Warning: The following chapter contains M rated material. Read at your own discretion.

Chapter 7: Closure

"Do you want anything?" Fuji offered, as he shut the door of the rather spacious faculty lounge and locked it. "We have coffee , tea and cookies. Or would you like some sushi?" He cheerfully held the plastic container towards Ryoma.

Ryoma eyed the sushi with much trepidation, noting the thick layer of wasabi on each piece. "No thank you."

"Alright." Fuji plopped down on a couch, and gestured towards an armchair. "Take a seat."

"I think I'll just stand."

Fuji shrugged. "Suit yourself." He fished a pair of chopsticks from his bag. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"

Ryoma watched Fuji pop a kani sushi in his mouth as he worked out a way to get his message across. Should he be diplomatic? Should he engage in small talk first? Should he wait until Fuji had finished eating before proceeding to tongue lash the living daylights out of him?

None of the options sounded appealing so he stuck to what he did best and got straight to the point. "Goddamit, Fuji-senpai, what the fuck were you thinking yesterday!"

That… went well.

Fuji was still chewing his food when he looked up at Ryoma, expression not the slightest bit surprised. If it were any other person, the image would've been incredibly hilarious but this was Fuji and Fuji didn't do hilarious. He just looked irritatingly placid, even with his mouth full of sushi and with Ryoma seething in front of him.

Fuji finished chewing and swallowed. "I was humoring my students," he answered in a neutral tone.

"You were deliberately baiting me."

"It wasn't deliberate, it just cannot be avoided."

"Bullshit." The coldness in Ryoma's voice could freeze hot coals. "What do you want to happen?"

Fuji gazed up at him calmly. "I think I made that clear eight years ago."

"I said no."

"If I ask you again, will you still say no?"

"Yes. No. Crap-- I mean, my answer will still be no." Ryoma silently cursed his clumsy language.

There was the faintest hint of disappointment in Fuji's eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "Then I won't ask it."

What. The. Fuck? This was getting nowhere. Ryoma fixed Fuji a disbelieving look. "Are you a glutton for misery, Fuji-senpai?"

"Perhaps. But I'd like to call it patience, if you may."

"Just stop this already."

"I'm not doing anything now, Echizen," Fuji answered smoothly, as he looked Ryoma straight in the eye. "You're the one who came to me."

"Only because you brought it up yesterday."

There was a long pause. Ryoma glared back fiercely, never breaking the stand off.

Finally, Fuji looked away. "Do you really hate me that much, Echizen?" he asked quietly, and there was such sadness in his voice that Ryoma couldn't help the guilt that tugged at him, an emotion that had suddenly acquainted itself with him for the past few days and had impeccably horrible timing.

But he steeled himself, fighting back the grotesquely familiar emotion. He couldn't afford to wither now, no. He wouldn't let Fuji win. "I don't hate you," he answered slowly. "I'm just tired of playing your games."

Fuji's eyes widened questioningly. "Games?"

"Yes. Games." Fuji opened his mouth to speak again but Ryoma quickly interrupted. "I don't care if you don't call it that, but I'm sick of being toyed with."

Those words seemed to trigger something within Fuji, for he suddenly looked deathly solemn. The sushi forgotten, he threw aside his chopsticks, stood up from the couch, walked around the center table and stopped in front of Ryoma, one hand swiftly grabbing Ryoma's chin. "I was serious about you from the very start," he whispered, blue eyes knife-like and smoldering.

Ryoma stared back defiantly, although his insides quailed nervously at the silent force of Fuji's gaze. "Of course, you are, you express it just so frequently," he retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You tell me, three times is some kind of record for you isn't it?"

"I admit that it was a misjudgment on my part to have been so detached. But I meant every single word I said on those three times."

"You didn't act on them. I'd say that's a good reason to doubt your sincerity."

"You're the one who said no."

"Well whose fault is that?"

"…" Fuji said nothing, but his grip on Ryoma's chin tightened so much it hurt.

Ryoma could feel the fast beat of his pulse echoing in his ears. Get out now Ryoma, a familiar voice inside him urged. Before he pulls you in… Before YOU give in. Before… before--

Ryoma gathered the last of his courage. "Che. I thought so." He glared at Fuji one last time, before knocking the older boy's hand off and turning. "I'm leaving." He walked swiftly towards the door, fighting the tenuous tears rising at the back of his eyelids.


