Kite/Tezuka ~ fic
Title: Letting the cables sleep
Pairing: Kite/Tezuka - future timeline
Rating: R
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 is weak when faced with such pretty sincerity - this is what true love looks like. :D Old boyfriends make appearances - it's an angst party in here.
First bit + second bit + third bit + fourth bit + fifth bit + sixth bit + seventh bit
letting the cables sleep
chapter eight
Kite hummed in his sleep. Like he wanted to talk -had things to say - but couldn’t. Tezuka had not been aware of this particular habit when they’d last spent the night together, but he supposed that his own state of mind and preoccupation with what he’d done had prevented him from noticing any of Kite’s possible idiosyncrasies.
Now, though, with Kite nestled against him - parted lips against his shoulder and long tanned arms wound about him - Tezuka could take the opportunity to reconcile his memory of a Kite that he hadn’t really known with this new, older Kite that he couldn’t seem to leave alone.
For a while, after he’d awakened, Tezuka had not moved. Waking up to damp sheets and cool skin and Kite’s clingy, possessive embrace had cleared his hazy thoughts with startling immediacy and he barely dared to breathe as he went over the afternoon’s events. Kite had come to him; he had not objected. Despite his intentions to the contrary, Kite’s words - Kite’s touch - had seen his defenses so effectively toppled that he was almost ashamed. Had it been another man, another time, another situation, Tezuka doubted that he would feel as he did now. That it was Kite and not merely sex that had managed to turn him inside out was indication enough that some balance had shifted. Something had changed - something vital and within himself. He knew that such a realization should have made him happy, but his emotions - his unease and inability to settle himself - were too much a myriad of confusion to allow him such peace.
When he couldn’t seem to look away from Kite, however, or prevent himself from touching his hair, his forehead, Tezuka wondered if tranquility was truly what he craved. The feelings that Kite induced - that restless, uncertain, heart-pounding exhilaration that made hovering just on the edge of reason feel so, so good - was nothing like peace or tranquility. And didn’t he like it? Didn’t he crave it for that reason alone?
Kite’s hair, messy from the rain, obscured his right eye and Tezuka brushed it aside tenderly, warm from the feelings that such intimate touching brought. He tugged the blanket up, touched Kite’s shoulder and wondered at the swell of emotion that he experienced. While he could admit that what he felt had little to do with sex and more to do with the lingering closeness that came after, he was certainly not prepared to put a name to it just yet. He didn’t know Kite - not really - and knew that he would need to guard himself closely. Too much, too soon and he’d find himself in another situation like the one he’d created with Atobe.
Murmuring against his shoulder, Kite snuggled impossibly closer, rubbing his mouth against Tezuka’s skin and burrowing ever closer.
"Lazy bum," Tezuka murmured affectionately, shifting and intending to extricate himself from Kite's embrace in the interests of establishing some manner of boundary when Kite awoke.
Grunting his objection, Kite's fingers curled around Tezuka's wrist and wrapped his arms around him, clinging that much tighter. "Uh-uh," he mumbled, twining his legs with Tezuka's and effectively pinning him in place. "Stay."
Frowning, Tezuka turned in Kite's arms - facing him - to meet his eyes. He took his time, blinking once or twice to gaze at Tezuka - eyes bleary and unfocused. "Where you goin'?"
"We should get up. The sheets are wet and your hair is sticky and…"
He trailed off then, unwilling to say the words and open himself up to possible vulgarity.
With a soft, incredibly self-satisfied sigh, Kite slid one leg between Tezuka's and gripped his bottom to snuggle him closer. "You're sticky and I'm sticky. But I don't want to let you go yet."
Kite was comfortable. Comfortable and almost playful and Tezuka couldn't help but wonder if he remembered what they'd promised to one another. If it had, indeed, been a promise. For all that Tezuka knew of love and healthy relationships, the words they'd spoken to one another might have been nothing more than an impetuous exchange of meaningless words spoken in the heat of the moment. The mere consideration of such a possibility, however, made Tezuka's stomach hurt and his heart sink and he knew precisely what that meant.
He'd somehow managed to get ahead of himself - despite his knowing better - and it scared him. How could he expect Kite to look out for his feelings when he did such a poor job of protecting them, himself?
Averting his eyes, though he didn't move away, Tezuka smoothed one hand over his pillowcase and kept his voice as even as he was able. "One of us will have to let go, eventually," he said.
Running one hand over Tezuka's arms to trace his fingers with the tips of his own, Kite's voice was low and quiet and…different. "Why?"
Effectively garnering Tezuka's attention, Kite met his gaze evenly, sincerely. "I don't mind letting go if I know you'll come back again."
He stared at Kite, unsure of what to say or how to say it, and when Kite touched his face, he let his eyes close. "I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted, voice no more than a whisper. It wasn't a secret, not really, but it felt like the worse sort of vulnerability in the face of Kite's confidence and ease. While he was almost certain he shouldn't have said it, he was just as certain that he was entirely unable to hold back.
Shifting closer, rolling him half onto his back, Kite stretched out against him and touched his face. Tezuka's eyes, without the glasses to hinder the view, said more than Kite knew he would ever want to say. Despite his strength and drive and the way he seemed to command respect from whomever he came into contact with, Kite saw the hesitation in his eyes. Kite saw his weakness.
He kissed him softly, framing his face with both hands and parting his lips - slow and reverent - to convey with his touch what he doubted Tezuka would accept, otherwise. To his relief, Tezuka didn't attempt to shut him out or warn him away. He simply clung to Kite and took his kisses as though he'd expected no less.
When Kite pulled back, though he pressed his lips to Tezuka's two or three more times - unable to stop himself - he stroked Tezuka's cheeks with his thumbs and held his gaze for a long, significant moment.
"Neither do I," he said.
They stared at one another, still hanging on tight, and -eventually - Tezuka looked away first. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was a mess and Kite wanted nothing more than to roll him over again. Dirty or not - he wasn't finished.
"We should shower," Tezuka said, finally. "And maybe get something to eat."
Kite smiled, nuzzling Tezuka's neck, his ear, nibbling skin he'd already marked. "If you insist."
When Tezuka shifted again, Kite let him go and he watched from his place on the bed as Tezuka sat up - tugging the blanket over his hips. He ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the clock hung over the door. "It's still early…," was all that he said and Kite smiled, then.
Without actually extending an invitation, Tezuka was attempting to let him know that he could stay. If he wanted to.
Kite stretched, languid and content, and looked up at Tezuka. From his vantage point, he could see the pale curve of Tezuka's bottom and he smirked a little. "It is."
Tezuka shifted, edging toward the edge of the bed. "I'll…just go shower first. I won't be long."
Only barely managing to disguise his amusement, Kite rolled to one side and propped his head on one fist. "Can't we share?"
Easing the blankets aside, Tezuka turned to face the bathroom - his back to Kite. "Suit yourself."
He rose then, bare ass clenched tight and back as straight as a board as he began to walk away. Kite didn't hesitate even one second more; he kicked off the blankets and climbed out of bed to follow Tezuka. Something in the way he carried himself hinted at a bashfulness, a lack of confidence, despite his nudity. Perhaps it was his deliberate grace; perhaps it wasn't deliberate at all. He knew that he didn't care, however, when Tezuka leaned against the wall to turn on the water.
Behind him, Kite slipped his arms around Tezuka's waist and kissed the back of his neck. Pressed close, he closed his eyes and nosed into the back of Tezuka's hair. "Tezuka," he murmured. Not because he had anything important to say or because he needed to be heard - but because he simply liked the way Tezuka's name felt on his lips.
Passing a hand under the spray, waiting for the water to heat to his liking, Tezuka responded with an absent 'hm?'
Kite smiled, pleased with the circumstances and with himself and with the way Tezuka's smooth, pale ass felt against his groin. He'd have to say something now, though, else Tezuka would likely favor him with a withering glare and climb into the tub without him. Before he could say a word, though, his mobile rang from Tezuka's bedroom and he grew still for a moment, having absolutely no idea as to who might be calling him.
"Mm. One moment. I should get that."
