Rating: M (for some heavy lime)
Warning: Unbetad. I ran it through grammar check but we all know computers are stupid so pardon any mistakes.
Summary: Ryoma belongs to Fuji. Everyone knows that. But Fuji has other thoughts.
A/N: Dark take on Fanon Fuji. Their ages are irrelevant but for the sake of this fic, imagine that they're of high-school age instead of junior high. This is a highly experimental piece because I can't write serious fics to save my life normally. I wrote this in two and a half hours, with a double shot espresso and five Soft Batch cookies on a friend's laptop. Add that with today's philosophy lecture and poof, you've got angst from a writer who writes nothing else but bubblegum for the brain.
Disclaimer: Not mine, dears. Konomi Takeshi's. Go bother him.
"Echizen Ryoma? Oh you wouldn't want to touch him. He belongs to Fuji Syusuke and no one messes with Fuji Syusuke."
"What's the deal with Fuji Syusuke? You have no idea. If his boy comes to school with another's scent or a lovebite out of place, some four horsemen of the apocalypse are going to pay."
"Why? Because what Fuji wants, Fuji gets. What belongs to him is his alone. He'd rather kill Echizen than share him."
"Abandon all hope, all who trespass in Fuji's territory."
"Ryoma is Fuji's. End of story. Leave them be."
Everyone, at one point in his life, is a liar and a fool.
And I am no different .
I was once a liar and a fool. Especially for you.
"Ryoma belongs to Fuji Syusuke."
A truth in all angles except mine.
To everyone else, you are mine. Mine. They have plenty of reasons to believe it. And woe betide those who refute that.
While I am not particularly vindictive, I am ambitious and immensely protective. Nor am I deceitful; I am only subtle, calculating and gifted with a deadly grace. While it's true, my protection rivals that of phalanx of hellions, it never really mattered much. People get the idea; they refuse to touch you.
Don't blame it all on me. It's not my fault that you exude power, soul, and pleasure that you have no right exuding, especially while I'm here. And even if you don't realize it yourself.
I cannot stand for anyone to touch you.
Many can attest to that. Sanada, Atobe, Ryuzaki-sensei's granddaughter, none of them sought you and escaped unscathed.
And every time someone so much as lays his hands on any part of you without my permission, I take it out on you immediately, regardless of place, as long as there is no one to witness my cold wrath…
You left the water running.
The harsh fluorescent lights of the shower room reflected off the rivulets of hot water flowing on your back, sparkling, adorning your slick skin with an endless flow of liquid crystal. Your whole body was a sight to behold, a tapestry of flesh and diamonds, precious, hard, utterly desirable….
…And touched by another. As you well know, I was a territorial creature and I must make it clear to you whom you belong to.
I was implacable. I drove myself into you with an almost untamed cruelty, fueled by possessiveness and the desire to break you for daring to be touched by others. My fingers clenched around your wrists, nails digging into flesh and drawing blood, but I didn't care. You had it coming.
You hissed in pain, but you didn't tell me to cease with the onslaught. Almost mockingly, you spread your legs a little wider. "More…" you plead, your breathing coming out in ragged gasps.
My eyes narrowed dangerously at this but I found myself complying, despite my earlier intentions, my thrusts becoming more violent. I let go of your wrists and you automatically slam them against the white tiled wall, to keep your balance. I snaked an arm around your waist and wrapped my fingers around you, massaging the hard hot length. A delightful medley of pants, gasps, and moans ripped from your throat, as my lips and hands roamed your slick skin, accompanying my thrusts.
You pushed back against me, impaling yourself even further, and threw back your head, gasping my name. I caught a glimpse of your eyes, those gorgeous gold eyes normally clouded with indifference, suddenly transformed into hellion orbs of passion. I adored those eyes. You were most vulnerable with them— and knowing that I was the only one who could see you like this made it even more precious.
Mine. Those eyes, that expression, that chorus of delightful sounds… all mine.
