AN: There's no excuse, I know. Life just happens, sometimes. I'm so sorry :( This chapter killed me to write, it was just so HARD, and none of these stubborn creatures would listen to me. I had to scrap everything I've written more than a dozen times, and I'm not particularly happy about this one, either, but... nvm.

/end rant

I hope you guys enjoy...?

VII

Selfish Indulgence

(Kunimitsu; Hiro)

It's stupid, Tezuka thought, looking at his phone like it would bite him.

It's stupid because he was at school, it was lunchbreak, and he had other things better to do, because not only was he the captain of the tennis team, he was also the president of the student council, and that meant duties and responsibilities, which did not include using his position to sneak to the school rooftop and use his phone to call Fuji just because he was worried about him.

It's stupid because Fuji was probably fine, he was overreacting, and... overreacting.

It's stupid because he was not in his right mind, and his not-right-state-of-mind would possibly cause him to say not-right, stupid things he can never take back.

He found himself dialing the familiar numbers anyway.

It's stupid, Tezuka thought, again. He could hang up, before Fuji could even answer. He could put the phone down, and maybe his heart would finally stop thundering in his ears. For a brief few moments, that was what Tezuka's life had come down to, just the phone in his hand and his heart pounding on his chest, in his head, everywhere.

It was so faint, drowned out by the sounds of his heartbeat that Tezuka almost missed it.

"Hello?"

It was stupid, and like always, Tezuka couldn't control himself. "Are you alright?"

There was a soft gasp at the other end of the line. Stupid. Why did Tezuka even say that? Why did he even call?

"Who is this?"

It was as if even Fuji agreed, because he was able to grasp what Tezuka was not able. That the reputation that Tezuka had built for himself gave Tezuka himself limitations. That the reputation Tezuka had built for himself did not allow for Tezuka to do stupid things like this, like ignore his other responisibilities in favor of a call just so he can be able to have reassurance for himself that Fuji was well.

That the reputation Tezuka had built for himself did not allow Tezuka to fall in love with any of his teammates at all.

"Sorry, that was rude, wasn't it?" Fuji finally said, after a long pause that Tezuka did not know how to fill. He was chuckling, but that was probably because he didn't know what else to do, which was good, because neither did Tezuka.

And then Fuji said something about how out of character it was for Tezuka to do things like this and he was right, of course he was, Tezuka was being stupid.

Still, the teasing-laughing tone was familiar, and they fell back to their easy camaraderie, where Fuji was teasing and Tezuka was mostly disapproving, and everything was simple and back to that moment, before Tezuka realized he had these kind of feelings, and exactly what they had meant.

"Saa, that's cute Tezuka, it's nice to know you're worried about me," Fuji's voice was half-hesitant, as if it really was nice, as if he thought that Tezuka was so busy looking at the stars that people like Fuji, so beautiful, so full of life and everything that could probably go right in Tezuka's life, were all but faded in the background.

"Fuji," the words were on the tip of Tezuka's tongue. I love you.

But he wasn't man enough for that. "You missed practice."

Fuji chuckled, but he wasn't happy. Tezuka knew, his heart was breaking, too.

But here was Fuji, trying to once again build up playful banter, being everything that Tezuka at once loved and admired about him, strong and resilient and thank you for calling, Tezuka, like Tezuka was the condescending captain giving him handouts.

It was so deliberately obvious how much Tezuka had hurt him, it was almost comical, the way Fuji tried to hide it. And failed. Spectacularly.

He had to do something because this time, there was no one else, but him and Fuji and all Tezuka was doing was hurt him, when that was the last thing in the world that he'd wanted.

"I..."

He was hurting Fuji.

...And still all Tezuka could think was I can't.

"Take care of yourself, Fuji."

He'd been right.

The phone call idea was stupid, after all.

Once, a very, very long time ago, Tezuka had been young.

He'd just discovered tennis then. Rather, and probably more appropriately, tennis had discovered him.

He remembered it vividly, thinking that maybe Kunihiro was right, maybe tennis could mean something after all, especially when he lay in bed at night watching his small fists clench and unclench above him, the sweet, cloying taste of ambition heady in his mouth.

He'd been so young, so desperate. His heart had ached for the validation, to be singled out as extraordinary, to be better than what was the norm, to be someone that mattered and didn't just exist.

To be recognized as someone who just couldn't blend into the crowd, not even if he tried.

It was tennis that brought him that, and from that desire stemmed the passion and the purpose, until it was more than just a spring, it was a raging river, uncontrollable in its might.

Of course, Tezuka had been too young to understand the full consequences of his desire.

