[Prince of Tennis] [ZukaFuji (Romantic)] [Set#2/Theme#7 Gamble]
Title: Everything for the Boy
Author:
serenityrages
Set + Theme: 2 + 7
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: ZukaFuji (Romantic)
Rating: PG
Genre(s): Angst, Romance
Warning(s): Slash and adult situations
Word Count: 570
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: In the same arc as "Mistakes", "Consequences of Mistakes", "Since the Accident" and "There is...". If you haven't read those, this won't make much sense.
When he found Tezuka again, sitting on that bench of the clinic, looking at the grass, he purposely introduced himself as Fuji.
So that when Tezuka really does come back, Fuji will know, because Tezuka will call him Syuusuke.
Syuusuke, he'll say, in that voice that sounds like a wave crashing onto Fuji's head, drowning him. Syuusuke, he'll moan in such a way that if he just runs his fingers down Fuji's spine he'd have Fuji writhing under him in seconds.
Everyday, Fuji comes to Tezuka's room, bearing photo albums and apples, smelling of antiseptic soap and strangely, of spices.
---
Fuji's been reading.
He's always been a bookish sort, but he has set aside Nabokov and Alighieri for Jung and Freud, exchanged Shakespeare and Murasaki for Mesmer and Hilgard.
It doesn't take much of a rocket scientist to figure out that he's looking for a cure.
---
He waits until Tezuka's eyes have fallen shut before he pulls away.
When they're having sex, Fuji always remembers to say things. He never says it loudly, screaming it at the top of his lungs.
Sometimes he says things like the restaurant they first had dinner together in after graduating college, the address of their apartment, things that are only theirs.
This is Tezuka when he's most relaxed, when it's easiest to access his unconscious mind. When Tezuka's like this, Fuji lightly dances his fingers across Tezuka's erogeneous zones, sketching kanji of his name in soft, even strokes. Syuusuke.
If Tezuka remembers what it is, he'll know that Tezuka has come back. With smooth strokes of his fingers, Fuji marks Tezuka as his. On his thigh, his groin, the space between his shoulderblades... all of it emblazoned invisibly with Fuji's kanji.
Syuusuke.
Fuji never forgets to write it, even if he's tired, or his worn-out, or fucked out of his mind.
Forgetting would mean that something else is more important that Tezuka, more important that them.
Nothing is more important than them.
---
Mixing hypnotism with sex is never a method employed by proper psychiatrists.
That's why Fuji's actions are so much of a gamble; he dares fate every time he sneaks into Tezuka's room and kisses him, every time he straddles Tezuka murmuring the first words Tezuka ever said to him.
His actions might trigger the return of memory, but with a speed and clarity do dazzling that it might have a completely negative effect on Tezuka.
---
Sometimes Fuji thinks that he doesn't miss the old Tezuka. The new one is warmer, much softer around the edges, more likely to smile at him when he approaches.
But the smile is not the same as before, it holds more innocence, more ignorance.
Ignorance is bliss, after all.
---
Every night that Fuji comes back from Tezuka's room, smelling of sex and sweat he takes out the shoebox full of photos and he looks at Tezuka's smile, so small and controlled, but conveying such depth of emotion that Fuji almost screams in misery.
It's because of that smile, the scent of Tezuka trapped in the hollows of his hands, and the weight of all their years, all their memories pulling him down, choking him, that Fuji knows that everything he does to cure Tezuka is worth it.
He's ready and willing to risk everything he has, if it means having Tezuka back.
---
end
---
Author:
serenityragesSet + Theme: 2 + 7
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Pairing: ZukaFuji (Romantic)
Rating: PG
Genre(s): Angst, Romance
Warning(s): Slash and adult situations
Word Count: 570
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: In the same arc as "Mistakes", "Consequences of Mistakes", "Since the Accident" and "There is...". If you haven't read those, this won't make much sense.
When he found Tezuka again, sitting on that bench of the clinic, looking at the grass, he purposely introduced himself as Fuji.
So that when Tezuka really does come back, Fuji will know, because Tezuka will call him Syuusuke.
Syuusuke, he'll say, in that voice that sounds like a wave crashing onto Fuji's head, drowning him. Syuusuke, he'll moan in such a way that if he just runs his fingers down Fuji's spine he'd have Fuji writhing under him in seconds.
Everyday, Fuji comes to Tezuka's room, bearing photo albums and apples, smelling of antiseptic soap and strangely, of spices.
---
Fuji's been reading.
He's always been a bookish sort, but he has set aside Nabokov and Alighieri for Jung and Freud, exchanged Shakespeare and Murasaki for Mesmer and Hilgard.
It doesn't take much of a rocket scientist to figure out that he's looking for a cure.
---
He waits until Tezuka's eyes have fallen shut before he pulls away.
When they're having sex, Fuji always remembers to say things. He never says it loudly, screaming it at the top of his lungs.
Sometimes he says things like the restaurant they first had dinner together in after graduating college, the address of their apartment, things that are only theirs.
This is Tezuka when he's most relaxed, when it's easiest to access his unconscious mind. When Tezuka's like this, Fuji lightly dances his fingers across Tezuka's erogeneous zones, sketching kanji of his name in soft, even strokes. Syuusuke.
If Tezuka remembers what it is, he'll know that Tezuka has come back. With smooth strokes of his fingers, Fuji marks Tezuka as his. On his thigh, his groin, the space between his shoulderblades... all of it emblazoned invisibly with Fuji's kanji.
Syuusuke.
Fuji never forgets to write it, even if he's tired, or his worn-out, or fucked out of his mind.
Forgetting would mean that something else is more important that Tezuka, more important that them.
Nothing is more important than them.
---
Mixing hypnotism with sex is never a method employed by proper psychiatrists.
That's why Fuji's actions are so much of a gamble; he dares fate every time he sneaks into Tezuka's room and kisses him, every time he straddles Tezuka murmuring the first words Tezuka ever said to him.
His actions might trigger the return of memory, but with a speed and clarity do dazzling that it might have a completely negative effect on Tezuka.
---
Sometimes Fuji thinks that he doesn't miss the old Tezuka. The new one is warmer, much softer around the edges, more likely to smile at him when he approaches.
But the smile is not the same as before, it holds more innocence, more ignorance.
Ignorance is bliss, after all.
---
Every night that Fuji comes back from Tezuka's room, smelling of sex and sweat he takes out the shoebox full of photos and he looks at Tezuka's smile, so small and controlled, but conveying such depth of emotion that Fuji almost screams in misery.
It's because of that smile, the scent of Tezuka trapped in the hollows of his hands, and the weight of all their years, all their memories pulling him down, choking him, that Fuji knows that everything he does to cure Tezuka is worth it.
He's ready and willing to risk everything he has, if it means having Tezuka back.
---
end
---