You came then, your eyes scrunched shut in blind pleasure, your cheeks flushed red with desire, your silent scream tingling in my ears. Your muscles clenched around mine in a delicious, tight heat and a second later, I reached my climax, and I gritted my teeth to keep from shouting.
For a minute, the sounds of our ragged breathing filled the room, along with the sounds of water pounding on our backs. You leaned your forehead against the wall, your eyes closed, your fingers curled into half-fists.
After some time, I disengaged myself. Simultaneously, I pulled back my hand, drenched in a mixture of water and your seed and ran it along your back, my tongue following its trail closely.
When I was done, I noticed the blood under my nails; blood on the junction on your neck where I had sank my teeth in. The sanguine fluid mingled with the water, flowing in different directions and creating a transient crimson tattoo on your back.
My eyes widened satisfactorily at this, admiring my handiwork.
The tattoo blurred as you slowly stood up, the bleak red water trailing down to your thighs and dripping to the floor. When you faced me, there was nothing but a sated hunger in your expression.
You didn't care about the pain, didn't care for my cruelty. For you, it was the same as other times.
It was neither gentle nor rough. It was just sex.
At that time, my curiosity got the best of me and I couldn't stop myself from asking. "Don't you have anything to say?"
"Eh?" You cocked your head to the side and put your hands behind your head. "About what?"
"I hurt you."
"What, this?" You glanced at the bite mark on your neck and shrugged. " It's nothing. I've suffered worse."
My eyes narrowed, displeased at this information. "From who?"
You smirked. "Karupin. What, are you gonna get psycho on my cat too?"
I frowned, affronted. Of course you meant it as a playful jibe but it hurt my pride to see that my attempts to break you had been diminished to mere physical nuances. I stepped closer to you, making sure my gaze was as piercing as my tone. "Do you know why I do this, Ryoma?"
"You wanted to teach me a lesson for being a naughty boy and letting Atobe get away with copping a feel," you answered in your usual bored tone. When my expression still didn't change, you sighed and reached out a hand to touch my face. "He doesn't matter. Why angst over it, Fuji-senpai?"
Your gesture softened my features unconsciously. "Saa… Syuusuke, Ryoma, call me Syuusuke," I admonished, grasping your hand and kissing the blood stained wrist. "As to your question… you know I'm a selfish and greedy person when it comes to my boyfriend."
"Hn." You looked away. "You always wanted control... You never let me forget that."
"Hmmm.…" My tongue darted out to lick the bruised skin, tasting copper. "You don't seem to be complaining."
"Don't be so sure about that." You pulled your hand away and leaned back against the wall, looking at me. Then one corner of your mouth lifted into a sly half- smile, and you held your arms high above your head, exposing yourself in all your wet, naked glory. "Anyway, Syuusuke, want to hand me more discipline?"
I smiled slowly at this one, amused. Such arrogance. Such daring. You play your games now, little one. Eventually, I will break you. You just wait.
My hands reached for you once more, to mark that which I believed was mine.
I will break you. I will own you. Just like the rest of them.
Yes, there were others.
Saeki, and his carefree ways, he who had built on love grounded on childhood memories. Saeki had been wrong to give himself too freely, pleasing me so easily, allowing me the control I enjoyed abusing. Among my relationships though, he was the one with whom I parted in good ways. There was also Mizuki, whom I initially hated, but worked his way to my good side until I allowed him a kiss and eventually, a night on my bed. For all his decadence, he made a good lay, I can tell you that much. Eventually, I found out that he didn't know the difference between a boyfriend and a doormat so I ended it.
And then there was Tezuka.
Ah yes, I used to have eyes only for the god who was Tezuka Kunimitsu. I thought that he was the one. I had hoped in him. He was the bright star within cloud-ridden skies, the person who would make me draw from a well that has long since dried up inside me.
But he disappointed me. Some god. Despite appearances, he allowed himself to be wholly, absolutely mine. Mine to hurt, to break, to love and not to.
That arrangement bored me. And you know how badly I cope with boredom. So I ended it, not caring if I besieged him with scars, and left him raw and wanting. Like others before him.