Because his desire, his passion, his purpose, his tennis had brought him something else, too.

It had brought him loneliness.

He'd been so dead set on trying to push, to run faster, get farther, he'd forgotten to look back and remember all the other people who'd been stumbling behind. And then, much, much later, he'd been standing, somewhere damn near close to the finish line, alone and wondering where everybody else had gone.

Because he had that validation, he was extraordinary, he was better than the norm, so much so that he couldn't blend into the crowd, no matter how hard he tried. Somehow, his peers had elevated him to a level where he alone existed, where they could watch and admire from afar, and where Tezuka could look down, and see all the bonds that were forming without him.

And he'd gone on, moving forward alone, because he'd accepted that this was the cost of what he'd wanted, no matter how young he had been, back then.

But... Tezuka now wanted for something else, tucked in the deepest part of his heart, that part where he hid all the things he didn't want to admit, even to himself. It was ludicrous to say those things out loud, but everyone felt them.

They had to, or they weren't alive.

Because where did that come from, anyway? The want, the utter want to be needed, the almost utmost desperation to not only be loved, but deemed irreplaceable, and invaluable in just that one person's life.

It was the cruellest want of all.

Because... it wasn't impossible. Tezuka saw other people getting it everyday – his peers pairing off, becoming best friends, having crushes, becoming couples.

He even heard the words exactly: "I need you," and "I can't live without you," and "Without you, the world is shit." He could hear them, a steady stream of steady words, every single day. They would say it, constantly.

Just... not to him.

So, he waited, never really giving up hope, and never really acknowledging it either.

Until Fuji.

Fuji, with his blazing blue angry eyes, his small but strong trembling fists clutching Tezuka by the lapels of his shirt and This isn't what I wanted!

Fuji, with his strange humor, and unconventional ideas, who looked at Tezuka, really looked at Tezuka, and saw his faults and his shortcomings, and still smiled and listened and watched him with a gentle, steady gaze.

And... that was everything, wasn't it?

Fuji was everything.

Someone who looked at him like he was different, special, unique...

But not untouchable.

Tezuka had no idea when or how, only that one day, he found himself, in his very own selfish indulgence, wanting to be the difference in Fuji's life between the world, and the world in which good things happened.

...Tezuka blinked himself out of his stupor. Practice had been over long ago, but Tezuka had stayed, wanting to run a few more laps. He found himself in the middle of the tennis court, where he'd first played with Fuji, the disaster of a match that had not even been finished.

He found himself reliving that match, that day. Fuji had been so angry, and Tezuka had realized that perhaps he wasn't half as strong as he liked to pretend to be.

This isn't what I wanted!

So, really, it was no wonder why he ended up here.

He was still the same boy.

He hadn't really gotten anywhere at all.

From Tezuka Kunimitsu's messages:
Conversation with Kikumaru Eiji

5:36 pm
Buchou! Thanks again for agreeing to give Fuji his dictionary back :D
5:37 pm
Tell him not to kill me please?
5:38 pm
Or poison my food, nya
5:38 pm
Or my shampoo bottles
5:39 pm
Or my soap
5:40 pm
Or my toothpaste
5:41 pm
ESPECIALLY not the toothpaste, nya. Oishi just bought me a new tube and it's strawberry flavored!

5:46 pm
It's no problem. Don't let your guard down, Kikumaru.

Here was how Hiro realized that he was in love with beautiful Fuji.

He'd been toying with that fact, here and there, but always when his mind was clouded, and his thoughts were so vague and so far away from him that it was as if they were separate beings entirely. It wasn't as if he wasn't used to it, that hazed numbness, he'd been living with it even since those few disastrous weeks after Kunimitsu destroyed all of Hiro's carefully built dreams.

But now...

Now, he thought, rolling the name Syusuke-kun (he could say it all day, Syusuke, it was just that goddamn beautiful) in his tongue, the thought that he might be in love felt real.

Hiro liked it being real.

"Hiro-san, is that your brother?"

Abruptly, Hiro whirled around, making out the indistinct figure of a body so like his own, clad in a loud, blue Seigaku jersey, bringing something in the paper bag he was cradling with his hands. Hiro might not be able to guess the contents of the bag, but he was about more than halfway sure he knew who it was for.

Or else, Kunimitsu wouldn't be here, visiting Fuji, and ruining everything Hiro had sought to build, with just one of those damned Kunimitsu-Fuji exchanges.

Because Hiro wasn't stupid.

