A/N: many thanks to my beta, a1y_puff for fixing the typo. I actually planned to post Snow Smile's sequel first but unfortunately my beta is still not finished with it. I hope this will entertain those of you who wait for the sequel..
Disclaimer: neither PoT, its characters, or 'Same Mistake' belong to me. I get no profit from writing this fanfic.
Same Mistake
So while I'm turning in my sheets
And once again I cannot sleep
Walk out the door and up the street
Look at the stars beneath my feet
Remember rights that I did wrong
So here I go
The night was at its darkest, the stars were bright in the indigo sky. Silence enveloped the house, broken only by the gentle rustle of warm wind in the trees. The serenity lulled the residents into peaceful night's sleep, dreamless for their adult lives had robbed them off the luxury of fantasy. Occasionally they would shift and mutter, wary of time and the risk tomorrow would carry even in slumber. But still, or at least for now, they were deep in sleep, resting their bodies where they couldn't their minds.
But one soul was alert though his body begged him to rest. He tossed and turned in his bed, closing his eyes only to open them again seconds later. He frowned at himself in the darkness, angry for not being able to rest despite knowing the risk. But what could he do? Matters of emotions were always beyond his control after all.
The soft ticking of the clock drove him crazy, making him aware of the coming dawn of the inevitable tomorrow –or was it today already? He turned again, staring at a grey wall, angry that his eyes had adjusted enough to actually be able to tell apart the colors and shapes in what supposed to be obliterating darkness. He heard a slightly louder ticking from the table, knowing that the minute had changed and gave up. He pushed the soft sheet away from his body, put on his glasses, and got up from bed, leaving it unmade to collect a jacket to cover his t-shirt and trousers and a pair of spare shoes from his closet. Then he carefully opened the door and entered the familiar dim hall. He paused to take a deep calming breath. His consciousness told him to be sensible, turn around, and return to his bed but he ignored it, knowing he would find no comfort there. He listened to the silence of his house for a few seconds before going to the back door.
The tiny creaking sound of the door opening made him frown but he didn't let it deter him, the same anxiety that ward away sleep spurred him to leave his cell phone in his room and entered the silent night. So he took one step forward, then another, then another… as the screams of his senses grew faint in his mind. Tezuka didn't look back.
Hello, hello
There is no place I cannot go
My mind is muddy but
My heart is heavy does it show
I lose the track that loses me
So here I go
And so I sent some men to fight
And one came back at dead of night
Said he'd seen my enemy
Said he looked just like me
So I set out to cut myself
And here I go
The route he took was a blur but he always, without fail, found himself here every time sleep eludes him. He rather expected the windows to be locked or at least closed especially after the first time but didn't complain when he entered the familiar room through them after he easily climbed to the second floor. Tezuka was immediately greeted by the sight of a familiar figure sleeping under familiar spread of sheets. He paused to admire, almost changing his mind in fear of disrupting the beauty, but his will wouldn't allow him to turn back and he carefully joined the other on the bed.
Tezuka caressed the soft brown tresses, drawing a content sigh that made him bolder. He leaned down, pushed the sheet away, and began to caress an earlobe with his lips. His hand began to roam under the thin shirt, softly at first then with more intent as an idea that the sleeping boy was ready for someone else fleet through his mind. The body beneath him began to shiver and arch as Tezuka nibbled the slender neck and bit slightly on the pulse.
He moved fast enough to clamp a hand over open mouth when the boy awakened in shock. Still, Tezuka didn't pause in his ministration. His fingers expertly teased pert nipples into hardness and he settled more firmly between his captive's legs to grind his hard length onto the slumbering boy's. Without removing his hand from the other's mouth, Tezuka moved lower to capture a tight nub beneath cloth with his mouth.
The hot breath that caressed his palm soon became harsher and Tezuka, too, began to lose control. He neglect the abused nipple to grab the other's round bottom and moved his hips faster, forcefully rubbing his painfully hard length against the other's. He was barely aware of the fingers clutching onto his back, the answering undulation of hips beneath his, the legs crossing on his lower back. Tezuka was only aware of the soaring blood in his veins when he pressed down just hard enough, the tingle in his spine when wet tongue caressed his palm for mercy, the pounding of his heart as his own fingers descend into the cleft of the other's behind, the noises he wanted to let out but withheld when the other whimpered behind the flesh of his hand… Then he looked up, just in time to see an almost pained expression that he knew always came before the height of the other's forced pleasure and stopped.