I see him watching you now. Expecting you to break, like I had broken him.
But he waits for scars that will never come.
For you are not Tezuka.
You are Echizen Ryoma and I can never own you. And that is why I want you in a way I can never want the others. Even when you gave in to my advances, took me to your bed, whispered my name on late nights between the sheets, allowed me my cruelty, you remain unclaimed.
I deserve to want you. Need you. Pursue you.
But never to own you.
It's not for lack of trying. As you very well know, I tried to establish my dominance in many ways, some cruel, some more creative than others, but all with only one goal: to claim you as mine.
But you never let me.
One night, you made me realize the futility in my actions in one of those rare conversations that you initiated…
"Ne Fuji-senpai. Why do you always keep your eyes closed?"
It was just after tennis practice and we were sitting on my bed, doing homework. I looked up from my English textbook and smiled my closed-eyed smile at you. "Hmm? Do you have a problem with that?" I asked playfully, dodging the question.
"No. It's just… weird." You tilted your head to one side, looking at me seriously. " How do you know what's going on around you?"
I closed my book, sensing that I wouldn't be returning to it anytime soon. "I don't need my eyes to know what goes on around me."
"But if you don't use your eyes, you can't see."
"It's not the eyes that see, Ryoma," I answered gently, amused with your earnestness with the matter. "It's you who sees."
"But eyes are the instruments in which you see," you argued. " And look."
"Saa… but some of the most important things don't need seeing with your eyes. You need to see within yourself too. It is not only the outside world that needs seeing."
"The outside world needs your attention too. The world is receptive to those who want to show themselves and be watched. Don't you want to see things that the rest of us are seeing?"
The fact that you had just revealed several assertions, therefore exceeding your five word per sentence limit, amazed me more than the assertions themselves. I shifted position and leaned back on the pillows, relaxing. "Seeing is subjective, Ryoma," I started, keeping my eyes closed. "I'm the only one who can see and look at things the way I do. No one can look at say, a cactus, and see it in the same light as I see it. The way I see it, it's one of the prettiest plants in the world, unlike most others who look at it as nothing more than a prickly, low-maintenance plant."
"You're not the only one who likes cacti, Fuji-senpai."
"Ah. But for all these things, I'm the only one who can look, if I'm the only one who can see."
I heard a shuffling of books, and knew that you were approaching me. "But other people can help you look," you pointed out. "For example, I tell you that there's a coffee stain on your notebook."
My eyes cracked open at this and I looked at the notebook you were holding. True enough, there was a brown stain on my notes, just before the margin. How sloppy of me, I thought, before your words pulled me back to the topic at hand.
"You didn't notice that stain before," you continued. "But now that I've told you, you look at it and you see it."
"Ah. That's true." I resumed my closed eyed expression, unruffled by the point you just made. " But seeing is different from looking. You have to see first before you look. Because of that, you can't ascertain that you can notice everything that needs notice."
"Be that as it may, you can look and see simultaneously too. They're different but you can do one along with the other."
"Ah." I smiled then, deciding to return your statements with a question of my own. "And when can I know then, that when I see, I look at the same time?"
A few seconds passed. Then I felt your presence close in on me, stopping a few inches from my face. "Open your eyes, Syuusuke."
Your sudden usage of my first name startled me. "Hm?"
"Open your eyes," you repeated. "That's my answer."
The answer was so austere yet deceptively profound in a strange idealistic sense… and I couldn't refuse it.
So I did. I opened my eyes.
And I saw and looked. And watched.
I kept my eyes trained on you every time we're together. From the tennis courts to the privacy of our bedrooms, I watched you, missing nothing. Even at the pinnacle of passion, I made it a point to watch you.
What I saw wasn't comforting to me.
You never said it out loud, but every curve of your body, every move of your limbs, every flash of your golden eyes screamed: No one owns me. No one can break me. Not even you, Fuji Syuusuke. It glowed over you like a powerful aura, manifesting itself in everything that you do.
I couldn't accept it. I wouldn't.
