TITLE: Who Says College Is Easy?

PART: Seven of ten

GENRE: Yaoi/Shounen-ai

PAIRINGS: Slight Fuji/Mizuki, Ohtori/Mizuki, FujiRyo, Oishi/Eiji, implied AtoTezu, developing Akutsu/Shishido, One-sided Momoshiro/Jirou, Passing InuKai

DISCLAIMERS: The series I'm referring to does not belong to me… ^_^ only this weird story does.

* * *

PART 07: Crime and Retribution

* * *

"You..." Mizuki whispered as familiar arms encircled his waist as if offering a gentle caress. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, taking in the familiar citrus scent of the one who gave him life... and the one who gave him agony.

"... Hajime-chan..." Lips touched the side of his neck; trailing hotly up his jaw... arms letting him go, only to turn him around and grasp him even closer in the darkness of the storage room. It was as if his past dreams came true... as if his present did not have any impact on him anymore...

Fuji Syusuke.

"F - Fuji... what are you doing... don't touch me..."

Too late, Mizuki's body was responding. The feverish feel of those familiar red lips on his was spreading hotly throughout his body, he was shutting down... fragmenting into tiny pieces that knew much of that particular brand of insanity. His mind was screaming for him to get a hold of himself, that he was supposed to be getting over Fuji, not under him.

But the lack of physical tenderness was taking its toll, and he found himself achingly hot, his own arms stealing around Fuji's neck, adjusting his position such that he was allowing more access, giving him more chances to plunder his mouth and touch his body. So long... it had been so long...

He knew he was acting like an idiot, but he couldn't help it. He wanted Fuji... he wanted him from the bottom of his lonely heart. He wanted him even if Fuji had done a great deal to ruin his life.

He wanted him... and that was that.

He still wants me... He thought dazedly, moaning slightly as Fuji let go of his lips and decided to nibble on the juncture of his shoulder instead. Kami-sama... so hot... his hands... so warm... almost like Ohtori's own when he holds...

"Mizuki-san, are you alright? Did Fuji-san - "

Ohtori.

Mizuki's eyes snapped open, immediately meeting shocked brown eyes... windows to a soul that had suddenly been washed with inky nightmares... with obvious disbelief... and a hint of painful betrayal... as if he had done something wrong. His heart leapt to his throat. He couldn't do anything but stare... and try to say something while pushing Fuji unsuccessfully away from him.

Oh... to... ri...?

/"Did you enjoy the movie, Mizuki-san?"

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"

Ohtori's eyes sparkled as the lights of the movie house reflected on the watery film of his eyes. "Hai, hai." He answered good-naturedly, his hand immediately grasping his own. "Demo... you seem nervous."

"Uh... Me? Nervous? Umm... Why should I be?"

"Do you mind me holding your hand?"

"Uh... I..."

"Because Mizuki-san... I plan to hold it longer than you need to know."/

"Ohtori-kun... I..." He started, his heart aching for the younger boy to wipe away the sudden misery he could see on his face. "Ohtori-kun... I was just..."

At the sight of Ohtori turning purposefully away from him, Mizuki somehow felt the need to just curl up and die.

* * *

"Oi, Choutarou, are you alright?"

Shishido peered at his friend's face, his eyes narrowing as he saw a hint of hostility in the usually affable eyes. Something was seriously wrong here. Ohtori was nice. Too nice in fact, that he had never seen something resembling menace in his features - anywhere. Too nice that he always try to fix whatever was wrong so that he would never have an antagonist making his life a living hell. Too nice that he always put the need of others before his own with such a sincere smile that the devil himself would puke at first sight.

The man in front of him, sullenly staring at the stage being prepared for poor Tezuka in a (hideously colourful) female costume, was nothing like the person he had known since junior high. He looked too much unlike his former self that Shishido was quite sure that the real Ohtori Choutarou was kidnapped by those stupid-looking, green-skinned beings regularly shown in science fiction movies - at least, if there were such creatures.

"Shishido-san, do I look like I'm alright?"

"No..." Shishido said doubtfully, eyeing him further.

"That answers your question then, Shishido-san."

Hold up, rewind. Shishido thought, his eyes narrowing at Ohtori's somewhat spiteful tone. Choutarou did not just snap at me. Annoyed, he faced the younger boy, took hold of his shoulder and gave him a vicious shake.

"Shi - Shishido-san!" Ohtori yelped, alerting several people sitting near them. "What are you..."

"You are clearly inhabited by an evil spirit, I need to drive it away."

"Shishido-san? Did you take your medicine today?"

There was genuine relief in Shishido's heart as he saw the black cloud hanging above his friend disperse all too quickly. He did not like seeing Ohtori like that... he never wanted to again. He scowled.

"Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"

There was something about what he had just said that visibly unnerved the younger man. Ohtori stared at him in confusion before staring down at his shoes. "I... I don't have the right..."

Shishido's eyes softened. "You don't have the right to what, Choutarou?" He pressed, trying to dig deep into the mind of his friend... and finding so little of the person he used to know. Something changed in him. He couldn't quite pinpoint it, but something did - and it made him feel pained that he was helpless about it.