The tone of his voice was indication enough that he wasn't expecting any calls and that he didn't receive many casual ones, besides. Half-turning, letting the warm, soothing water trickle through his fingers, Tezuka watched Kite bend to fish his mobile out of the pocket of his pants.
"The hospital, perhaps?"
Kite snorted, flipping the phone open and winking at Tezuka. "I'm not that important yet."
Lips quirking in an almost smile, Tezuka stood, one hand on the shower door, and watched Kite. From the time the offered a greeting to the first few, clipped words he spoke to whomever was on the other end of the conversation, his expression changed from playful to serious to irritated.
"No, I don't think you did it on purpose," he said, voice low. "I realize that."
There was a long pause and then he sighed. "Look, I'm not going to argue with you. Just wait there. I won't be longer then ten or fifteen minutes."
Pause.
"I don't think that matters."
Kite glanced up, his expression apologetic when he caught Tezuka's gaze. Apologetic, but there was no mistaking his very carefully controlled anger. It was there in the lines of his shoulders, in the slant of his eyebrows.
Tezuka remembered this side of Kite Eishirou rather well, indeed.
"Ten minutes," he repeated. "Wait for me outside."
Snapping the phone shut, he stood - pissed off and regretful and unabashedly naked - and began to shimmy into his pants. He pulled on his tank top and shoved his phone in his pocket before bending to pull his boots on without benefit of socks. He fairly crackled with irritation; Tezuka was uncertain as to how he should react.
"You have to go," was all that he could say, proud of himself for being matter-of-fact and completely unemotional.
When he'd buckled his boots, he stood, shaking his bangs back and out of his eyes. He took a step toward Tezuka, afraid that he'd ruined everything that might have been tonight by answering that phone call. He'd seen Rin's name on the LCD; he could have let it go to voicemail. He knew, though, that he'd have thought about it all night if he'd done that. In light of Rin's departure that morning, Kite sincerely doubted that he'd purposely leave his wallet behind merely in order to see Kite again. The conversation they'd just shared left no doubt that seeing Kite was not high on Rin's list of priorities at the moment.
He sighed, reaching out to touch Tezuka's arm and very nearly faltering. Tezuka did not move out of his reach.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I really won't be gone long."
Sliding his fingertips along Tezuka's wrist to twine their fingers loosely, Kite recognized the apprehension in Tezuka's eyes. So wary, so hesitant - it was obvious to Kite that Tezuka wanted to ask why he had to go, but couldn't put aside his pride long enough to do so.
"Do you want me to come back?" he asked, hoping that his desire to return was evident. Tezuka glanced down at their joined hands and shrugged a little.
"I…"
Squeezing his hand, Kite stepped close and then closer, still. "Tezuka. It's not a trick question. This isn't a game. Do you want to spend the night together, or not?"
When he looked up again, silent still but with acquiescence clear enough in his eyes, Kite hooked Tezuka's arm around his own neck and brought him close to kiss his mouth. The water kept running and Tezuka closed his eyes and then he leaned into Kite and parted his lips.
"Come back," he murmured, fingers light at the back of Kite's neck.
Murmuring his assent, Kite deepened the kiss, dropping his other hand to Tezuka's hip to hold him as close as he was able. "Right back."
When Tezuka pulled away, letting his fingertips graze Kite's jaw, he leveled him with a familiar, steely gaze. "And then you'll tell me why you had to go."
After a moment - though he'd have agreed straight away, regardless - Kite grinned. Tezuka had been a formidable rival and truly, not much had changed in that respect.
"Hold that shower for me?" he teased.
Tezuka turned away, slid the door open. Before he closed it behind him, he chuckled softly and Kite's certainty that he'd actually heard it was enough to delay his departure just a few seconds more.
"Goodbye, Kite."
Over his shoulder, he called back - loud enough that Tezuka would hear him over the shower spray.
"Not goodbye. Save me some hot water."
+++
It was getting late, though not late enough to thin the crowd at the airport, and Atobe had worried that he would never get a cab. It was sticky outside - damp and humid and shimmery on the concrete - and he loosened his tie and silently bemoaned the current state of his ensemble. He felt as though he'd been left outside to wilt. His hair was limp and his skin felt oily he could very nearly taste the ozone at the back of his throat. That Tezuka seemed content to reside in such surroundings was something that Atobe doubted he would ever understand. As he'd stood on the curb, however - lifting his hand in a casual signal to an approaching cab - Atobe reminded himself that Tezuka had always preferred simplicity.
And as he sat in relative discomfort - in a cab that smelled of stale sweat and very old beer - he realized that it really didn't get much simpler than this. Well, unless one wanted to visit Okinawa, which Atobe did not.
"It's up here on the left," the cab driver told him, no doubt eyeing the platinum and diamond tie tac Atobe wore.
Frowning, Atobe tightened the grip on his overnight bag and tugged his overcoat closed over his chest. "Fine, fine. Just pull up at the curb, I'll cross here."
The cab driver chuckled under his breath and Atobe glanced up at the rear-view mirror quickly. He was not above withholding a tip if that filthy drunkard were having a laugh at his expense. The man's expression gave nothing away, however, and Atobe began to scoot toward the far door of the car, reaching into his inside jacket pocket as he went.
"Little warm for a jacket tonight, eh?" the cab driver asked.
Atobe sniffed, thumbing through the bills he carried on his person. "Yes, well," he began, glancing at the meter. "I just flew in from Tokyo."
"No kidding," the man said. It wasn't a question.
Declining to respond, Atobe climbed out of the cab to stand at the crosswalk while he watched the car pull away from the curb and disappear in the darkness. Running a hand through already tousled hair, he slipped off his jacket to drape over one arm and gazed across the street at Tezuka's apartment building. He told himself that it was ridiculous for him to feel nervous. But then, he'd become quite adept at lying to himself. Particularly when it came to Tezuka.
The light changed then and he was halfway across the street when one of the doors to Tezuka's complex swung open. Slowing his steps, Atobe moved closer and watched the man who emerged stride along the sidewalk toward a sleek, black bike parked at the curb. Under the streetlight, amidst the fog and what passed for moonlight - was Kite Eishirou.
Kite Eishirou, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed, had just come out of Tezuka's apartment complex and as Atobe stood in the middle of the street - while the cross light flashed its warning - he watched him strap on his helmet, rev the bike's engine and ride off in the opposite direction.
It had been a long time, but Atobe never forgot a face. Or a potential rival.
Kite Eishirou. Tezuka. After the message he'd received earlier regarding Tezuka's recent social ventures, Atobe couldn't bring himself to believe that it might be only a coincidence.
+++
Scanning the sidewalk as he pulled up in front of his apartment, Kite knew better than to expect that Rin would be waiting patiently beneath the streetlight for him. Given his attitude on the phone earlier, it was unlikely that he would be at all accommodating and was likely hiding in shadows in the hopes of jumping out and scaring the hell out of Kite.
But then, Kite reasoned, that was something that only a playful Rin would do. The Rin he'd spoken to earlier had been anything but playful.
"That was quick. I see you didn't have time to shower."
Kite sighed, slipping off his helmet and turning in the direction of Rin's voice. Just behind him - half in shadow - Rin leaned against the building. Arms crossed over his chest, one foot flat against the wall with the duffel slung over his shoulder, he looked appropriately casual and relaxed.
Kite knew him better than that.
"Where have you been all day?" he asked, moving closer. "You were gone before I got up, I don't hear from you all day and you want to turn up this late to tell me you left your wallet?"
Rin frowned. "You think I'm lying? Trust me, Eishirou, the last person I wanted to see tonight was you."
Shaking his head and suppressing another sigh, Kite turned toward the door and shook his key ring. "Look, it's late and this is stupid. Come on up and we'll find your wallet."
Pushing away from the wall, Rin trailed behind, hands shoved deep into his pockets and slouching. Kite hated when Rin grew defensive. He was aggressive and unpredictable and not at all easy to control. It was after those uncharitable thoughts, however, that Kite had to admit Rin's attitude toward him was deserved. Despite his behavior - his wildness - he'd always been Kite's responsibility, somehow. Even though his feelings for Rin were unchanged, Kite couldn't shake the feeling that he was washing his hands of him - of their relationship. It hurt; a vague, misplaced sort of hurt that Kite had never experienced and never wanted to again.