Ryoma didn't stop walking, his eyes focused only at the door in front of him. It was starting to blur. He was just about to unlock it when Fuji grabbed on to his wrist.

"Ryo—Echizen." Fuji spoke very softly but his voice reverberated in Ryoma's ears as if Fuji had shouted. "If… if it's a game you insist on… then I shall grant it. If only as a means to an end."

What? Ryoma's eyes widened. He lifted his hand from the knob and glanced at Fuji, blinking first to stave off the premature tears. "What do you mean?" he asked, certain that whatever it was the former tensai had in mind wasn't good at all… and yet wanting to listen to it all the same.

"One hour." Fuji's grip on his wrist tightened. "If I can't make you change your mind after that, then you win. I shall leave you alone. You will never hear from me again, except for academic reasons." Saying those words seemed to cost Fuji a lot, the gentle, silken voice breaking into something akin to desperation.

Fuji was desperate. Ryoma was hard-put not to gape at this surreal transformation, a facet of Fuji that Ryoma had never seen before. He didn't see this coming. He always thought that it would be him to give the ultimatum and not the other way around. Slowly, he turned around. "And if I lose?"

"You'll find out."

Ryoma frowned. "That's not fair."

"I never said it would be." When Ryoma didn't reply for a long time, Fuji spoke again. "If it's the only thing you do for me, please accept. One hour is all I ask."

Ryoma bit his lip, willing himself to refuse but lacking the courage and desire to do so. "Are you going to seduce me?" he asked instead. Normally, he'd feel perturbed with his blasé choice of words but Ryoma was beyond caring at this point.

"Saa… that's not the way I would put it. But the sentiment stands."

Ryoma checked the clock. Four thirty-seven.

He turned towards Fuji and Fuji just looked back at him, waiting.

He should say no. He was sick of games, wasn't he? One hour was a long time. Enough time for Fuji to break through to him. Enough time to reel him back in so that he could never walk away again.

Never walk away again. The thought terrified him and at the same time filled him with a delicious thrill. It was an ambivalent mix of emotion that only Fuji had succeeded in stirring in him, and he was feeling it again, here, in the most inopportune of times.

But no. He needed to be strong. Strong enough to withstand the temptation that was Fuji who was looking at him now with that maddening desperation, the normally impassive face now vulnerable, the smiling mask gone.

Looking at him now in the way Ryoma had always wanted Fuji to look at him.


He couldn't. He needed to be strong.

He needed to walk away…

He needed… he needed…

Ryoma closed his eyes.

"Fine. I accept."

If the conditions prior to the agreement were already unfair to begin with, the actual game was indefinitely worse.

Worse in the sense that Ryoma was definitely headed for a humiliating loss— and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Long, elegant fingers sheathed muscles that flexed under Fuji's tantalizing caress, causing Ryoma to arch his back against the wall. Ryoma needed that wall, if he wanted to keep his balance. His knees were close to caving in, and he was pretty certain his brain would be doing the same soon after. Fuji did nothing more than touch him, but already, Ryoma was aching with need. It was as if Fuji's hands had radars for sensitive spots, triggering unholy jolts of pleasure from the most innocent of places.

One hand found its way to Ryoma's jaw, while the other hand worked itself up Ryoma's back, fingers tracing the contours of Ryoma's spine with such delicacy, Ryoma couldn't stop the purr that had been trying to escape his throat upon Fuji's first touch.

Then Fuji kissed him, and this time, the sensations were indescribable. A hot piece of wet velvet touched on his palate, and Ryoma tasted an odd mix of wasabi and lemon and a nameless flavor that was uniquely Fuji. Unable to resist, he kissed Fuji back.

Ryoma knew he was damned. Damned from the very moment he agreed to this game, a game he knew he couldn't win.

He wondered why that fact didn't bother him so much. Then he remembered something Fuji taught a while back.

In impulse, there is truth.

And all impulses pointed towards Fuji.

The firm pressure on his mouth disappeared. "Echizen."

