefit of his glasses and it wasn’t until it dawned on him that he was standing bare-assed in front of an un-shaded window that he moved quickly. The sound of dismay that he made upon realizing that people could see him from the street was met with still more muffled amusement from beneath the blanket and Tezuka nudged Kite with his toes before bending to retrieve his clothing.
As he dressed, silently, efficiently, Kite spoke.
“It’s a little early for the phone to ring, don’t you think so?”
Tezuka hummed an acknowledgement, but declined to elaborate or to engage Kite in conversation regarding the phone calls he received and what time of day was acceptable versus not acceptable. Kite, however, was not so easily put off.
“It must not have been very important. They didn’t call back.”
“Aa,” Tezuka said, putting on his glasses and smoothing his hair down a bit.
When Kite did not respond, Tezuka experienced a brief moment of satisfaction at having shut him up and stood silently for a moment, taking in the sight of the Kite-shaped blanket lump. All of this - this banter, this small talk, this lingering moment - was no more than a prelude to the inevitable. There really wasn’t a decision that needed to be made - he would exchange Kite’s clothing for his own and then he would say goodbye.
“Tezuka,” Kite said, finally, tugging the blanket away from his face and leaning up on one elbow.
Turning, half-dressed and looking so delightfully sleep-rumpled that Kite very nearly rose for the sole purpose of dragging his new lover back to their makeshift bed, Tezuka regarded him solemnly. That he enjoyed looking at Kite was not something that he seemed interested in hiding. It gave Kite some small measure of comfort, though he’d never liken it to expectance or even hope - such was not the nature of their interaction.
“Did you want to shower?”
With an immediate, polite decline just on the tip of his tongue, Tezuka hesitated. He did want to shower. He felt dirty and uncomfortable, sore and wet. “Would you mind if I bathed, instead?’ He sounded awkward when he spoke - bashful and hesitant despite their intimacy - and Kite found that he could only stare at him for a few moments. He felt as though something had been left unsaid, though, of course, there was truly nothing to say.
“Of course not. Help yourself - you know where everything is - and I’ll straighten up in here.”
Tezuka nodded, though he’d intended to offer his assistance in tidying up the kitchen and the place where they’d slept. It occurred to him, as he turned away, that he and Kite had held one another - shared kisses and heat and unusually good sex - in the very place that Kite sat down for dinner each night. Likely he entertained at that table, on those cushions and with a sharp spike of some emotion that Tezuka would never call jealousy, he wondered how many others Kite had lain with in the dark. On those pillows. But he didn’t ask.
He could hear Kite behind him, slipping on his pants and standing to stretch his arms over his head, but Tezuka didn’t look back, he wasn’t certain he wanted to test his own self-discipline any further.
“I won’t be long,” he said, and disappeared into the bedroom.
Kite watched him leave and stretched again, rotating his shoulders and stretching the muscles in his back. Sleeping in one position all night, with the weight of another person plastered against him, had made his muscles stiff and sore. He thought about the day stretching out before him and considered a jog along the river or perhaps a visit to the gym he frequented.
Or maybe he’d lounge around the apartment, call his mother and studiously dodge any questions she asked him about Rin-chan or school. Paramount in Kite’s mind, as he moved to rinse dishes and wipe the countertops, was that Tezuka seemed eager to make his escape and appeared to have absolutely no intention of offering his phone number to Kite.
He frowned, drying his hands on a ratty towel and draping it over the oven’s handle as he snuck a glance at the messenger bag leaning against the far wall. Tezuka’s phone was hidden away in that bag and - since Tezuka was not in the room and unable to protest Kite’s violation of his privacy - Kite reminded himself that such fortuitous opportunities rarely presented themselves twice.