The blue eyes were slightly teary as he peered up at Tezuka who slowly removed his hand. He panted softly then swallowed to calm his hormones. "Tezuka?" he whispered, scared of shattering the taller boy's silent thoughts. "Are you all right?"
No, he wasn't. But Tezuka couldn't say that. He couldn't say that his father expected him to study economy after high school. He couldn't say that the coach called to remind him of arranging the list of players for the next match that would determine their entry to the national championship, his last national championship in high school. He couldn't say that his mother informed him tonight of his grandfather's ailing health. He couldn't say that Inui just called him tonight to give information about the upcoming opponent, a formidable team with a near perfect history of near perfect victories. He couldn't say anything at all.
"Te…"
When Tezuka pushed his shirt up, he knew what was expected of him. He assisted the removal, lay back down, and remained silent for the rest of the night. In the end, Tezuka could only sigh his gratefulness before sleep claimed him minutes later, his body sated and his mind comforted at last.
"Fuji…"
I'm not calling for a second chance
I'm screaming at the top of my voice
Give me reason, but don't give me choice
Cause I'll just make the same mistake again
Waking up before dawn became a learned habit. Tezuka was not surprised to open his eyes and find himself in another's room with another's naked limbs around him. He was slightly surprised, however, to find himself resting his head under Fuji's chin with his arms around the shorter boy's torso. The loose embrace suddenly became suffocating and Tezuka immediately moved away to get dressed, waking Fuji in the process.
Tezuka forced himself to ignore Fuji's eyes on him and put on his clothes as quickly as possible. He almost wished that Fuji would just say something, ask again the question he had asked last night. But the blessed silence last until Tezuka was ready to return to his house. He avoided Fuji's searching eyes as he sat on the window sill, preparing to climb down. What was he searching in Tezuka anyway? What did he want to know? Why didn't he just ask it? Or had he known all along? Was that why he kept his silence always? Could he read through Tezuka's aloof exterior?
The line of thoughts made Tezuka uncomfortable, frightened him, urging him to leave soon. But before he could step out of the room, he felt Fuji's gentle touch on his left hand and stopped. Tezuka looked at him quietly, nervous and angry and happy at the same time. But he quickly schooled his expression. He couldn't let Fuji see through him. He must not let Fuji see through him.
Fuji opened his mouth, paused, and then continued again. "Will you come again tonight?"
Tezuka saw the way hope lightly graced Fuji's blue eyes and the nervous curve of his pink lips. He opened his mouth to say something, confessed maybe, but then closed it again. He turned back and jumped outside.
And maybe someday we will meet
And maybe talk but not just speak
Don't buy the promises cause
There are no promises I keep
and my reflection troubles me
So here I go
Tezuka hated this cube, the tiny space that became his personal space for eight hours a day, six days a week. He hated the white walls that weren't tall enough to hide anything from curious coworker. He hated the voices that drifted into 'his' space. He hated the numbers and the words he read on the computer screen and on the sheets of papers on his small table. He hated this place. He hated this job.
Never in his life did he ever look forward to lunch break as much as this time in his life. Tezuka ignored his coworkers' employee-of-the-month joke and went to look for a quiet corner in the crowded restaurant. He quietly sighed in relief when he found a seat next to a tall glass window, knowing it would be his only chance for personal space until tonight when he would return to his tiny apartment. The thought brought him no comfort but he would not complain. So Tezuka ate his lunch in silence, keeping his eyes and thoughts to the food instead of the people and life passing him by outside.
"Tezuka?"
Tezuka stopped chewing and looked up. He swallowed his food thickly as he took in the face of the one he thought he would never ever meet again. "Fuji."
"I thought it was you. May I?" Fuji asked, gesturing to the empty seat in front of him.
