Author: a1y-puff
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Characters: Tezuka/Fuji

Genre: Overall, Angst/Romance. Don't worry; I know you'd kill me if this has no happy ending :P
Rating: PG?

Word Count: Overall,1618
Summary: A set of drabbles on Tezuka's POV during the time he waits for Fuji to 'come back'.
Warnings: post-series, unbetaed. Possible OOC-ness from the situation… Oh well… you've been warned!

Disclaimer: PoT belongs to Konomi-sensei. Tezuka and Fuji belong to each other. Prompts belong to 50scenes. Only the plot is mine xp

A/N: A sequel to "Behind the Glass Window". Please read it first (and review? :D) if you haven't. I've made some people cried over that fic so here is the sequel!! The main title of these drabbles came from the lyric's translation of "Supernova" by Bump of Chicken :D

Dedicated to those who had asked, demanded, and threatening me to write the sequel XD;;


/ Stagnant /

Prompt: #16. Empty

Word Count: 195


Each day I've passed since I came back from the hospital feels dull. When he was around, there was always some chaos happening in the morning. One morning, he wouldn't wake up that I had to drag him out of bed and I had to endure his grumpy attitude for the whole morning. Next time, he would put too much wasabi in our breakfast just because he felt like it, and the aftertaste would be left in my mouth for the rest of the day. At times, we ate breakfast accompanied by his never-ending teases about how he managed to make me losing myself the night before, causing me to be rather unfocused at works afterwards.

It has been almost a month I live in our apartment without him. My morning routines go smoothly without him distracting them, and I don't need to clean up our room too often for he is the one who tends to be untidy with things.

In a way, I can almost say that life is somehow agonizingly peaceful.


For 'peaceful' is not a word I can have while this empty feeling inside me is overwhelming on each passing day.

/ Dream /

Prompt: #34. Darkness

Word Count: 309


I miss him.

I miss him a lot that he keeps on coming to my dreams at night.

But even in my dreams, he feels so distant. Tonight is no different. He is never that far that I can still see him clearly; dressing in white with his hair gently swayed by the wind existing only around him. But no matter how far I walk to close our distance, I can never reach him. It is as if there is an invisible wall between us, just like the glass window separating me from him in that hospital.

'It's not the wall that is separating us,' I hear him say.

I blink my eyes once. For however many times he has shown up in my dreams, this is the first time he actually speaks to me.

Or maybe, I'm starting to miss his voice as well.

'It's not any invisible wall, nor the glass window separating us, Mitsu,' he speaks again, his tone is somehow flat and distant, and he has yet to turn his face to me.

I want to step closer but something inside me is stopping me. It is my fear, my guilt that is embracing me like a dark shadow and slowly swallowing me. In my dream, I can see this clearly; visually.

I see him stepping closer to me, but still the distance between us isn't shortened even for the slightest bit. After a few steps, he sighs softly and reaches out a hand to point at my direction.

'You are the one separating us,' he whispers, and despite the distance, I can hear his voice as if whispered right to my ears.

I want to say something. I want to reach my hand out to touch him. But the shadow enveloping me is slowly putting me into a total darkness.

I can see him no more.

/ Door /

Prompt: #15. Twist

Word Count: 275


They have moved him into a normal patient's room. The doctor said his condition has gotten better so there is no need to isolate him any more. I was told that it is up to him now of when he would wake up.

I remember his words in my dream, and what Yumiko-san told me about overcoming my guilt. Maybe he was right. If there is any invisible wall separating us, I probably have built it myself to escape my guilt.

I am such a coward, indeed. No wonder he wouldn't look at my face even in my dreams.

"If you call him back… he would probably open his eyes…"

I remember Yumiko-san said that. I also have heard of external stimulation would help comatose patients to wake up. So here I am now, standing in front of the door to his room. I rest my hand on the doorknob, and stay still. I feel like my feet have rooted to the spot. Why is it so hard just to open this door and step inside?

I feel something like a soft breeze caresses my left cheek, and I promptly turn my head. I'm in a hallway and it's rather impossible for a wind to pass by… or maybe, the air conditioning system gets a little too strong. I divert my gaze back to my left hand still holding the doorknob. I feel doubts starting to invade my heart.

Have I the right to face him?

'You are the one separating us…' I hear his voice echoes in my head.