"I don't have any right to tell him he can't see Fuji-san again... that he shouldn't look at others..." Ohtori started, playing with his fingers, twisting them every which way, making Shishido wince at the unnatural positions they were forced into.

"Who?" He asked, folding his fingers on Ohtori's to prevent the seemingly delicate bones from breaking.

"... Mizuki-san..."

Shishido cocked a disbelieving eyebrow. "Call the press... my best friend finally fell in love...!"

Ohtori's head snapped up, his eyes meeting his in pure, unadulterated surprise. "I... I'm not..." He started, blinking frantically as if his eyes hurt, and then widening them as revelation sunk in. "I... I'm in love." He whispered nearly inaudibly. "With..."

Shishido's lips curled up in a smile as he sat down next to him and put his arms around the trembling form, cradling him gingerly, as if he did not want him to break. It may be too late now, though. He thought helplessly.

It may be too late.

* * *

Fuji had never felt so disgusted with himself before...

Not even when he dumped Mizuki months ago.

This was different though. He knew it was different when he saw Ohtori's eyes. It felt as if the younger boy was directing something hostile towards him... something... unforgiving.

And he couldn't quite understand the dread he felt when he saw Mizuki's eyes virtually latch themselves on the back of the retreating man. There was shock in them... followed by surprise... and then the overwhelming sadness. But it was the last emotion that had made him stand so still he swore he had just turned into stone for a few unguarded moments.

Longing.

Fuji closed his eyes, reliving the moment as he stood in front of the mirror of the men's comfort room. The mere sight gave him the shivers... like he was intruding upon some dramatic future story waiting to be unveiled under the lights of the Broadway.

It was the feeling of isolation... the feeling of being forgotten... and the fear of being toyed upon in the succeeding minutes the scene would unfold.

It was probably the feeling he let Mizuki wallow into many times before.

Slowly, blue eyes opened, smile gone, and a pained expression slowly took hold. He stared back at his reflection and wondered why he had done so much damage to those he cared about. He had executed the plan perfectly, with a reluctant Inui's help. He just did not think his plan would backfire this way... that his plan would only make him feel like shit rather than make him feel all important and needed.

Mizuki did not need him anymore.

As painful as it was, he had known the moment he saw the longing in his eyes... that Mizuki did not need him anymore.

He had moved on... and was ultimately close to redemption until he, Fuji Syusuke, had ruined his life again for the sake of selfishness.

He had known after Mizuki punched him none too strongly on the face, that as soon as he turned around, he would never go back to him... as long as he lived.

RING!

His thoughts momentarily scattered, Fuji dipped a hand inside his pocket and drew his jangling cellular phone. He stared at the number displayed on the screen... and he couldn't help but smile as fond memories started washing over him. "Ah, hai... why did you call this time in the evening?" He answered pleasantly, never bothering with the formalities.

Maybe the Gods were smiling up at him... even with his shortcomings.

"I don't know about that... maybe. Keigo would kill me if I do that... you know how that guy is." He grinned, wiping a tear that had somehow stolen down from the corner of his eye. He did not know why, but as he continued his conversation, tears slid regularly down, and soon, he was crying silently, hoping that the person on the other end of the line would not suspect anything. "And don't call him that..."

"You're going to meet Mitsu tomorrow? Who's Mitsu? Oh, yeah it's Tezuka-bouchou." Fuji's grin turned up a notch through his tears. "About the team?" He looked up and saw Tezuka struggling against Atobe and Inui's hold as he was being herded towards the stage. Good-naturedly, he raised a hand and waved, hoping that the darkness would somehow keep Atobe from noticing the tears running down his cheeks.

No such luck.

Atobe cocked his head to the side and raised a questioning brow, concern vivid in his probing eyes. Damn his insight. Fuji shook his head and motioned for him to go ahead. His story would just have to wait. He was grateful at the slight nod his friend gave him before continuing on pushing his former team captain towards the well-lighted theatre.

"I'll tell him... after his... initiation." He answered. Then, his eyes widened. "W... What? Uh... sure, no problem."

His hands began shaking, and from what, he did not know.

"See you tomorrow then... Ryoma-kun."

* * *

"Are you sure we should be here, Kaidoh?"

"You're asking me? You were the one blabbing about this show before dragging me here!"

"I wasn't dragging you, you stupid viper! You agreed to come in here!"

Kaidoh Kaoru let out a hiss, giving his friend a menacing glare. "What did you say? You dragged me here, you stupid delinquent!"

"I am not a delinquent you stupid oaf! I am the great Momo-chan! How dare you call me that!" Momoshiro glared back, equally menacing... and equally happy. Why? Because they were just bickering as usual. They came here because they both have reasons to - other than just seeing their former bouchou dance the night away in 'a frilly skirt' as Inui put it.

Kaidoh had his 'Inui-sempai'.

And he had -

"Oi! Kaidoh! Takeshi! Over here!"

... Him... to gaze upon from afar.