He stood over the bag, staring at it for a moment, thinking about how it suited Tezuka and wondering what sorts of things he carried inside it. After a moment, when Tezuka turned off the water in the bathroom and Kite felt it was safe to assume that he’d already begun to ease into the tub, he knelt before the bag to touch the front flap. Fingers tracing the buckle and the smart leather strap that ran along the edge, Kite glanced over his shoulder once before lifting the bag’s flap to reach inside. There was a book, a small steno pad, a couple of pens and a small key ring. He didn’t open the bag to peer inside, simply passed fingertips over each item until he found what he’d been searching for.
Tezuka’s mobile - thin, grey, light in Kite’s fingers - lay in the bottom of the bag and when he took it out, he ran the edge of his thumb over the LCD screen and flipped the cover up.
(1)Unread text message
He hesitated, wanting to press the button, but knowing that he shouldn’t. How would he feel if Tezuka searched through his things, seeking information that Kite wasn’t willing to offer, himself?
In the end, of course, he pushed the button. It was a moot point, after all, given that he did not own a messenger bag and had no real secrets to keep, besides.
I hope you’re not where I think you are. -R
Brows furrowed, Kite stared at the message for a moment in an attempt to puzzle out what it might mean and whom it might be from. He realized, belatedly, that such information might be gleaned merely by snooping through the other messages in Tezuka’s inbox. He scrolled past the most recent one to take in the others - in order of their receipt - and smiled at the ones that he could guess at - even knowing so little of Tezuka’s personal life as he did.
Your grandfather misses you, Kunimitsu. Don’t break an old man’s heart. I love you! Take your vitamins!
Tezuka - Eiji has tickets to a hockey game! Call me as soon as you can!
Tezuka, do you want this ticket or not? Oishi is driving me nuts about it.
Buchou. Don’t get careless. Wish me luck. -R
You’re stupid for even thinking it. Let it go, Buchou. -R
Mitsu. I love you. I thought you knew me better than this.
Kunimitsu, when are finals? Your grandfather wants to plan a party. Please call me this
week.
Tezuka. Inui saw Atobe out to dinner with a woman last week. I am praying that you are aware of this, already. -Shuusuke
It was just sex. Nobody said we had to get married. -R
Kite blinked, paying particular attention to the last text and realizing - from the initial alone - who the most recent one was from. He didn’t like the feeling that was his when he thought about someone else touching Tezuka’s body - kissing him, holding him, making love to him. Atobe Keigo. Echizen Ryoma. Anyone.
Scowling, he flipped through the phone’s menu again, finding Tezuka’s phone book and adding his own number to the top of the list. Of course, he’d had to change his name to A. Eishirou, but he imagined that Tezuka would recognize his intention. As long as his name preceded Atobe Keigo’s on the list, Kite was satisfied. He did not, however, make note of Tezuka’s number for himself. If Tezuka wanted him, he would contact him. Kite would compromise his own dignity no more than he had already. That was not to say that he experienced any guilt for snooping through Tezuka’s things - that had been a necessary endeavor - but he knew that such sneaky tactics would not be met with Tezuka’s approval. It was clear enough to Kite that Tezuka frowned on his tendency to play dirty when the chips were down. Kite had never been, however, one for compromising his bid for success with something so trivial as his conscience.
He put the phone away, set the bag where he’d found it and made short work of straightening the cushions and the table. When the kitchen was reasonably clean and in no danger of earning Tezuka’s unfavorable consideration, he padded into his bedroom to dress.
In his bureau he found a pair of baggy cargo pants and a plain white t-shirt and, while he dressed, he could hear the sound of water draining from the tub. Tying the drawstring of his pants, he glanced down at Tezuka’s pants, balled up with his briefs on the floor, and tried to imagine Tezuka rising from his bath only to dress himself in clothing that was not pristine.
On a whim, he picked up the pants to shake the wrinkles out before folding them and laying them on the bed. The shirt and sweater-vest followed suit and it was while Kite held the plain, white underwear in both hands that Tezuka emerged from the bathroom.
Wrapped in Kite’s bathrobe, with his glasses in his hand and his hair in damp disarray, Tezuka paused in the doorway and simply stared. At some odd, awkward impasse, neither of them spoke right away but neither could they seem to look away from one another.