He knew what those looks Fuji and his brother shared meant. It meant something deeper, almost to the point of intimacy, a bond so strong and so deep, it could be love, and Hiro had barely been able to scratch the surface.

He'd barely been able to grasp it at all.

Because Kunimitsu had a history with Fuji spanning far longer than Hiro's was, but Hiro was working, and he was working very hard to somehow get to that point where history didn't matter anymore.

And he was succeeding, wasn't he? Fuji's given name was still as fresh as spring morning in his tongue.

Kunimitsu couldn't ruin that. He couldn't.

Hiro wasn't so numb now that he failed to realize exactly what he would have to do. "I don't see anything, Syusuke-kun."

And before Fuji could say or see anything else, he threw his arms around him and squeezed. He didn't have this right, Hiro knew, but he could take and if he could take it in front of Kunimitsu, then it made everything even sweeter.

"Thank you for today." Never let it be said that Tezuka Kunihiro did not know when and how to push the right buttons.

Fuji hugged him back, something about a you're welcome, even though he was halfway to awkward town, and wasn't that just the most precious thing?

He didn't see Kunimitsu at all on the way home.

After, much later, Hiro would be standing over the table by his bedside. He would see the pristine glass of water standing by the crap that had ruined most of what was left of Hiro's life after Kunimitsu had been done with him. He stood staring down at them, for one long, long moment before he realized that they had been there, too, this morning, when his mother had put them there and reminded him to not forget.

He let out a long exhale of realization before his face broke out into a smile.

He snatched them up, uncaring as they clattered against their container, and bounded to the bathroom sink, dropping all the contents down the drain, thinking, this was love.

Because he hadn't had them, he hadn't had them all day, and nothing went wrong, he had been able to be the perfect, undamaged boy he had been before. Before everything had gone to hell, before that stupid tournament and all the damage it had caused to Hiro's future, before Hiro had been told that he had to spend the rest of his life disconnected and numb, or he'd hurt all the people he wanted to love.

This was love, it couldn't be anything else. Everything he had felt towards Fuji suddenly clicked in place. All those people (boy, girl, whatever) he'd kissed and slept with, out of desperation and longing and desperate longing to feel – all forgotten. The German girlfriend he'd left behind, the one girl who'd made him believe in love (and then ruined everything) – meaningless.

All paled in comparison, and everything was suddenly not good enough, a very, very distant second to Fuji.

To Syusuke.

And one day, one day, Syusuke was going to be Hiro's.

He crushed the flimsy plastic in his hands and smiled.

The door to the bathroom creaked open, to reveal Kunimitsu, tentatively holding a pot of what looked like some kind of cactus. Hiro registered the warring emotions on his brother's eyes, all the wariness and surprise and oh, there's the hurt right there.

Hiro smiled, because for the first time in a long time, he did not feel the familiar bubble of all-consuming anger that he felt whenever he was in Kunimitsu's presence.

He sailed out of the room, still with the crushed cup in his hands.

It was great.

From Tezuka Kunimitsu's messages:
Conversation with Fuji Syusuke

7:31 pm
Eiji told me he gave you my dictionary?

7:35 pm
Yes.

7:37 pm
Can I come over to get it?

7:39 pm
It's seven in the evening, Fuji.
7:41 pm
I can give it to you tomorrow, before practice.

7:43 pm
I need it tonight.
7:45 pm
I have homework to catch up on.

7:47 pm
I can bring it to you.

7:49 pm
I'm not a princess, Tezuka. I can come over and get it.

7:53 pm
I implied nothing of the sort.

7:54 pm
Actually, this is the part where you insist that I can be a princess, because I am beautiful like one :D

7:55 pm
Fuji

7:57 pm
Tezukaaaaaaaa :D :D :D

8:00 pm
Just come over and get your dictionary.

8:04 pm
Why did he give it to you, by the way?

(deleted) Because I wanted to visit you a while ago.
8:10 pm
I won't pretend to know.

Tezuka knew that Fuji had arrived before his mother had even called, "Kunimitsu! It's Fuji-kun!"

He knew because he had been apprehensively surveying the street outside of his house, berating himself for letting Fuji tease him, yet again, into agreeing to something that Fuji wanted. It wasn't like he had a hard time giving in to Fuji wiles before, but it was eight at night, and he'd just given Fuji a reason to go gallivanting around the neighborhood in the dark.

Granted it was a peaceful neighborhood, but still.

He clutched the dictionary in his hands, the cactus he had purchased just this afternoon at the edge of his vision. It had been humiliating at best, his visit to the shop, but he thought it would be worth it, to see Fuji smile again.