Ryoma's eyes fluttered open and his vision was instantly dominated by cobalt eyes emitting dark blue heat. "This is what you want, isn't it?" Fuji whispered, his hot breath tickling Ryoma's cheek.

"Nnh." Was Ryoma's coherent reply. And with it came the realization that it could only go downhill from there.

"Saa…" Ryoma could almost hear Fuji mentally chuckling in amusement, although that could just be because Fuji's forehead was leaning on his.

"Good answer."

Then Fuji kissed him again, and Ryoma felt the hand previously holding his chin in place slide down, down into more unchartered territory, and he heard the faint ripping sound of zippers being unzipped and buttons popping out of their holes. Ryoma was helpless to protest, and he could only moan against Fuji's mouth as a slender hand slipped beneath the elastic waistband of his boxers and wrapped around his arousal. He found himself scouring that unfairly skilled mouth with equal aggression, attempting to grasp at the fraying threads of self-control, control that Fuji had so easily snatched away.

As Fuji kissed him deeper, hand working miracles on his cock, his mind lost itself in the ripples of sensation, and sank into something deep-rooted within him, in a place locked up for so long, he forgot it even existed.

On the outside, his body melted under Fuji's touch like butter in the sun. On the outside, his hands clung tightly, desperately at the warm graceful body pressed against his. On the outside, Fuji's hungry lips nudged his apart and enticed his mouth to participate in a sinful play of tongues and lips.

On the inside, he watched himself from a distance and mentally confronted Fuji a thousand times.

I need this.

No I don't.

Yes, I do.

I need it badly.

This is what I've been waiting for all my life.

No it's not.

No, you're not screwing my life again..

Don't blame me, it's all your fault.

Fuck, I blame you for everything!

Why couldn't you have given me this eight years ago?

I waited for you!

Waited for you to prove that love you claimed to have for me.

But you didn't.

I waited for you every day, yet in the space of eight years, you only came THRICE.


And you ask me why I can't be with you?

All I wanted was constant physical presence.

An assurance that you'll always be around.

You couldn't give it to me.

So you deserve to hurt. Just like I did.

So what if I need this?

So what if I need YOU!

It's too late now.

Is it?

Yes, it is.

We should've been together years ago.


Ryoma's eyes flew open, and before he knew it, he had pushed Fuji off him and into the coffee table. There was the sound of something breaking and a plastic bottle clattering to the ground but it barely registered to Ryoma, who was breathing hard, the wavering currents of emotion caused by his inner voices still fresh in his psyche.

Fuji stared up at him, very much surprised, one hand clutching his shoulder.

The loss of stimuli had every nerve in Ryoma's body screaming in outrage, and it showed, his legs quivering like jelly, his arousal still throbbing painfully in his pants. His mind was suffused with denial and he looked down at Fuji, golden eyes wild and just a bit scared.

"No. You can't continue."

Fuji merely looked at him, impassiveness in check. "I want to."

"You can't!"

"Why not?"

In the hesitant stillness that followed, Ryoma's instinct kicked in.

"Because I'm going to fuck you."

"Because I'm going to fuck you."

The words jumped out of his mouth, completely bypassing mental consent. Few things shocked Echizen Ryoma, but it never occurred to him that one such thing would be himself.

In impulse there is truth.

He couldn't pedal back now. To hell with everything else, Ryoma would figure things out later. He watched as Fuji settled himself steadily on his feet, his attention momentarily checking out his bruised shoulder. Then, after a few moments, his eyes lifted and looked directly at Ryoma.

Ryoma was pinned by the intensity of Fuji's gaze. Fuji would refuse, that was almost certain, but Ryoma wouldn't yield either and he looked back at Fuji with the same directness.

"Saa…" Fuji smiled and let his hands drop to his sides. "Then…" Still looking at Echizen, he took a few steps back towards the couch, and blindly grabbed his bag from behind him. He picked out an item and tossed it at Ryoma, who fumbled a bit before grabbing the item firmly in his hand.

Ryoma glanced briefly at it. Hand lotion. His eyes widened before veering to meet Fuji's again.

Fuji's smile took a challenging turn.

"Do it if you can, Echizen."

This wasn't the way he pictured it happening.

