sarcasticcinders: (hands)

Title: A Beautiful Mistake

Author: sarcasticcinder

Fandom: Prince of Tennis

Pairing: Fuji/OC

Rating: R (language)

Length: 8/?

Disclaimer: Anyone you recognize belongs to someone else and I make no money from their work. All original characters belong to me and may be used with permission.

Warning: Angst. Not quite Tezuka/Fuji, yet. B-movie dialogue (the inhumanity.)

A/N: I know, I know…finally! xp Everything else should be on time or no later than one day.

 

Chapter 7

 

“Tezuka?” Fuji’s voice came out rusty with shock. He blinked his eyes in disbelief.

 

“Hello, Fuji.” Tezuka awkwardly greeted as he pushed his hands into the pocket of his khakis.

 

“How? Where?” Fuji floundered, his usually agile mind unable, or unwilling, to process the fact that Tezuka was standing in front of him. He opened the gate and walked until he was standing before the one person he didn’t expect to be seeing this soon; much less in front of his parent’s home. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I just…” Tezuka muttered, looking at spot above Fuji’s head and trying to get his own rattled brain to come up with a plausible reason for him to be here. He lowered his gaze and looked into puzzled blue eyes, “I went for a walk and, somehow, I ended up…here.”

 

Fuji made a sound of acknowledgment, something necessary to fill the heavy silence that fell between them as they tried to figure out what to say next. They both studied each other surreptitiously, noting the subtle changes made during their 4 years apart from each other.

 

Tezuka’s eyes roamed over Fuji, cataloging without conscious thought the minor differences in his appearance. He wore his hair longer now, cut into carelessly tousled layers that framed his angular face and startling blue eyes. He looked longer, leaner, rangier than Tezuka remembered; his physique: the broad shoulders and chest were emphasized by the light blue and sea green pinstripe vest he wore beneath a dove gray silk blazer.  Pale blue jeans slung low on his hips with a thin white belt that circled his narrow waist drew the eyes down the length of his toned thighs.

 

There was a certain mature sensuality in the 22-year-old Fuji that unsettled Tezuka in a way that the 18-year-old Fuji never did. He shook his head, cleared his throat and uttered the understatement of the century, “You look well, Fuji.”

 

“Thank you, Tezuka. You look pretty good yourself.” Fuji replied with a slight and mocking bow of his head. When he rose to me Tezuka gaze, the smiling mask was back in place. “I was sorry to hear about your wife.”

 

Your wife.

 

Those two words, spoken with the sharp bitterness of the past four years, hit Tezuka with the force of a blow. In the few paces between them lay a world of betrayal and anger made larger by guilty touches and caresses that meant goodbye to one and promises of forever to another.

 

Fuji, I…” Tezuka started not able to continue because he didn’t know what he wanted to say; if there was anything he could say. Instead, he feel back on daily minutiae, “How’s your family?”

 

“Still avoiding the issue, Tezuka?” Fuji asked cruel amusement in the curl of his lips.

 

“Not avoiding, Fuji, just not seeing the use in probing an obviously still open wound.” Tezuka answered with a sigh.

 

“You could try an apology.” Fuji retorted coldly.

 

“If I thought an apology could fix everything or change the things that I regret, I’d gladly offer one.” Tezuka replied, just as coldly.

 

“You actually have regrets? That’s a new one, Tezuka.”

 

“I regret a few things, yes. Do I regret everything? No.”

 

Fuji laughed a sound like glass on the senses. “That’s just like you, Kunimitsu. You’re still as bloody ambiguous as ever. Do you regret cheating on me? Do you regret cheating on your wife two nights before your wedding? Do regret leading me on then sweeping everything about us, including my feelings, under the rug and pretending it never happened? Are those the kind of things you regret?”

 

“Yes, those are exactly the things that I regret, Fuji.” Tezuka hissed back, unable to remain stoic under the angry onslaught. “I regret them because they make me human. I regret them because they made you finally see that I wasn’t perfect and you couldn’t deal with that. The night I slept with you, you could’ve said ‘no’, but you didn’t.”

 

“That night was my fault then?” Fuji was incredulous. “Next you’ll be telling me you got married because of me.”

 

“I did get married because of you…and because of me.” Tezuka said honestly. He took a step forward and grabbed Fuji’s arms, gently. “Fuji, I…”

 

“What’s going on here?” A deep voice cut in. “Syusuke? You alright, babe? This guy ain’t bothering you, is he?”

