Revised: May 30, 2014
What do we want?!
When do we want it?!
Every frickin' day!
Stop it woman
1. Let the sunshine in
It was a warm summer day, a day like any other for the students of Seishun Gakuen. It was that kind of day that required none of Fuji's peculiar electronica-piano tracks, where the rustle of the leaves was enough music. The sunlight pierced through glass windows and there they sat, watching the rainbow lights dance on the wooden table.
It was a day like any other, except for this.
The captain's long fingers were laced around a delicate teacup stem, bringing the jasmine tea to his lips. As he set it down, his eyes flicked up to Fuji's and in that smallest moment, the tensai's blues opened for Tezuka's smile.
2. Live through hell
There were a lot of things the Seigaku Tennis Club can endure. After all, what is training through Camp Death when your goal is the National Championship?
Now Penal Tea and Inui juices, that's a whole new ball game.
There were a lot of things Fuji Syusuke was rumoured of. Black magic and other suspicious arts was on the ridiculously improbable side of the spectrum, yet the team can't help but consider this as they watched their resident genius gulp down a whole glass of Inui Juice Special High Grade Deluxe.
Fuji could've sworn he saw Tezuka's lips twitching upwards as he set down the mug, but when he blinked, the "smile" was gone from the buchou's pale face.
3. Take a good shot
Tezuka disliked being the center of attention, and everybody knew that. Despite this—no, perhaps because of this—Fuji developed a dangerous habit of making him the center of his photographic attention.
It was on the same road, set in the same sunset, within sight of the same beach which had stood witness of the years that had gone by between them. There was a certain mutual affinity in the winds of the salt water that Fuji had to capture.
Tezuka Kunimitsu's ever-present frown deepened a few degrees as he shuffled away from the camera lens.
"Stop taking pictures of me, Fuji."
The effect of Tezuka's rebuke on the average person was absolute terror and immediate distancing. Fuji was not an average person. Instead of being intimidated, the smiling third year just laughed. "Stop being so irresistibly photogenic, Tezuka."
It was just another afternoon walk, and Tezuka was not an overly nostalgic person. But as he heard the musical, carefree laughter spill out of Fuji's lips, Tezuka surrendered to the smile threatening to grace his.
4. Study his textbooks
Fuji's composure wavered as he saw the pile of thick textbooks on Tezuka's study table, demanding 160% of a certain unbearably studious captain's attention.
They've been friends for a long time and he knew Tezuka always had an unfailing "duty-first" attitude. Despite this, Fuji had harboured some hope that homework would not take the front seat on the night of Tezuka's own birthday. He was disappointed, but perhaps more of himself. If Fuji really were as good a friend as he thought he was to Tezuka, how could he have expected him to celebrate on the eve of an exam?
A stoic Tezuka entered the room and lifted his glasses up his nose, then without missing a beat, sat on the chair in front of his desk. When his bespectacled friend started opening his books, Fuji's smile completely vanished.
Swallowing his annoyance, he shrugged and plopped on a chair next to his captain. Tezuka's eyes flicked up at Fuji, who had apparently resigned himself to his worst nemesis: a science book. The light emanating from his lampshade fell on the delicate angles of Fuji's face. The amber glow bathing his blue eyes—opened in displeasure—reminded Tezuka of sunshine reflecting the sea at dawn.
Tezuka is an extremely disciplined individual and he took great pride in this, but there was nothing in him greater than Fuji's stubbornness. One way or the other, this night would end with the books forgotten on his desk, and the two of them sprawled on his bed as they talked of Confucius and gothic architecture.
Maybe it wasn't that silly to be amused about such things.
5. Ride a cramped train
No one would've guessed the amount of irritation Fuji felt at that moment, since none of it showed in his unperturbed, smiling face. The façade was proving to be high maintenance as Fuji felt his slender frame being squished by ten other people. Any closer and his soul would jump right out and possess the people around him (and who could live through a world with ten Fujis?). His hand tightly tugged on the handrail, struggling to retain balance.
Fuji's breath hitched when he felt a warm breath at the back of his neck. It was Tezuka's, no doubt, who was forced to bow down as the notably unpleasant armpits of some taller passengers towered over him. He leaned towards Fuji, pressing hard against the smaller boy.
Then, the train suddenly came to a halt. Tezuka's body was pulled harshly aback, rebounding on Fuji's. Upon recovering, Tezuka attempted to pull away, but suddenly became conscious of their compromising position. Fuji's face was three inches from his, their lips a breath away from each other.
Tezuka was not blushing, of course not. He was flushed from being cramped by the crowd of commuters, that's all. The fire that was rising up his ears must be the heat. He risked a glance at his companion and found him to be in the same predicament.
It wasn't Tezuka's fault that his mouth was so caught off guard that a timid smile was able to creep in.
6. Watch tears fall
Two other times had this world seen Fuji's eyes open like this. One was during his beloved grandmother's funeral. Another was when Yuuta first got his heart broken by a cheating girlfriend.
The third time was while Tezuka's limp body was pressed against his, ready to fall if Fuji stepped away.
The old lamppost shed enough light to expose a shimmer on Tezuka's cheek. Fuji would never forget that sensation—the slightest shaking from the most stable person he knew.
There was no sound. There were just two boys in each other's arms sitting on a bench, two souls in a park as still as a graveyard.
Fuji's artist fingers swept across Tezuka's cheek absently, wanting to paint a smile on his face as he would paint the brightest sunshine on canvas. He let his forehead settle on Tezuka's exposed collarbone, cursing under his breath.
And so he didn't see that despite the dried tears, Tezuka smiled—a smile truer than anyone else had ever seen from him.
7. Challenge him
"Fuji, I can't…"
With a forced smile, Fuji dedicated his full attention on Tezuka Kunimitsu. His soft voice was choked with disappointment.
Tezuka was as silent as the marching band was loud in Fuji's chest.
There was no turning back. Fuji's smile died and his almost-black eyes flashed, taking decisive steps towards Tezuka.
"You say you can't," Fuji said in a voice a few octaves lower than his usual. When he closed the distance between them, he grabbed Tezuka's necktie. Then, he tugged. The captain's lips landed squarely on his. "But you already do."
It wasn't exactly submission, no. But as Tezuka's lips parted on Fuji's command, he answered the challenge with a smile.