Only now, he hadn't even been given the chance to give it.

He still didn't know why he'd walked away this afternoon. It was just Kunihiro, and both he and Fuji were allowed to have friends, they were allowed to be friends with each other. It was just an embrace, and Fuji looked about as surprised about it as Tezuka had been. It was just a hug.

Fuji and Eiji hugged a lot.

It didn't necessarily mean that they were dating.

It's just what friends did, to people who were their friends, it didn't mean anything. It wasn't common, especially not in his family, and with two boys, but it was still completely and utterly normal.

Fuji wouldn't build a romantic relationship with Kunihiro in just a few days, he hardly built close relationships with anyone in years.

Fuji was always guarded, hiding himself behind his smiling mask and polite manners, and to everyone else, there was no indication of the boy underneath – the Fuji who was celebrated, but isolated, by his genius; the Fuji who loved and loved and loved but didn't seem to know how to show it; the Fuji who has had things blow up in his face because he acted on his desires, so he'd stopped listening to them; the Fuji who had been dying a little everyday, when his brother turned away from Seigaku, and never looked back; the Fuji who was so terrified of the vulnerability his expressive eyes afforded him, he hid them away.

Kunihiro didn't see that Fuji, so Tezuka didn't have to be jealous.

Because that was the Fuji that Tezuka loved.

"Your mother told me to come on up."

"Hm," Tezuka turned around, nodding his head in response to Fuji's greeting smile. She would have, she loved Fuji. It was the natural reaction of most adults to the charming front that Fuji presented to the world.

"Well, I won't take up your time," Fuji said, cheerfully holding his hand out for his dictionary, still in Tezuka's hands. There was something that was off about it, though, but Tezuka couldn't put his finger on it.

But just as Tezuka was about to ask, Fuji stiffened a little in front of him, his mouth opening in suprise even if no sound came out.

"Tezuka," Fuji breathed, in a completely different tone, his eyes opening, coming alive like a flower in bloom. "Is that a cactus?"

Oh. That. Right.

Tezuka stiffened, too, and self-consciously forced himself to reach out to the few feet of space between him and where he'd placed the pot on his windowsill, completely clueless as to how he was supposed to keep the prickly plant alive. "I bought it."

"You did?" Fuji's voice was so full of amusement and wonder, Tezuka had to duck his head.

Do not blush. Do not blush. Do not blush.

"For you." He tried to keep his grip steady when he lifted the small pot. "Because you were sick. I thought..." Tezuka was embarrasing himself, honestly. Between the shaky hand and the stilted conversation, he was beginning to sound like an utter moron. In front of Fuji.

This was ridiculous. Tezuka cleared his throat, not thinking beyond trying to control his body so he did not blush, or drop the pot. Which was probably the reason why his next words were, "I thought it might cheer you up." They flew out of his mouth, without his explicit permission, and Tezuka watched them tumble down the space between him and Fuji and the suddenly still silence that has enveloped them both.

It was almost as bad as saying I love you, because Tezuka never said what he meant to say, not with Fuji, and neither did the genius. They always spoke in words that were always something other than what it was, a sort-of informal code just between the two of them that they took three years to figure out and dance around, and saying something like that...Tezuka wished there was some way to cram them all back into his mouth.

Tezuka forced himself to look up, to be brave and not shy away from the consequences of his actions.

And caught a single, perfect and unforgettable mental image of Fuji's smile, open and vulnerable and happy all at once. It lit up his entire face, like a thousand splendid suns, making his eyes sparkle with emotions Tezuka could not all name.

Fuji was always guarded, but when he allowed himself to feel, he felt, so wholehearted and pure, it made Tezuka feel like his own emotions were lacking, in comparison.

Fuji reached out for the pot, almost reverently receving it from Tezuka's outstretched hand. The dictionary fell to the ground with a thud, all but forgotten.

It was just a cactus, a small one that would have grown bright red flowers, and whose name Tezuka can't quite get the hang of. He'd humiliated himself by buying it, crushed himself when he wasn't able to give it the way he had intended to, and killed himself even more when he went to the bathroom to water it, and there was Kunihiro, smiling so fiercely it was like nothing could go wrong in his world, while Tezuka's own was starting to crack.

Suddenly, now, it was the best decision that Tezuka had ever made in his whole damned life.

Fuji was close, Tezuka could feel his body's awareness of exactly how close they were, and how much closer they could be. Fuji smiled at him lopsidedly, a determined light in his eyes, from where he stood watching Tezuka through his long, lush lashes. He didn't back away, not even when Tezuka's gaze dropped to his lips, pink and full and untouched. His smile turned into a full grin before he was rising up to his full height, and tiptoeing closer until his lips brushed the corner of Tezuka's mouth.