Finally, Tezuka cleared his throat to speak first. “Did you want to shower?”
Feeling as though he’d already been caught doing something pathetic, Kite saw no need to lay Tezuka’s underwear down now. Instead, he rubbed the fabric between his fingertips and only barely resisted the urge to rub them against his face. He somehow knew that, if he were ever to do something so blatant, Tezuka would assume that it had been done for show. He would be wrong.
“Why?”
Tezuka blinked, clearly not expecting such a question. “Because,” he began, holding the front of the robe closed even though it was belted quite securely already. “Last night and…I just imagined that you would want to clean up.”
Dropping the underwear on the bed then, Kite ran his hands through his hair, frowning when it barely budged under his attentions. Truly, he was surprised that it wasn’t standing completely on end at this point. “I’m clean enough,” he said. “I’m not as eager to scrub you off of me the way you seem to think I should.”
Tezuka blushed, turning his gaze aside to shield his eyes from Kite. “Don’t say things like that.”
Taking a step forward, Kite shoved his hands into his pockets. “Why not? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”
“No,” was Tezuka’s reluctant answer, and still he did not look up. “Why are you so certain that you know what I’m thinking?”
“I dunno, Tezuka,” he answered. “Maybe I’m hoping you’ll prove me wrong.”
Tezuka put his glasses on, then, shielding his eyes as surely as his hair had done previously. “I don’t like your riddles, Kite. You try to confuse me.”
Kite laughed, rocking on the balls of his feet. “You’re so used to head games that you can’t even tell the difference between a riddle and the truth, Tezuka. I think last night was probably a long time coming for you, what do you think?”
Frowning, Tezuka moved past Kite to reach for his clothing. “I think you should stop pretending to know me,” he murmured. “Last night was a mistake.”
Happy to be as easygoing as Tezuka seemed to require that he be, Kite’s even-temper dissolved in the face of Tezuka’s unfair assertion - his blatant lie.
“You trying to convince me or yourself?”
When Tezuka didn’t answer and, instead, gathered his clothing against him when he turned back toward the bathroom, Kite continued. “Because it sure as hell didn’t feel like a mistake when you curled up beside me to sleep last night.”
Tezuka froze where he stood. Denying the sex would have been easy enough - he’d been planning to do so from the very first - but denying the closeness and warmth that Kite had so selflessly offered him afterward would have been cowardly.
“Forget about the sex if it makes it easier for you to walk away, but don’t pretend that that’s all there was.”
“I was lonely,” Tezuka insisted. “I was lonely and you were horny. Don’t read anything else into it.”
Kite smiled, truly amused by Tezuka’s method of self-preservation. He could almost feel the walls going up around him and he knew that they would not be so easily breached a second time. “Is that really what you think?” he finally asked, voice quiet.
Tezuka didn’t answer right away, aware of Kite’s progressive proximity as if there were no barriers at all between them. It wasn’t until Kite stood just behind him - his breath warm against Tezuka’s neck and his touch light at Tezuka’s shoulders - that Tezuka bothered to respond. “It doesn’t matter, Eishirou,” he said, voice so low and so strained that Kite experienced a moment’s guilt for pushing him when he was clearly not in the proper element to risk not girding himself. “I can’t…”
Despite his obvious desire for distance, Kite slid both arms around Tezuka to hold him close. He turned his head, nosed against Tezuka’s damp hair and curled his fingers over Tezuka’s wrists. “He must’ve really done a number on you,” he said, eventually. “And I guess that makes me your rebound.”
When Tezuka didn’t answer, but stiffened minutely within his embrace, Kite bowed his head to nuzzle at his neck. He smelled clean and spicy and felt even better - but he wasn’t for Kite. It was probable that he never had been.
“Tell me who he is.”