"Here we go with the 'stupid' again. Not that I'm surprised, really."
Before Kite could object or find some other mature, reasonable way to curtail the conversation, Rin went on, attempting to shake Kite's cool as they climbed the steps. "So who is he? Some doctor you met at the hospital? Professor, perhaps? Nah, couldn't be - you don't look like some man's boytoy, Eishirou. Not tonight. So I guess that means that you found yourself some sweet little piece of boyass, right? What does he look like - does he look like me?"
At the door to his apartment, Kite turned to face Rin, expression carefully blank. "You're not doing either of us any favors, Rin. Grow up."
Rin snorted, pushing too hard on the front door when Kite held it open for him and slamming it behind him when they'd both gone inside. "Grow up? Roll over and take whatever you want to give me, you mean. So sorry if me having a little dignity offends you."
Kite didn't answer and turned on the lights on the way to his bedroom. He was silent as he moved things on his dresser and knelt to look just under it. Rin lounged in the doorway, all silent condemnation.
"Where did you have it last?" Kite asked, moving aside a shirt to look under it before standing again.
"It's in the bathroom," he said. "I remember."
Kite met his eyes for only a moment - some significant acknowledgment between them - before going into the bathroom. There, on the sink, was Rin's wallet. He held it for a moment, smooth and worn against his fingertips and was surprised to realize just how final this all felt. He'd been wrong before. Last night hadn't been goodbye. This was goodbye.
When he turned again, Rin was just at his back - all barely restrained anger and obvious regret. "Give it to me," was all he said. His voice sounded forced, strained, and Kite pushed his glasses up as he turned to offer Rin the wallet.
"I'm sorry, Rin," was all that he could say. He shouldn't have said it, shouldn't have capitulated - should have called him Hirakoba-kun and said it was fun while it lasted. But he couldn't.
"I didn't plan this, you know. Didn't see it coming. But things were rough between us and then you left and…" he trailed off, shrugging as though it didn't matter - didn't hurt - when it did.
Rin took the wallet slowly, searching for some hint of false sincerity and, finding none, asked hesitantly, "Who is he?"
It had occurred to him that maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe his actions had hurt Kite more than he'd ever realized that they could and maybe this whole, ugly mess was nothing more than Kite attempting to salvage his pride. Maybe there was no one else - maybe…
Kite shook his head, though, and Rin's fledgling hope took another dive. "It doesn't matter," he said. "It doesn't matter who he is, Rin. Who he is doesn't change what's between us."
He looked up, expression serious. "Or what isn't between us."
Rin looked away, stunned by the gravity of Kite's words. Though he'd packed his things and left with the intention of never returning just that morning, the certainty that Kite did not love him - had probably never loved him - was staggering. Regardless of last night's conversation and Rin's subsequent departure - he hadn't quite grasped that it was truly over.
And it was. Over.
"You bastard," was all that he could say, voice no more than a hiss.
He pushed Kite's hand away when he reached for him and glared at the man he'd spent the past seven years chasing after. "Don't try to make it sound okay when it's not. You say that he doesn't matter, but he does!"
Kite didn't answer and Rin recognized that flicker of irritation that he worked so hard to conceal when Rin had raised his voice.
"You can pretty it up all you want, Eishirou, but the bottom line is that you have someone new and you don't want me anymore."
"That's not it," Kite began, voice tight, and Rin didn't miss the way his hands clenched into fists at his side. This was hard for him, certainly, but Rin was inclined to believe that what he was seeing was simple irritation for having been called out so accurately and not any actual pain over the loss of an old friend and lover.
"Fuck you, Eishirou - that's exactly it!"
He paused for a moment, having already convinced himself that Kite had been involved with this person - whomever he was - even before Rin had left. It helped him to justify the argument. It helped him to vent his own pain. He'd rather think that Kite was a cheating, faithless bastard rather than ever believe him capable of falling in love with someone he'd known less than two weeks.
Not when seven years had passed between them and Kite had still not fallen in love with Rin.
"Do you love him?" he asked, knowing that Kite would never, ever lie to spare someone's feelings.
Kite looked away and Rin stepped closer. "Answer me," he murmured, propelled by anger and disillusionment and self-preservation. "Are you in love with him?"
When Kite lifted his gaze to meet Rin's, his expression was practically devoid of any recognizable emotion. Feeling as though his heart would break, he knew what Kite's answer would be before he'd ever uttered a word.
"Yes."
The moment that passed between them then was heavy with surprise and finality and - on Rin's part, at least - a near debilitating disbelief. It was completely without rational thought that he drew back his fist to hit Kite hard in the face and it wasn't until Kite staggered back against the sink - his glasses having landed somewhere near the bathtub - that Rin realized what he'd done. And even then, watching Kite cover his eye and stifle whatever sound Rin knew he wanted to make, it hadn't felt like enough. Kite had taken his pride and stomped on his heart. Rin figured that a black eye and a pair of broken glasses didn't begin to settle the score.
Rin was breathing heavily - truthfully, he thought he might not be finished - and when Kite straightened, taking his hand away and glaring at Rin without benefit of his glasses, Rin knew that Kite had no intention of hitting him back.
His eye was watering and the skin beneath it was red. Soon it would turn purple and then blue and even then Rin would still feel the same. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and realized - horrified - that he wanted to cry.
Instead, he backed away, wallet clutched in his hand and hating Kite for looking at him that way. Like he pitied him.
"Rin," he began, voice strained, and Rin shook his head, movements made jerky and awkward for his shock and his anger.
"No," was all he could say. Even when he knew he should say something else. "No…"
And as Kite rubbed a hand over his face - touching his eye gingerly and feeling it begin to swell - he knelt on the floor to find his glasses while Rin did what Rin did best.
He ran.
+++
For all that he was having the worst week of his life, Atobe was grateful, at least, that the rain had seen fit to cease before he'd arrived. As he'd been standing out in front of Tezuka's building for fifteen minutes - periodically buzzing him and demanding that he be allowed up - he could barely fathom being left out in the rain on top of all the other indignities that had recently been visited upon him.
It was late; Tezuka had to be at home.
He tried again, refusing to consider that Tezuka would not see him at all, and attempted to conceal his agitation when he spoke patiently and evenly into the intercom.
"Kunimitsu? If you're home, I truly wish you would answer. I've been standing outside for almost twenty minutes, now. Kunimitsu?"
There was a pause and then Tezuka's voice was there - clear and pitched in surprise. "Keigo?"
Instant relief was Atobe's and he smiled, leaning close to the intercom as though it contained Tezuka, himself. "Yes, it's me. I'm just outside - can you buzz me up?"
Tezuka hesitated and for a brief, unthinkable moment, Atobe considered that his request might be refused. What would he do - what would he say - if Tezuka refused to see him?
"Very well," he finally said. "I'm in 5H."
Before Atobe could speak, he heard the door's lock turn and he hurried to open it. The lobby - if indeed one wanted to call it that - was quiet and empty and the carpet in the elevator was worn and stained with water. Atobe wrinkled his nose.
It occurred to him, when he stood before Tezuka's door, that despite the solitude that had been his on the trip over, Atobe had absolutely no idea what he intended to say to Tezuka. 'I miss you'? 'Why didn't you answer my last email?' 'Are you fucking someone else?'
Not only did none of those things sound like anything Tezuka would appreciate hearing, they were not questions that Atobe had any right to ask in the first place. He knew what was proper and what was not and while he still felt as though Tezuka was his, somehow, Atobe would not sacrifice his dignity only to find that Tezuka was as over him as he'd appeared these months past. It was with this realization that Atobe decided that his impromptu visit was necessary in order to obtain any closure for himself.
If Tezuka appeared happy and settled, then Atobe would accept that as a fitting conclusion to a poorly ended love affair. If, however, Tezuka seemed to miss Atobe as Atobe sometimes missed him, then perhaps a reconciliation wasn't entirely unthinkable.
He knocked, only once, and felt his every, single thought flitter away when Tezuka opened the door. Dressed in pale blue pajamas and toweling his hair - he looked clean and fresh and comfortable and irresistible.