But it's just as well, wasn't it? Someone had to give. Fuji's acquiescence surprised Ryoma but he managed to keep his facial reactions at bay.

He purposefully made his way towards Fuji, clutching the bottle tightly in his hand. Almost mechanically, he stepped directly in front of Fuji, glaring at him all the while. Fuji's amusement with the matter grated at his already worn nerves. With a swift hand, he reached out and slowly unbuttoned Fuji's khaki trousers, noting the unashamed bulge inside it.

Then he made another split-second decision. Quickly pulling down the rest of Fuji's underwear, he grasped the stiff shaft hanging at full mast and knelt down.

Suffice to say, Fuji was surprised with this. "Echizen…"

Ryoma tentatively run his tongue along the flushed tip dotted with creamy drops of liquid, tasting an odd mixture of salt, musk and an underlying flavor that was Fuji's own. His tongue darted out again, this time navigating the length of Fuji's cock, his hands grasping Fuji's hips. He relished with a certain savageness the tortured gasp his action elicited from the older man. Then, pushing aside all reservations, he took the hot swollen length in his mouth, suppressing a short-lived gag reflex as he did so. He heard Fuji suck in a harsh breath, and that was all the push he needed to continue.

Ryoma had no idea how he was supposed to go about this but he let his instincts lead the way for him. As he continued sucking Fuji, one hand went on the move in coating Fuji's entrance, slick fingers sliding, scissoring and coaxing the tight muscles to relax.

He felt a sharp pain tug at his head and realized that Fuji's fingers were tangled in his hair. The taut muscles under his mouth's mercy trembled and Ryoma knew that it wasn't long before Fuji came.

But instead of allowing Fuji his release, he immediately freed the pulsating organ from his mouth and very slowly drew out his fingers. He smirked when Fuji made an involuntary sound of protest.

Without bothering to stand up, he pushed Fuji towards the couch. Fuji didn't even have any time to recover when Ryoma was already on him, slamming him down none-too-gently on his back. The soft couch bounced at the violent impact.

Ryoma pushed Fuji's knees apart and settled himself between them. Fuji watched Ryoma with unhidden fascination, as the latter wrapped a lotion-spattered hand around his shaft, preparing himself.

When he was done, he looked down at Fuji. Strange, Fuji's calmness didn't unnerve him this time. It still surprised him though, how Fuji could even afford to be calm in such a questionable situation.

Then Fuji smiled. And Ryoma, not wanting to prolong his own gratification, proceeded.

He wasn't gentle. He didn't make any cautious navigation and impaled Fuji completely in one fast thrust, making the older man gasp in pain. Fuji's hands gripped Ryoma shoulders and drew him closer with every buck of the younger man's pelvis until his chin was resting on Ryoma's shoulder, arms wrapping around Ryoma's neck.

Ryoma buried his face in the crook of Fuji's neck to stifle his own cries. He decreased the speed of his thrusts just fractionally but it was enough for Fuji to release a small sound of relief.

It wasn't long now. Soon, Fuji released a soft cry and came, and that was the match to the tinder as Ryoma, after burying himself as far as he could inside the tight, velvet heat, felt the world disappear into a siege of dead white.

It could have been seconds, it could have been minutes, but time was irrelevant for the meantime, as Ryoma slowly came to his senses, recovering from the powerful explosion of release that had shaken him out of his wits.

He realized that he was still draped on top of Fuji. Grunting, he shakily pulled out. He was about to get off, but the arms around his neck kept him in place.

"It isn't one hour yet."

Ryoma was too spent to argue and just dropped himself back on top of Fuji, still breathing heavily, brain still not in prime working condition.

A few seconds later, amidst his struggle for breath, Ryoma rasped out the first thing he could think of. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you let me do it?"

Fuji managed to shrug, despite Ryoma's weight. "It's what you wanted."

Ryoma closed his eyes. "But I thought…"

Fuji laughed bitterly. "Echizen, if all I wanted was to bed you, I wouldn't wait eight years to do it."

Ryoma's eyes cracked open. "But why this game?"