Momoshiro turned, his heart skipping a beat as he saw the radiantly healthy features of Akutagawa Jirou. He was thankful of Hiyoshi for introducing them... but was miserable too, for he knew he would never catch the interest of this man - he was not amazing enough. He wasn't Atobe, he wasn't Fuji, He wasn't Hiyoshi... and he wasn't Kaidoh. Inwardly, he sighed. So much for excitement. Now he was only feeling dejected.

"Oi, Takeshi... are you alright?" He heard Kaidoh ask, his voice snapping him out of his self-pitying.

He turned back to him with what he hoped for was a convincing smile. "I'm fine. I was just attacked by the excitement bug."

And when Kaidoh glanced at Jirou, then back at him before patting him once on the shoulder, he knew he had failed.

I knew I should have paid more attention to drama class last year.

* * *

He was going to die.

Tezuka tried digging his heels on the carpet... unfortunately though, it didn't work. He was so going to be humiliated. If this was what elected presidents do... he should've just handed in his resignation even before he got to the post...

Or probably demand a recount.

He sighed, finally tired of resisting, going along with Atobe. Thankfully, Inui had quitted and was now far, far away from him. His threats gave him the shivers. He was never going to taste that horrible juice again!

"Atobe... tell me." He started they came to a halt in front of the completely dark stairway leading to the stage. "Why do I have to do this?"

He couldn't see him, but he was sure he was near... very near if the presence behind him was any indication. "I don't know... maybe to keep you working hard enough in the future... or be used to rebukes and catcalls from your subordinates... I don't really have any idea..."

Was it just him, or Atobe sounded quite... guilty?

"I never thought I would do this kind of thing in my entire life." Tezuka sighed, feeling slightly tingly as his skin came in contact with a smoother one.

"I'm sorry..." Came Atobe's response.

Tezuka turned to him, his eyes wide and questioning. What is he sorry for? He thought dazedly. This isn't his fault, unless...

He had not the time to deliberate, for he was dragged unawares up the stairway.

* * *

Saeki pulled off his hat as he pushed through the school theatre, Kikumaru in tow. "Look!" He pointed at the stiffly dancing... crossdresser. He grinned back at his friend who was ogling said performer.

"NYA! That's Tezuka?" He shrieked, his voice swallowed by the hoots of the huge crowd. "Oh, my GOD! Nya! He's got nice legs!"

Saeki laughed, looking around as if searching for something. Ah, there! He raised a hand in greeting.

Kikumaru wondered who it was, but couldn't see. Sometimes he hated it when he did this. He felt so small! Suddenly, his friend grasped him by the shoulders and pushed him away, with him whirling round and round until he collided with another projectile... erm... person. Surprised, he looked up... and met equally shocked olive eyes.

"I... Ichirou...?"

* * *

Sanada pulled off his cap as he entered the school theatre, a struggling Oishi in tow. "Good thing we made it before the number ended. Look over there!" He pointed at the stiffly dancing... crossdresser. He smiled back at his rigid friend who was now ogling said performer.

"Oh my God! That's Mitsu?" He cried out, his voice swallowed by the hoots of the huge crowd. "Oh, no! This is bad; he hates being humiliated like this! Oh no!"

"He's got nice legs though."

Oishi glared at him.

Sanada smiled even wider, looking around as if searching for something. Ah, there. He raised a hand, seemingly in greeting.

Oishi wondered who it was, but couldn't see. Sometimes he hated it when Sanada did this. He wasn't that short but he felt like it! Suddenly, his friend grasped him by the shoulders and virtually pushed him away, with him whirling round and round until he collided with another projectile... erm... person. Surprised, he looked up... and met equally shocked catlike eyes.

"I... Ichirou...?"

He couldn't believe his eyes.

"Ei... ji...?

* * *

Every single day was an obstacle... something one had to complete. However, there were times when these obstacles test not only a person's limited physical strength, but also the endurance of the soul.

He wasn't one to linger over stupid sentimental things such as the softness of someone else's gaze... or the beauty of someone else's words... especially of that whom you care about the most. He wasn't one to actually ponder over what seemed to him, senseless bits of conversations... exchanges diminished in quality by emotions hidden so deep that even a fishing line couldn't haul it... emotions resurfacing during the damnedest times. Enquire

What happened between him and Shishido was something he wasn't particularly proud of. Yes, it was true that he did find some sort of satisfaction upon seeing a normally snarky face crumple in complete defeat, but there was something he deemed completely wrong with his actions... and that face. As if his subconscious was dictating to leave him alone and not bother him like that anymore... and that he was acting like such a stupid, moronic jerk.

That Shishido, for once, was making sense. Unfortunately, he hadn't listened to those words. He mocked him, he screamed at him... He jostled him so bad that now, even a slight unnamed sound coming from him made his flatmate stiffen.

He had obviously gone too far.

So why was he so stubborn as to not do anything about it?

Perhaps it was pride. Stupid, selfish pride that made him stand his ground and keep himself from verbally admitting his defeat... pride that made him even a lesser man than he was now.

But there was something in him that responded to Shishido's desperate call... something...

And now, he was waiting for his flatmate to come home.

He had been waiting for four hours now...

Where is he anyway?

... And he was still waiting.

* * *

TBC

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the long delay! Here's the seventh chapter! Only three more to go! ^^ Please do review! ^^