Declining to respond, Tezuka only tightened his hold on the bundle of clothing in his arms and, after a moment or two, Kite accepted that Tezuka had said all that he intended to say. He kissed his neck, because he wanted to and not because he suspected that it might crumble Tezuka’s defenses. Having gone that far, it was only natural that he would seek to get as much of Tezuka as he was able - even when he knew that such touching, such sharing could go nowhere. He touched Tezuka’s chin, his face, grazed his lips with the tips of his fingers and murmured encouragement when he kissed his mouth. Tentative at first, almost certain that Tezuka would immediately turn away, Kite made some soft sound of approval when Tezuka leaned his head back against his shoulder and parted his lips obligingly.
Wasting no time in deepening the kiss, Kite slid one hand up Tezuka’s neck, holding him possessively and stroking Tezuka’s jaw with the edge of his thumb as he splayed one hand at his belly. Tezuka did not turn toward Kite, nor did he release his hold on the clothing he clutched to his chest, but Kite did not appear to require any further acquiescence than Tezuka had already given.
He nibbled at Tezuka’s lips, stroked his skin, shared his breath, and it was only when Kite’s attentions intensified - his grip tightening and his kiss deepening further still - that Tezuka turned his head to break their contact. And with a small sigh of regret, he spoke. “I,” he began, voice rough and he cleared his throat once when Kite ran a hand up his side to touch his ribs. “I have to go, Eishirou.”
Kite’s fingers tightened only marginally before he closed his eyes to nose at Tezuka’s cheek. “You’ll let me take you home?”
His voice was even and resigned and Tezuka nodded, turning his head as though to initiate another kiss. He didn’t meet Kite’s eyes, though, and simply kept his head turned in profile. He didn’t want to talk anymore - didn’t want to think about his situation, his bad choices, the way he seemed so incredibly accident-prone when it came to matters of the heart. “If you’re sure it’s no trouble.”
Kite smiled - there was no humor in it - and he released his hold on Tezuka. “I’ll wait for you outside. Lock the door on your way out.”
Tezuka watched him walk away, knew by the way he carried himself that he would not ask twice for Tezuka’s favor, and when he heard the front door open and close, he dropped his clothing on the bed again.
There was no need to dress in the bathroom, now.
+++
Shielding his eyes from the sunlight when he stepped out onto the cracked sidewalk, Tezuka glanced around in search of Kite. He realized, as he moved toward the light post to peer out into the street, that the very last thing he wanted this morning was a long, leisurely walk home. He was stiff and sore and while the bath had helped to soothe his body, somewhat, he would have been unable to relish a stroll after the night he’d passed in Kite’s arms.
He took a deep breath, lifted his chin to gaze skyward, and reminded himself that he would be better served to avoid dwelling on the past 24 hours. Kite Eishirou had scrambled his brain a bit, had twisted and shaped Tezuka’s reason and responsibility until he’d convinced himself that it was all right - just this once - to feel and not think.
The unmistakable rumble of a motorcycle’s engine interrupted Tezuka’s train of thought and he startled when the bike emerged from the alley that ran along the side of the apartment building, easing to a stop at the curb before Tezuka. Standing, Kite straddled the bike and motioned to the seat behind him. At the blank expression on Tezuka’s face, Kite laughed and reached behind him to unfasten the spare helmet he’d hooked to the seat strap. “It beats walking,” was all he said, offering the helmet to Tezuka.
Taking it tentatively, Tezuka swept the bike - and the man on it - with a thorough, assessing glance. While he couldn’t pretend to know much of anything about motorcycles, he had to admit that the sporty style suited Kite. Looking at him now, tightening his own helmet and sliding up to coax Tezuka to join him, Tezuka knew that he shouldn’t have anticipated Kite’s owning anything else. Sleek, black, fairly new and obviously very well taken care of, the bike was the sort that would require whomever rode behind the driver to sit close and hang on tight. Tezuka frowned as he strapped the helmet securely in place and approached Kite tentatively - he doubted that Kite would have a problem with the proximity and imagined that it had been the very reason he’d asked to see Tezuka home instead of merely calling him a cab like a gentleman might.