 

Tezuka turned, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of the tall, handsome man looming over him with a confused glare. Tezuka absently noted that he dressed like he was either a host or a thug, but he shook off the thought and released Fuji. “We were just talking.”

 

“It looked more like you were molesting him than talking to him.” The man snarled, humorlessly. He took a threatening step towards Tezuka. “You have five seconds to come up with a better reason to be touching my Syusuke than that.”

 

“Matsura,” Fuji said, putting a hand on the man’s massive chest, “He an old friend. Tezuka’s telling you the truth, we were just talking.”

 

“If you say so, babe.” Matsura raised a brow, the look clearly conveying disbelief. He turned to Tezuka, “You’re lucky; Syusuke just saved you from an ass kicking.”

 

Fuji almost laughed at the look that flew across Tezuka’s face when he glanced at Fuji. It clearly said, ‘you have got to be shitting me?’ He rolled his eyes in annoyance and gave Matsura another push backwards. “He was just saying goodbye. Weren’t you, Tezuka?”

 

Tezuka glanced between the two men, his eyes resting on the hand that Fuji still held against Matsura chest and then to the arm that Matsura had slung around Fuji’s waist with the ease of long familiarity. Something moved in Tezuka’s eyes when they came to meet Fuji’s again; something that surprised Fuji but passed before he could decipher it.

 

“Yes,” Tezuka said quietly, “I was just taking my leave; I need to get home to my daughter, anyway. I’ll see you Friday, right? Fuji?”

 

Fuji nodded and watched as Tezuka walked away, his figure slowly getting smaller and smaller. He was startled by the disappointment he felt at Tezuka’s leaving and the urge to go after him and forgive everything if he would just promise to never leave him again. His arms still tingled where Tezuka had held him, the imprint of his hand feeling as if it were branded into his flesh. He couldn’t believe that he still wanted him this badly, especially after everything that he did to hurt him.

 

Matsura grabbed Fuji’s arm and pulled him to his chest. His lips pressing against Fuji’s with bruising force as he jerked Fuji’s hips flush against his. “What ‘cha meeting him on Friday for?”

 

Fuji pushed away from the contact and wiped at his lips. “I told you that I’m going out with some former teammates from my high school tennis club on Friday. He’s one of them.”

 

“One of the “friends”, huh?” Matsura’s tone made it clear what he thought of that. He cupped Fuji’s jaw and kissed him again, his fingers tightening around the wrist he held as he tried to manhandle a struggling Fuji into submissiveness. “Seems like more than just a friend to me, babe.”

 

“Since when do I have explain myself to you?” Fuji hissed, trying to pull both his wrist and jaw from Matsura’s vice-like grasp. “If I say he’s just a friend, I mean he’s just a friend.”

 

“How come I never met him before?” He squeezed Fuji’s wrist tighter, making him wince. “You slutting around on me, babe? What ‘cha hiding from me, Syusuke?”

 

“I’m not hiding anything, you asshole! Let go!” Fuji gritted out between clenched teeth, his eyes narrowed in a vicious glare. “You sound ridiculous! Like someone from a bad yakuza movie! You’ve never met Tezuka before because he’s been in America for the last five years!”

 

Fuji pulled away from Matsura completely pissed off. His wrist and jaw throbbed but he refused to rub either of them, at least not in front of the person who hurt him in the first place.

 

“I’m sorry, babe.” Matsura apologized, lips curling into the charming smile that had first caught Fuji’s attention. He reached out to touch Fuji’s cheek and glared when he moved away from the caress. “Just get in the damn car, we’re gonna be late for our reservation.”

 

“You know, I don’t really feel like going anywhere now.” Fuji told him.

 

“Fine!” Matsura snapped, “We’ll go back to my place, or a love hotel, maybe a good, hard fuck will make you less of dick.”

 

“Let me make this clear enough so that tiny brain hiding somewhere behind that giant ego of yours can understand,” Fuji said in freezing tones, “I don’t feel like going anywhere with you. Just. Leave.”

 

Matsura growled, then took a deep, calming breath and closed his eyes. “You can be a real diva bitch sometimes. Do what you want. I’ll call you later, maybe after that icicle you shoved up your ass has melted.”

 

“Whatever.” Fuji tossed over his shoulder as he slammed the gate behind him.

 

TBC…  

 

Chapters: Prologue, 1, 2, 3, 45, 6 

Please let me know if there are any mistakes.

 

  

  

 

 

Mood:: 'relieved' relieved
location: work

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