"Thank you," he murmured, his breath washing against the side of Tezuka's face, and for a moment, a wonderful, heavenly, beautiful moment, the corner of their lips were brushing against the other's.

It was barely a kiss but they both didn't move, content to soak in the warmth blossoming from the corner where they both touched. And it was the briefest touch, but it was the most gratuitous thing they've ever had.

It put them in that position, where they could have that moment, a moment when they were more than what they had, but less than what they could have been.

But for now, it was enough.

Hiro made sure that when he threw the door open, it banged loudly against the frame, and the wall where the knob had hit. Good. He hoped he destroyed it.

Syusuke jumped away from where he stood in front of Kunimitsu, clutching the silly cactus that Kunimitsu had brought, protectively, like for some reason there was a reason to hide it away. From Hiro's eyes.

Kunimitsu just stood there, standing his ground, though his eyes looked exactly like what a child would have looked like, if they were caught with their hands down the cookie jar.

Syusuke was blushing, a deep red color, right up to the tips of his ears. It showed up beautifully against his skin, so pale and creamy that they responded so quickly to color.

Kunimitsu was blushing faintly, too.

An idiot would have been able to put two and two together in about five seconds, flat.

As it was, Hiro only found his anger getting stronger, feeding that dark, black corner of his heart that thrived in fury, that desired it.

Suddenly, all he wanted to do was to march to his so-called well-meaning, perfect twin brother and throw him against the wall, too, like he had, so easily with the door. Stupid things that got in Hiro's way get destroyed, like the door.

Like his ex-girlfriend's lover.

Like his so-called best friend who turned out to be his ex-girlfriend's lover.

The all-too familiar red film of rage started to set in, and Hiro would only be all too happy to encourage it, and-

"Hiro-san," came Fuji's quiet voice. "Hi."

And just like that, he caught hold of his anger before it took over the best of him. He blinked himself away from it, the way he would blink himself away from sleep, and managed a small smile to give to Syusuke. "Hi," he greeted, his eyes solely focused on the lithe boy. "I just came to say that dinner's ready and mother says you're welcome to stay, if you'd like."

Syusuke looked startled for a bit, like he was only now remembering exactly where he was, and an errant string of anger started to build in Hiro once again.

"That's alright," Syusuke finally said, bending down to pick a book off of the floor. "I don't want to impose."

"You're not-"

But Syusuke had turned to Kunimitsu, his smile softening. "I'll see you tomorrow, Tezuka."

"Hn."

And then he left. Hiro waved him goodbye as Syusuke went down the stairs and say his own farewells to Hiro's mother. He waited for the door to close behind Fuji, before he turned and draped himself against Kunimitsu's doorframe.

Kunimitsu only raised a brow. "I thought we were to go down to dinner?"

"Well, then," Hiro drawled, not even attempting to mask the bite of his words. "Put your eyerection away. It's bad form to show off your lust at the dinner table, Kunimitsu."

Kunimitsu's face hardened and good, he was actually taking Hiro seriously now. "Come on, Kunimitsu, it's obvious to a blind idiot." He paused, cocking his head to the side, his angering simmering just beneath his skin. "I'm not blind. Neither am I an idiot. And I don't take very kindly to people who get in the way of what I want."

"You don't even know him."

"But you don't love him like I do," he hissed, his eyes blazing with barely-contained fury.

You don't even know him? Oh, and whose damned fault was that? Who had to go and antagonize older tennis players on his own because he was an uptight prick? Who had to go and get himself attacked by them, and then not fight the fuck back?

Certainly not Hiro, but it was Hiro who had to pay the price.

Just one moment of single-minded stupidity and misplaced chivalry and I have to help my brother...

Hiro had been normal, he'd had normal friends, normal interests, a normal life.

But because of Kunimitsu, behind closed doors, for more hours of every single damned day than he could count, Hiro was doomed to be numb for the rest of his life.

Syusuke took that all away. Syusuke can make him feel normal again.

So it had to be love. And love had to make him feel normal again. Because that was what love did.

It can't be anything else.

And if it took Hiro having to be selfish, and taking away something from Kunimitsu, when Kunimitsu had already taken so much from him, well, then, so be it.

Um. Happy New Year? :)

And belated Happy Christmas? :)

-sigh- Okay, I give up. You guys can fillet me to death, if you want. But don't forget to drop by and tell me what you guys think, mkay? :)

/silverglitters