When he mounted the bike, the slope of the seat causing him to slide forward until his groin was pressed tight against Kite’s backside, Tezuka frowned again. Kite Eishirou was no gentleman.
“So where am I going, Tezuka? Anyplace I know?”
Tezuka fidgeted and, realizing that his squirming was likely providing no end of amusement for Kite, grew still. “Probably. About three blocks west of the coffee shop and just outside of the campus.”
Kite thought for a moment until he realized which complex Tezuka was referring to. He passed it nearly every day, in fact. “Aa,” he said. “I know the place. For some reason I imagined you would live on campus.”
“I don’t,” Tezuka said, resting his hands on Kite’s hips and hoping that he could remain as physically unmoved as he’d determined that he must.
“So you live alone,” he said and Tezuka did not miss the smug, knowing inflection in his tone.
“Aa,” was all that he would say and while Kite didn’t say another word, Tezuka could feel his satisfaction.
“Wrap your arms around me,” he said, shifting the bike and getting comfortable. “Hang on tight.”
Settling his feet just behind Kite’s, Tezuka was forced to lean forward when Kite did, plastering himself to Kite’s back the way he hadn’t managed to do when they’d had sex. Gripping Kite’s thighs with his own, Tezuka wrapped his arms around Kite’s narrow waist the way he’d been instructed to do and attempted to ignore how Kite Eishirou and this sleek, powerful machine between his legs put him in mind of sex.
The helmet and the wind that it buffered, the bike’s engine and Kite’s own concentration made any sounds that Tezuka might have made unrecognizable. He’d never ridden on the back of a man’s motorcycle before and he doubted it was something he’d ever do again. With his arms around Kite, though, sharing the heat of his body when the wind made his t-shirt billow, Tezuka wondered that nothing - no one - had ever allowed him to feel this free. It was with that realization that Tezuka quieted his own traitorous thoughts and simply allowed himself to enjoy the feel of Kite’s body against him for what was left of their time together.
The ride was short - less than fifteen minutes - but it had seemed, to Tezuka, to last much longer. In such a short time span, he’d become accustomed to the feel of the bike, had enjoyed the lack of restraint and the knowledge that Kite wouldn’t let him be injured.
When the bike slowed to a stop before Tezuka’s complex, his hold on Kite tightened for only a moment before he pulled away to sit up straight. Positioned at the angle that he was, his feet did not properly touch the ground and he dismounted even before Kite had straightened his own posture and nudged the kickstand into place.
On the sidewalk, Tezuka wasted no time in unfastening the helmet and securing it where it had been before Kite had offered it to him. He felt restless, out of sorts and completely unbalanced and suspected that it had less to do with the whirlwind ride he’d just been given and more to do with the knowledge that this was where they said goodbye.
Lips parted, still unsure as to what he intended to say even as he knew he should say something, Kite surprised him by speaking first and saying the very last thing Tezuka expected him to say.
“Thank you.”
Blinking, Tezuka tilted his head, did not allow himself to take the step forward that his body seemed to insist that he take. “For what?”
Kite smiled a little, nothing of the pleasantries that another man might have offered, and licked his lips - dry from the wind as they were. “Yesterday. Last night. All of it.”
Tezuka swallowed, some part of him wishing that it were not unheard of for men to kiss on the street, wishing that he did not have to protect himself so completely. “I should probably say the same.”
Kite’s gaze, so dark and so easily able to sway Tezuka’s emotions, did not edge away from Tezuka’s face. “Only if you mean it, Tezuka.”
Silence stretched between them, moments heavy with unspoken sentiment and Tezuka’s constant observance of propriety until Kite spoke again, softer this time. “Only if you mean it.”
Before Tezuka could say a word, Kite turned his gaze ahead once more and was speeding away from the curb before the full weight of his words had sufficiently settled in. Tezuka watched him go, hating that he wanted - so badly - to call him back when he had no real reason to want anything so senseless. They were as good as strangers.
