Fandom/Pairing: TeniPuri: Tezuka/Fuji
Theme: Seven Deadly Sins: Pride
Word Count: 413
Disclaimer: The owners of PoT own PoT
Tezuka doesn't always understand why he does things he does. Or, more accurately, why doesn't do the things he doesn't. He wants to go to Fuji, kiss him, hold him, make love to him, tell him things he never can imagine spill past his lips, but he doesn't. He stands there, staring, waiting, wanting, anticipating. He wants Fuji to come to him, because Fuji always comes to him eventually.
If he goes to Fuji, he's begging, he's pleading, and he'll never beg and he'll never plead, because if he does, then somehow he's lost. There're only two things he's willing to lose to Fuji. The first is in tennis. He practically salivates at the mere thought of a serious match, sweating and struggling for every point. He dreams about it at night, but never ask for one, even though he thinks that Fuji may actually give it to him. The other is moot, because what he was willing to lose is already lost. That brings to mind a whole different circumstance of sweating and struggling, something he also dreams about at night, and yet another thing he's not willing to ask for, because he knows Fuji will give it to him regardless.
Tezuka often imagines what it would be like to walk over to Fuji, take Fuji's hand in his, and walk past the courts, past the students as they leave, silently declaring something that people sometimes whisper about in the halls. He imagines the smile that Fuji would give and the warmth of Fuji's body near his. He can almost taste the kiss he'd receive and, his body knows all to well where the kisses lead. He knows he will likely never take one step. Weakness is not something he wishes to show to the world. He'd rather show his strength, his abilities.
It is in the moment when he decides to not do these things when he wonders if his pride will cost him his relationship with Fuji. This bothers him more than he's willing to admit. He then feels something brushing across his knuckles. He looks over and sees Fuji standing next to him, watching the match in front of them. Something inside of him, stronger than modesty, stronger than his pride, makes him edge closer and closer to Fuji, erasing that fine line that keeps everyone else out. Fuji looks up at him, smiles the smile reserved only for him, and he knows Fuji understands everything he never says.