"Ah…were you preparing for bed, then? I apologize."
Tezuka waved the apology away, stepping aside to allow Atobe entrance, and draped the towel around his neck to run a hand through his hair. "Not particularly."
That he was just getting out of bed instead of preparing to get into it didn't seem an appropriate bit of information to offer.
Glancing around quickly, Atobe still held his coat and his bag. He didn't take off his shoes.
Tezuka stood before him for a moment and, when Atobe didn't speak, turned toward the kitchen. "What are you doing here? I didn't realize that you were in town."
When it became obvious that Tezuka wasn't going to insist that he remove his shoes, Atobe toed them off and stood awkwardly just beyond the door. He could see Tezuka from where he stood and, beyond that, Tezuka seemed to have no issue carrying on a conversation while he made tea.
"Just business," he responded, finally setting his bag down and hanging up his jacket. He eased on a pair of slippers near the door - they used to be his anyway - and made his way around the sofa and into the kitchen area. Tezuka's apartment was tiny and spare - it suited him.
"At this hour? In this city? If I didn't know better, I might think you'd turned yakuza, Keigo," he returned lightly, his attempt at easing the undeniable tension between them.
Snorting derisively, Atobe smoothed a hand down the front of his unforgivably wrinkled shirt and hoped the hotel he wound up in had decent housekeeping. Yakuza indeed. He was a fine one to talk, sneaking around with Kite Eishirou who was, by now, very likely well on his way to becoming head of the local crime syndicate.
Oh, Kunimitsu. Tell me you'd never fall so far.
He reminded himself to be fair, though. True, he'd seen Kite swaggering out of the building as though he were cock of the walk - dressed like a ruffian - but perhaps that had been mere coincidence. Watching Tezuka, after all this time, and feeling immediately soothed by his calm, graceful manner, Atobe felt certain that he couldn't possibly be seeing someone like Kite.
"I'm considering a merger," he said. It wasn't entirely a lie as his father was in the middle of a very political buyout involving a nearby shipyard. He called it 'acquisitions'. Atobe didn't call it anything at all. Once the old bastard retired and was out of Atobe's way, there would be no shady dealings with short, too-tanned savages. Pursing his lips, Atobe lay one hand on the breakfast bar and reminded himself that he didn't have time to allow himself to be sidetracked. He didn't come all this way to worry over his father's business practices - he had his own short, too-tanned savage to contend with.
"Oh?" Tezuka inquired, wiping the counter and unwrapping a few plain, white cakes that he then stacked lovingly on what Atobe recognized as Tezuka-san's good dinnerware. Immediately suspicious and feeling far too inconsequential to rely on good breeding to see him through the situation he'd placed himself in, Atobe narrowed his eyes and said, quietly, "Are you sleeping with Kite Eishirou?"
Tezuka stilled, fingers light on the sweet he held, and it was a long moment before he turned familiar, censorious eyes on Atobe. When he spoke, his voice was low, dangerous, icy.
"What did you say?"
Frowning, Atobe didn't give an inch. As Tezuka hadn't laughed and asked him if he'd fallen and hit his head recently, Atobe considered his reaction admittance enough of his guilt. "You heard me."
Inhaling slowly, Tezuka turned to face Atobe. Crossing his arms over his chest - assessing, not defensive, Atobe decided - Tezuka swept him with a withering glance and shook his head. His shoulders and back were straight like steel and he wore his self-righteousness like a holy mantle. Atobe knew that, if he hadn't been so angry and unutterably wronged, he'd have fallen in love with him all over again.
"You have no right to ask me that," Tezuka asserted - clearly not apologetic. "You have your life and I have mine and I will sleep, Atobe Keigo, with whomever I choose. Do we understand one another?"
It was as good as an admission. Atobe thought he might be sick. "Is that a yes?"
The silence that followed was heavy with frustration and Tezuka knew that Atobe wasn't feeling even one-tenth as confident as he wanted to seem. How he'd come by the knowledge that Tezuka was seeing anyone at all was anyone's guess. Even if Atobe had spoken to Ryoma - which didn't seem plausible, really - Tezuka knew that Ryoma would not impart his secrets. To anyone.
"If this is what you came for, Keigo, then I suggest that you go home. I have no intention of discussing this with you."
"And why is that?" he demanded, perilously close to losing his composure. "You walked away, remember? I wasn't the one - it was you."
Tezuka's cheeks were flushed and his lips were tight - he was upset and not hiding it well. "I'm not revisiting this, Keigo. Are you listening to me? I'm not doing this again."
At Atobe's determined, mutinous expression, Tezuka stepped forward and if Atobe hadn't known better, he might have thought he was reaching.
"You pushed me away," was all he could say, however, and when Atobe's expression softened, Tezuka turned away. "I have to put it behind me. Let me do that, Keigo. If I ever mattered to you at all."
Finding that he had no argument to offer, Atobe lowered his gaze, as well. Always, Tezuka had been capable of sucking the wind right out of his over-confident sails.
"I can't let you go," he said, finally. His throat was tight and his stomach hurt and he hated that he stood before Tezuka looking the way he did. He couldn't even have his dignity, but then, that was his own doing and he knew it. "You've always been there, Kunimitsu. You're my history - I don't want to forget that. Or you."
Rubbing his temples, Tezuka sighed heavily. Atobe tried his patience sorely, but he couldn't hate him. If the truth were to be known, he doubted he'd ever be able to cut Atobe out of his life, out of his heart. But he couldn't live with him and he couldn't give him what he wanted.
"I'm not dead, Keigo. We're just not together anymore. It's not the end of the world."
It is, Atobe wanted to say. When you don't love me anymore, it is the end of the world. But how could he say such a thing? It was embarrassing and dramatic and maudlin and unfair, besides.
"Promise me that we'll never be strangers to one another."
Stepping forward, Tezuka lay one hand on Atobe's shoulder and shook him gently. "Idiot."
Without waiting to be invited, Atobe moved into Tezuka's personal space and wrapped his arms tight around his waist. After a moment, Tezuka draped an arm around his shoulders and held him for a moment. This was not the Atobe that Tezuka knew and respected. That he was in a bad place was obvious to him and he regretted that he could not be the one to build him back up again.
"I want you to be happy, Kunimitsu. No matter what's between us, you're more important to me than you think."
"I know that," Tezuka said.
"Are you happy, then?" he couldn’t help asking, both hoping and dreading that he would elaborate.
Considering the past few days and the near-constant roller coaster of uncertainty and excitement that he'd been on, Tezuka wasn't entirely sure how to answer such a question. All he knew was that when Kite was next to him, the observer in him fell dormant. The urge to analyze himself and his every conscious thought simply wasn't there. Was that happiness? Tezuka didn't know.
"Ask me again in six months."
Shoulders lifting in silent amusement, Atobe rested his forehead against Tezuka's neck and gripped his hips in an effort to ground himself once more. "I'll schedule it."
"Put it in your daytimer," Tezuka returned, squeezing his shoulders once before withdrawing a bit.
When Atobe lifted his head, meeting Tezuka's eyes evenly for the first time since he'd arrived, his lips quirked in that familiar, arrogant smirk and Tezuka finally allowed himself to relax.
"I brought my overnight bag," he offered helpfully, and Tezuka stepped back, putting some space between them despite his expression of amusement.
"That's good. You'll be able to clean up at your hotel later."
Brushing his bangs aside, Atobe took hold of his confidence again. He might have arrived without his dignity, but he was determined to take it with him when he left.
"No farewell kiss, then?"
"Godspeed," Tezuka returned, tone dry.
Atobe laughed, preparing to offer something positive and real for what might have been the first time in a very long time. Before he could speak, though, Tezuka's intercom crackled and his attention was effectively garnered elsewhere.
"Tezuka?"
After only a moment, Tezuka moved to answer. Atobe watched him press the button - didn't miss his immediate reaction.
"Kite."
Atobe stilled. Kite.
"Still want me?" he asked, voice low but not at all as smarmy as Atobe felt it should be.
Tezuka didn't hesitate and he didn't look at Atobe. "Yes. The door is unlocked."
"All right," Kite said, sounding far too familiar for Atobe's liking. "I'm on my way."