So for some time, I eluded the unacceptable, going out on limb to prove to myself and to you that you were vulnerable to me. I did everything, from the public displays of affection that you hated, to coming shy of destroying all those who gave the slightest indication of trying to get close to you, to attaching myself to you so much and so often, people couldn't think of me without thinking of you as well.
It came to the point that the air felt different when I breathed it without you.
A day without you and I grew uneasy. Two days, and I started counting the cracks on the wall. Three days and you might as well have force fed me poison and watched me wither.
But the very next minute in your presence was pure tonic.
It took me a while to realize that I wasn't the one who should be trying to prove something.
Because that would be you. You proved to me that you couldn't be broken, couldn't be owned. And you proved it well.
How you did it, I'm not really sure. I only know that it came to me, in some sort of sudden enlightenment, when I realized that I had fallen deeply for you, thus ruining my chances of ever owning you the way I owned others. When it happened doesn't matter either—because I should've seen it from the very start. But I kept my eyes closed for so long a time, I missed it.
I can't own you. And if you ask me why, I can only answer with this: I just can't.
I can't. Contrary to popular belief, not everything happens for a reason. Some occurrences just happen for no reason at all. Such as this one.
However, while not everything has a reason, everything has a meaning. Meaning is something you can't separate from the act itself. Even the most absurd things mean something.
And you know what this means?
It means I was wrong. I was wrong to think that you are like the others. Wrong to have let others believe that you truly belong to me.
I opened my eyes and saw a liar.
A liar, Ryoma. That's what you made me out to be.
It was a blow I had difficulty coping with. Clearly, I'm not used to being blindsided so easily. But like everything about you, I accepted it. I felt it was deserved, after all.
This realization brought about a subtle change in the way I view things. Every time I look back at what I have done to Saeki, Mizuki and Tezuka, I feel no pride in being the one who shattered them. Not anymore.
But it is too late for regrets anyway. They've moved on, and so have I. And I am more than happy where I am now… despite the power struggle I've unconsciously entangled myself into.
A power struggle where I ended up claiming no victory.
I mentioned before of Tezuka being this bright star. Bright stars can be dimmed, and I had proven it. Perhaps you can analogize me to this black hole among the sea of stars, mysterious and destroying everything that comes too near.
You would be the anomaly of physical laws. I'm the one who is so attached to you, I can't break away.
Analogies aside, you are the sole exception.
And to put it in even simpler terms, if Tezuka is bright, dear love, then you are brilliant.
Brilliant enough to blind me, make me believe that I can own you, control you, break you, when I cannot.
Even if I'm the only one who knows it.
If you can see the whole picture, the lie and the truth are one and the same. If I can't own you, but everyone else thinks otherwise, then it's just as well. Allow me this small bit of selfishness, you can't blame me for having wanted to keep it that way do you?
Soon though, the glamour of supposedly "owning" you wore off. It is one to me now whether people believe you're mine or not. I never tried to correct them either, but it would be of no use explaining to them. For when everything that needs to be said is said, the most important things remain unsaid.
I cannot own you. I cannot control you. I cannot break you.
And I find myself not wanting to.
How the mighty have fallen, ne Ryoma? How is it possible that someone as naïve, as arrogant, as childish as you could have such power over someone of my nature? And not know it?
It is inconceivable. But here you are. With me. But not owned by me.
There is really no one quite like you. You always thrilled me with your little cat-and-mouse game of no sure roles. I never tire of you and we keep playing. The segue of events that built this relationship of ours is one of extreme interest, one that I always enjoy reminiscing.
The moment you had my attention, I smiled, excited for another fresh game.
When you proved that you could hold that attention, my smile grew wider.
When I realized I was fascinated with you, I took no heed of the danger it implied and pursued you relentlessly.
When that fascination turned into obsession, I brushed it off, not taking it too seriously. It was a game, after all. It would pass.
But when I realized I loved you, I knew it was too late.
I had crossed the bridge and watched it burn. I could never own you then.