Fuji was silent for a long time. Then…

"If it will come to an unfavorable end," he finally spoke, "I could say that I had at least known what if felt like to experience you with all my senses. I could have had something to hold on to, to pretend a happy ending with."

Oh. Ryoma had no idea what to say to that. He wasn't prepared for this kind of revelation. He wasn't prepared for ANYTHING that happened for the past minutes, for that matter.

However, he did realize something though. Something he regretted not realizing sooner.

Fuji was sincere. Somehow, along the way of accepting his own desires, discovering Fuji's very mutual ones and acting on said desires, Ryoma had come to terms with the fact that despite lack of past evidences, Fuji truly cared. And perhaps Ryoma was too wrapped up with the idea of a constant physical awareness, that he failed to see past the seemingly random nature of Fuji's affection.

His eyes fluttered open again and it suddenly occurred to him that he had been carrying on with the conversation while still on top of Fuji.

While he found the situation slightly embarrassing, Ryoma didn't mind at all and Fuji had no qualms about keeping Ryoma on him. Truth be told, Ryoma liked the feel of Fuji's body beneath his. He closed his eyes again, and nuzzled his nose against the crook of Fuji's neck, inhaling the other's scent, an intoxicating mix of peaches and clean male sweat.

For a moment, there was nothing but comfortable silence, as both men recovered from their activity, Fuji's fingers playing with Ryoma's hair and Ryoma breathing into Fuji's neck. Then, Fuji's voice cleaved through the stillness.

"Echizen." He took a deep breath before uttering the next words. "Are you happy with this?"

Ryoma lifted his head and met Fuji's eyes. "… I'm not unhappy."

"You didn't answer my question."

"What? I said—"

"Being not unhappy and being happy are two different matters. The negation of a negative emotion does not equate to its positive counterpart. Emotions do not possess mathematical properties, Echizen."

Ryoma scowled. It was such a Fuji thing to do, pulling the professor status in such a compromising situation. Somehow though, Ryoma didn't find it unfitting.

Reluctantly, but knowing the necessity, he forced Fuji's arms off him and swung his feet to the floor. He shakily stood up, and noted for the first time, the sticky wetness on his and Fuji's shirts. Frowning, he grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and started cleaning up. "I don't know Fuji-senpai," he said bluntly in between swipes. "It depends."

Fuji slowly sat up as well, wincing as he did so. "It depends on what?" he questioned, starting to fix his own bearing.

"On what will become of this game."

Fuji paused and looked at him. "You resisted me. I didn't resist you."

"That doesn't answer anything."

"Saa…" Fuji smiled and tilted his head. "What do you think?"

Ryoma paused, mulling things over. He had certainly cleared some things up from this, but there were many things that still disconcerted him. "I think I could win this," he started slowly. "But…" He bit his lip, as the implications of what he was about to reveal hit him.

"But…" Fuji gently prodded.

Ryoma swallowed. And before he could chicken out, he spoke.

"But… I don't want to."

For a moment, it was as if all the different emotions waged war with each other on Fuji's face, before finally settling on a safe combination of relief and delight. "And what will you make of that?" he asked, the silken voice reflecting his expression.

"I don't know," Ryoma answered honestly, frowning. He threw his handkerchief into the trash bin and glanced sideways at Fuji. "Why don't you tell me?"

Fuji shook his head regretfully. "I couldn't tell you Echizen, for I cannot articulate them myself," he admitted. "However, I can show you." A tiny smile tugged at his lips. "If you'll let me."

"What, are you going to seduce me again?" Ryoma knew he was blushing, but that was the least of his worries. He didn't want Fuji to think he was giving in too easily.

Fuji laughed, but not unkindly. "If things were that easy we wouldn't be having this conversation," he remarked dryly. "Although I will admit, I had my share of frustrations. Maybe that's part of why I didn't come close." He paused, appearing to think of something.

Then, without warning, he was suddenly in Ryoma's face, leaving the smallest, calculable space where skin didn't touch skin betweeen them, making Ryoma blush even harder.

"Because I couldn't stand to be so near you without having the impulse to bite you," he whispered. "Somewhere." His smile took a devious turn. "Anywhere."