How long had it been? When was the last time they met? Wasn't it their graduation? Wasn't it the day after the last night they spent together? Wasn't it five years ago? Why did it feel like a lifetime? Tezuka saw little change in Fuji. He always knew Fuji was more blessed in youthful appearance than he ever was but this was the first time he truly felt uncomfortable about his mature look. He wasn't unaware of the premature lines of his face and his tired eyes, results of difficult times in the past years. His old suit didn't help in making him look a little more his age and his demeanor couldn't improve his relations with others. Tezuka was almost embarrassed to compare himself to Fuji; the smooth lines of his face, his unchanged smiles, his bright blue eyes, his well-tailored suit, the way he greeted everyone as if they are his friends… the way he was everything Tezuka was not.
Fuji didn't seem to notice Tezuka's contemplations. He kept speaking, asking Tezuka questions he would reply with short answers. Even this dynamic didn't change. Fuji was always the one talking and initiating the contacts between them. He never stopped and Tezuka wondered occasionally why he never got tired of probing into his life. What was so interesting about his very common lifestyle? Why would Fuji want to know? Why did he always want to know?
"I'm afraid I have to go now." Fuji said, glancing at his expensive watch. He reached into his suit, pulled out a business card, and wrote something on it. With a familiar smile Tezuka had seen in so many dawns, he handed the card to Tezuka. "Contact me whenever you need anything."
It was no longer a question but it was a plea nevertheless, accompanied with a lengthy stare that forced Tezuka to nod to satisfy. Tezuka stared at the card for a long time, ignoring the fact that his lunch break was now over. The words 'Editor in Chief' stabbed him and he contemplated on tearing the card. He held the edges with both hands and started to pull them in different direction but then stopped. Placing it within his pocket, Tezuka returned to his office.
So while I'm turning in my sheets
And once again I cannot sleep
Walk out the door and up the street
Look at the stars
Look at the stars falling down
And I wonder where
Did I go wrong
The ceiling stared back at him, cold, blank, and unflinching. Tezuka closed his eyes, admitting defeat to this lengthy game. He didn't need to glance at the clock to know that it had been two hours since he laid down in bed. He closed his eyes and hoped the darkness would take his consciousness away but he knew his wish was only in vain. Soon he opened his eyes again, sleepiness was a long way to go.
What was it this time? His upcoming deadline? His coworkers' insensitivity? His mother's reminder to his omiai tomorrow? His unexpected encounter with Fuji?
Tezuka couldn't tell anymore. He got tired of analyzing himself and his thoughts. This had nothing to do with cognition. This was emotion. He was never good at handling it. His skill on it never improved even though he was already well past his hormonal stage. Emotions are fickle, unpredictable, and incomprehensible to him. It did nothing but complicate his life, making him consider paths that he should never step upon and values that were never meant for him. It led him to dissatisfaction to a respectable life, a life he shared with many, a life many others would like to share. He nearly hated himself for even let the thought entered his head, for keeping it in that secret place in his mind. There was nothing wrong with the life he had chosen.
Tezuka turned to his side, trying to find a comfortable position that would hopefully help him to sleep. His gaze fell to his suit jacket instead. He looked away and closed his eyes, trying to push back the emerging need to get that card and read the address written on the back of it. He didn't need this. He could do this himself. There was nothing wrong. There was no need for him to see Fuji. He didn't need Fuji.
But the sheet entangling his body seemed to wrap around his body too tightly, attempting to choke life out of him. The room seemed barren, unfamiliar. Sleep was distant. This wasn't where he was supposed to be. He needed to leave. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, where he was supposed to go to but he knew for sure that this wasn't his place to be.
Tezuka got up, deliberately ignoring his own thoughts, and took the business card out of his pocket. He let his feet led him to his destination and deafened himself to the desperate voice of logic and pushed away the gentle but tight embrace of emotions. He could almost ignore how the Western-style house seemed grand, how it stood up among its neighbors, how the design reminded him of the time he allowed himself to dream. Tezuka jumped over the tall fence and entered through unlocked door, deliberately pushing back teenage memories. He passed dim corridors and kitchen and living room and closed doors until he found one half-closed door with stray light escaping from the gap. He entered the room, leaving the door open behind him.
O-WA-RI
A/N: omiai is some kind of matchmaking in Japan. Anyway, what do you think of the ending? I want it to be sad *points to title* but it's kinda like (sad) open ending, ne? my beta said that it's happy open ending to her. What about you?