Pairing: Kite/Tezuka - future timeline
Rating: R
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 is weak when faced with such pretty sincerity - this is what true love looks like. :D Old boyfriends make appearances - it's an angst party in here.
First bit + second bit + third bit + fourth bit + fifth bit + sixth bit + seventh bit
letting the cables sleep
chapter eight
Kite hummed in his sleep. Like he wanted to talk -had things to say - but couldn’t. Tezuka had not been aware of this particular habit when they’d last spent the night together, but he supposed that his own state of mind and preoccupation with what he’d done had prevented him from noticing any of Kite’s possible idiosyncrasies.
Now, though, with Kite nestled against him - parted lips against his shoulder and long tanned arms wound about him - Tezuka could take the opportunity to reconcile his memory of a Kite that he hadn’t really known with this new, older Kite that he couldn’t seem to leave alone.
For a while, after he’d awakened, Tezuka had not moved. Waking up to damp sheets and cool skin and Kite’s clingy, possessive embrace had cleared his hazy thoughts with startling immediacy and he barely dared to breathe as he went over the afternoon’s events. Kite had come to him; he had not objected. Despite his intentions to the contrary, Kite’s words - Kite’s touch - had seen his defenses so effectively toppled that he was almost ashamed. Had it been another man, another time, another situation, Tezuka doubted that he would feel as he did now. That it was Kite and not merely sex that had managed to turn him inside out was indication enough that some balance had shifted. Something had changed - something vital and within himself. He knew that such a realization should have made him happy, but his emotions - his unease and inability to settle himself - were too much a myriad of confusion to allow him such peace.
When he couldn’t seem to look away from Kite, however, or prevent himself from touching his hair, his forehead, Tezuka wondered if tranquility was truly what he craved. The feelings that Kite induced - that restless, uncertain, heart-pounding exhilaration that made hovering just on the edge of reason feel so, so good - was nothing like peace or tranquility. And didn’t he like it? Didn’t he crave it for that reason alone?
Kite’s hair, messy from the rain, obscured his right eye and Tezuka brushed it aside tenderly, warm from the feelings that such intimate touching brought. He tugged the blanket up, touched Kite’s shoulder and wondered at the swell of emotion that he experienced. While he could admit that what he felt had little to do with sex and more to do with the lingering closeness that came after, he was certainly not prepared to put a name to it just yet. He didn’t know Kite - not really - and knew that he would need to guard himself closely. Too much, too soon and he’d find himself in another situation like the one he’d created with Atobe.
Murmuring against his shoulder, Kite snuggled impossibly closer, rubbing his mouth against Tezuka’s skin and burrowing ever closer.
"Lazy bum," Tezuka murmured affectionately, shifting and intending to extricate himself from Kite's embrace in the interests of establishing some manner of boundary when Kite awoke.
Grunting his objection, Kite's fingers curled around Tezuka's wrist and wrapped his arms around him, clinging that much tighter. "Uh-uh," he mumbled, twining his legs with Tezuka's and effectively pinning him in place. "Stay."
Frowning, Tezuka turned in Kite's arms - facing him - to meet his eyes. He took his time, blinking once or twice to gaze at Tezuka - eyes bleary and unfocused. "Where you goin'?"
"We should get up. The sheets are wet and your hair is sticky and…"
He trailed off then, unwilling to say the words and open himself up to possible vulgarity.
With a soft, incredibly self-satisfied sigh, Kite slid one leg between Tezuka's and gripped his bottom to snuggle him closer. "You're sticky and I'm sticky. But I don't want to let you go yet."
Kite was comfortable. Comfortable and almost playful and Tezuka couldn't help but wonder if he remembered what they'd promised to one another. If it had, indeed, been a promise. For all that Tezuka knew of love and healthy relationships, the words they'd spoken to one another might have been nothing more than an impetuous exchange of meaningless words spoken in the heat of the moment. The mere consideration of such a possibility, however, made Tezuka's stomach hurt and his heart sink and he knew precisely what that meant.
He'd somehow managed to get ahead of himself - despite his knowing better - and it scared him. How could he expect Kite to look out for his feelings when he did such a poor job of protecting them, himself?
Averting his eyes, though he didn't move away, Tezuka smoothed one hand over his pillowcase and kept his voice as even as he was able. "One of us will have to let go, eventually," he said.
Running one hand over Tezuka's arms to trace his fingers with the tips of his own, Kite's voice was low and quiet and…different. "Why?"
Effectively garnering Tezuka's attention, Kite met his gaze evenly, sincerely. "I don't mind letting go if I know you'll come back again."
He stared at Kite, unsure of what to say or how to say it, and when Kite touched his face, he let his eyes close. "I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted, voice no more than a whisper. It wasn't a secret, not really, but it felt like the worse sort of vulnerability in the face of Kite's confidence and ease. While he was almost certain he shouldn't have said it, he was just as certain that he was entirely unable to hold back.
Shifting closer, rolling him half onto his back, Kite stretched out against him and touched his face. Tezuka's eyes, without the glasses to hinder the view, said more than Kite knew he would ever want to say. Despite his strength and drive and the way he seemed to command respect from whomever he came into contact with, Kite saw the hesitation in his eyes. Kite saw his weakness.
He kissed him softly, framing his face with both hands and parting his lips - slow and reverent - to convey with his touch what he doubted Tezuka would accept, otherwise. To his relief, Tezuka didn't attempt to shut him out or warn him away. He simply clung to Kite and took his kisses as though he'd expected no less.
When Kite pulled back, though he pressed his lips to Tezuka's two or three more times - unable to stop himself - he stroked Tezuka's cheeks with his thumbs and held his gaze for a long, significant moment.
"Neither do I," he said.
They stared at one another, still hanging on tight, and -eventually - Tezuka looked away first. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was a mess and Kite wanted nothing more than to roll him over again. Dirty or not - he wasn't finished.
"We should shower," Tezuka said, finally. "And maybe get something to eat."
Kite smiled, nuzzling Tezuka's neck, his ear, nibbling skin he'd already marked. "If you insist."
When Tezuka shifted again, Kite let him go and he watched from his place on the bed as Tezuka sat up - tugging the blanket over his hips. He ran a hand through his hair and looked up at the clock hung over the door. "It's still early…," was all that he said and Kite smiled, then.
Without actually extending an invitation, Tezuka was attempting to let him know that he could stay. If he wanted to.
Kite stretched, languid and content, and looked up at Tezuka. From his vantage point, he could see the pale curve of Tezuka's bottom and he smirked a little. "It is."
Tezuka shifted, edging toward the edge of the bed. "I'll…just go shower first. I won't be long."
Only barely managing to disguise his amusement, Kite rolled to one side and propped his head on one fist. "Can't we share?"
Easing the blankets aside, Tezuka turned to face the bathroom - his back to Kite. "Suit yourself."
He rose then, bare ass clenched tight and back as straight as a board as he began to walk away. Kite didn't hesitate even one second more; he kicked off the blankets and climbed out of bed to follow Tezuka. Something in the way he carried himself hinted at a bashfulness, a lack of confidence, despite his nudity. Perhaps it was his deliberate grace; perhaps it wasn't deliberate at all. He knew that he didn't care, however, when Tezuka leaned against the wall to turn on the water.
Behind him, Kite slipped his arms around Tezuka's waist and kissed the back of his neck. Pressed close, he closed his eyes and nosed into the back of Tezuka's hair. "Tezuka," he murmured. Not because he had anything important to say or because he needed to be heard - but because he simply liked the way Tezuka's name felt on his lips.
Passing a hand under the spray, waiting for the water to heat to his liking, Tezuka responded with an absent 'hm?'
Kite smiled, pleased with the circumstances and with himself and with the way Tezuka's smooth, pale ass felt against his groin. He'd have to say something now, though, else Tezuka would likely favor him with a withering glare and climb into the tub without him. Before he could say a word, though, his mobile rang from Tezuka's bedroom and he grew still for a moment, having absolutely no idea as to who might be calling him.
"Mm. One moment. I should get that."
The tone of his voice was indication enough that he wasn't expecting any calls and that he didn't receive many casual ones, besides. Half-turning, letting the warm, soothing water trickle through his fingers, Tezuka watched Kite bend to fish his mobile out of the pocket of his pants.