When you told me you loved me, I fooled myself into believing that I had another chance to use that love to stake my claim.
But as I mentioned before, I couldn't. The only premise I can infer from this realization is that I love you more than you love me.
And that I was a fool.
One incredibly lucky fool.
And that made all the difference.
The setting sun never looked so lovely, the entire sky a whole spectrum of colors, light-filled cotton clouds delaying the darkness that would soon come. The white-laced waves roll in gently, from a place far beyond the horizon. The coconut leaves sway along with the breeze, and many a distant seagull spreads its wings, cawing, breaking the stillness in the air.
It's a beautiful end to another day.
But for once, I cannot appreciate it.
With a heavy heart, I say the words I've always dreaded to hear myself say. "So you're really going back to America."
A beat of hesitance. Then…"Yes."
I have expected this, but it doesn't stop the tears from welling into my eyes. Unconsciously, I tighten my arms around you. "For how long?"
You are silent for a few moments. "I don't know."
I bite my lip. Then I reach up, tipping your chin to face me, not caring about the vulnerability I can't conceal. "Come back to me."
Your eyes adopt a familiarly resolute look, overwhelming the sheen of tears in it. "I'm leaving Japan. I'm not leaving you," you reply, leaning your forehead against mine, your hand reaching up to touch my cheek. "Wait for me."
I smile, despite my sadness. "I will."
We stay like this for a while, with my arms still wrapped around your slight frame, your fingers still caressing my cheek, silent, our gazes burning into each other. We say nothing, waiting for each other's tears to fall.
Finally, I break the silence. "Ryoma," I murmur, closing my eyes briefly to stall the salty waters. "…If I get tired of waiting…"
You tense up at this, but you say nothing.
I open my eyes, hoping my smile reaches them. "… I'll see you in America."
The unspoken response in your eyes, with naked happiness and love writ therein, pierces my soul, striking the very core of my being. In the soft, heated whisper that follows, you lean just close enough for us to share one breath.
"I love you, Syuusuke." Then you close the distance between us.
It is a soft, chaste kiss, but it washes over me like a cool breeze, soothing my cheerless soul almost instantly. At this moment, all that matters is you, your whole presence encapsulating my being with a tender radiance. Your love is so pure and good, it would hurt so much not to feel it that pain would be a blessing.
When you break away, I bury my face in your hair, inhaling your clean, citrus scent. "I love you more, Ryoma," I answer teasingly, in an attempt for levity, bringing forth the playful competition that has always existed between us, be it on tennis or not.
I don't see it, but I feel your smile. And we stay like this, content to revel in each other's warmth, needing no words.
Tomorrow will come to take you away but for now, you're with me. And I will seize this moment to be alive with you, stuff my senses with it, see it, hear it, smell it, taste it, feel it, and live it to the very last second.
And I know you'll seize it with me.
The sun has completely disappeared beneath the waters, leaving behind an inky black sky pinpricked with stars. In the open space of this beachfront, you push me gently on the sand, clutching my shoulders, as you kiss me again. Anyone could see us but you couldn't care less, and you taste me and touch me for all its worth. I taste salty tears, both mine and yours, and I return all the kisses, the touches and hold you, fighting the hours 'til the break of dawn.
Defy me and you tempt me. Run away and I'll follow. Despise me and I'll want you. Shatter my heart and I'll yearn for you with every broken piece of it.
But even for me, you never did any of these things.
You own me, Echizen Ryoma. I am so completely, irrevocably yours. And I'll never want to belong to anyone else.
That's the real end of the story.
And I'm only too glad to leave it be.
Post A/N: Right. Hur… that went well. Start with angst, end with sap. What on earth are they injecting in those yummy Soft Batch chocolate chips?
My god, I've written a FujiRyo. It's not one of my favorite pairings, but the best PoT fics I've read so fare ware FujiRyo, so I still enjoy reading them. Come to think of it, they're one of the most plausible pairings in PoT, even in canon (probably cause they suit each other with their furry personalities lol) I'm just a Fuji non-fan probably.