And it was there, on the sidewalk, that he took out his phone, flipped the cover up and punched in the one number that he felt was acceptable to call, given what he’d spent the night doing. It only rang twice.
“Took you long enough,” was the only greeting he received.
Tezuka snorted, lowering himself onto the stone bench just outside of the complex - he wasn’t ready to go inside. Not yet. “Sometimes I wish you didn’t have caller ID.”
“Che. If I didn’t, I’d never answer the phone. You know that.”
Tezuka smiled a little. Already his nerves were beginning to quiet - he’d been right to seek a bit of normalcy by making this call. He was silent for a moment, unsure of what exactly he wanted to say, when Ryoma - thankfully - took the decision away from him.
“Just tell me you didn’t go crawling back to Prince Precious. That’s the first item of business.”
Tezuka laughed, completely devoid of humor. “No.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “What’s the second item of business?”
“That you’re okay,” was Ryoma’s immediate reply.
Tezuka was silent for a moment, considering Ryoma’s words. Was he okay? His stomach was tied in knots and his head was still spinning and he was likely going to be sore for the next two days - was he really okay?
“I think I am. Okay.”
“You’ve sounded more convincing, Buchou.”
There was the muffled sound of voices and what sounded like Ryoma dropping the phone before he was back - clear and sure against Tezuka’s ear again. “Sorry. I’m just picking up lunch.”
Tezuka frowned, happy to put his soul searching on hold for a moment. “Lunch? It’s barely ten o’clock.”
“Yeah, I know, but by the time I get over to your place, it’ll be lunch time.”
Presumptuous little shit. “Thank you for thinking of me. Don’t worry, I don’t have other plans today.”
Ryoma snickered and Tezuka could hear people chattering all around him, the buzz of many voices creating more noise than Tezuka felt he could stand at the moment.
“Of course you don’t have plans. You were out all night doing God knows what with God knows who. Now you get to entertain me for awhile.”
Tezuka smiled, knowing that Ryoma’s accusation was heavily steeped in sarcasm. He didn’t believe Tezuka capable of a one-night stand any more than Tezuka would have believed it of himself. That is, before he’d gone home with Kite Eishirou and discovered that he was - apparently - capable of much, much more than he’d ever given himself credit for.
“Very well,” he said, sounding resigned and put upon and not meaning it at all. “I suppose I could use the company.”
He could hear the smile in Ryoma’s voice when he spoke and Tezuka realized that, as much as he’d intended to hole himself up in his apartment, listening to German opera and reading Proust or something equally pathetic and depressing, he was looking forward to spending time with Ryoma. The last thing he needed, he knew, was to allow himself to retreat far enough into himself that he experienced a moment of weakness and actually put in a call to Atobe - to touch base, as Atobe liked to refer to their infrequent, completely unsettling phone conversations.
“I won’t be long.”
When Tezuka didn’t answer, losing himself in thought again, Ryoma prompted, “Buchou?”
Tezuka rolled his eyes. “Stop calling me that.”
Ryoma laughed and Tezuka had to smile. He loved Ryoma’s laugh; things would have been so very simple if only he’d been able to love Ryoma.
“Not a chance. And meet me at the door, eh, Buchou? I want a nice, warm welcome.”
Before the scathing reply cleared Tezuka’s lips, Ryoma hung up and Tezuka - unable to wipe the smile from his face - snapped his phone closed and slid it into the side pocket of his bag. He didn’t get up right away and, after a moment, decided to remain just where he was. It was a beautiful morning, the humidity hadn’t begun to climb just yet, and Tezuka felt as though he needed the calm and soothing state of mind that being outdoors always seemed to offer him.
He would wait for Ryoma precisely where he was. If it was a warm welcome he wanted, it was a warm welcome that he would get - even if it were Kite Eishirou who continued to linger in the back of his mind.