"The hospital, perhaps?"
Kite snorted, flipping the phone open and winking at Tezuka. "I'm not that important yet."
Lips quirking in an almost smile, Tezuka stood, one hand on the shower door, and watched Kite. From the time the offered a greeting to the first few, clipped words he spoke to whomever was on the other end of the conversation, his expression changed from playful to serious to irritated.
"No, I don't think you did it on purpose," he said, voice low. "I realize that."
There was a long pause and then he sighed. "Look, I'm not going to argue with you. Just wait there. I won't be longer then ten or fifteen minutes."
Pause.
"I don't think that matters."
Kite glanced up, his expression apologetic when he caught Tezuka's gaze. Apologetic, but there was no mistaking his very carefully controlled anger. It was there in the lines of his shoulders, in the slant of his eyebrows.
Tezuka remembered this side of Kite Eishirou rather well, indeed.
"Ten minutes," he repeated. "Wait for me outside."
Snapping the phone shut, he stood - pissed off and regretful and unabashedly naked - and began to shimmy into his pants. He pulled on his tank top and shoved his phone in his pocket before bending to pull his boots on without benefit of socks. He fairly crackled with irritation; Tezuka was uncertain as to how he should react.
"You have to go," was all that he could say, proud of himself for being matter-of-fact and completely unemotional.
When he'd buckled his boots, he stood, shaking his bangs back and out of his eyes. He took a step toward Tezuka, afraid that he'd ruined everything that might have been tonight by answering that phone call. He'd seen Rin's name on the LCD; he could have let it go to voicemail. He knew, though, that he'd have thought about it all night if he'd done that. In light of Rin's departure that morning, Kite sincerely doubted that he'd purposely leave his wallet behind merely in order to see Kite again. The conversation they'd just shared left no doubt that seeing Kite was not high on Rin's list of priorities at the moment.
He sighed, reaching out to touch Tezuka's arm and very nearly faltering. Tezuka did not move out of his reach.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I really won't be gone long."
Sliding his fingertips along Tezuka's wrist to twine their fingers loosely, Kite recognized the apprehension in Tezuka's eyes. So wary, so hesitant - it was obvious to Kite that Tezuka wanted to ask why he had to go, but couldn't put aside his pride long enough to do so.
"Do you want me to come back?" he asked, hoping that his desire to return was evident. Tezuka glanced down at their joined hands and shrugged a little.
"I…"
Squeezing his hand, Kite stepped close and then closer, still. "Tezuka. It's not a trick question. This isn't a game. Do you want to spend the night together, or not?"
When he looked up again, silent still but with acquiescence clear enough in his eyes, Kite hooked Tezuka's arm around his own neck and brought him close to kiss his mouth. The water kept running and Tezuka closed his eyes and then he leaned into Kite and parted his lips.
"Come back," he murmured, fingers light at the back of Kite's neck.
Murmuring his assent, Kite deepened the kiss, dropping his other hand to Tezuka's hip to hold him as close as he was able. "Right back."
When Tezuka pulled away, letting his fingertips graze Kite's jaw, he leveled him with a familiar, steely gaze. "And then you'll tell me why you had to go."
After a moment - though he'd have agreed straight away, regardless - Kite grinned. Tezuka had been a formidable rival and truly, not much had changed in that respect.
"Hold that shower for me?" he teased.
Tezuka turned away, slid the door open. Before he closed it behind him, he chuckled softly and Kite's certainty that he'd actually heard it was enough to delay his departure just a few seconds more.
"Goodbye, Kite."
Over his shoulder, he called back - loud enough that Tezuka would hear him over the shower spray.
"Not goodbye. Save me some hot water."
+++
It was getting late, though not late enough to thin the crowd at the airport, and Atobe had worried that he would never get a cab. It was sticky outside - damp and humid and shimmery on the concrete - and he loosened his tie and silently bemoaned the current state of his ensemble. He felt as though he'd been left outside to wilt. His hair was limp and his skin felt oily he could very nearly taste the ozone at the back of his throat. That Tezuka seemed content to reside in such surroundings was something that Atobe doubted he would ever understand. As he'd stood on the curb, however - lifting his hand in a casual signal to an approaching cab - Atobe reminded himself that Tezuka had always preferred simplicity.
And as he sat in relative discomfort - in a cab that smelled of stale sweat and very old beer - he realized that it really didn't get much simpler than this. Well, unless one wanted to visit Okinawa, which Atobe did not.
"It's up here on the left," the cab driver told him, no doubt eyeing the platinum and diamond tie tac Atobe wore.
Frowning, Atobe tightened the grip on his overnight bag and tugged his overcoat closed over his chest. "Fine, fine. Just pull up at the curb, I'll cross here."
The cab driver chuckled under his breath and Atobe glanced up at the rear-view mirror quickly. He was not above withholding a tip if that filthy drunkard were having a laugh at his expense. The man's expression gave nothing away, however, and Atobe began to scoot toward the far door of the car, reaching into his inside jacket pocket as he went.
"Little warm for a jacket tonight, eh?" the cab driver asked.
Atobe sniffed, thumbing through the bills he carried on his person. "Yes, well," he began, glancing at the meter. "I just flew in from Tokyo."
"No kidding," the man said. It wasn't a question.
Declining to respond, Atobe climbed out of the cab to stand at the crosswalk while he watched the car pull away from the curb and disappear in the darkness. Running a hand through already tousled hair, he slipped off his jacket to drape over one arm and gazed across the street at Tezuka's apartment building. He told himself that it was ridiculous for him to feel nervous. But then, he'd become quite adept at lying to himself. Particularly when it came to Tezuka.
The light changed then and he was halfway across the street when one of the doors to Tezuka's complex swung open. Slowing his steps, Atobe moved closer and watched the man who emerged stride along the sidewalk toward a sleek, black bike parked at the curb. Under the streetlight, amidst the fog and what passed for moonlight - was Kite Eishirou.
Kite Eishirou, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed, had just come out of Tezuka's apartment complex and as Atobe stood in the middle of the street - while the cross light flashed its warning - he watched him strap on his helmet, rev the bike's engine and ride off in the opposite direction.
It had been a long time, but Atobe never forgot a face. Or a potential rival.
Kite Eishirou. Tezuka. After the message he'd received earlier regarding Tezuka's recent social ventures, Atobe couldn't bring himself to believe that it might be only a coincidence.
+++
Scanning the sidewalk as he pulled up in front of his apartment, Kite knew better than to expect that Rin would be waiting patiently beneath the streetlight for him. Given his attitude on the phone earlier, it was unlikely that he would be at all accommodating and was likely hiding in shadows in the hopes of jumping out and scaring the hell out of Kite.
But then, Kite reasoned, that was something that only a playful Rin would do. The Rin he'd spoken to earlier had been anything but playful.
"That was quick. I see you didn't have time to shower."
Kite sighed, slipping off his helmet and turning in the direction of Rin's voice. Just behind him - half in shadow - Rin leaned against the building. Arms crossed over his chest, one foot flat against the wall with the duffel slung over his shoulder, he looked appropriately casual and relaxed.
Kite knew him better than that.
"Where have you been all day?" he asked, moving closer. "You were gone before I got up, I don't hear from you all day and you want to turn up this late to tell me you left your wallet?"
Rin frowned. "You think I'm lying? Trust me, Eishirou, the last person I wanted to see tonight was you."
Shaking his head and suppressing another sigh, Kite turned toward the door and shook his key ring. "Look, it's late and this is stupid. Come on up and we'll find your wallet."
Pushing away from the wall, Rin trailed behind, hands shoved deep into his pockets and slouching. Kite hated when Rin grew defensive. He was aggressive and unpredictable and not at all easy to control. It was after those uncharitable thoughts, however, that Kite had to admit Rin's attitude toward him was deserved. Despite his behavior - his wildness - he'd always been Kite's responsibility, somehow. Even though his feelings for Rin were unchanged, Kite couldn't shake the feeling that he was washing his hands of him - of their relationship. It hurt; a vague, misplaced sort of hurt that Kite had never experienced and never wanted to again.