Steeling myself, I twist the knob and the door clicks open.

I will stop running away.

/ Presence /

Prompt: #22. Hope

Word count: 311


Opening the window, I let the sunlight slip into the room, and let the morning breeze in. He may still breathing with the oxygen mask, but I believe he would like some fresh air in.

It's been three days since I start spending nights here, and he has yet to open his eyes. It was probably foolish of me, but I did hope he would wake up at once if I call his name.

I should have known it won't be that easy.

I glance at my wristwatch; I still have about fifteen minutes before I go to work, so I sit down on the chair next to his bed and spend the first few minutes watching him. His face is still as serene as ever, even with the oxygen mask attached to it. I reach my hand out to stroke his disheveled hair, and sigh.

"Shuusuke," I call him as I look to those closed eyelids, silently hoping that they will open and reveal the hidden cerulean orbs beneath.

There is no reaction.

"I'm sorry for running away… please wake up," I say as I lower my head to kiss the strands of hair between my fingers.

Still, there is no reaction.

After a moment, I stand up and grab my bag and coat. I glance at his unconscious form once more, before finally walk to the door.

As my left hand makes contact with the doorknob, a soft breeze blows pass me from behind. I immediately turn my head and find the curtain is swayed by the wind. For a split-second, I thought I saw him standing before the open window, but then his lifeless form in bed confirms that it was but a mere illusion.

I gently shake my head and step out of the door.

Somehow, I feel like maybe, I will just have to wait for a little longer.

/ Gentle Hands /

Prompt: #43. Hands

Word count: 211


Sometimes, I think that his room is a bit windy. I often feel a soft breeze lingers around me while I sit by his bed. At times, when I have trouble sleeping on the sofa, another breeze would pass me by; stroking my face, tousling my hair a little, and before I knew it, I would fall asleep.

I am soon being accustomed with the comforting breeze. I know I am making no sense, but the soft breeze feels like gentle hands caressing me whenever it blows pass me. I don't know where I got this kind of imagination. Perhaps, he has affected me that much.

I glance at the pale hand laid on his stomach. Slowly, I bring my hand to cover his, and sigh. His hand feels thinner by each day, and it's almost losing its color too.

Yet his hands are still really soft.

I tighten my grip as my guilt starts to assault me once more. I made him this way. It was my fault. If only I was more careful…

I blink as a breeze suddenly lingers around my hand. It does feel like someone's hand is covering mine.

A wistful smile formed on my lips.

May I think that it is your hand covering mine?

/ Your Smile /

Prompt: #09. Tears

Word Count: 317


Come morning, I'm awake to the sunlight peeks between the curtains. I blink a few times and then I realize I've been holding his hand all night long. I'm about to stand up and straightening my back muscles when I feel his hand twitches in mine.

Abruptly, I spin my head to look at his face. Unconsciously, I bring my other hand to hold his hand, and after calming myself down, I try to call his name.

"Shuusuke," I say softly. I can see movements in his lids, and so I try once again, "Shuusuke, please wake up…"

His brows twitching a few times, before finally, his eyelids begin to slowly flutter open, revealing the blue of his eyes that I've been missing like forever.

"Shuusuke," I call him once again, and this time, his eyes are finally focused on me. I feel his hand's twitching in my hands, and I tighten my grips and gently bring his hand to my lips as I close my eyes in relief.

His hand is gently breaking free from my grasp, and slowly creeping up my cheek, wiping a stray droplet of tears I've unconsciously shed.

"Shuusuke, I'm sorry," I begin. Words of apology are swirling in my head, but none of them would properly flow out. Somehow, I can only stutter, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I…"

Then, I feel his forefinger is weakly pressed against my lips.

I divert my eyes to his, and I can somehow tell from his eyes that he wants me to stop apologizing; that those words are not the ones he wants to hear.

Behind the oxygen mask, I can see his lips curl up in a weak smile. Finally understanding what I need to say to him, I once again take his hand in mine as I smile back at him and whisper, "Welcome home."

And his smile grows wider.

'I'm home…'


A/N: This fic was pretty difficult to write. Often, I've spent lots of time just staring at my monitor, wondering what to write. Tezuka's POV really is such a headache!! I hope I did fine with his POV…

I also hope you all enjoyed this, and as always, reviews would be really, REALLY loved! bows