So why didn't you? was the first thought that popped up in Ryoma's head, but saying that would be completely self-cauterizing. There was only so much heat his face could take before steam blew out of his ears. In an attempt to hide his embarrassment, he decided to pull a reverse of Fuji's professor stunt. "Heh. Impulse never lies. Don't stop. Don't think. Just do it," he quoted smugly, noting with much satisfaction the surprise on Fuji's face as he recognized the words. "You're a bloody hypocrite Fuji-sensei."

Fuji chuckled again. "I know. I've learned my lesson. And I'm glad you've been studying yours well."

Ryoma smiled cockily. "No teacher has ever given me a grade lower than B before and you're not about to be the first."

Fuji only smiled in response. Ryoma looked down at his sneakers and again, there was a long pause.

And again, it was Fuji who spoke first.

"So, what now, Echizen? What happens from here?"

Ryoma bit his lip. The segue of events was so surreal, moving in a pace that was twice as fast as Ryoma was capable of going. He still couldn't understand how getting a little physical with Fuji could swing his opinions so effectively. Was he that shallow? Or was Fuji just that good? He knew for certain now that he had been wrong in his judgment of Fuji's sincerity but while he felt glad that he was wrong, he was still confused as how to go about… everything that would or should follow, whatever 'everything' was.

So he could only answer the only thing he considered as truth for the moment. "I really don't know."

Fuji wasn't discouraged. "It all boils down to what you want, Echizen," he responded in a mildly persuasive tone. "I told you, I'm willing to wait for as long as long extends. So I'm going to ask you: What do you want now?"

To that, Ryoma had an answer ready. God knows how many people had asked him that. "I want to be happy."

"Ah. That's a very tricky thing to want. Common, but tricky." Fuji smiled. "But be that as it may, I believe I can give you that."

Ryoma didn't reply and continued staring at his shoes. A few moments later, he heard Fuji sigh. Then, a familiar hand grasped his cheek, turning it slowly.


It was the first time Fuji called him by his first name. Ryoma hesitantly lifted his eyes and met Fuji's serious, earnest ones.

"Let me teach you."

Ryoma bit his lip again. And as he stood there, with Fuji waiting for his response, he thought of the things he didn't do, the things he had already done and the things he could still do.

With Fuji.

He thought about the past eight years, years spent running away, eight years of suppressed impulses.

He thought of Fuji's honey colored hair, dripping wet and thrown into sharp relief as he sliced a Higuma Otoshi in the rain. He thought of Fuji's voice, soft yet resonating, barely heard but producing endless echoes in his mind.

He thought of Fuji's azure eyes, eyes that had always watched him, eyes that could see through him, eyes that shattered his icy visage beyond repair.

He thought of Fuji, waving a burger in front of his face, Fuji, who was always there, hardly around him but always with him, ever watching, silent, patient, waiting. And waiting still.

He thought of love and happiness and how things end.

He looked at the clock. It read 5: 17.

And then, almost without conscious volition, he was reaching up and enveloping Fuji's warm hand with his own. "Yes," he answered decisively, feeling the corners of his mouth lift into a genuine smile. "Teach me, please." He squeezed Fuji's hand.


Fuji smiled back. It was the only thing he did but it was all he needed to do anyway. Ryoma was satisfied, and he readily responded when Fuji pressed his smile on Ryoma's own, into a kiss that was gentle and unassuming yet spoke a promise of much more to come.

Fuji had won, of that there could be no doubt.

But Ryoma did not lose either.

Graduation day in Tokyo University found Ryoma hugging Fuji to him, amidst the rain of togas and hats.


Ryoma pulled back and met Fuji's gaze. "What?"

Fuji touched Ryoma's chin and tilted it to look directly in his eyes. "Are you happy?"

Ryoma smiled and said nothing. He just pulled Fuji closer and kissed him.

And Fuji understood.


Post A/N: Would you guys call me evil if I tell you that this story was finished way way back last August 24—for Ryuuza/Meitachi's birthday? Yes? Hee. I thought so. Sorry guys, Lady A is a lazy arse and hates FFN for not allowing her aesthetically pleasing formatting, so the updates come in slow dosages.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed. You guys really make my day. If you guys have an LJ, drop me a line so I could get to know you better. I love making new friends. See the link at my profile page.