"Here we go with the 'stupid' again. Not that I'm surprised, really."
Before Kite could object or find some other mature, reasonable way to curtail the conversation, Rin went on, attempting to shake Kite's cool as they climbed the steps. "So who is he? Some doctor you met at the hospital? Professor, perhaps? Nah, couldn't be - you don't look like some man's boytoy, Eishirou. Not tonight. So I guess that means that you found yourself some sweet little piece of boyass, right? What does he look like - does he look like me?"
At the door to his apartment, Kite turned to face Rin, expression carefully blank. "You're not doing either of us any favors, Rin. Grow up."
Rin snorted, pushing too hard on the front door when Kite held it open for him and slamming it behind him when they'd both gone inside. "Grow up? Roll over and take whatever you want to give me, you mean. So sorry if me having a little dignity offends you."
Kite didn't answer and turned on the lights on the way to his bedroom. He was silent as he moved things on his dresser and knelt to look just under it. Rin lounged in the doorway, all silent condemnation.
"Where did you have it last?" Kite asked, moving aside a shirt to look under it before standing again.
"It's in the bathroom," he said. "I remember."
Kite met his eyes for only a moment - some significant acknowledgment between them - before going into the bathroom. There, on the sink, was Rin's wallet. He held it for a moment, smooth and worn against his fingertips and was surprised to realize just how final this all felt. He'd been wrong before. Last night hadn't been goodbye. This was goodbye.
When he turned again, Rin was just at his back - all barely restrained anger and obvious regret. "Give it to me," was all he said. His voice sounded forced, strained, and Kite pushed his glasses up as he turned to offer Rin the wallet.
"I'm sorry, Rin," was all that he could say. He shouldn't have said it, shouldn't have capitulated - should have called him Hirakoba-kun and said it was fun while it lasted. But he couldn't.
"I didn't plan this, you know. Didn't see it coming. But things were rough between us and then you left and…" he trailed off, shrugging as though it didn't matter - didn't hurt - when it did.
Rin took the wallet slowly, searching for some hint of false sincerity and, finding none, asked hesitantly, "Who is he?"
It had occurred to him that maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe his actions had hurt Kite more than he'd ever realized that they could and maybe this whole, ugly mess was nothing more than Kite attempting to salvage his pride. Maybe there was no one else - maybe…
Kite shook his head, though, and Rin's fledgling hope took another dive. "It doesn't matter," he said. "It doesn't matter who he is, Rin. Who he is doesn't change what's between us."
He looked up, expression serious. "Or what isn't between us."
Rin looked away, stunned by the gravity of Kite's words. Though he'd packed his things and left with the intention of never returning just that morning, the certainty that Kite did not love him - had probably never loved him - was staggering. Regardless of last night's conversation and Rin's subsequent departure - he hadn't quite grasped that it was truly over.
And it was. Over.
"You bastard," was all that he could say, voice no more than a hiss.
He pushed Kite's hand away when he reached for him and glared at the man he'd spent the past seven years chasing after. "Don't try to make it sound okay when it's not. You say that he doesn't matter, but he does!"
Kite didn't answer and Rin recognized that flicker of irritation that he worked so hard to conceal when Rin had raised his voice.
"You can pretty it up all you want, Eishirou, but the bottom line is that you have someone new and you don't want me anymore."
"That's not it," Kite began, voice tight, and Rin didn't miss the way his hands clenched into fists at his side. This was hard for him, certainly, but Rin was inclined to believe that what he was seeing was simple irritation for having been called out so accurately and not any actual pain over the loss of an old friend and lover.
"Fuck you, Eishirou - that's exactly it!"
He paused for a moment, having already convinced himself that Kite had been involved with this person - whomever he was - even before Rin had left. It helped him to justify the argument. It helped him to vent his own pain. He'd rather think that Kite was a cheating, faithless bastard rather than ever believe him capable of falling in love with someone he'd known less than two weeks.
Not when seven years had passed between them and Kite had still not fallen in love with Rin.
"Do you love him?" he asked, knowing that Kite would never, ever lie to spare someone's feelings.
Kite looked away and Rin stepped closer. "Answer me," he murmured, propelled by anger and disillusionment and self-preservation. "Are you in love with him?"
When Kite lifted his gaze to meet Rin's, his expression was practically devoid of any recognizable emotion. Feeling as though his heart would break, he knew what Kite's answer would be before he'd ever uttered a word.
"Yes."
The moment that passed between them then was heavy with surprise and finality and - on Rin's part, at least - a near debilitating disbelief. It was completely without rational thought that he drew back his fist to hit Kite hard in the face and it wasn't until Kite staggered back against the sink - his glasses having landed somewhere near the bathtub - that Rin realized what he'd done. And even then, watching Kite cover his eye and stifle whatever sound Rin knew he wanted to make, it hadn't felt like enough. Kite had taken his pride and stomped on his heart. Rin figured that a black eye and a pair of broken glasses didn't begin to settle the score.
Rin was breathing heavily - truthfully, he thought he might not be finished - and when Kite straightened, taking his hand away and glaring at Rin without benefit of his glasses, Rin knew that Kite had no intention of hitting him back.
His eye was watering and the skin beneath it was red. Soon it would turn purple and then blue and even then Rin would still feel the same. He swallowed around the lump in his throat and realized - horrified - that he wanted to cry.
Instead, he backed away, wallet clutched in his hand and hating Kite for looking at him that way. Like he pitied him.
"Rin," he began, voice strained, and Rin shook his head, movements made jerky and awkward for his shock and his anger.
"No," was all he could say. Even when he knew he should say something else. "No…"
And as Kite rubbed a hand over his face - touching his eye gingerly and feeling it begin to swell - he knelt on the floor to find his glasses while Rin did what Rin did best.
He ran.
+++
For all that he was having the worst week of his life, Atobe was grateful, at least, that the rain had seen fit to cease before he'd arrived. As he'd been standing out in front of Tezuka's building for fifteen minutes - periodically buzzing him and demanding that he be allowed up - he could barely fathom being left out in the rain on top of all the other indignities that had recently been visited upon him.
It was late; Tezuka had to be at home.
He tried again, refusing to consider that Tezuka would not see him at all, and attempted to conceal his agitation when he spoke patiently and evenly into the intercom.
"Kunimitsu? If you're home, I truly wish you would answer. I've been standing outside for almost twenty minutes, now. Kunimitsu?"
There was a pause and then Tezuka's voice was there - clear and pitched in surprise. "Keigo?"
Instant relief was Atobe's and he smiled, leaning close to the intercom as though it contained Tezuka, himself. "Yes, it's me. I'm just outside - can you buzz me up?"
Tezuka hesitated and for a brief, unthinkable moment, Atobe considered that his request might be refused. What would he do - what would he say - if Tezuka refused to see him?
"Very well," he finally said. "I'm in 5H."
Before Atobe could speak, he heard the door's lock turn and he hurried to open it. The lobby - if indeed one wanted to call it that - was quiet and empty and the carpet in the elevator was worn and stained with water. Atobe wrinkled his nose.
It occurred to him, when he stood before Tezuka's door, that despite the solitude that had been his on the trip over, Atobe had absolutely no idea what he intended to say to Tezuka. 'I miss you'? 'Why didn't you answer my last email?' 'Are you fucking someone else?'
Not only did none of those things sound like anything Tezuka would appreciate hearing, they were not questions that Atobe had any right to ask in the first place. He knew what was proper and what was not and while he still felt as though Tezuka was his, somehow, Atobe would not sacrifice his dignity only to find that Tezuka was as over him as he'd appeared these months past. It was with this realization that Atobe decided that his impromptu visit was necessary in order to obtain any closure for himself.
If Tezuka appeared happy and settled, then Atobe would accept that as a fitting conclusion to a poorly ended love affair. If, however, Tezuka seemed to miss Atobe as Atobe sometimes missed him, then perhaps a reconciliation wasn't entirely unthinkable.
He knocked, only once, and felt his every, single thought flitter away when Tezuka opened the door. Dressed in pale blue pajamas and toweling his hair - he looked clean and fresh and comfortable and irresistible.
