Old from LJ. Not gonna lie, there is some disturbingish imagery in this one.

Disclaimer: I do not own PoT!


"Nee, Kunimitsu, I had an odd dream last night," Syuusuke greeted him, opening the door to the apartment. His face was as serene as ever and his tone gave nothing away.

"Mm?" He was reluctant to hear about it. Not because of a lack of interest, or an indifference to his lover, but simply because Fuji's dreams were often quite extraordinary. More to the point, they sometimes inspired surreal paintings that would make Syuusuke pensive for days. A pensive Fuji was both frightening and a little sad.

"Yes. I did." Syuusuke took his school bag with a smile and shut the door behind them. Carrying it over to the olive drab couch, he opened his eyes. "May I tell you?"

"Aa." Tezuka sat across from him in the armchair, an overstuffed plaid monster Syuusuke had bought "for the hell of it." It looks lonely, he had said.

"In the beginning I was standing on a hill. There was nothing around me. I don't even think that I was there, merely looking… Are you listening?"

"Yes." He closed his planner with a guilty snap, though the guilt didn't show on his face. "Please, continue."

"Yes, so… I was looking. Then trees grew up around me and I was standing in a city block, only the trees became people. They were women, actually. Beautiful women. They could have been models." Syuusuke peered at him, but if he was hoping to elicit some kind of jealousy, he was failing.

"Okay; they were beautiful." Tezuka was unsure where this was going.

"Then I was pregnant."

"Oh. What?" He blinked at his lover.

"Yes, I was." His face became strangely sad, strangely closed. "I'm not sure I should tell you what happened next." Tezuka came over to sit beside him.

"What happened?" This had the makings of one of the pensive dreams.

"I had the baby. Only, it wasn't realistic, I was just holding the baby in my arms. He was… He looked like you, only not. Actually, not at all. I suddenly didn't want to hold him anymore." His voice was coming faster now. "I held him out in front of me, under the arms, and started to… well, to shake him." He gasped. "That's horrible isn't it? And all the time he was screaming 'Not yours! Not yours!'"

"Syuusuke…"

"Then he was gone. Dead, or spirited away someplace." His voice was tired. "And you came up over the hill, through the beautiful women, and you just looked at me." Syuusuke paused, then turned to face his lover. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Tezuka's arms came around the thin shoulders. "Syuusuke, you know I love you."

"I know." A very small voice.

"I don't care that you can't be that for me. What you are is what I love and cherish."

"I know." Syuusuke's arms hesitantly came up to rest around his lover's waist. "But sometimes," he whispered, "I'm afraid." There was awe in his voice, but if it was for voicing this feeling or for something else entirely, Tezuka didn't know.

"Promise me you won't paint this."

"I won't." A squeeze. "I promise." They sat quietly for a minute.

"Do you know what I dreamed?" His voice was stern. Syuusuke laughed quietly.

"No, what? Was it about tennis?"

"Inui wanted me to dance in a vaudeville show. And Ryoma was wearing a dress." The tensai laughed for real this time, and it cleared the somber atmosphere somewhat. "Let's go out to dinner."

"Aaahh… Where?"

"Your choice."

"Mm. How about that new sushi bar? I heard they have very good wasabi tuna there…" He prattled on.

Tezuka watched soberly, collecting his things. He couldn't save Fuji from the unconscious world, so all he could do was try and fill his waking moments with joy. And he didn't think he'd be hearing the last of this.

"Come on, let's go."


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