"Ah…were you preparing for bed, then? I apologize."
Tezuka waved the apology away, stepping aside to allow Atobe entrance, and draped the towel around his neck to run a hand through his hair. "Not particularly."
That he was just getting out of bed instead of preparing to get into it didn't seem an appropriate bit of information to offer.
Glancing around quickly, Atobe still held his coat and his bag. He didn't take off his shoes.
Tezuka stood before him for a moment and, when Atobe didn't speak, turned toward the kitchen. "What are you doing here? I didn't realize that you were in town."
When it became obvious that Tezuka wasn't going to insist that he remove his shoes, Atobe toed them off and stood awkwardly just beyond the door. He could see Tezuka from where he stood and, beyond that, Tezuka seemed to have no issue carrying on a conversation while he made tea.
"Just business," he responded, finally setting his bag down and hanging up his jacket. He eased on a pair of slippers near the door - they used to be his anyway - and made his way around the sofa and into the kitchen area. Tezuka's apartment was tiny and spare - it suited him.
"At this hour? In this city? If I didn't know better, I might think you'd turned yakuza, Keigo," he returned lightly, his attempt at easing the undeniable tension between them.
Snorting derisively, Atobe smoothed a hand down the front of his unforgivably wrinkled shirt and hoped the hotel he wound up in had decent housekeeping. Yakuza indeed. He was a fine one to talk, sneaking around with Kite Eishirou who was, by now, very likely well on his way to becoming head of the local crime syndicate.
Oh, Kunimitsu. Tell me you'd never fall so far.
He reminded himself to be fair, though. True, he'd seen Kite swaggering out of the building as though he were cock of the walk - dressed like a ruffian - but perhaps that had been mere coincidence. Watching Tezuka, after all this time, and feeling immediately soothed by his calm, graceful manner, Atobe felt certain that he couldn't possibly be seeing someone like Kite.
"I'm considering a merger," he said. It wasn't entirely a lie as his father was in the middle of a very political buyout involving a nearby shipyard. He called it 'acquisitions'. Atobe didn't call it anything at all. Once the old bastard retired and was out of Atobe's way, there would be no shady dealings with short, too-tanned savages. Pursing his lips, Atobe lay one hand on the breakfast bar and reminded himself that he didn't have time to allow himself to be sidetracked. He didn't come all this way to worry over his father's business practices - he had his own short, too-tanned savage to contend with.
"Oh?" Tezuka inquired, wiping the counter and unwrapping a few plain, white cakes that he then stacked lovingly on what Atobe recognized as Tezuka-san's good dinnerware. Immediately suspicious and feeling far too inconsequential to rely on good breeding to see him through the situation he'd placed himself in, Atobe narrowed his eyes and said, quietly, "Are you sleeping with Kite Eishirou?"
Tezuka stilled, fingers light on the sweet he held, and it was a long moment before he turned familiar, censorious eyes on Atobe. When he spoke, his voice was low, dangerous, icy.
"What did you say?"
Frowning, Atobe didn't give an inch. As Tezuka hadn't laughed and asked him if he'd fallen and hit his head recently, Atobe considered his reaction admittance enough of his guilt. "You heard me."
Inhaling slowly, Tezuka turned to face Atobe. Crossing his arms over his chest - assessing, not defensive, Atobe decided - Tezuka swept him with a withering glance and shook his head. His shoulders and back were straight like steel and he wore his self-righteousness like a holy mantle. Atobe knew that, if he hadn't been so angry and unutterably wronged, he'd have fallen in love with him all over again.
"You have no right to ask me that," Tezuka asserted - clearly not apologetic. "You have your life and I have mine and I will sleep, Atobe Keigo, with whomever I choose. Do we understand one another?"
It was as good as an admission. Atobe thought he might be sick. "Is that a yes?"
The silence that followed was heavy with frustration and Tezuka knew that Atobe wasn't feeling even one-tenth as confident as he wanted to seem. How he'd come by the knowledge that Tezuka was seeing anyone at all was anyone's guess. Even if Atobe had spoken to Ryoma - which didn't seem plausible, really - Tezuka knew that Ryoma would not impart his secrets. To anyone.
"If this is what you came for, Keigo, then I suggest that you go home. I have no intention of discussing this with you."
"And why is that?" he demanded, perilously close to losing his composure. "You walked away, remember? I wasn't the one - it was you."
Tezuka's cheeks were flushed and his lips were tight - he was upset and not hiding it well. "I'm not revisiting this, Keigo. Are you listening to me? I'm not doing this again."
At Atobe's determined, mutinous expression, Tezuka stepped forward and if Atobe hadn't known better, he might have thought he was reaching.
"You pushed me away," was all he could say, however, and when Atobe's expression softened, Tezuka turned away. "I have to put it behind me. Let me do that, Keigo. If I ever mattered to you at all."
Finding that he had no argument to offer, Atobe lowered his gaze, as well. Always, Tezuka had been capable of sucking the wind right out of his over-confident sails.
"I can't let you go," he said, finally. His throat was tight and his stomach hurt and he hated that he stood before Tezuka looking the way he did. He couldn't even have his dignity, but then, that was his own doing and he knew it. "You've always been there, Kunimitsu. You're my history - I don't want to forget that. Or you."
Rubbing his temples, Tezuka sighed heavily. Atobe tried his patience sorely, but he couldn't hate him. If the truth were to be known, he doubted he'd ever be able to cut Atobe out of his life, out of his heart. But he couldn't live with him and he couldn't give him what he wanted.
"I'm not dead, Keigo. We're just not together anymore. It's not the end of the world."
It is, Atobe wanted to say. When you don't love me anymore, it is the end of the world. But how could he say such a thing? It was embarrassing and dramatic and maudlin and unfair, besides.
"Promise me that we'll never be strangers to one another."
Stepping forward, Tezuka lay one hand on Atobe's shoulder and shook him gently. "Idiot."
Without waiting to be invited, Atobe moved into Tezuka's personal space and wrapped his arms tight around his waist. After a moment, Tezuka draped an arm around his shoulders and held him for a moment. This was not the Atobe that Tezuka knew and respected. That he was in a bad place was obvious to him and he regretted that he could not be the one to build him back up again.
"I want you to be happy, Kunimitsu. No matter what's between us, you're more important to me than you think."
"I know that," Tezuka said.
"Are you happy, then?" he couldn’t help asking, both hoping and dreading that he would elaborate.
Considering the past few days and the near-constant roller coaster of uncertainty and excitement that he'd been on, Tezuka wasn't entirely sure how to answer such a question. All he knew was that when Kite was next to him, the observer in him fell dormant. The urge to analyze himself and his every conscious thought simply wasn't there. Was that happiness? Tezuka didn't know.
"Ask me again in six months."
Shoulders lifting in silent amusement, Atobe rested his forehead against Tezuka's neck and gripped his hips in an effort to ground himself once more. "I'll schedule it."
"Put it in your daytimer," Tezuka returned, squeezing his shoulders once before withdrawing a bit.
When Atobe lifted his head, meeting Tezuka's eyes evenly for the first time since he'd arrived, his lips quirked in that familiar, arrogant smirk and Tezuka finally allowed himself to relax.
"I brought my overnight bag," he offered helpfully, and Tezuka stepped back, putting some space between them despite his expression of amusement.
"That's good. You'll be able to clean up at your hotel later."
Brushing his bangs aside, Atobe took hold of his confidence again. He might have arrived without his dignity, but he was determined to take it with him when he left.
"No farewell kiss, then?"
"Godspeed," Tezuka returned, tone dry.
Atobe laughed, preparing to offer something positive and real for what might have been the first time in a very long time. Before he could speak, though, Tezuka's intercom crackled and his attention was effectively garnered elsewhere.
"Tezuka?"
After only a moment, Tezuka moved to answer. Atobe watched him press the button - didn't miss his immediate reaction.
"Kite."
Atobe stilled. Kite.
"Still want me?" he asked, voice low but not at all as smarmy as Atobe felt it should be.
Tezuka didn't hesitate and he didn't look at Atobe. "Yes. The door is unlocked."
"All right," Kite said, sounding far too familiar for Atobe's liking. "I'm on my way."